SICAFFE

SICAFFE
964 Lexington Avenue
New York, NY 10021
(212) 452-2259

On the day that I was born, particles of light left the star Delta Iridani. Traveling at nearly seven hundred million miles per hour, their journey across the cosmos took them past other stars and planets and giant gas clouds. They saw things that, despite whatever advances science may make, I, in my corporeal frame, can never hope to see. Upon reaching Earth, these particles prepared for the end of their trip. They entered the atmosphere, crossed through the clouds, between the canyons of high-rise condos that have become the Upper East Side landscape, and arrived at Sicaffe a solid hour before Speeds did, whose journey began somewhere around 68th Street (give or take).

Speeds eventually arrived and, after being greeted accordingly, ordered her usual from this Italian-style espresso cafe's selection of cakes and sandwiches. A Chocolate Chip Cookie. "Do you know why they make the best chocolate chip cookies?" They discovered the Pepperidge Farm section of the supermarket? "They use just the right amount of sugar and salt." And it's true. They're not too sweet with just a hint of salt. And, as cookies go, it wasn't half bad. The best? She certainly thinks so. In the meantime, I ordered their Apple Crumb Cake. Also, not bad. It crumbled in all the right places, with chunks of apple buried deep within its crust. But is it any better than something I could get elsewhere? Probably not, but I'm not complaining.

I ordered myself a standard Cappuccino and it was fine. Aside from the fact it was a little thin for my taste, it was everything a Cappuccino should be. Dark and bitter espresso underneath a sweet creamy foam with requisite heart carved on top. Get a glass of water for your soon-to-be dry mouth. Speeds, culinary rut in hand, ordered her usual, a Latte, which she loved. Stealing a sip, I can vouch wholeheartedly that it was, in fact, a pretty good latte. Again, the best? No. She would like me to plug her favorite Sicaffe espresso drink, by the way, which is the Triestino Doppio. Go give that a try, and, in the meantime, gimme a sip of that water!

On the back of the menu is a shout-out to Sicaffe's signature drink, the Triestino Cappuccino, which quotes New York Magazine as saying the that it "is close to the ideal - a syrupy shot of rich espresso, a righteous tuft of silky foam - and all the sweet, bitter, smooth components are as well balanced as a Cirque du Soleil tightrope artist." Righteous foam? "I smite thee, decaf! Hallelujah!" You can't seriously say things like that with a straight face. Naturally, as a wide grin began to grow, I knew that trying this Cirque du Soleil-in-my-mouth drink was part of my destiny. And did it quite live up to the pretension? Guess.

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THE GIBSON

THE GIBSON
2009 14th Street NW
Washington, DC 20009
202-232-2156

Sitting alone on a Friday night in a near-empty hotel lounge, nursing a glass of Jameson as midnight rolled by left me with the mixed emotions of relaxation and depression. On the one hand, it was calm being left alone in this near isolation. A buzzed Zen. No thumping club music, no pointlessly seductive jazz, no overplayed, irritatedly tiring crooning of Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin. Just the ability to finally read that three-month old copy of Esquire Magazine I couldn't seem to get around to cracking open. Then again, there was that haunting, constant knowledge that the fantasy we all have of meeting a beautiful, but also lonely stranger is just a fantasy best left for either movies or those who frequent bars with hookers.

The Jameson and the magazine were finished at almost exactly the same time and I immediately wanted another of each. Instead, I just headed back up to my room, as alone as when I went down, and made myself a tea.

I'd socialize tomorrow.

Bro was here in DC for career-related reasons and I pretty much tagged along as a kind of micro-vacation. Once he finished up doing his thing, we met up with my friend Archi and her beau. Our destination was The Gibson, a Washington DC cocktail lounge buried within the walls of a brownstone. The Gibson, like so many speakeasyesque bars of late, incorporates the hidden-in-plain sight theme. Looking like a long-shuttered pawn shop to the uninformed, The Gibson hides a classy and classic, darkly wooded, dimly lit, moodily subdued setting with a drink menu emphasizing citrus and bitters.

Something about The Gibson that was a positive before ever walking through the door was its no-standing policy. This means that you'll never be elbowed in the ribs while someone with longer eyelashes gets the bartender's attention. It also means that you can wait upwards of an hour to get a seat. They'll take your cell phone number and give you a ten minutes arrival window once they call you for your table. I'd recommend getting a reservation, but they fill up weeks in advance.

My party lucked out and got in without having to wait because another table failed to arrive on time. But we only had an hour and a half to imbibe. And yes, they were indeed quite anal about that hour and a half.



I won't belabor the drinks we had here, or try to break them down too much. Suffice it to say that every one of them was clearly perfect. Some, you might not like if you're not into drinks that are bitters-heavy, but fight that out with your palate. You can't argue that it's the drink's fault.

The three clearest drinks above are the Alameda Mule, a summery drink in a tall glass, stuffed with ice, containing lime vodka, lime juice and ginger beer, the Jackelope, made from bourbon, maple syrup, lemon and orange, and the Satin Sheets, a tequila-based limeade with agave syrup.

For round two, the Sazerac, a rye cocktail with orange bitters and absinthe, and the Rouge LeBlanc, another bitter concoction of sweet and dry vermouths, Campari, Benedictine, absinthe and bitters. The only sweet drink visible above is the Brunswick Sour, made from rum, cane sugar and Merlot.

As the end of our hour and a half neared (despite numerous open tables), the staff grew antsy. They began reminding us of how many minutes we had left, appearing often enough to be a NASA countdown. Fifteen minutes, guys. Ten minutes, guys. Guys, it's almost time. This irritating irritation ended with the hostess standing behind the table like a smiling but nervous guard. Still, I'd still return in a heartbeat, especially if it's her day off.

Cocktails at Gibson average $10-$12 and they have a decent wine list.

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BUN SOHO

BUN SOHO

143 Grand Street
New York, NY 10013
(212) 431-7999

Vietnamese cuisine is typically the love child of Thai and French chefs and you can usually trust that there'll be spices and sauces and coconut and oomph. Unless you eat at Bun Soho. Midwesterns rejoice! Your taste buds are safe. Bun Soho, all too often, left its spice rack in Saigon. The flavors are soft. In my opinion, too much so.

On two occasions I ventured into Bun Soho, Michael Bao Huynh's SoHo noodle bistro. One time was with my out-of-towner friend Seth, and the other time was with my in-of-towner friends Mr. Dogz and Speeds. Both times the meals tasted fine, if not run of the mill, but the experiences were otherwise not similar at all.

MEAL ONE:

Bun serves mostly small plates dishes or noodle bowls, which average about $12 each. Share a few with a friend and the meal can be very reasonable. This is especially the case if you skip the drinks. Speaking of which, Bun has two drinks named after assault rifles used in the Vietnam War, the AK-47 and the M-16. Manly man names... girly ingredients. I had hoped to compare them, but at $10 a pop, I ended up nixing that idea (that would have doubled the cost of the meal). The M-16 was like a condensed, burning white Russian.

Seth, exhausted from spending the last 10 hours covering a convention, met me in midtown in the lobby of his hotel. After a quick howdyado, we grabbed the first yellow train we could get to Canal Street and hoofed it two blocks north to Bun. Seth wasn't very hungry, so he ordered only one thing, the Bun Nem Cuu, a noodle bowl with lamb, spring rolls and pickled papaya. I ordered the Bun Steak, a very similar noodle bowl, but this time served with slices of hanger steak, pineapple, Asian mustard green and mint. The bowls are a pretty good size, but I recommend starting with something else or ordering a side of rice. They're very light.

I couldn't think of leaving having had only tried a couple of dishes, so I also partook of Bun's Chim Cut Roti, a salad-like plate with quail that had been served in a soy-garlic-barbecue-butter glaze. Delicious, though not very filling. Still, as I said, Bun operates on the ever more popular small plates theme.

The atmosphere at Bun, at least when Seth and I went, was very relaxed. Everyone from the waitresses to the customers seemed to be in an almost constant state of laughter. While it wasn't crowded, it was loud enough that you could talk without fearing that every other table would be listening in. The people here were all in their 20s and 30s and I'm pretty sure that one of the tables was occupied entirely by models.



MEAL TWO:
Believing that ordering three dishes from a good sized menu is a half-assed way of assessing a restaurant, I managed to guilt Speeds into helping me get a second round here. She, in turn, guilted Mr. Dogz. Or was it that she bribed him? Guilted... bribed... same difference.

We can mid-week and it was... deserted. When you're the loudest people there, the sexy party vibe goes bye bye. On the other hand, we had half the place to ourselves, so we didn't feel like anyone was being disturbed by our boisterosity... except our impatient dick of a waiter. We lucked out when he swapped with a waitress who was great.

We started with an order of Goi Cuon, a shrimp and pork belly roll wrapped in lettuce, mint and peanut, served with a garlic sweet and sour sauce. Speeds, allergic to garlic, traded appetizers with me. I ordered Banh Khoc, a plate of diced pork, bean and mushroom mini-cakes. I liked the mini-cakes, but Speeds felt that they were too greasy. As for the shrimp rolls, they were bland, even when buried in the garlic sauce, which I wasn't a great fan of to begin with.



Three bowls of noodles were dinner. Speeds ordered the Bun Steak steak bowl I tried the first time I ate here and she liked it, appreciating the sweetness of the apples and pineapples, but not expecting the dish to be a cold one with hot meat. Mr. Dogz ordered the Bun Ca, a grilled fish noodle bowl with cucumber, turmeric and dill, served with an anchovy sauce. While praising the dish incessantly (I liked it too, incidentally), he recommends that they triple the amount of anchovy sauce that it comes with, as it made the dish. My dinner was the Pho Bo, a beef and oxtail noodle soup that was the only hot entree of the evening. It was served with a little selection of spices and a tiny cube of lime. My suggestion is the squeeze the lime in, then dump everything else in. Again, that damn blandness. In fact, to get the requisite spice-induced nose running, I had to ask for another little plate of spice. Then it was quite tasty and is my official entree of choice.

Meal One: Two Bun bowls, one small plate, one flaming cocktail shot, and two beers, plus tax and tip came to $71.

Meal Two: Two Bun Bowls, two appetizers, and a soup, plus tax and tip came to $55.

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IKEA

IKEA RESTAURANT

One Beard Street

Brooklyn, NY 11231

(718) 246-4532

First off, I know what you're thinking. "IKEA?! For dinner?!" See, IKEA is a whole day affair. Anyone who thinks that they can simply run inside this place for fifteen minutes just to pick up cheap wine glasses is fooling themselves. Five hours after you first walked in, despite being surrounded by sofas, you're tired and irritable and hungry. Shopping for affordable home decor is a full time job. Between testing chairs and measuring tables, opening drawers and choosing dishes, the whole day has gone by. Luckily for you (or in this case, me) IKEA happens to have a restaurant.

There are three IKEAs in the NYC metro area. Elizabeth, New Jersey; Hicksville, Long Island; and Red Hook, Brooklyn. Bro and I decided to do this shopping at the Red Hook one, since it's the only one we haven't been to. And get this. It's exactly like the other two. Who'da thunk?

The restaurant is pretty much a big cafeteria, and the food awaits (pre-made) your decision whether or not to eat it. But it's better that your average soup kitchen, with high-end-ish entrees and desserts. The restaurant even opens before the store itself does so that early-to-rise shoppers desirous of beating the crazed mob of thrifty furniture-goers can have a nutritious start to their day.

Bro ordered the Apple Glazed Salmon with mixed vegetables and mixed greens side salad with Italian dressing. The salmon was sweet, albeit a little on the fishy side, but Bro said that it was far better than he thought it would be considering they make ten million of these each day. I went for my IKEA staple of Swedish Meatballs, served with mashed red potatoes, mixed vegetables, lingonberry sauce and gravy. I love Swedish meatballs and these were no exception. The mashed potatoes (with skins) were actually very good, as were the mixed vegetables, though they were obviously frozen as opposed to freshly steamed. And of course, you can't go wrong with having a roll to mop up the extra gravy. We also ordered a side of French Fries for no reason at all. They were surprisingly good. Actually, they were probably the best fries I've had in the past few months.

Everything, while not about to win any culinary awards, was tasty, especially considering that this is pretty much a mall cafeteria. The one downside was that the checkout line was somewhat slow and, coupled with the low temperature of the dining area itself, the food chilled more than I would have liked between picking it out and getting to a table.

Finally, dessert. Bro's dessert was the Chocolate Overload Cake, a rich mouse layer cake that was moist and better than most restaurant chocolate cakes I've had in recent memory. And given that it cost $2 instead of $8... My choice was the Diam Torte, an almond crisp cake with a chocolate coating served with a little chocolate nougat candy. It reminded me of a large almond Kit Kat bar and, with coffee, was a very pleasant way to finish up rigorous and frustrating day of shopping. A day of shopping in which I bought absolutely nothing... sigh.

Our meal of two entrees, three extra sides, a bottle of Kristian Regale sparkling black currant juice, a soda, two desserts, and two coffees totaled $30 and we didn't even have to tip.

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