I will start each post (if I ever post more than twice a year) with a food porn of the day. All pictures are taken by me, and eaten too. Jealous? Today’s Food Porn: Berry Shortcake from the Rockefeller Meals on Wheels event.
After having a real pizza moment today at Grimaldi’s in DUMBO, I’ve decided it is time to put up a dogmatic post about New York Superlatives.
Best Food Critic You Love and Love to Hate: Sam Sifton. As R said: “His writing makes me want to eat out with him, then kill him.” You will be missed Sam!
Best Pizza: Grimaldi’s. The cheese makes those delectable strings when you sever a hot slice, but it is not of the slidey mozzarella family. There are half-melted pillows of it, browned like a marshmellow. And the crust is thin enough to make you feel elegant (flat food is more chic, whether you know it or not), but thick enough to remind you that yes, crust is a relative of bread. Also, heat-blasted pepperoni that has curled up into little cups, oily thimbles of the hearth gods. (that last bit was a Sam Sifton tribute)
Best burgers: Shake Shack. More specifically, Shake Shack Madison Square Park. I have had the wonderful grace to have an eating companion who is rather obsessed, and I now have the authority to tell you that even at the holy temple at SSMSP, the consistency can be spotty. So, even though I can tell you that the meat is perfectly lumped into a petite burger, charred yet never dry, overlaid with a necessarily overlarge slice of just-melted cheese, and accompanied by fresh from the crisper lettuce and tomato, all stacked gently together on a sweet soft round bun (potato bread?), it is only this perfect about half the time. Which is a lot! Which is worth the possible hour-long line if you’re not pre-cranky. Their fries are barely worth it, and their concretes have nothing on Dairy Queen, but their custard is the best way to fill that tiny corner of your stomach that want a second Shackburger but can’t…quite…commit.
Best coffee: Ace Hotel, Stumptown. Yes, yes, pretentious and sure the brand is stretching itself too thin blah blah their cappuccino has the type of silken brown foam that to me is all caramel and nuttiness. In other words, it comes closest to tasting what coffee smells like. Cue actual barista language.
Best Ice Cream: Well, there are several houses of worship in NYC, although I have to be completely honest and say that Toscanini’s cardamom in Cambridge can be rivaled by no one, except maybe Berthillon’s armagnac and prune flavor in Paris. Don’t I sound snobby! Anyways, as for New York, I particularly like Goat Town’s tart and refreshing take on salty caramel, while the Bassett’s chocolate at Sweet Melissa’s is fudgier than any I’ve had. Also, Momofuku Milk Bar has things like cereal milk soft serve, and once this alcoholic salty pistachio milkshake that tasted like how I’ve always envisioned manna.
Best Buns: While I’m praising David Chang, let me just say: his pork buns. Steamed buns, as soft and plump as a baby’s bottom. In a non-creepy way. Thin rounds of cucumber, hoisin sauce, a sprinkle of scallions, and a slice of roast pork as holy as anything so unkosher could be. Look at those pictures. My Jewish vocabulary can go no further.
Although! If you happen to find yourself in Alphabet City, seek out Bauhaus. Same pillowy, voluptuous buns. Beef cheek (cheeks?), in those chunky shards that happens when beef is well-braised, with crushed peanuts and leaves of cilantro. They used to do peanuts boiled in vinegar, but alas, no more.
Ok kids, that’s enough for tonight. I’m starving and all I’ve got is corn pops.
