e a t e r y R O W

VEGETARIAN DIM SUM HOUSE
24 Pell Street
New York, NY 10013
(212) 577-7176

As you may have noticed, the economy sucks. And not in a good way. Nope, it's sucking in a totally sucky way. This means finding ways to eat out without breaking the ever-more fragile bank. One time-tested method is to befriending broke-assed hipsters who, after binging on camera equipment, have become pros at eating on the cheap. Another is the Tom Colicchio wallet control system. Here at Craftsteak, they will serve you half-sized portions of their entrees, half-sized portions of their cocktails, and half-glasses of wine for... half the price! It's like restaurant week all over again, but with less hooch.

Of course, you could either stop eating out altogether, but my addiction compels me to seek out fooderies that fall into the less expensive category. Vegetarian Dim Sum House was a Mr. Dogz suggestion. He insisted that eating out on the super cheap could be done here. And done here it was. Big time.

As many of you out there do, I like my meat. But before you skip this post, allow me to assure you that during my meal at Vegetarian Dim Sum House, I not once found myself craving anything but another round of their dim sum. The food was, in a word, incredible. There was a short wait this Saturday evening. We ended up sharing a table with two other people, but it was a table for eight and we sat on one side and no one was bothered. Three people would have been annoying, but two groups of two was no biggie. A pot of tea arrived, and we began to pick things off of the checklist dim sum menu.

Mr. Dogz and I began our feast by sharing a small bowl of Sweet and Sour Soup. Note that I said small bowl. This "small" bowl came with smaller bowls so that the soup could be ladled into it. I can only assume that the large comes in a bucket. The soup itself was fantastic. Spicy enough to get my nose to run, but not such that I couldn't taste any of the dishes that followed.

Of the numerous solid dishes that Mr. Dogz and I ordered, the first to arrive were the Rice Flour Rolls with Deep Fried Dough. Oh my God. If licking the plate clean was an option, the dishwashers in the kitchen would be out of work. Picture a glazed doughnut, wrapped in a sticky noodle with a drizzle of some soy sauce-esque syrup on top. It may sound weird, and it was, but this was amazing. You won't be disappointed. And if you are, I suggest returning your tongue to the manufacturer and replacing it with one that works.

After the fried dough, the dishes started arriving fast and furious. Fried Turnip Cakes were the first thing I dug my chopsticks into. These were the worst dish we ate that evening and they weren't really that bad. You just have the get past the texture, which is akin to eating huge bricks of snot. It's virtually impossible to pick them up without cutting the slime in half. But once you did, and once you dipped them in the requisite thick brown mystery sauce, they were pretty good. They really didn't taste like anything I can describe though, so order them and tell me what you think. This was followed up by the green Spinach Dumplings and the orange Shark Fin Dumplings, both of which were excellent. Very different flavors each, but neither one tasting quite like what their names would have one believe. I'm curious as to what the shark fin refers to, since I'm thinking that since all of the fish on the menu was "mock" fish, this must have been something else. But I'll order it again and it won't make any difference. Both dumpling dishes came in sets of three, and each were rather large. Finally, the Buddha Bean Curd Rolls. Dogz and I each had one of the two large rolls, soaking in a soy sauce. I didn't taste any bean curd, but whatever was buried within them tasted mighty fine. Picture a large, dripping wet stuffed cabbage, Asian style, and you sorta get what this is like. This was Dogz's favorite of these four.

We then took it upon ourselves to order some of the sweeter dumplings as a kind of dessert. Steamed Sesame Paste Buns and Red Bean Cakes were the dumplings of choice for this part of the meal. The sesame paste buns were a bit like eating sticky buns filled with peanut butter. Very sweet, and technically moist, but everything stuck to the roof of your mouth, giving it that dry feeling. Order them anyway, since they're worth it. Just drink the tea. The red bean cakes were the exact opposite. Here the whole dish was sweet, from the glazed clear rice coating to the beans encased within. And may I say that these two dishes specifically were very heavy. Lots of starch. If we weren't full after eating everything else, we were now.

We split the bill for everything, $17 each, including tax and tip. This was a laughably cheap meal. Vegetarian Dim Sum House also happens to have a vast regular menu with sections for mock pork, mock beef, etc., but these dishes are way more expensive. It seems silly to spend $15 on a single entree when you could spend that much on four dim sum dishes that will fill you to bursting.

184 Eighth Avenue
New York, NY 10011
(212) 929-4320

If I had to choose, I'd choose French. French food, specifically. It's the only food I fantasize about cooking. I actually teared up during Ratatouille. Half the time, it's painfully complex and the other half of the time, it's amazingly simple. What I think that many people don't realize is how similar French food is to American. Hell, how similar the French people are to Americans. We both love wine, skiing, and action movies. Both cultures are more conservative and protectionist than I care to admit. We both speak "international" languages. We both have aircraft carriers. Both of our presidents have become sex-symbol celebrities. We both smoke more than the Swedes but less than the Chinese. We can both go on vacation in Canada. And, of course, for both of us, French fries are our national food.

It is with French fries that I began my meal at La Belle Vie, a very Parisian French restaurant in Chelsea with high tin ceilings, dark wood paneling, crooning slow music, and old school 1920s lighting. La Belle Vie, when I arrived at 6 on the dot, was also a ghost town. A woman at the bar, the staff, myself, and dim lighting. It was like a noir movie. I almost wish it was raining. And so it remained for quite some time. For you see, Speeds was late. I started to wonder if I'd been stood up. Two beers, a plate of tasty French Fries, and half of the Sunday Times crossword puzzle later, she arrived.

Under any other circumstances, I'd have been beside myself. But being how empty La Belle Vie was, it was actually relaxing to just sit there. Almost meditative. Still, by the that Speeds bothered to show up, I was officially hungry. We quickly ordered La Tarte Au Cepes, a wild mushroom, goat cheese and leek pastry appetizer to share. I ate half and it was heavy enough that I was almost full by the time the entrees arrived. The pastry was amazing by the way, though I'd have been perfectly happy without the goat cheese. Still, delicious.



Speeds ordered the Ravioli Aux Cepes, a porcini mushroom ravioli in a wild mushroom cream sauce. I don't usually think of ravioli as French, but it's amazing how that perception shifted once it was drowned in a thick wild mushroom. And it was very good. And very heavy. Speeds ate half and took the rest home for lunch the next day. My entree... uh, not so good.

See, here's the thing. I love Coq Au Vin. The best coq au vin I've ever had was at Le Grainne Cafe, but as of my last dining there, they stopped making it. The thing about coq au vin is that if it took you less than three hours to make, you did it wrong. The chicken, the wine, the brandy, the vegetables, the stock, the stuff, simmers away for an eternity before it's served. And when it finally winds up in front of you, the chicken's so tender you could cut it with a spoon. It's practically a stew. This, whatever it might have called itself, was not coq au vin. It was chicken in a heavy red wine sauce. It was dry chicken in a heavy red wine sauce. And while Speeds liked it... a lot (though she acknowledged the dryness), I couldn't get into it. Skip it.



Human beings, like cows, have more than one stomach. Stomach one is for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Stomach two is for dessert. No matter how full you are, somehow you'll always have room for dessert. And for this dessert, we ordered La Belle Vie's Grand Marnier Soufflé. Since it takes a while to make, you need to order it when you order dinner, but I recommend doing so. It was excellent. If you're new to soufflés, picture an extremely light cake made from baked whipped egg whites with powdered sugar and a Grand Marnier sauce poured over and into it. It's hard to describe the fluffy moist combination, but it's almost like eating a cloud that wants to rain creamy orange liqueur.



Two beers, a side of fries, an appetizer, and two entrees, one dessert and two coffees, plus tax, plus tip, totalled $97.

SALA ONE NINE
35 West 19th Street
New York, NY 10011
(212) 229-2300

Now that Speeds and her secret boyfriend have gone public, I have a better understanding of why we haven't seen that much of each other. I'm still searching for an understanding of why I was the one she asked to put up shelves in her kitchen. I pondered this question while drowning out a lengthy critique of the relationship I had with my now ex-girlfriend. I think that "please stop talking" was in the back of my head somewhere. Followed closely by "I'm hungry."

Hunger led to tapas. Tapas led to 19th Street. I almost dragged her into a deserted Flatiron Lounge for a little pre-dinner pain go bye-bye juice. But instead we kept a-walkin' and found ourselves seated in a cozy little corner of Sala One Nine, the Flatiron offshoot of Sala. A quick word about the staff. First, our waitress was great. Second, the chefs clearly know what they're doing. Third, the manager should label the soy sauce "soy sauce" and the balsamic vinegar "balsamic vinegar". We discovered this boo boo just after Speeds, I kid thee not, cut herself while pulling apart the bread we got (they baked on one helluva crust) and began dipping the bread in a little dish of olive oil and... 

But that aside. Foody-food-food time. Speeds and I began our culinary suaré with a good old fashioned staple of the tapas experience, Croqetas de Jamon, a cheese and ham-filled ball of yumminess. The ham was a bit of the whereisitohthereitisIseeitnow variety, but in actuality, you didn't even need the ham. Just the cheese oozing over my fork was enough to cause a wee little smile to creep across my tongue. Served right alongside it was what might have been my favorite plate of the evening, the Brie Fundido. Brie, melting as it does room temperature, on a bed of wild mushrooms on toast. Speeds was far less a fan than I was. But that just meant more for me. I think in fairness, Speeds is mildly allergic to anything in the onion and garlic family. So... uh... sucks to be her.

Next up, my least favorite dish, the Queso de Cabra con Miel, dollops of goat cheese, fried with caramelized onions and drizzles of honey. I liked it, but everything else was better. I don't usually like goat cheese, but caramelizing the onions, bringing out their sugars, and then coating those sugars in honey tempered the bitterness of the goat cheese. If you're like me and don't usually like goat cheese, you still might enjoy this. If you already do like goat cheese, you're sure to.

Finally, the Calamare a la Plancha, grilled squid in a garlic, parsley, and hot red pepper pesto-like sauce. Most people only know squid when it's deep fried. And even then, mostly the tentacles. Sala grills the body in a far more heart healthy olive oil. The texture was soft and tender, the flavor mellow and light. Squeeze over some lemon and boom. Perfection.

Dinner over, we figured that it was time for dessert. In fact, since Sala comped us our second drinks, leaving us a few extra wampum beads to spend, we were practically required to get some sweetness... and coffees. Speeds wanted the vanilla flan. I wanted the apple cinnamon caramel pastry. But they were out of both, so we instead went with the Sorpesa Chocolate, a warm, molten chocolate cake that was much like every other warm, molten chocolate cake I've had in the past few years. That's not to say it was bad. It was very good. I just wanted something unique, and for that, chocolate cake just isn't the way to go.

Papaya Dog
Papaya King
Gray's Papaya

The hot dog. Much like the hamburger, it's one of the original American fast foods. Unlike the hamburger, no one has figured out how to make it classy without being laughed at. The hot dog is a staple of the ballpark and the carnival, Coney Island and Times Square. It's enjoyed by so many Americans that even vegans created their own clone to avoid feeling left out of the fun. And yet it's a publicly derided staple. One need only recall The Simpsons episode where Lisa imagines a hot dog being pieced together from the remnants of roadkill and a hobo shoe. Still, the hot dog endures.

Hot Dogs and papaya juice. Not the first combo I think of when I think of phallic-shaped processed meat products, but clearly a popular one.

PAPAYA DOG
239 First Avenue
New York, NY 10003
no phone (?)

Papaya Dog is the closest of the seedy hot dog joints to where I grew up, so I figured that this would be a good place to start.



Whenever I'm in the East Village, and it's three in the morning and I'm drunk and I'm hungry, I go to Papaya Dog. I always order the same thing, the hamburger combo. They have pretty good hamburgers, especially at three in the morning. I also get a hot dog to nosh on while I wait for the hamburger to cook. This time, it seems more fair to review them sober.



There's always a crowd at Papaya Dog, regardless of the time of day. In the daytime, students line up to get cheap eats and annoy me with their tweenage banter. Later on, they come back for a post-school snack. As the day gets later, the crowd evolves into the more hipster population that has become the new Alphabet City demographic. Followed later still by everyone who just finished partying.

This time around, I skipped the burger and went for the regular hot dog and one with some added stuff, in this case, cheese and chili.



In theory, the cheese and chili hot dog was a good idea. After all, I like cheese and I like chili. Ipso facto, cheese and chili on a hot dog must be a winning combo. However, that logic can also be extended to liking Rice Krispies and Coors, which is not quite as winning. It was like eating a chunk of lead and I could taste it for the better part of an hour. Plus I couldn't taste the hot dog. I could have easily asked for chili, cheese and a bun and saved some money.

Still, their plain Jane hot dog was really good, so stick to those.

*****


Gray's Papaya is the most famous of the trio, and based on my experience standing on the long line at the upper west side one, it's the most popular. This time, I chose to visit the one in the far more colorful neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen. If the motto of real estate is location, location, location, then Gray's Papaya must be targeting the "need more porno" demographic.



Gray's Papaya is small. In fact, if it got any smaller, you'd be standing outside. Tables shmables. "Eating in" means propping your dogs and drink on a five inch wide ledge by the window. Unlike Papaya Dog, there's no menu. Hot dogs or nothing. And there aren't that many to choose from. I ordered one plain hot dog, which I then put ketchup and mustard on, and one with some sort of onion glop. It was the glop or sauerkraut. Glop me.



I actually expected the onion glop to taste vile. But no, it was pretty good. I think that I might glop all of my Grays Papaya dogs from now on. New York magazine thinks that the Gray's dogs are the best of the Papaya offerings, and I think that they were fine, but somewhat small. The meat got lost in the bun. As for the best, I dunno. Maybe I'm not enough of a connoisseur. I won't argue with the cost though. The two dogs and a papaya juice (which was very good, by the way), was under $5.

PAPAYA KING
200 14th Street
New York, NY 10011
(212) 367-8090

Papaya King was the first of the three, and always seemed to be one step up from grungy Gray's Papaya, which seemed to be to raison d'etre for the random-meat hot dog. At least in the 1980s when I was growing up. Papaya King was, like, real food.

Similarly to Papaya Dog, I opted for the regular good ol' hot dog and a chili-topped one. But for the chili-topped one, no cheese this time. Onion instead. And what a difference! I could actually taste the meat. The chili and onion complimented the hot dog rather than drown it out.

The regular hot dog, as you can see in the photo, is somewhat on the thin side. The hot dog is longer than the competition's, but this being the Chelsea location, you think that they'd know that it's really the girth that matters. Still, I can't argue the taste, which was moderately better than Papaya Dog's, though not enough to make me cross town for the difference.