CRISP

CRISP
684 Third Avenue (43rd Street)
New York, NY 10017
(212) 661-0000

Pity the poor vegetarian. Midtown Manhattan is awash in lunch joints. Fast food staples like McDonalds pepper the landscape. And while people like to complain that Starbucks is taking over, Starbucks can't hold a candle to Subway, which has an outlet on every single block. Delis serving Chinese food from a trough are so common that sesame chicken has lost all meaning. But where, oh where can our vegetarian go when he's bored to death of salad? The answer? Crisp.

Crisp cropped up a few months ago and has been packed ever since.

The clean, modern interior with its flat screen TVs displayng pithy sayings and chrome mirrors atop every table makes you feel like you're eating the cutting-edge of health conscious foods. In fact, to complete the illusion, Crisp even pairs its iced teas to each of its dishes, claiming that nutritionists recommend drinking Tea 1 with Salad 2 for the most beneficial effects. Well, I know BS when I see it, but I can't fault them with being original.

As history has shown us time and again through ages of experimentation and countless decades of research, the better something tastes, the worse it therefore must be for you. To prove this, we need look no further than the humble salad. Alone, it's boring and just this side of tasteless. But add some ranch dressing (aka: seasoned fat) and suddenly it's on the Bennigan's menu. Take that salad and deep fry it and you've got vegetable tempura. See what I mean?

Therefore, for all Crisp may allude to being healthy, it's just got to be bad for you. Falafel's fried, after all.

Crisp takes its cue from the Fleet-A-Pita franchise and avoids ethnicisms by renaming pita sandwiches handbag sandwiches. I tried three.

I first tried The Crisp. The original, so to speak. I ordered it with whole wheat pita bread. Inside is a falafel, hummus, cubed salad and pickles. I really wasn't expecting very much, especially since I live down the block from Pahal Zan, but I was pleasantly surprised. Trying this standard, average pita sandwich convinced me to try some more. So next I tried The Crisp Athenian, which at $10 is the most expensive pita sandwich on the menu. Whole wheat pita bread, falafel, Greek Salad, herbed yogurt, and scallions. This was the exact opposite of the Crisp. Boring, tasteless, and yet more expensive. It had nothing going for it and I didn't bother finishing the thing, despite trying to drown it in the chic pea dressing it came with. Finally, to break the tie, I ordered The Crisp Mexican. Whole wheat pita bread, falafel, cilantro pesto, avocado, corn, salsa, nachos, and a jalapeño dressing. This was really really good. And if you like spicy, all the better when you chomp down on the peppers.

Final verdict: I recommend the regular and the Mexican, but you won't catch me ordering the Athenian any time soon.

So our poor vegetarian appears to have a place to go for lunch after all.

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DUMONT

DUMONT
432 Union Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11211
(718) 486-7717

I had first been introduced to DuMont for brunch a couple of weeks ago by a friend who lives in Williamsburg and knew as soon as I sat down that I'd have to return for dinner to make a proper review. When we got here we sat in the outdoor rear garden. DuMont was deserted at 11am, but by the time we left was packed. So get there early. Brunch was good but the setting, with it's wooden tables and shrubbery, was perfect for a summer meal. It was immensely relaxing.

DuMont itself sits right across the street from the Lorimer Street stop on the L or G, meaning that I didn't get lost when trying to find the place. I don't know Williamsburg very well, so I'm more than willing to give ease-of-access points here.



When my friend Seth came to town from far-off Los Angeles, I suggested DuMont. I think it's important that people not from New York City learn that there are good things beyond the East River that don't end in -amptons.

I called ahead to see if reservations would be necessary and was told that they would not be. So we didn't get them. This was a mistake. We quite literally got the last table available when we got there at 7:30 and it wasn't outside. It was instead in the central dining room. DuMont has three dining areas: The front, which has windows, the bar, big windows, and is very lively; the garden, which is totally cool, breezy, tree-lined, and my top pick of sections to eat in; and the central area, which used to be a bar but is no longer, is windowless and almost pitch-black dark (I apologize for the photos), feels like sitting in the back room of a hidden club in 1931, and, with four tables, is rather small. This is fine for intimate conversations, but it isn't very upbeat, despite the rock music playing overhead. By the way, DuMont is a big fan of R.E.M.

Seth and I started with drinks. There are cocktails (which are strong) that run $10 , and a small number of high end beers. The appetizers are almost entirely salads of one sort or another. In fact, I ordered the only appetizer that wasn't a salad and one could argue that it could have been one. I ordered the Chilled Cucumber Soup with dill and a dollop of yogurt in the middle. I liked it and while I wouldn't make this a staple of my soup diet, I can attest to it being the perfect kind of soup for this hot day where the humidity alone is enough to make a grown man cry. Plus it felt completely guiltless. Seth ordered the Mixed Greens salad with a rosemary vinaigrette, gruyere cheese and croutons. It was, in his words, "a fairly typical mixed greens salad".



For his entree, Seth ordered the Roast Free Range Chicken with roast garlic mashed potatoes, baby carrots, asparagus and cippolini, which is a fancy way of saying "small onion". Seth thought that the entree was excellent and, having tried some myself, I can attest to its deliciosity. The chicken was very moist, very tender and very flavorful. The gravy-slash-drippings were perfect and we certainly recommend this to anyone. I chose the Skate, which was incredible and I found myself scraping the plate when I ran out of food. It was served atop mashed potatoes and under roast garlic cloves, roasted tomato, and olives. The result was a rather bland fish that became electric under its sauce and sharp tangy accompaniments.

For dessert, I ordered the Berry Shortcake: mixed berries and cream over a piece of cake, and served with vanilla ice cream and another piece of cake. Like the cucumber soup, a great hot weather dish. Also, it was very good. Seth ordered the Fudge and Caramel Sundae, a tall, old-school styled ice cream sundae with chocolate syrup, caramel, pecans and whipped cream. We got these dishes for free since there was a delay in getting them to us, so the total price doesn't reflect their cost. Actually, we didn't even notice the delay. We just had three people coming up to us towards the end of the meal apologizing.

Much like Quaint, which is the closest restaurant I can compare DuMont to off the top of my head, none of the food served here is really "different" in the sense that they aren't culinary experiments. The chef isn't playing with the food, he's just making the dishes really well.



One cocktail, three beers, two appetizers, and two entrees were $101 with tax and tip. They comped us the desserts and coffees.

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MOMOYA

MOMOYA
427 Amsterdam Avenue
New York, NY 10024
(212) 580-0007

Walking with Bro on the Upper West Side brought us to Momoya. Well, actually, it brought us to Haru, but since I'd already eaten there, I forced us to try Momoya, which is pretty much its clone, instead.

I really like the Upper West Side, and if ever I decide to move back into Manhattan (read: inherit money) I can see it being on my shortlist of neighborhoods to look seriously into. There's a relaxed feeling that it has with its outdoor cafes and greenmarkets. Zabars and Fairway are there. There are far fewer cold, stale new high-rises than on the Upper East Side, and far more warmth. I feel like the Upper East Side has people with a lot of money who let you know it. The Upper West Side is more family-ish, and the people with a lot of money don't flaunt. As a result, the restaurants that are there are less ostentatious. Momoya is like that. It looks trendy, but it's not that expensive. I mean... it's not cheap either... like I said, a Haru clone.



If only Momoya tasted better (or at least tasted unique in some way), it could become my go-to place, if for no other reason than because I felt so relaxed there. I could have easily sat there for hours BSing if my train ride home wasn't so long.

Bro and I, trying desperately to keep the night cheap (thank you MasterCard), ordered no drinks. We stuck to water. We started with an order of Shumai, vegetable chicken and seafood dumplings, and Gyoza, pork dumplings. Please note that no two Japanese restaurants fill their Shumai or Gyoza with the same things. See my last review to note that Ramen Sekagaya filled its gyoza with chicken and seafood.) The shumai was somewhat bland, but still quite tasty, while the gyoza was entirely tasteless and completely not worth the money. Their respective dipping sauces were of little help. This would sadly be a recurring theme of the evening.

Next up was the Wild Mushroom Soup. This was the best dish, but the broth was a tad thin and could have used a little more wight... whatever that means. It's very mushroomy, as one would expect, and I like mushrooms. In fact, the soup was almost entirely mushrooms, shitake, enoki, and button. Bro would have hated it. He's not the biggest fan of fungifood. Pity. Bro instead chose a single order of Sweet Potato Tempura. Two slices of sweet potato, deep fried to perfection. We both enjoyed these and I still think that Bro should have ordered another round. I mean, they were only two bucks.



Bro ordered a nice standard Toro Roll. I didn't try it, but he didn't complain. I guess that's a good thing. I mean, he didn't lay claim to it being the roll to end all rolls or anything. But a good roll's a good roll. I ordered two of the "special" rolls. Neither were bad, but neither were something I found myself drooling over either. First up, the Salmon Crunchy Roll, a roll of salmon, avocado and mango, wrapped in crunchy rice. Crunchy rice. Interesting, but really you feel like you eating uncooked rice. The creamy texture of the filling was a pleasant contrast, and I liked the way that the mango complimented the salmon, but ultimately it just felt like a variation on a theme, rather than anything worthy of the designation as "special". And so I move on. Next up, the Fresh Spring Roll, a large, lettuce-wrapped roll filled with shrimp, snow crab, avocado, tomato, cilantro, and red onion with a sweet and sour chili dipping sauce. This should have, on a hot summer day, been the perfect roll and should have left me feeling guiltless. But it did neither. If food can be devoid of emotion, it was. It was also quite heavy. I mean, yeah, it wasn't "bad" for what it was. But I didn't really care whether I finished it or not. I ultimately did, since I was paying for it. Plus Mr. Dogz showed up for a short spell and I felt like he shouldn't have to eat alone. Despite having had dinner already, he ordered a Spicy Tuna Roll, which he felt was generic. "Bland", I believe was his deeply eloquent description. I didn't eat any of it.

The truth is that with so so many many truly excellent Japanese restaurants to chose from, how can I really recommend going to one that's just flat-out mediocre? Go to Haku on Broadway and 89th instead. I'll try reviewing them soon.



A soup, a single a la carte tempura dish, two dumpling orders, and four sushi rolls, plus tax and tip was $78.

There's also a location in Chelsea at 21st street and Seventh Avenue.

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MY KITCHEN

MY KITCHEN
106-17 Metropolitan Avenue
Forest Hills, NY 11375
(718) 544-5644

Forest Hills has relatively few restaurants that I personally think would draw someone from Manhattan, but My Kitchen just might be one of them. My Kitchen, according to the owner who also doubles as the hostess, started here in Forest Hills only to move into Manhattan and blossom into a handful of restaurants. Now they're back. Most restaurateurs claim that running restaurant is the most stress one could undergo without being in a war zone. But I suppose that after running a bunch, only having to deal with one can seem like a comfy way to retire.

As of this writing, My Kitchen is one step away from being completely unknown. Chowhound has virtually no posts about it. The local blogs barely mention it beyond its opening last fall. Yelp has 2 user reviews. Urban Spoon and CitySearch have never heard of it. And Zagat? Please. For outer borough dining, Zagat's basically a burgundy-clad joke.

For this specific meal, I went with Bro and The Rents. It was high time that The Rents began coming to my neck of the woods for more than the Stop & Shop and parking lot-equipped Trader Joe's.

The menu at My Kitchen is pretty small. There are only about a fifteen things on the menu in total. And although the four of us ordered nearly half of that, you may arrive unable to eat what we did. My Kitchen changes it's menu on an almost constant basis. What's on the menu now may not be there tomorrow and almost certainly won't be there next season. Some might relish this as an opportunity to try new things and give them fresh excuses to try something new each time, rather than be bogged down in the mire of monotony. But it gives this review an unfortunately short half life. Good for you, bad for moi.

So anyway, what about this food you may never get a taste of? What was it? Patés were very popular on the day we went, and everyone but Shrink ordered something that been reduced to the consistency of toothpaste. DudeMan ordered the Duck Liver Paté, served with Dijon mustard and onions. He gave it an initially lukewarm response, but it grew with him over time. I, it must be said, have never been one for liver, be it duck or otherwise. On its own, my mind went unchanged. However, I will concede that when paired with the mustard and onions I was more enthusiastic. My choice was the Salmon Mousse, served with cream cheese and what appeared to be Carr's crackers. A very warm weather dish, reminiscent of something I should have been eating at brunch with a bellini. That may sound like a sarcastic dig, but actually, I scarfed this one right down in about two minutes, pausing only long enough to spread the salmon mousse onto a few crackers for everyone else. And everyone else enjoyed it as well. Bro ordered what I considered to have been the best of the patés, the Tricolor Vegetarian Mousse With Goat Cheese. This was excellent (and I hate goat cheese). DudeMan liked it as well, but Shrink, who eyes anything vegetarian with rolled eyes, was indifferent. Her loss. And speaking of Shrink, she, ever the hippy rebel, ordered the Mussels. These were served in a marinara sauce similar to something one would find in a Manhattan clam chowder. The mussels were tender, there was no sandy grit to them, and the table found itself asking for a second round of bread to dip in the sauce once the mussels had been eaten.

The entree that I ordered was the Roasted Loin of Pork with carrots and potatoes. It arrived about fifteen minutes before everything else because of a mix-up with another table. While we personally didn't think that it was a great big deal, the restaurant did and apologized for the rest of the day. But whatever. We got some more plates and divvied it amongst us while waiting for the rest of the entrees to arrive. We also got the wine we ordered free of charge. The pork loin itself was delicious and tender and, while not something that a New York Times food critic will care much about, was exactly what it was supposed to be. Delicious pork loin. I literally cleaned the plate. I even hesitated giving up some to the rest of the fam.

When the rest of the food arrived, Bro's was the standout. He ordered the Breast Of Chicken In Summer Peaches and Champagne. Incredible. It was almost like eating candy-coated chicken served with grapes, figs, and cherries. Extremely sweet, but in a good way, with a hint of cinnamon. Very tender and in an impossible to finish size. Half of it got taken home. The same can be said of Shrink's Shrimp And Seafood Paella. According to the hostess, this is one of their most popular dishes and has been one of the menu's holdouts for several years. Our table's plural personal opinion was that it was, while good, not the dish that's we'll remember or recommend to you as the one thing to get if you can only get one thing. I thought that it was a basic, ho-hum paella. It was big and got wrapped to go, but it was no chicken with peaches and champagne. There wasn't really even that much seafood. Anyway, finally, DudeMan ordered the Prime Rib in a potato, carrot and mushroom sauce. This was also very good and very tender and very finished by the end of the meal. No one could argue that they didn't eat well this evening. In fact, we were so full we didn't think we could order dessert. Luckily for us, we didn't have to.

For the same reason as the gratis vino, we also got a whole tray of desserts on the house. Like a humongous sampler, only in full sized form. Eighteen million calories later, I was able to finally breath. The majority of the desserts, the hostess explained, are imported from Italy, with two notable exceptions. The Canoli is imported from Arthur Avenue and the Peach-Champagne Thing (my name since I forgot what they called it) you see in the photo is made right there. There was also a Berry Tart, which was very very good (they say it's the most often complimented dessert), and two other Italian chocolaty goodies that I can't remember.

Something you'll notice about My Kitchen is that it's not fancy. It's a family owned, family operated place. The food is like a better version of what you might get if you went to someone's home. Comfort food with class, I suppose. The portions are a good size and they aren't put on the plate in some fancy schmancy way. They just taste good. My Kitchen has wine, but they pick the type and brand. But they also allow you to bring your own. In a sense, it's half BYOB, half not. An additional piece of advice is to ignore the online menu. The real one changes so often that the online one won't be of any real value.

Four appetizers, four entrees, an iced tea, and a round of coffees came to $125, plus tax and tip. We got all of our wines and appetizers comped. We left a large tip.

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HOTEL DELMANO

HOTEL DELMANO

82 Berry Street
Brooklyn, NY 11211
(718) 387-1945

M recently moved to Billyburg and, aware of my new fetish for mixology bars, asked if I wanted to go with her to Hotel Delmano. Of course, how could I say no? We wandered over to where it was alleged to be.

Hotel Delmano (neither in a hotel or, for that matter, anywhere near one) follows one fundamental rule of the modern New York speakeasy. No sign, no awning, no neon beer sign. It just exists and you either know about it or you don't. Hotel Delmano sits unobtrusively under a single glowing globe of light, behind a wrought iron gate, on a peaceful, residential, tree lined street, away from the bustle of Bedford Avenue. It's decor and menu evokes a feeling of going to a banana republic back in the good old days (depending on your point of view I suppose) when the sun never sat on the British Empire. I could almost picture a guy in a fez wandering in and striking up a conversation with someone walking with an ivory handled cane.



Hotel Delmano, despite being a premium cocktail lounge created by some of the top mixologists in the city, is so relaxed and so casual, so far from pretension and poseurs that it almost makes me want to cry in pity for the poor slobs who stand on line for an hour to get into some club-of-the-moment just to do a tequila shot. A lot of people bitch and moan about hipsters, but I'll give them this: they know how to chill.



We grabbed two empty seats at the bar and waved for some drinks. The menu has about a dozen specialty cocktails to choose from and sampled three. M tried the Gin Lilly, gin, lillet, lemon, lime, and cucumber. The perfect summer evening drink, like a cucumber lemonade. It had that lemonade tang, but was completely mellowed by the cucumber. It was like drinking a cool breeze. I ordered a Tennessee Rose, bourbon, cherry brandy, dry vermouth, and pomegranate grenadine. M felt that it was too strong for her and it was far more liquor tasting than the gin lilly was, but if you like whiskey based drinks and berries and think that marrying them would be nice if only you knew how to, then this is the way to go for you. I liked it. I'll get it again. Finally, we shared a Colonista, which officially sealed the colonial vibe I got when I sat down. Rum, Pimms, lime, and pineapple. If that's not British Empire circa 1905, then I don't know what is.



So I'm debating whether or not I can say that, of the cocktail lounges I've been to so far (and I can't deny that have plenty more to go), Hotel Delmano ranks as the best. It actually might be. It was certainly nice to have gotten a seat right away, but that might have been a fluke. It's not really bigger than the rest in terms of seating. It's less expensive than most of the others and the atmosphere was so relaxed that I found myself debating whether to move in under a table.



The cocktails average about $11 each.

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