e a t e r y R O W

FARMER & THE FISH

• 245 Park Avenue South

• New York, NY 10003

• (646) 998-5991 •

I like fish and fishing (deep sea bluefishing, specifically) and I like farms (are vineyards farms?), so it made perfect sense to suggest going here when Dudeman and Shrink mentioned going out to dinner. Seafood. Farm to table produce (they even own the farm). What's not to love? When I first walked past Farmer And The Fish, I wondered if they were going to get sued by the popular Philadelphia restaurant The Farm And Fisherman. I still wonder this. Will they exist by the time I publish this article? Time will tell. Probably.

Farmer & the Fish sits on Park Avenue South near Union Square, right next to L'Express, the best place I know of for steak frites at 3 in the morning. Inside, the decor is classy and modern, without tacky seafood references like nets and mock buoys, instead opting for black and white photos evoking Long Island Sound and the New England coast.

I arrived first, as I pretty much always do, and was given a seat while I waited for Dudeman and Shrink. I was surprised at how few people were there at 8PM on a Saturday. Over the course of the evening, more folks came in, but it never filled up. Service was spotty. We started the meal with one waitress, and then they changed tables on us and we got someone new who was not nearly as on the ball. Of course, I didn't come to make friends with the staff. I came for food.

As Dudeman went with the traditional seafood shack appetizer, so did he choose when it was time for the entree. No roast swordfish with a sage rhubarb demi-glase. He got the Lobster Roll, served Maine style (ie: warm and mayo) with a side of Steak Fries. Speaking of steak fries, Shrink also ordered a side of them all on her own. My take on the lobster roll was that it was good, but for the money, I'll drive to Red Hook (for the Lobster Pound). My take on the fries was that they were wayyyy too salty and wayyyy too loaded down with Old Bay. Some people love Old Bay, but hey, a little goes a long way. Shrink loves soft shell crab and thus did she order the Soft Shell Crab served with a side of shaved radish and cucumber and pesto and buried under an excessive amount of garnish. She liked it a lot, as did Dudeman. I found it a little bland. I still count the crab at Perry Street as the best available (which it may not be anymore, since I was last there many a moon ago).

So I might be coming across as a little critical of Farmer And The Fish, but that all gets turned on its head for my main dish, the Nova Scotia Halibut with green pea risotto. I was blown away. It was so good. So light. So flavorful. Almost sweet. It had that perfect center under a crisp crust and it hurt me to share even one bite with others (but I did). The risotto was delicious too and paired perfectly. The only complaint that I have is the size. I wanted it to be about the size of a manhole cover.

FATBIRD

• 44 Ninth Avenue

• New York, NY 10011

• (212) 633-2473 •

Who doesn't love Southern food? It tastes great, doesn't have a dress code, rewards you for eating with your hands, and because saying it once simply isn't enough, tastes great. So it was with great anticipation that some friends and I were slated to dine at Iron Chef winner Chef Cat Cora's new Meatpacking District restaurant, Fatbird. I mean, who doesn't love Southern Food? Oof.

I arrived early and the hostess didn't play that game where they won't seat you until your whole party arrives. She gave a sweet table where I could people-watch, read a book, nurse a beer, and wait for everyone else to arrive. So far, so good. But from the moment she walked away, the dysfunction became apparent. I'd been given a menu then abandoned. No one came to take my drink order until I eventually flagged someone down, asked him if my table was one that he was responsible for, and ordered something. It didn't come. He just forgot about it. Later in the evening, when one of our party ordered a glass of wine, she was told that they were out of that wine. "Okay, I'll take this one instead." Sorry we're out of that, too. "What about this one?" No, sorry. "Maybe you should tell me what you actually do have and save us both some time," she said with irritation. I ordered a beer, but they were out. The head bartender came to our table to apologize. The wine and beer supplier didn't come. Here, have a glass of prosecco and a beer on the house.

Come time came to order grub, similar problems occurred. They were out of some appetizers and one of the most Southern of Southern foods, ribs, was all gone. "So did the meat supplier not show up either?" someone murmured. The waiter was AWOL most of the time, but I got the impression that he was the only one on duty at the time. We began asking the staff that was clearing tables to place our orders or flag down someone who could place them for us. When we did get a waiter, he told us that the there were six hushpuppies in the appetizer. Five arrived. One entree was incorrectly put into the system. One entree was missing a biscuit and it took half an hour for the staff to bring a replacement biscuit. They brought two and we turned down both. Meanwhile, the table behind ours called the manager over to dispute the bill.

After two months, growing pains and hiccups should have long been addressed, but there were a shit-ton of them; far more than I would have expected from a chef with enough celebrity cred to score a prime piece of NYC real estate. At least the food was good - Fatbird's saving grace.

We ordered a round of Crab Hushpuppies on a cabbage radish salad, and Crispy Pork Belly. on a bed of Malted Kale Slaw (available as a separate side dish). The crab hushpuppies were roundly praised, with Mr. Dogz saying that they were maybe the best he'd ever had. The pork belly was good but the meat was far, far too small and the taste ended up getting lost when eating it with the slaw. That said, Sparkles was enamored by said slaw. "Hey Jon, make sure to tell people I like this!" Silly me, I ordered a side of white cheddar Mac & Cheese. The mac and cheese was extremely heavy, and sat in my stomach like a brick. This shouldn't have come as a surprise to me, since there's no such thing as light mac and cheese unless you order that vegan gluten free shit that tastes like wet cork in rotting yogurt. As for how it tasted, it was good, but didn't stand out. In fact, I forgot I ordered it until ten seconds before writing this sentence. Lutsy asked for a side of Fried Green Tomatoes. They were good. Tender, crisp, and sour, like they should be. They came with a very pleasant "Green Goddess Dressing" whatever that is (some kind of aioli), which rounded the whole dish out.

I wanted the ribs, but like I mentioned, they were out. Instead, I got a plate of the Famous Fatbird Fried Chicken, a fried half-chicken served with a biscuit (pretty good) and the kale slaw we all liked. The chicken was flat-out delicious. Crispy, flaky, not greasy at all, moist. Gothamist panned it but I suspect that the writer was jut pissed that he had to leave the comfort of his fellow beardo manbuns in northwest Brooklyn. If I hadn't had that damn mac and cheese, I might have been able to finish the chicken, but it just wasn't possible. Lutsy and Mr. Dogz ordered a plate of the Nashville Style Hot Chicken. Comparing the two, I surprisingly much preferred the not-hot version. While the Fatbird fried chicken was not greasy, a pool of orange grease pooled under the hot chicken. The skin wasn't as crispy and the heat was too high relative to the light taste of the meat. I liked the hot chicken to be sure, but I loved the regular chicken. Sparkles was the only one not to order fried chicken, instead opting for the Spicy Shrimp & Grits. With this dish, I didn't really find there to be that much spice, oddly. Actually, I thought it was pretty bland and I don't recommend this dish unless you're reaalllly craving grits for some reason.

We didn't order dessert, though the menu did have a bunch of comfort foods like bananas foster and strawberry shortcake that I could have easily been in the mood for had I not been so full. 

This feast, for four, after tax and tip, cost about $250.

NICOLETTA

• 160 Second Avenue

• New York, NY 10003

• (212) 432-1600 •

Once upon a time, famous chefs limited themselves to opening chic restaurants for those who wanted to see and be seen and who didn't mind dropping a hearty buck to do so. But the age of reality television, paired with the reality that catering exclusively to the 1% is seen as a sort of shitty thing to do these days has meant that there is a surge of famous names behind relatively inexpensive food. David Chang started Momouko Milk Bar, Todd English opened a mid-priced restaurant in LaGuardia Airport, Daniel Meyer created Shake Shack, and Michael White has Nicoletta, a pizza spot in the East Village that I went to with a handful of friends.

This particular trip was for Emma's birthday, and we were extremely surprised how sparsely crowded the place was. Other restaurants in the area that day had waits of up to an hour. But hey, that just made getting a table that much easier. A round of drinks was ordered (Mr. Dogz and I split a small growler, and white wines were ordered by the others) and we began debating the menu.

The vast majority of the menu is pizza, but like most New York pizzerias, there's a smattering of your standard red sauce Italian food. Lasagna, chicken parm, and the like. We did not order them. Unlike most New York pizzerias, these pies are a little less generic-feeling. Nine times out of ten, you can neither tell the difference between two halfway decent pizza joints, and nor do you care to try. This ain't that. But I'll get to the pies later. First, the appetizers. The table ordered a plate of Fried Calamari and an order Arancini, which is porcini risotto balls, also fried. This was not a healthy meal. The calamari were devoured by us. Flaky, crispy, tender, perfect. The arancini was likewise praised across the board. A couple of people considered ordering another round. Those of us watching our waistline thought the better of it. But rest assured, you'll like them.

Finally, we ordered a last round of proseccos, and a couple of cute desserts to pass around and share. A Strawberry Shortcake and a Brownie, served in little cups with ice cream. Fun. Emma the birthday girl was also given something just for herself with a candle. And then we sang and embarrassed her. It was glorious.

Pizzas average $24. The smaller plates average $10. One pie would be too much for one person unless that person is very hungry. But two people could easily split one if they also got a small plate as well.

UNION FARE

• 6 East 18th Street

• New York, NY 10003

• (212) 633-6003 •

Many families go out to brunch on Mother's Day and I can't tell you how many times I was told to enter a 1-800-FLOWERS promo code in the past month, but neither of those things are really what my family does. We're more of a "let's go out to dinner, on a day that's not Mother's Day, then call it 'Mother's Day', then go home and burn through what we have stored on our TiVo and eat popcorn." It's not because we eschew tradition, which we do, or because we abhor tropes, which we also do, or that my mom actively dislikes brunch because it means waking up on a weekend earlier than she wants to, which she certainly does. It's really that we just aren't very big on going out on hectic, every-one-eats-out-today days and having to wait for a table while being bumped into by every Michael Kors bag this side of the Hudson.

And thus did I suggest Union Fare. It's got tons of seats, the menu looked good, the prices were high but not eyebrow-raising, and it was a short walk from my parent's TiVo. I arrived early, which I do as a matter of routine these days, and nursed a beer in the cacophonously empty dining hall. Strike that. I should say "restaurant". The Union Fare Gastrohall is actually another part of the restaurant. A food court of sorts adjacent to the restaurant itself. I nursed a beer in the restaurant. A porter, if you must ask, as it was a chilly evening and not the humid goddamn oven that it is today. 

When Mom (Shrink) and Dad (Dudeman) arrived, we were led through the open tables to one with a generally decent view of our surroundings, and proceeded to ponder the menu. A bottle of something Spanish was chosen because (1) my elders went on a trip there recently, and (2) at $60 it was one of the cheaper bottles. Tempted by the $80 Royal Seafood Tower appetizer that included octopus, but balking at the $80 part, Shrink ordered the Grilled Octopus, served over a salad of fennel, oranges, and arugula, with a few droplets of an olive aioli. It was delicious. The lobster was tender and robust and perfect in every way. The salad might have been ignored, as green foodstuffs aren't her cup of tea, but, she said, "it's saved by the oranges, which are delicious." Dudeman went for the Duck Egg & Shrooms, a quite delicious, if heavy, creamy bowl of sauteed mushroom grits, hidden under what can only be described as a haystack of shredded fried potato (topped with the egg). Was the haystack good? Yes. Did it add to the dish? Yes. Am I glad it was there? Yes. Could it have been literally halved? Yes. Order this appetizer though. It's creamy, it's rich, it's a blast of umami and salt and fat and you won't regret it. I endeavored to be healthy and had the Beet Salad. The fifteen seconds of near panic I had thinking I came down with colorectal cancer the next day notwithstanding, I liked my salad. Huge, foot long ribbons of beet in a puddle of pistachio pesto sat under a bouquet of watermelon radish, edible flowers, and tete de moine cheese. Absolutely fantastic.

The entrees were less mind-blowing, but all were good. Shrink chose what was, in my opinion, the least impressive of the dishes, the Whole Brook Trout with rosemary fingerling potatoes. That's what she ordered and, on a wood cutting board, that's what came. A quartered lemon and sprig of parsley garnish was pretty low rent plating, especially when compared with the edible flowers that came with my beet salad. The fish was tender, cooked exactly how it should have been, and it was light as a cloud, but for $36 it's just a trout on a plate. Soooo... The potatoes were very nice, and the trout came with plenty of them, but the overpriced dish seemed to scream "menu-filler". Medium rare Grilled Skirt Steak with chimichurri and served with a side of watercress salad was Dudeman's choice and it was a vast improvement over Shrink's. Maybe I'm just more of a steak guy than a fish guy, but the taste jumped off the plate and hit you with both fists. Like the trout, it was cooked perfectly and, like the trout, the plating was something stolen from the Outback reject bin. 

My entree was the Grilled Pork Chop, an inch or so thick medium rare pork chop surrounded by a ladel's worth of dill mustard, and, lest the salad not be able to complete it's job in the hypochondria department, a few beets for, ahem, color. Unlike, the skirt steak, the flavors didn't beat you over the head. It was subtle, but not lacking. Pork chops are difficult to do right, so I was relieved that this was on the list of those that I can wholeheartedly recommend. My only complaint, and feel free to ignore it since it's an admittedly unnecessary one, is that there was a little too much mustard. As with the shoestring potatoes over the mushroom grits, a little goes a long way, especially with something as subtle as this particular pork chop.

Dudeman didn't want anything after the entree, but Shrink and I were determined. She ordered a cappuccino, I ordered the worst espresso in the world that wasn't made from garden soil, and we decided to split a dessert and the waiter recommended a chocolate mousse cake. I lost my notes but, it's basically a layered slice of chocolate cake with a scoop ice ice cream on top and, for good measure, encased in a sugar web-ball that literally has to be chopped through if you want to eat anything. It took about twenty five or thirty photos worth of time before we were actually eating the little thing, which I'm sure is the point. The cake itself wasn't more than good, but the whole process was hilarious. 

Certain parts aside, we all really enjoyed Union Fare. It was fun, the food was very good, and it lively without being loud. When we sat down at 7, it was all but empty. When we left an hour and a half later, it was packed to the brim. Price-wise it's easier on the wallet than nearby Gramercy Tavern, but with appetizers averaging $15 and entrees averaging $30, plus a bottle of wine, dessert, tax, and a 20% tip, don't expect to spend less than $100 per person.

TOTTO RAMEN

• 464 West 51st Street

• New York, NY 10019

• (646) 596-9056 •

Rent is expensive, taxis are expensive, Ubers are surge-priced, cigarettes are $13 per pack, cocktails are $15 each, parking your car in a garage is ridiculous, homeless people hang out at the ATM and ask if you have a spare twenty, dating requires taking out a personal loan. Is it any wonder that New Yorkers cherish the our subway (go anywhere for $2.75) and the simple slice of pizza (priced to match the subway), flock in droves to free movies in the park, love our free museums (you should donate though), wait for hours to get access to sample sales, and line up down the block for halal cart lunch? Is it any wonder that this city has embraced ramen soup, a huge bowl of deliciousness for a fraction of what one would expect to pay based on a price-per-square-taste-bud of flavor? No longer limited to a home where NYU students roam, Ramen spots have exploded across the city, even finding their way to my roost in Forest Hills, Queens.

This particular excursion was to Totto Ramen, which routinely makes it to the top of best-of lists. Totto may have started off as a decrepit hole-in-the-wall, but it's expanded into a mini-chain with three NYC locations, two Boston locations, and one in Taipei. Mr. Dogz and I headed over to the Hell's Kitchen location, which is larger than it's original location a couple blocks away, though, as you can see in the photo, "large" is relative. As is common with almost all Ramen spots of any worth, the waits at Totto are routinely long and a table for two was a half hour long at 6:30pm. Arrive early.

Upon sitting down and choosing a bottle of sake, we first ordered the Takoyaki to start. Takoyaki is dough-wrapped octopus drizzled with a sweet soy glaze and healthy amount of mayonnaise. Dogz liked it, but I'll be frank, this was not my thing. I take that back, it was pretty bad. I've always had a penchant for wacky Japanese food (or wacky any food, for that matter), but alongside pig-placenta juice and bacon-bubblegum soda, I'm taking a pass on any future mayo soaked fried octopus dishes that come my way.

I found that my spicy ramen was less hot-spicy than tangy-spicy, so those of you with an aversion to hot food should not have a problem. To put it crudely, I did not feel the heat the next day, if you catch my drift. So how hot could it have been? Both ramens were delicious and, like I said, rich and heavy and coats your mouth in flavor with each sip like melted butter. I left winded and could not finish the bowl. If anything, the broth was too rich. The pork was delicious and tender but the noodles were a little stiff for my taste. I'd have loved Totto to have loaded more veggies into the soup, but for a few extra bucks you can throw plenty more in, the way I did with my extra egg. 

Totto Ramen did not bump Long Island City's Mu Ramen from the top spot in terms of flavor in my personal opinion, nor is it as sexy as the trendy and refined Ippudo near Union Square. Cost-wise Totto's ramen is $12 per base bowl, while Mu and Ippudo cost $16. Hardly enough of a difference to sway anyone who isn't destitute, so try them and base your opinion on what you think tastes best or suits your desired atmosphere, but make sure try Totto. It's good. Very good. And I'd certainly go back if I was in the neighborhood.

Totto Ramen is cash only.

DIRT CANDY

The last dish we shared was the Brussels Sprouts Tacos, a build your own "taco" dish where the primary filler are seared brussels sprouts. The taco is appropriately a lettuce leaf, and it comes with guacamole, little corn chip shreds, jalapeno, radish, pickled onion and some hot sauce. The brussels sprouts themselves are served shredded on a scalding hot stone that continues to slowly cook the vegetable as it sits in front of you. Personally, I found this to be the least impressive of the dishes (I mean, it's just a taco you build yourself from relatively standard ingredients), but it was the most casual. There wasn't any hoity-toity explanation from the server, it was just slapped down in front of us with an "enjoy". Don't get me wrong. I like hoity toity. It makes me feel better when I know I'm gonna drop a half yard or more at the end of the meal, but I liked this too. This made the meal more fun and interactive.

These three dishes might have been relatively small, but they didn't feel it. While we weren't stuffed, we felt perfectly sated. So when the dessert menu was provided, we passed, opting instead to cab it across town to spend the rest of our money at Pegu Club.

If you're a vegetarian tired of saying "oh don't worry, I'll find something on the menu", and want to go somewhere more upscale than a pizza place, Dirt Candy is definitely for you. Sweet Pea enjoyed the cocktails, but as for me, while they were a cute and fun diversion, they felt contrived. A sazerac would have been just as vegetarian here as it would have been in a steakhouse and boozed up smoothies just don't do it for me. That aside, all of the food was excellent. A meat-eating guy like me could easily enjoy himself if he went on a date here and not think twice about why there isn't pork belly on the menu.

I had a great time and I definitely recommend Dirt Candy.

PARK AVENUE WINTER

• 360 Park Avenue South

• New York, NY 10010

• (212) 951-7111 •

Like many people in our fair and illustrious burg, I have the unreasonable and unreachable fantasy of eating everything and everywhere. As a result, Park Avenue is both constantly enticing and constantly frustrating. Every season, the menu changes and it doesn't get recycled. So while you're always getting a varied menu that will never be boring, the flipside of this is that you can never eat what you like ever again. So I apologize in advance for not being useful come spring (or next winter).

I chose to treat the 'rents to Park Avenue Winter in part because the restaurant has been on my list for a long time and I'm a selfish person and this was all about me, but also because my parents are not exactly millennials. I didn't want them to feel like fish out of water eating alongside tattooed hipsters discussing their latest kombucha brew recipes whining about how they'd have totally voted if only they knew Trump might win fer realz lol. I may be selfish, but I'm not a dick. Well... maybe I kinda am. Anyway, the age demographic runs the gamut here and pretty much anyone can feel comfortable.

Park Avenue Winter is posh and expensive, but it's relaxed. There's no jacket-and-tie dress code, the music playing through the sound system is the Rolling Stones, and there's no guy offering to blast you with cologne in the bathroom, but everyone looked sharp. Keep the jeans, lose the Slayer t-shirt.

Shrink ordered the Long Island Duck entree, served with grapefruit, roast quince, and juniper. The duck itself was perfect, though I was of the opinion that the grapefruit and trimmings were excessively bitter. I was alone in this assessment. My entree was the Red Wattle Pork Loin, served medium rare, with lemon and bacon popped sorghum over a pesto. Bacon popped sorghum? Think mini-sized popcorns that have virtually no flavor but look cool when plating. The dish itself was delicious and I'd absolutely order it again. BUT. But the pork was tough. Chewy. Cutting through the filet took energy and the slice had to be thin to be easily chewed. If it was tender, I'd be recommending this dish and shoot off fireworks to emphasize my point. On the other hand, Dudeman chose the New Zealand King Salmon, cooked so tender that a stiff wind would cut in into pieces. it was almost creamy. Pecans, smoked miso, apples, and greens round out the dish that we agree was the winner of the evening.

Shrink ordered the Winter White Sundae, a huge scoop of mint chip ice cream with a white chocolate snowflake cookie under a drizzle of chocolate rum syrup. I've never been a mint ice cream person, so I'm biased. She liked it. I was more annoyed that the server poured the chocolate rum syrup over the snowflake, totally blowing the cool photo I was about the take. Like, if it coated the dome of the scoop and added a backdrop of contrast to the lily white snowflake, then great! But... anyway. What's done is done. Lesson learned. Always put your own syrup on. Dudeman skipped dessert but I asked our server for a dessert that was the opposite of heavy, so imagine my surprise when she suggested the Bases Loaded. On the menu it was the kind of kitchen sink dessert one might find at TGIFriday's. Chocolate mousse layer cake topped with peanut butter, pretzels, and toffee with a scoop of ice cream and a chocolate covered potato chip. Nope. It was totally what I wanted. Fluffy, sweet, not too big, perfect with a cup of coffee.