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MonkeytownMonkeytown is an impressive manifestation of conceptual
dining. It's like indulging in fusion food in a funhouse: While
relaxing, even lying down on the back room's cozy futons (which are
squarely arranged), diners are treated to a film, a performance, or
live music; leisurely service encourages aesthetic indulgence. The
creations of Chef Coleman Lee Foster (Chanterelle, Gramercy Tavern) are
delicious, if sometimes too mild. Still, dishes like pulled pork and
milk-chocolate curry mousse intrigue, and in a neighborhood where sushi
and comfort food are the norm, making a trip to Monkeytown is a welcome
departure. Reservations are suggested for the back room.
Sino Fried Chicken at San TungNow here’s a chicken wing that may not be your regular on game day, but shift it into the rotation and you may be surprised. I can’t think of a more perfectly crispy skin, and with the proper addition of piri piri, these wings could fly miles above your stampede of the buffalo variety. A pile of these is a bundle of joy, practically a steal at eight bucks. And there is no better place to get them than San Tung, a well-trafficked joint in Inner Sunset. The dry fried chicken (wet) is doused in a succulent garlic sauce, but 74 is the number to point to for crispiness: This truly mouthwatering item is the original dry fried chicken (dry). If you can’t get enough–and trust me, you can’t–the dry fry preparation works its magic on proteins besides chicken: Beef, flounder, shrimp and calamari. Collect all five! link
Shuffling my feet underneath
the Bay Bridge with a wad of
cash in my pocket, I couldn’t help but hum drug-deal ditties: “Pusher
Man,” “Grindin’,” “I’m Waitin For The Man.” I was waiting for Seoul on
Wheels, a slick roach coach that makes the rounds through SoMa each
weekday to deliver the goods (Korean BBQ) to hungry office folks and
construction workers. Proprietor Julia Yoon, after the dot bomb and an
unsatisfying turn as a paralegal, heard the call of the road, and now
she’s cooking rib eye, chicken, and spicy pork in Hunter’s Point at
3:30 each morning before cruising up to her first stop (Bryant and
Main) at 6:45. The “regular” rice bowl is stacked high for a cool
$5.50. And the BBQ sandwich, a French roll smeared with mayo and chili
paste, is pretty darned swell. Either get your kimchee fried right into
the rice, or have a portion on the side for a quarter. As the maxim
goes: If you can’t find the kimchee, let the kimchee find you. Seoul on
Wheels—That’s innovation! A tip: Keep your eyes peeled; Julia can’t
always get the same parking spots. Giants’ game days are especially
difficult. link
An offshoot of next-door srtisinal eatery Flatbush Farm, this lofty space maintains the same country aesthetic. Candles and low-wattage lightbulbs create its dirt-road setting, and, rather than putting the MP3 player on autopilot, the bartenders flip an eclectic mix of LPs. The bar has concocted its own organic menu, but pulls the treats from a common kitchen; the pair also shares an immense backyard garden, with a canopy of trees that produces solitude a stones-throw from Flatbush Avenue.
What to Drink
Cafe
BakeryThe menu of this generically named Cafe Bakery boasts that ther "house famous specialty" is the "B.B. Q Pork Bun." And if that isn't enough to get you in the door, let me point out the light price tag: a buck and a dime. These roasted pork buns (cha siu baau in Cantonese) are not the steamed variety favored at dim-sum restaurants, but the baked variety found--where else--in bakeries. What really puts these guys above the multitude of buns that I've gorged on is the generous meat-to-bun ratio. Many cha siu baau suffer from being too doughy, which makes the hunt for pork like the hard-fought quest for the pearl at the center of an oyster. But the cha siu baau at Cafe Bakery is loaded with the good stuff: chunks of pork, saucy but not drowning. The egg-wash that glazes the bun is stickier and sweeter than usual, which is a fine compliment to the 'cue. The great thing about Chinese bakeries is that they provide a steal for pinny-pinchers, and a feast for the prodigal. So try anything that looks delicious or downwright weird. You won't be out more than $1.10. link
So here’s the
deal: five variations on an American past-time
as iconic as the Superbowl: the consumption of burgers and beers. This
summer treat is a culinary delicacy that has spawned arguments,
interstate quests, and countless publications. To gentlemen whose
cuisin-odyssies take place mostly in microwaves, these riffs on the
burger are sure to garner respect in the kitchen, and accolades for
your deft ability to match meat and malt. And if any lady whose
appetite you intend to test passes this challenge, she is worthy of
your undying love and respect.
Five burgers and five beers in five nights. Wait for a heat wave to
roll in, buy up your supplies, and get
to it.
Night # 1:
Classic Cheeseburger with Rogue: Malt Liquor
Halve the ground beef and mix thoroughly with salt and pepper (keep the
other half for night #2). Roll into a ball, flatten into a patty and
set aside. Oil a sauté pan and place over med-high heat. Place the
burger in the pan and cook to desired degree (about 3 minutes for
medium-rare). While the meat cooks: Rinse tomato and iceberg lettuce,
(flip hamburger meat), peel open a slice of American cheese and place
on top of the hamburger meat, toast potato bun. When the burger is
cooked to your liking, place it on top of the bottom bun and dress the
top bun with mayo, yellow mustard, ketchup, and pickles.
In a day and age when food is full of additives, it's a good lot to know where your grub is coming from. Here is one solution: Head north to Hog Island's oyster farm on Tomales Bay. There, the oysters are pulled right from the water, and after spending 24 hours in a quality-controlled bath, are prime for the shucking. This is a skill that you'll have to acquire quickly, as there are no waiters at the farm. (This ain't the goddamned Ferry Building, city slicker.) It's a very do-it-yourself experience, and folks get creative with the picnic area's open-flame grills to personally prepare oysters by stewing, skewering, and pan-frying. A popular method is to just cook the oysters right inside their shells, which results in a brine-steamed oyster and delicious sea broth. To reiterate: Hog Island provides the oysters, shucking equipment, scenery, and seating. Everything else, from beer to mignonette, is your responsibility. Reservations are required. link
Absinthe:Manet and Picasso were more interested in absinthe drinkers than absinthe itself. Compared to their peers, Manet and Picasso were teetotalers. Manet’s “The Absinthe Drinker” was rejected by the Salon jury of 1859 for depicting a character unfit for serious artistic study (and for lacking technique). Manet expanded the canvas, adding legs, an empty bottle, and a glass of absinthe; it was clear that the parameters of realism were not broad enough for the blooming genius, so he destroyed them while founding modernism. The silver absinthe spoons that Picasso included in his series of six bronze-cast “Glass[es] of Absinthe” (1914) helped usher in the era of the “readymade” (a term applied to found-art by Marcel Duchamp a year later). And between these bookends are numerous contributions to the study of street life and cafe society, panhandlers and hookers, and the copious consumption of absinthe.... read more
New
Orleans is famed for drive-thru
daiquiri stands and those
sugary barrel-sized ass-kickers: hurricanes. But the thirsty visitor is
doing their self a grave disservice if their drinking is confined to
Bourbon Street. True, there is a certain charm in seeing doors open to
bars with ever-churning rows of candy-colored daiquiri dispensers,
blaring Aerosmith at 8am, while municipal employees sweep puke into the
gutter. But the real liquor lover will swing by the city during the 5th
annual Tales of the Cocktail festival, this July 18th-22nd. If you can
make the trip, be certain to etch out space in your agenda to prowl the
city and get your hands on the following four drinks....A
drunken amusement park
The Carousel Lounge in the Hotel Monteleone (214 Royal St.) has a
specific draw: it reigns as the oldest rotating bar in the country.
There you can cyclically cruise at a steady 1/4 mile per hour, and come
to understand why the Carousel Bar has been so frequently used by
writers (Tennesee Williams and Ernest Hemingway have both utilized the
setting).
The Carousel Lounge also lays claim to the Vieux Carré cocktail. I
stopped by in the middle of the afternoon and was pleased to find
renowned bartender Marvin Allen residing. I was certain he’d whip up
the Vieux Carré without hesitation, and he did so. The Vieux Carré,
made with both cognac and rye, is like a more aromatic and
alcoholically-fumous Manhattan. The Peychaud’s bitters and cognac are
the parties responsible.
While on the topic of drinking and spinning, I should mention that fans
hang over your head everywhere in New Orleans. While this is fine for
keeping cool, it causes problems when you’ve been drinking. Be sure to
bed on your side, lest you get a serious case of the spins as you fall
asleep....
This bar's namesake is a now-vacant field in the French Pyrenees, where co-owner Pascal Escriout's grandfather once ran a vineyard, nicknamed "Le Domaine" by the friends who gathered there to freely imbibe. Continuing the familial tradition, the bar serves carafes of country wines from southwest France alongside other international selections.
Recently I’ve
been roaming the canals of Gowanus, Brooklyn,
sipping a spritz that I keep tucked into my blazer, and making believe
that I’m in Venice. Regional to Veneto, Italy, the Venetian Spritz is a
school of bitters-based sparkling cocktails that are served in varying
degrees of tenacity. Hubristic voyagers have oft been caught stumbling
through the labyrinthine streets after one too many of the ‘hard’
spritzes. The foundation of the spritz cocktail is typically Campari or
Aperol, but the specific ingredients are more difficult to
emulate.
The spritz
continues to haunt and puzzle drinkers long after
they have left the lurid shores of Venice. Hours are spent by amateur
apothecaries, whose futile efforts never quite achieve the grandeur and
mystique of the Venetian Spritz. Perhaps these addicted souls expect
Venice to appear before their eyes – Brigadoon style – and once again
open its chasms for the voyagers. Or perhaps the Venetian Spritz is
that choleric element described in Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice – not
cholera, not homosexuality, but a posse of mysterious Italian
aperitivos driving souls into frenzies. Consider the following excerpt
from Mann’s classic: “[He] sat by the balustrade, from time to time
cooling his lips with the ruby-red mixture of [Campari] and soda that
sparkled in the glass in front of him.” Indeed, edits mine, of course,
but the portrait is an alluring one.
Even this writer
has spent restless nights, mumbling at the
kitchen bar: “too sweet…too bitter…too, too fizzy!” Yes, the cocktail
captivates and its bubbles pop in your skull like an aneurism. What’s
worse: being caught digging through the neighbor’s herb garden, blindly
snatching fists-full in the dark in order to take a pot-shot at the
secret combination of 30 herbs that formulate Aperol’s locked-lip
secret composite, calling towards the moon: “Barbieri! It is said that
your Aperol is ‘based on an infusion of orange rhubarb, China and
Gentian,’ but the recipe stops there. Why must you torment me with this
teasing? Which herbs are the others? A curse on you, Barbieri!”
Signature formulas for each bitter ensure madness.
But take solace,
fair voyagers. A classic spirit has recently
completed its long trans-Atlantic trek from Italian to American shores,
and it may be the absence of this bitter that has perplexed the legions
of Campari-sloshing experimentalists. It seems that Campari – the
harder of the variations on the spritz – is actually less popular than
the variety made with the fresh and more easily palatable Aperol. This
absence may have caused many a mistaken identity, not to mention the
psychosis-prompting impossibility of attempting to mix the damned thing
with the wrong ingredients....
Philz
Coffee at Mission Bay
...the “America
Runs on Dunkin” campaign has employed the
help of Brooklyn-based music outfit They Might Be Giants, who play hip,
indie stuff (like some of the titles Starbucks stocks) that is quirky,
but inoffensive to a forty year-old (like some of the titles Starbucks
stocks). Currently they are running an ad, popularly referred to as
“Fritalian” that features another irreverent They Might Be Giants
jingle. It begins with the absurd string of coffee qualifiers:
“Mocho-half-caf-latte-cino-mocha-duet-avec-moi.” A befuddled cast of
characters in a modern coffee shop then proclaim: “My mouth can’t form
these words / Is it French, or is it Italian? / Perhaps Fritalian.” An
announcer appeases them: “Lattes from Dunkin Donuts. You order in
English, not Fritalian.”
The commercial demonstrates an intolerance for foreign languages that
is nothing short of xenophobic. While at the same time it suggests that
latte is an English word. It is arguable that latte has established its
niche in the cultural lexicon, but if it is understood universally then
both Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts can presume that the market
understands the word. Therefore Dunkin Donuts has no grounds to deride
as archaic, the words they use for advertising. This is especially
questionable when Dunkin Donuts conceives of neologisms that are
certainly not understood by the populous. What do they mean when they
sell a “Turbo Ice,” “Turbo Hot,” or any of their variety of “Coolatas”?
Latte has its root in Italian; café is French. These words have been
understood for hundreds of years. But Dunkin Donuts is creating a new
coffee lexicon based on hype and contractions. What becomes evident is
that Dunkin Donuts is copying Starbucks while pretending that they
aren’t....
Farmer’s Market weekenders rejoice at the news of a permanent Bluebottle coffee location. Now you no longer have to wait in the chilly bay breeze for 30 minutes to get your coffee; nope, now you can wait for 30 minutes indoors (just kidding, wait time has been appreciably reduced, especially considering that the Bluebottle coffee remains top tier java). While all the usual Bluebottle options, like New Orleans chicory coffee, are available, the new hit is the siphoned coffee. The siphon bar is the only one of its kind within United States borders, and has the visual mystique of an alchemist’s lab. With the price tag of the machine soaring into the fifth digit, The New York Times joked that this is the first “$20,000 Cup of Coffee.” Not to be passed up for the myriad bars in the hood, Bluebottle is appealing to the SOMA workforce on both ends of their commute: Between 3 and 7 pm, wine and charcuterie are served.