e a t e r y R O W

THE FAT RADISH

17 Orchard Street

New York, NY 10002

(212) 300-4053

The conceit behind Fat Radish, to my knowledge, was that it was supposed to be a restaurant where the fashion forward could go to be around other fashionable types without feeling the need to dress up. Casual food for hot people. If Beauty & Essex is where one would go to tell the city that you were sexy, Fat Radish was to be where one would go once that point had been proven and you wanted to leave the stilettos at home. Nonetheless, even though I told Elbie that it was casual, my self conscious self unnecessarily threw on a tie anyway and we made our way to the deserted end of Orchard Street, right on the border between the trendy Lower East Side and the filthy, roach-infested cesspit that is Chinatown.

The interior of Fat Radish is divided basically into two parts. The front is a cozy bar-like area where folks talk over high tables in a cramped but convivial setting. The rear is an actual restaurant. It's dark, but not so dark that you need a flashlight to read the menu, and while it's small, the tables are no more or less tightly spaced than at nearby Tre or uptown's Jacob's Pickles. Being led to a seat in the back at a little after nine on a Saturday, I was surprised that it wasn't more crowded, but pleased because that meant I could get a better camera placement for an interior photo. Little did I know that across the restaurant sat Jake Gyllenhaal. He soon came over, clomped his hand on my shoulder from behind and asked "So, uh, you taking photos in here?" Having yet to recognize him as anyone other than Guy Sitting With Friend Over There Number 6 and not actually at this point seeing his face, I assumed he was just some douchey manager enforcing some shitty photo rule. "Yeah, but nobody's face is visible," I said holding the screen just so. "See?" And with a grunt of acceptance he walked off. Elbie gave me a look. "Well, that was interesting" She said. "What?" I asked. "Was he a waiter? Or just someone who thinks he's famous?" "Uh," she said "he's sorta famous." 

Since the restaurant wasn't the one giving me grief about clicking away, the camera stayed out for when the food arrived. Fat Radish calls itself a British restaurant, which it may well be, but I was hard-pressed to find anything traditional on the menu. That isn't a bad thing, but if you're looking for fish and chips, I'll tell you now that it would be a pointless endeavor (at least as of this writing). Elbie ordered the Baby Beet Salad with a pine nut dressing which she thought was fantastic. I thought it was a beet salad. Salads have never been my thing so I'm always somewhat pleased when someone orders them. This way I can try them, talk about them to you, and never have to feel like I passed up on something better. The something better, in this case, was Sweet Pea Summer Pie, a pea-centric pot pie served with a far-too-small portion of creme fraiche. The crust was perfect but the peas were too undercooked for my liking. I fully realize this was intentional, but semi-warm al dente legumes are simply boring. Maybe if they threw in a little blood sausage for flavor instead of a barely noticeable hint of mint...

The entrees were slightly better than the appetizers, but again, somewhat flat overall. Elbie's main course was the Montauk Diver Sallops served on a bed of polenta. Again, she ordered something I never would have. I have a relatively short list of things I don't much care for but scallops are on it. Still, I will admit that these weren't bad at all. Very tender, sweet, with a slight crust. They weren't gamey or chewy and didn't leave your mouth with that I-just-licked-a-sidewalk-on-Mott-Street feeling. My entree was the Green Curried Monkfish with wild rice, eggplant and snake beans (long green beans). I love curry, even the timid green kind. This dish was pleasant, but too soft. There was nothing specifically wrong with it, but it was so bland that hospitals should recommend it to their ulcer patients. The monkfish was so light that it could float away, but it got lost in the curry flavor, which itself was hardly strong. Indeed, the strongest taste in the dish was that of the eggplant. I liked it, but if I return, I'd probably go for the pork chop.

What I won't recommend are the cocktails. Despite being $12 each, none are really worth writing about, save one: a cocktail based on beet juice that, while being the same vibrant, fluorescent red color of NyQuil was only half as strong and didn't taste nearly as good. Get wine.

2ND AVENUE DELI

1442 First Avenue

New York, NY 10021

(212) 737-1700

Like all New Yorkers worth their salt, I love Jewish delis. I can't explain it. There's something about getting a sandwich that's 100% meat that's very satisfying. Sure, I love veggies between my bread, too. But that's not what you go to a Jewish deli for. You go for a baseball of meat and two slabs of rye. And an egg creme. Despite moving from its famous Second Avenue location to both First and Third Avenues, the 2nd Avenue Deli is one of my favorites... and not just because it hasn't been co-opted by tourists and drunks. 

My last foray into the 2nd Avenue Deli was months ago and I left so full that I couldn't breathe. What can I say? Meat is heavy. Truth be told, I don't think that vegetables exist in places like this. Meat, carbs, cheese... coffee? The closest to green you're likely to find is a pickle. Suffice it to say, unless you have a few books floating around you've been meaning to get to, I'd invest in some Metamucil after a meal like this. This time, I went with Bro and Dudeman and, once again, I weighed far more coming out than going in.

BAOBQ

229 First Avenue

New York, NY 10003

(212) 475-7011

Michael Bao seems to open a new restaurant downtown every few months and to be blunt, none of them ever impress me. The food's edible, but if you sold the same eats out of a food truck on Roosevelt Avenue on a Tuesday, no one would remember it by Wednesday. And so it is with BaoBQ on 14th and 1st. Forgettable food served in a setting so mediocre that it's almost laughable. 

Walking inside of BaoBQ is something most of the people who eat from here will never actually do. I would bet money that the vast majority order delivery and never have to see the "Grade Pending" sign in the window from the Department of Health (I saw someone taking in an order of "fresh" meat in clear plastic bags from the trunk of a car when I was there, so...). It reminds me of the kind of place set up by moms and pops in Bushwick in 1987, with its poorly painted walls, used furniture and dirty floors. Hardly something I'd expect a chef who fancies himself a celebrity to want to stick his name on, even in irony. 

The Ga Nuong, a charcoal grilled Vietnamese style chicken that was supposed to be spicy was anything but spicy. At least in the burn your mouth sense. Tame, mild, Americanized. I'd say all of those. But spicy? No. But if it wasn't spicy, at least it was also overcooked and dry. Another time, I ordered the Kai Yang, a Thai style rotisserie chicken. And while I couldn't tell the difference between it and what I could get down the block at Boston Market, it was at least moist and the meat fell off the bone.

Other than the spare ribs, your best bet are the sandwiches... probably. The Porky Banh Mi sandwich was very tasty with a but. BUT the bread was "toasted". Or very stale. It was like biting through a brick to get to the goodies between the bread. Once I got there, I was gold, but it took effort and a sliced gum to do so. The bread on the Grilled Pork Meatball sandwich was all nice and tender. I didn't have to fight it . And while I'd argue that there was no meatballs in there (at least not the way you and I think of them) I'd say that it was good. I suppose it's possible that they got the order wrong and just gave me the same sandwich twice, but that would imply a sloppiness of which I am loathe to accuse. Either way, a very good sandwich this time.

 [ Copyright eateryROW 2012 ]

HOP SING LAUNDROMAT

1029 Race Street

Philadelphia, PA 19107

Philadelphia's a beer town. But I'm from New York, where cocktails reign supreme. So when I asked a local friend where we could go for real drinks (other than Franklin Mortgage, which I've already written up), she said "How about Hop Sing?" It seemed perfect. Oodles of top shelf liquor. A hidden entrance. A Chinatown-themed speakeasy inside of Philadelphia's Chinatown. The owner greets you at the signage-free hidden entrance and personally checks your ID. Plus there's a don't-be-a-slob dress code, a rarity in the a-Phillies-jersey-is-just-fine city of brotherly love. 

Upon entering the literally pitch black foyer, we were asked to sit and wait as our eyes adjusted and as our table was prepared. This was pure gimmick straight out of a Times Square theme restaurant. Jekyll and Hyde would be proud. We were the first guests of the evening. There was nothing to prepare. But here in the small dimly lit room, alone but for one man (the owner, who has cultivated and nurtured a reputation of eccentricity) standing over us, we were told the "rules". Upon pain of expulsion, no phones, no cameras, no loud talking. Privacy was paramount (but feel free to tweet). Thus, you'll forgive me for the lack of any photos of the interior or of the drinks. It was verboten. Hell, I even asked permission. I was told no. Until I go back and sneak in a few shots, you'll have to check out this Eater article for a photo. There are no candelabras on the tables.

Unlike the speakeasies of NYC (and despite what the Hop Sing website says, it is most assuredly a speakeasy, it's large inside. Easily twenty tables, plus seats at the bar.  Compared to Dutch Kills and Milk & Honey, it's safely four times the size, which is good news for booze hounds. Deep red walls, high ceilings, lots of paintings, antique copper fire extinguishers, and a floor tiled in thousands of pennies speak to the ostentatious display of kitch here. But it's fun kitch that adds to the mood.

We ordered six drinks in all and the experience as a whole leaves me with a few positive and a few negative things to say. First, the positive. Every single drink tasted great. The atmosphere was spot on. The servers were very attentive and polite. I asked for a Ramos Gin Fizz and they didn't hesitate to know what I was talking about and say "sure we can make that, just give us a few minutes." It was delicious. Finally, as someone used to shelling out $15 for a decent cocktail in the city, paying only $10 here in Philly was practically cheap.

Now, the negative. As I mentioned, the gimmicky game played by the owner was tiring after 30 seconds. Having him come to the table a few times to adjust the place settings and ask if everything was okay was just too OCD for my taste. While every cocktail tasted great, they were oddly weak. Each one was bordering on virgin. We had three each and should have left seeing double. But I could have driven home. And, as someone who drinks cocktails more than he drinks beer, I've never in my life had a weaker Manhattan. Rumor is that the owner is a bit of a weirdo control freak and if the staff's eggshell walking was any indication, it's not a rumor. I can't remember the last time I've seen a group of people so on edge, like they could get fired at any minute.

We arrived around 6:30 on a Thursday and, as I said, were the first in the door. When we left at around 8:30 there were a few tables taken, but by no means was there a line. Maybe the weekend gets more crowded, but on this particular evening, it was light.

Hop Sing will be better served with far less shtick, far more customer service, far less OCD, and far stronger drinks. It's a venue that Philadelphia sorely needs to counter it's beer-obsession, but there's work to be done.

Hop Sing is cash only.

VERANDA

• 208-01 Northern Boulevard

• Bayside, NY 11361

• (718) 281-2233 •

If ever given the choice, I'll always choose outdoor tables over indoor ones. Unless it's raining. Veranda in Bayside (not the one in Manhattan that foodies citywide have been tweeting ad nauseum about) is awash in outdoor seating. Thus, it was a no-brainer for me and Bro to jump in the car and drive over. In the end, the space and the service were better than the food, but if I lived nearer-by, I could certainly see myself making Veranda a one of my good-weather go-to spots.

Although Bayside isn't really a quick schlep for anyone, sometimes driving to dinner for food you've probably already had can be a nice diversion. Comforting, in a way, if not convenient. And Veranda has both valet parking as well as plenty of neighborhood parking. Bro and I were led to seats on the patio, a vast umbrellaed stretch of real estate coated in twinkly lights. The interior of this otherwise generic Italian restaurant is nice and upscale-ish, but there was clearly a sale on booths that the owners exploited, lending to a somewhat cheazo Long Island vibe.

As I said, the food at Veranda was hit or miss. Bro had all the hits. I struck out. My appetizer was the Risotto Croquettes, a fried and breaded ball of risotto with a core of mozzarella cheese and a sun-dried tomato marinara sauce. I wasn't feeling them. Too heavy, too starchy, too cheesy, too bland. Three bites in and I was satisfied. Finishing them filled me to the point of explosion. Unless you're at a diner three hits to the wind, I'm of the opinion that appetizers should be small and light like carpaccio. Bro ordered the Warm Goat Cheese Fondue, melted goat cheese with almonds and apricot, all to be spooned up on toasts. And it was incredible. Heavy as well, but tasted fantastic. Order this with someone else and ask for extra toast. Trust me.

My entree was the wildly disappointing Wild Mushroom Ravioli: three empanada-sized raviolis that are filled with a mushroom puree the consistency of toothpaste, but that doesn't freshen your breath quite as much. I finished maybe one of them before stopping and giving up. Bro meanwhile lucked out again with his Honey and Thyme Glazed Pork Porterhouse. Thick, tender, juicy. Just a great pork steak. The dish came with a side of root vegetables that weren't nearly as good as the meat, mostly because they were undercooked. Still, compared to my dish, no complaints.

For dessert, I stuck with coffee but Bro ordered the Raspberry Cheesecake. Well, "raspberry". All Veranda did was take a regular slice of New York cheesecake and pour raspberry sauce on top. Sort of a half-assed, low-rent way of adding something to the menu, and again, in the land of hit or miss, it was a miss.

In the end, our meal of two drinks, two apps, two entrees, two coffees and a dessert came to $110 with tax and tip. As I said, I liked the space more than the food. The outdoor area was very pleasant and comfortable and I'd certainly return for drinks and maybe a burger or something that takes little to no effort in the kitchen. But I wouldn't go back for a real meal.