Outer Borough Eater

It's only been an 8 month lapse...

2008-08-18T07:12:00.001-07:00

Call me Ishmael...ok, that's probably a bit too melodramatic, but the point still stands...sorry for abandoning the blog, folks! Your humble commentator / food pornographer got sucked into the horrible world of preparing to take a certain standardized exam whose name shall not be mentioned that is frequently used for law school admissions, only to realize that the law is not the right path...onto the GREs!

More accurately, though, back to our regularly scheduled programming. A few months ago, during the desolate cold emptiness that is New York in February, Obe and a friend trekked out to On the Grill, an Israeli restaurant located (once again) in lovely Rego Park, Queens. See below for screenshot:

Now, Obe loves Middle Eastern food in general and Israeli food in particular. To rip off Ben Franklin a bit, Obe believes that the existence of shawarma, falafel, and hummus is a sign that a) there is a God, and b) that She/He/It does indeed love us. (Obe is aware that there is more to Israeli cuisine than these three items, but bear with me here). Obe had heard of On the Grill because of their Great Falafel Eating Contest (if you look closely the storefront picture above, you can see the sign for the contest in the lower right hand corner), and while not interested in gorging on falafel (this time at least), Obe was sufficiently motivated to schlep out on the interminably long ride on the R train and check out the place.

First up, the Moroccan cigars. Moroccan cigars are basically little fried pockets of lamb or beef in phyllo dough, and these were impressively hot and tasty. Obe managed to get a picture of them before they disappeared:

And, while the Moroccan cigars were indeed quite delicious, few are the things nearer and dearer to Obe's heart than the sight of hot, soft pita fresh from the oven. Along with some tabouleh salad (not pictured), this pita made for excellent snacking while we waited for the main courses to come out:
Obe would be remiss, though, if the Israeli salad was not praised. There is something intoxicatingly good about fresh veggies chopped up and thrown together with some lemon juice, olive oil, and various spices (oh the spices!) In fact, Obe recently returned from a trip to Israel and managed to subside for three weeks chiefly on Israeli salad (and lost some weight in the process too - those who hate the various pre-packaged meals served by weight loss companies take note). This platter of salad lasted for about 2 minutes after this picture was taken:
And, of course, there was falafel. Good, crunchy, dark falafel. There are many kinds of falafel in the world - most bad, but some quite good. Obe's usual falafel fix comes from Moshe's Falafel Cart at the intersection of West 46th Street and 6th Avenue in Midtown Manhattan, but that falafel is a much larger, softer kind of falafel cushioned by intensely salty pickles. The falafel at On the Grill is darker and smaller, but is considerably spicer and crunchier. It's kind of hard to pick between the two...best to eat both. Here's a photo of the falafel sandwich that Obe's friend ordered:
Obe, carnivore to the core, opted for something a bit different: the Jerusalem Mixed Grill. It's an interesting dish - think of parts from animals that you usually wouldn't eat (like hearts, spleens, etc), throw them in with sauteed onions and a heaping pile of couscous, and serve on one huge freakin' platter. While Obe does not usually partake of strange animal meat (Obe prefers to leave that to experts like Andrew Zimmern), this was worth trying. Here's the pic you've been skimming the text for:
All in all, On the Grill was a quality choice, but it's probably not worth schlepping to if the R train is not easily accessible. It's cheaper than Israeli food in Manhattan (though that probably goes without saying), and the family that runs it is very nice and generous. It's Obe's favorite Israeli food in Queens, though. The only other Israeli restaurant in the 5 boroughs that offers comparable quality and value is Pita Off The Corner, located approximately 2 miles beyond the edge of the known universe in Flatbush, Brooklyn (if you know New York, pull out a subway map and follow the F train all the way to the Avenue P stop. Yeah. It's far).

Obe's return! See below for Cheburechnaya!

2007-12-26T10:38:00.000-08:00

Sorry about that four month interruption, folks. Work+life interrupted Obe's routine, and so the blogging suffered. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, onto the (long delayed) updates!

Obe is always hunting for bizarre foods - preferably in Queens, though other boroughs count, too (or else this blog would just be Queens Eater, which wouldn't be nearly as much fun).

A few months back, Obe heard about the thriving Bukharian Jewish community in Rego Park, Queens (one time home to Art Spiegelman, for those of you who remember Maus), and decided to investigate further. Obe found two willing friends to come along, and after a long journey on the R train (Queens on a local subway is...interesting), Obe and friends arrived at 63rd Drive-Rego Park, Queens.
After taking a perfunctory shot of Queens Boulevard (aka the Boulevard of Death, a two-sided tribute to the Boulevard's infamy as the street with the most pedestrian fatalities in New York City), Obe and friends took a quick stroll down 63rd Drive to Cheburechnaya, a kosher Uzbek Jewish restaurant:
Cheburechnaya is authentically Jewish alright, but not in a Katz's Deli / Lower East Side / schmaltzy kind of way. No. Cheburechnaya (try saying that three times fast) owes far more to the cooking of Central Asia than it does to the Pale of Settlement. Here, the emphasis is on roasted meat and hardy, starchy dishes. The centerpiece, of course, are Cheburechnaya's roasted kebabs, seen here in unroasted form:

And a little while later, in cooked form:
Now, not all shish kebabs are created equal. Cheburechnaya takes especial pride in cooking just about every part of the lamb that can conceivably be cooked. Hence, the menu features lamb testicle kebabs, lamb sweetbreads, lamb ribs, lamb chops, and enough other varieties of cooked lamb that would put Bubba from Forrest Gump to shame. Check it out for yourself: http://www.bridgeandtunnelclub.com/bigmap/queens/menus/cheburechnaya.htm

After much debate and with stomachs growling , Obe and friends opted for lamb fat, lamb ribs, lulya kebab (a sort of ground lamb mixed and cooked with onions), and a variety of beef kebabs. Interesting side note - the lamb fat kebab is made from the prized buttocks of the lamb, and while it tasted...fatty, it was definitely not as gristly as, say, the fat cut from a regular steak. The lamb testicle kebabs, however, will have to wait for another occasion, or for Obe to reinforce the iron lining in his stomach.

Of course, we were not there solely for the kebabs. Cheburechnaya is also justly renowned for its chebureks, which are fried pastries filled with either ground beef, cabbage, mushrooms, or potato. As good carnivores, Obe and friends ordered (and promptly devoured) several meat chebureks, as seen below:

In between all of the consumption of cow and lamb flesh, Obe and friends decided to branch out a little and try some dishes that did not necessarily involve large amounts of meat.
Pictured above is some goshtgizhda (on the left) and a potato samcy (on the right). The goshtgizhda (henceforth referred to as "gosh") was another pastry stuffed with meat, though not quite as good as the meat cheburecki. The potato samcy was sort of like a knish, only with a much more crispy shell. Obe thinks its basically the same thing, though. Who says that meat and potatoes can't go through a variety of forms?
An hour later, with the gods of lamb and cow sacrifice finally sated, Obe decided to revisit the menu in search of dessert. The options are rather limited, though, since Cheburechnaya is kosher - glatt, actually, which means that it's not open on the Sabbath. Obe settled on chak chak, which was a very dry, Chinese noodle-held-together-by-honey confection. It was ok, but on the dull side, and nowhere near as astounding as the chebureks or the shish kebabs. Obe recommends skipping dessert at Cheburechnaya, though one of Obe's friends did claim that the baklava served there was of acceptable quality.
And when all was said and done, Obe and company had spent nearly $100 at a place where most items don't cost more than $3 or $4 at most. This is a testament both to the appetites of three hungry people as well as to the quality of food served at Cheburechnaya. Sure, it's a schlep from Manhattan (and most of New York, for that matter), but Cheburechnaya (along with other restaraunts like Salut, Shalom, and King David) does offer an interesting, tasty, and quite affordable counterpoint to stereotypical Jewish food (which is really just Ashkenazic Jewish cooking, but that's for another time).

So, to recap: Get thee to Regostan! If you need more information, see below:

Here's an article on Rego Park (aka Regostan) that the NY Times published two years ago (registration may be required): The Silk Road Leads to Queens.

Breakfast in Queens

2007-10-11T08:19:00.000-07:00

Morning in New York City is a strange time. New York likes to think of itself as the city that never sleeps, and while that may be true for certain days (i.e. New Year's Eve), most of the time, New York does catch a few winks of shuteye.

And so, morning is usually when New York City is at its least busy, least crowded, least noisy - it's almost like being in an alternate universe. Traffic flows smoothly, the sound of birds chirping exceeds the sound of downshifting tractor trailers, and the subways are mostly empty (but nearly all on time, since no one is getting on or off).

One big advantage of early morning, though, is the availability of great breakfast food, since that hangover isn't going to take care of itself. The classic NY breakfast solution (and solution for all meals, really), is the diner, now perfected in road culture-centric places like New Jersey and California. Most classic NY diners, like the delis, are either gone or tourist traps.

Fortunately, though, the forces which have destroyed much of what made Manhattan unique have not yet made their way to Queens. This is probably due to the fact that Queens will never be cool, and will forever be the land of "The King of Queens," "Archie Bunker," and Fran Drescher, at least in the minds of most people. Obe is fortunate enough to live near the Neptune Diner, a bona fide Queens landmark restaurant (up there with, say, Ben's Deli in Rego Park, the Jackson Diner in Jackson Heights, or Spicy and Tasty in Flushing), and one of the few places open 24 hours in Astoria (the other two are also 24 hour diners, of course).

One recent morning, Obe and a friend had to schlep out to La Guardia Airport. On the way back, we decided to pay a breakfast visit to the Neptune Diner. Obe had eaten at the Neptune Diner at various other times of the day - e.g., the 4 a.m. drunken breakfast for all the exhausted party people coming home from Manhattan, or the quiet 7:30 pm dinner with the parentals.

Like just about all of the diners in Astoria (and probably the U.S.), the Neptune Diner is owned by Greeks, and features a lot of Greek specialties. On this particular day, though, Obe was not feeling adventurous, and went with an old standby: french toast.

The french toast arrived quickly, and was hot and fresh without being too burned (though there was a little burning - see above picture). Nevertheless, when combined with syrup, it made for a damn fine breakfast.

Obe's friend got eggs and home fries (and took a pass on the breakfast meats), and promptly received an admirably large platter of food. The eggs were very good, but the home fries were a bit on the dry side (though they were also fresh, which is sometimes not the case with the fried potato products that the Neptune Diner serves).

All in all, breakfast at the Neptune hit the spot.

While we're on the topic of breakfast, Obe would like to commend the Greeks of Ditmars Boulevard for their halfway decent bagels. Obe's home before Astoria was Morningside Heights, which is not even remotely a culinary destination, save of course, for Absolute Bagels. Absolute Bagels makes what is probably the best damn bagel in all of New York City. The family that runs it is Thai, and learned their trade at either Ess-A-Bagel or Tal Bagels (Obe can't remember which), and they make one hell of a bagel. Few are the things in this world more beautiful than a hot, fresh from the oven everything Absolute bagel with cool, smooth scallion cream cheese (or maybe just a schmear of regular cream cheese and some lox, or any of the many, many homemade flavors of cream cheese available).

That being said, though, Absolute Bagels is kind of out of the way for Obe (and for most New Yorkers who don't live on or near the Upper West Side). As such, Obe has had to find local solutions that do not require an hour long bus or subway ride. Happily, an acceptable solution presented itself in the form of Astoria Bagel Shop, located on Ditmars Boulevard a few blocks away from the N/W terminal.

While Obe couldn't get permission to take an interior shot, the Astoria Bagel Shop does have the trappings of an authentic New York bagel shop - the bagels are actually made there, and the ingredients aren't subpar (unlike, say, H&H, which seems to be using the cheapest grade of flour possible these days).

Obe ordered a bagel and a cup of coffee (what other combination is possible, really?), and then headed on out, breakfast in tow. The coffee was marginally acceptable, but the bagel was a pleasant surprise - it was hot, fresh, firm, with just enough everything seasonings to be tasty. Sometimes bagel shops mess up the everything bagel by putting too much of one particular ingredient - frequently, it's either onion or salt or both - which then blankets out all the other ingredients.

The Astoria Bagel Shop also put the correct amount of cream cheese on the bagel - and yes, there is such a thing as the "correct" amount. Just as Goldilocks would have wanted, it shouldn't be too much or too little...it should be just right. Here's a better view of the bagel:
Obe has found that sometimes bagel shops will overemphasize either the salt, or the onion, or the cream cheese in order to distract the eater from the fact that the bagel is just not very good. This is not the case at the Astoria Bagel Shop. Obe has also tried the Cinnamon Raisin bagel (not pictured here), and it had all of the good qualities of its everything cousin: a soft, chewy texture, with a nice, crisp outer skin that held up against the bombardment of cream cheese. The Astoria Bagel Shop also benefits from high turnover (thanks to reasonable prices), and as such the bagels are usually hot and fresh.

And, while Astoria Bagel Shop is no Absolute Bagels, it is still a fine place to get a bagel in Astoria. And you don't have to ride the bus for an hour to get there - that alone is worth the price of admission.

An Outer Borough Odyssey

2007-09-17T07:23:00.000-07:00

A few weekends ago, Obe and a friend decided to see if, as Thomas Friedman claims, the world is flat. Our destination was the Rockaways in Queens, located all the way at the end of the A train. Neither of us had ever been to the Rockaways before, and by the end of the day, neither of us had any desire to return.

The outer borough odyssey to the Rockaways began innocently enough. We boarded an A train in downtown Brooklyn, and the train mercifully ran express to Broad Channel, Queens, where Obe and company waited for the shuttle train to Rockaway Park. Here is a shot of that noble steed, the A train:

Obe had read about 101 deli in Rockaway Park on other blogs, and decided that it was worth investigating. Normally, Obe is inclined to give businesses the benefit of the doubt. However, Obe will come right out and say it: 101 deli is the worst deli, hands down, in all of New York City. It is unclear to Obe why anyone - short of the desperate or the idiotic - would ever recommend this place. The workers behind the counter are surly (and that's putting it mildly), the food is overpriced, and quite mediocre. Here is a shot of the interior of 101 deli:

And here's the lunch menu special dry erase board. The deli workers threw a royal hissy-fit when Obe snapped a picture of the board, which has never happened to Obe anywhere else. You'd think they were protecting some sort of state secret.
Anyway, Obe ordered a hot roast beef hero (see left hand side of the board), while Obe's friend ordered the chicken cutlet special. After an abnormally long and uncomfortably quiet wait time, the sandwiches were ready to go.

The chicken cutlet sandwich had a decent presentation, but according to Obe's friend, was nothing special or worth writing home to Mom about.

Alas, the roast beef hero was also nothing special. Obe normally does not like American cheese (or mayonnaise, but that's a whole other story), but for the sake of a greater good (i.e., the sandwich), Obe foraged ahead and took a bite of the sandwich.
As you can see, there was quite a bit of American cheese on the sandwich.

The verdict? Blech. The bread was stale, the roast beef was old and dry, and the cheese was just plain nasty. Obe ate half and then threw out the rest...it was just too disgusting. For the record, Obe loves - LOVES - sandwiches, and throwing out an uneaten sandwich is, in Obe's humble opinion, like slapping God in the face.

After the failed sandwich, Obe and company decided to take in the sights/sounds/smells of Rockaway Park and Belle Harbor, Queens. The beach was reasonably busy, and was considerably nicer than the beach at Coney Island. And, of course, it wouldn't be New York City without the Soviet-style architecture that would have made Joseph Stalin smile:

After bumming around Belle Harbor (which included a trip to visit Obe's late great-grandmother's house on Beach 129th Street), Obe and company decided to head on back to Manhattan.

And here our troubles began.

The shuttle train left Rockaway Park and disgorged us at Broad Channel, Queens, where we waited for the regular A train to show up and carry us back to civilization. We waited. And waited. And waited. After 45 minutes, it was announced that there would be no A train, and that we were to wait for shuttle buses.

However, there was by now an enormous crowd of people also waiting for a bus. Reasoning that any bus would take at least an hour to merely get to Broad Channel, Obe and company decided to walk the 3.5 miles from Broad Channel to Howard Beach, Queens.

There is no easy way to describe the walk that ensued. Remember Samuel Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner? Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink...We were told by a helpful local that there was a hot dog cart right before the actual causeway to Howard Beach, and so, without water, we proceeded to walk in the August afternoon sun back to something resembling civilization.

Of course, as we were walking, we saw an A train go by on the causeway:

Obe was unaware that people actually fish in Jamaica Bay and eat the crabs and other marine life that the bay shelters. After walking around fish heads, crab shells, and assorted automobile bits, Obe and company made it to Howard Beach, Queens. There, we boarded a bus to take us to the A train in Ozone Park.

Little did we know that the A wasn't running in Ozone Park either.

We boarded a shuttle bus that took us to the Euclid Avenue station in charming East New York, Brooklyn. For those of you out there who think that New York has become too gentrified, let me hold up East New York as an example of a) pre-gentrification New York and b) proof that gentrification is not always the worst thing that could happen to a neighborhood.

Of course, there was no A train at Euclid Avenue. There was an F train, though, and despite the fact that it ran local, Obe and company stayed on it until we reached downtown Brooklyn. After our four-hour ordeal to escape the clutches of extreme Queens, we knew there was only one place that could possibly make the odyssey worth it: Castro's on Myrtle Avenue.

As some of you may know, New York has just about every cuisine in the world. What it sorely lacks, though, is truly great Mexican food. Obe is no fan of southern California, but the Mexican food there kicks ass. Same for Chicago's Pilsen neighborhood. So far, Obe has only come across two good Mexican restaurants in all of the five boroughs - Castro's in Fort Greene, Brooklyn and Pio Maya on 8th Street near NYU.

Anyway, Castro's is located on a now very happening stretch of Myrtle Avenue just beyond Fort Greene Park and Polytech. Here's an exterior shot:

First order of business: Beer. Coronas. Ice-Cold with lime, please. Second order of business: Hot tortilla chips and cool, smooth guacamole. Here's a pic of the guac n' chips, which lasted all of maybe 30 seconds before it was consumed:

Next order of business: the entree. Castro's makes lots of good stuff, but they are probably most famous for their enormous burritos, which are the size of puppies.
Obe took a picture and then dug in immediately. After a day of disappointments, the burrito was an enormous success. To be sure, it was not the best burrito Obe has ever eaten, but it was damn good. Here's a cut-away shot of the burrito:
Of course, the burritos suffered the same fate as the chips and the beer. But if ever there was a meal that redeemed a crappy day, Castro's burrito provided it in spades.
In sum, dear readers, do not ever go to the 101 deli in Rockaway Park, Queens. Do not even go to the Rockaways, unless you have a car or are crazy. Instead, spend your precious time and money at Castro's. It's closer, the food is better, and you won't get any of the Island of Dr. Moreau vibe that seems to hang over the Rockaways. Just say no to the Rockaways.

Gothamist Burgers at the Water Taxi Beach plus the Return of the (Lemon Ice) King

2007-08-22T09:03:00.000-07:00

A few weekends ago, Obe and some friends went forth to go explore the mystery that is Long Island City, Queens. Achingly close to Manhattan, Long Island City can't quite make up its mind about what sort of neighborhood it wants to be - a condo community for Midtown white collar workers, an industrial blue collar preserve, or a player in the New York art scene, or even just an extension of corporate Midtown itself. The ever-faithful 7 train delivered us to Vernon-Jackson, the first/last stop in Queens (depending on your perspective).

Our purpose, though, was not to perform a sociological write-up of Long Island City. No. We were there for one reason, and one reason alone: to consume hamburgers. Specifically, we were there to eat three regional hamburgers at Gothamist's BBQ at Water Taxi Beach on the East River waterfront. The Water Taxi Beach is plastered in between the high rise condos and ferry berths of Long Island City pictured below:

It's a surprisingly nice spot, given that it's a decent walk from the 7 train and fairly well-isolated by generously-sized (by New York City standards, anyway) parking lots and soulless recent vintage towers. It was a typically warm New York summer evening, so much so that we didn't mind the fact that the water being misted on us (as well anyone else really close to the waterfront) was probably from the East River:

Enough backdrop, though - onto the burgers! First up was the Pimento Burger, which Gothamist describes as such:

Pimento cheese is big across the South, usually as a spread eaten on celery stalks or as a filling between two pieces of white bread. But in Columbia, South Carolina, they use it as both cheese and condiment on the burgers. Pimento cheese, for all you Yankees here in New York City, is a mixture of grated cheddar, chopped pimento, mayo, hot sauce, and black pepper. (Horseradish, mustard, and Worcestershire sauce are three common options.)

Here's a shot of the burger, with pimento cheese glopping over onto the plate:

As it later turned out, this was the worst burger of the three. There's something nasty about pimento cheese...it just doesn't belong on a hamburger. Then again, neither does American cheese, but that's a whole different story.

Onto the next hamburger! Our next contestant was the Butter Burger, a Wisconsin creation (of course). Quite simply, it's a beef patty with a dollop of butter on it. Wisconsin has a long and proud history of trying to integrate dairy products into every facet of life, and the Butter Burger is no exception. Obe has eaten at Solly's in Milwaukee, which is probably the home of the most famous Butter Burger in the world, though Culver's could probably give it a run for the money.

Obe watched the grilling of the Butter Burgers with delight:

And of course, the necessary shot of the butter about to be plopped on top of freshly grilled burgers:

Obe had high expectations for the Butter Burger, given the experiences at Solly's and Culver's. The Butter Burger turned out to be acceptably good, though it was nothing to write home about. Here's a shot of the burger (and yes, that is butter melting on both the patty and the bun):

2 burgers down, 1 to go. The last contender was Oklahoma's own Onion Burger, which is fairly self-explanatory - it's a burger with a ton of caramelized onion on top of it. Here's a shot of the ground beef and onions before their union in hamburger matrimony:

After two disappointments (ok, one really, but still), the Onion Burger redeemed the evening and then some. It was perfect. The onion had melded with the beef, producing a biteful of onion/beef every time. Needless to say, the burger did not last very long. Obe consumed it in about 30 seconds, give or take 5.

The burgers consumed, though, Obe and friends were still hungry. There was only one solution to our problem: the Lemon Ice King of Corona. And so, in a decision that may have been either brilliant or insane, Obe and company boarded the next Flushing-bound 7 train and began the great, epic schlep to Corona:

Amusingly, this trip to the Lemon Ice King took place on the same day as Obe's first trip, but no matter. There were trains to ride, worlds to conquer, and ices to eat. The crowd at the Lemon Ice King, which had been substantial at noon, had only grown with the passing of time:

So many flavors, yet so little stomach space after three decently-sized burgers. Obe opted for a strawberry ice, pictured below (apologies for the brightness of the flash):

While not as good as the cherry ice, the strawberry ice did sate, albeit temporarily. Obe's friends went for the grape and lime ices, which were apparently ok but not outstanding. After spending some quality time watching old Italian men play bocce in a nearby park, Obe and friends decided to go for a second round of ices (or third, as it were). Obe went for the peach ice, which was at least as phenomenal as the aforementioned cherry ice. Here's a gratuitous money shot of the peach ice:

There was an active debate over getting even more ices, but eventually sanity won out and the evening was concluded. Still, props to the Lemon Ice King. Obe can never eat another Marino Ice ever again, because it just won't measure up.

Astoria, Queens - It's good to be Greek

2007-08-09T09:26:00.000-07:00

On a recent Thursday, Obe decided to go for a stroll in Astoria, the humble Queens neighborhood that Obe calls home. There is usually a very comfortable sense of place to Astoria - children playing stick ball on the sidewalk, trees rustling in the breeze, ipod-equipped joggers running by, all momentarily disrupted every now and then by the metallic screeching of the N train or an animated conversation conducted in Greek, Spanish, or Italian. It's unpretentious and relaxed, in stark contrast to the wondrous but still manic energy that pulsates off of a typical street in Manhattan.

While walking along Ditmars Boulevard, Obe came across the famed Victory Sweet Shop, located on Steinway Street just north of Ditmars Boulevard. 5 Boroughs Ice Cream used to have a flavor called "Bakla-Wha?," and the baklava used for that flavor came from the Victory Sweet Shop. Being a firm believer that life is short and therefore that dessert should be eaten first, Obe decided to proceed on inside to buy some baklava.

The storefront is somewhat incongruent to its neighbors, which consist mostly of residential houses and apartments. No matter, though. The smell of the Victory Sweet Shop was almost...indescribable. A poor approximation would consist of a mixture of good roasted coffee, warm baklava, and a tinge of chocolate.

While the other sweets and baked goods did look very appealing, Obe was on a baklava-only mission. Two greenbacks later, the prize was won:

Some more baklava-modeling for you foodie porn types:

And of course, a gratuitous close-up of the baklava. Note the flakiness and honey.

After only a few bites, Obe could see why 5 Boroughs Ice Cream used this particular baklava in a neighborhood with plenty of baklava bakeries. Baklava can frequently be too dry or tough, especially if it's been sitting around for too long. Not this baklava - it was firm and flaky, with just the right amount of honey. After demolishing the baklava, Obe decided it was time for the main course: Moussaka.

Moussaka, for those of you unfamiliar with Greek cuisine, is essentially Greek lasagna. And there's only one place in Astoria to get really good Moussaka: Stamatis Restaurant. Stamatis has been around for about 35 years, and while other restaurants have come and go in the neighborhood, Stamatis is still going strong. It boasts two locations in Astoria, both of which are dedicated to the proposition that Greek food should be tasty, readily available, reasonably priced, and served in portions large enough to feed the Army of the People's Republic of China.

The original Stamatis location, pictured above, is scheduled to be closed this year, as Stamatis is moving directly across 23rd Avenue to a brand new three story building. There's something classic about the old location, though, not least of which is the awning and the relaxed but still friendly tempo of the cookstaff.

Stamatis is famous for its seafood, lamb-based dishes, roasted lemon potatoes, and of course Greek specialties like skordalia, which is a cold, potato-based garlic dip that Obe can't seem to find anywhere else. By sheer coincidence, a hot, fresh tray of moussaka had just been pulled out of the oven as Obe was walking in...check it out:

Note the enormous size of the lemon potatoes. As if the moussaka and potatoes weren't enough, the cookstaff threw in an enormous half loaf of bread. Hot and fresh from the oven (just like the moussaka), the bread serves an important function in this dish - mainly, it helps mop up the overflowing meat and eggplant and beshamel from the moussaka.

Unlike the baklava, though, the moussaka emerged triumphant. There was simply too much of it to even fathom eating in one sitting.

Corona, Queens

2007-07-31T06:58:00.001-07:00

There are no fewer than 26 subway lines in New York City, and each of them has a different character. The L train is the hipster train, the 6 train shuttles the old (and young) Upper East Side money (and apparently Jennifer Lopez at one point a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away), and so on.

One train line, though, is worthy of special mention, at least for foodies in New York and beyond. That train line is the Flushing Line, better known as the 7 train or "International Express," and it is also the only subway line in New York (and possibly the entire United States) to be a federally designated "National Millennium Trail." Just about every stop along the 7 train is a different ethnic or cultural neighborhood - Long Island City houses artists, young professionals, and still some industrial workers, Sunnyside has a robust Irish accent, Woodside has Thai, Jackson Heights has a large Indian population, and Flushing boasts an enormous Chinese and Korean population.

Given such a plethora of choices, Obe opted for an old favorite - the formerly Italian (and now increasingly Mexican) neighborhood of Corona, Queens. Located in the shadow of Shea Stadium (and the rapidly-rising Citi Field), Corona has some of the same flavor of Arthur Avenue - an older, urban neighborhood in transition from one proud immigrant group to another.

Obe hopped aboard the 7 train and trekked on out to Corona this past Saturday, with high hopes for reaching that Holy Grail of classic New York Italian sandwiches, Mama's (aka Leo's Latticini) on 104th Street.

As Mets fans (and a myriad of police officers, firemen, and other blue collar workers) know, Mama's serves an exemplary sandwich, and has been doing so for nearly half a century. By exemplary sandwich, Obe, like Ed Levine, means "life-changing." In this situation, though, Ed Levine was discussing Mama's Turkey Deluxe hero, which, while an excellent sandwich, was not on Obe's menu.

The facade of Mama's hints a little bit at the treasures available within:

Currently, Mama's is run by the three DeBeneditti sisters, who inherited the store from their father Frank, who had taken the business over from his father-in-law Frank Leo. Two of the sisters were kind enough to pose for this impromptu picture that Obe snapped, though they did profess some amusement that yet another blogger had come to visit them:

After the initial confusion that usually results from a hastily-taken picture, Obe consulted Mama's menu. It's a take-out only place, but there is a nearby park, and in the summer one can walk on over to Mama's Garden (run by the same family...in fact, there is a whole strip of establishments on 104th Street in Corona that bear the Mama's name in some way, shape, or fashion).

Obe opted for a classic - the Mama's Special. Like the Turkey Deluxe, this sandwich is also available at Shea Stadium. Mama's also has a daily schedule of hot lunch sandwich specials during the workweek, which includes a Hot Roasted Pork Hero, an Eggplant Parmigiana hero, and a Hot Meatball hero. Alas, Obe's visit took place on a Saturday. Still, the Mama's Special was absolutely phenomenal.

Here's a picture of the finely wrapped sandwich, prior to demolition work. A more perfect lunch could not be asked for - an ice cold Coke and a generously-sized hero made with top-notch ingredients for under $9.

And here's the sandwich unveiled:

A gratuitous close-up of the sandwich. Note the expertly layered prosciutti, salami, fresh mozzarella, hot peppers, and mushrooms:

After a leisurely devouring of the sandwich, it was time for dessert. Of course, there is only one place for dessert in Corona, and that is the Lemon Ice King of Corona. Seemingly around since time immemorial, the Ice King is a Corona and Queens institution. Here's a snapshot of the Ice King's exterior on Corona Avenue:

The neighborhood may not root for the same soccer team anymore, but the Ice King is tops. And, lest anyone forget, THEY DO NOT MIX ICES (and yes, someone ahead of Obe in line did try to make that request).

There's pretty much every flavor of Italian Ice you can imagine, and then some you've probably never heard of (at least in Italian ice form), such as Vanilla Choocolate Chip or Peanut Butter. Here's their menu:

Obe opted for a medium cherry ice. Big mistake (or small mistake, as it were)! The larger or extra large would have been much wiser. This was the real deal, folks - not the roughly chopped ice chunks and gooey, overly-sweet artificially-flavored fruit syrup so much of us endured through childhood. This was thick, smooth, and had bits of real fruit in it to boot. Here's one shot of the cherry ice:

And here's a close-up of the cherry ice. Note the bits of cherry embedded throughout:
Obe has only had Italian ice this good at one other place, and that would be a small sweet shop located off of Roosevelt Avenue (ironically enough) in Berwyn, Illinois, which is one of the many suburbs of Chicago.

Fully sated (or at least for the moment), Obe hopped back aboard the 7 train and headed on home. Given the excellence of the Mama's Special and the Italian Ice (as well as the sheer diversity of restaurant options located along the 7 line), expect to hear a lot more about the culinary delights of Queens in future posts.

Sal Kris & Charlie's Deli, Astoria

2007-07-24T17:35:00.000-07:00

In a previous post (see below), Obe addressed the topic of gyros, that quintessential Astoria food. Today, Obe focuses on another Astoria neighborhood staple: the hero sandwich. Known variously throughout the Northeast U.S. as a (depending on where you hail from) hoagie, grinder, submarine, the hero sandwich represents a classic American meal. In this era of Subway and Blimpie's, though, it is important not to forget about the little guys that usually serve a far better 'wich than you'll get from the corporate sandwich dispensers.

While Astoria is most famous for its large Greek population, the neighborhood also shelters a considerable amount of Italians. Perhaps the similar cultures of the two nations - a Mediterranean diet, rich (and frequently shared) heritage, love of wine, etc - helped create an Italian affinity for Astoria. Whatever the case may be, Astoria has a healthy number of Italian delis and restaurants scattered throughout its permeable borders.

Among these delis is Sal, Kris, & Charlie Deli, located on 23rd Avenue a few blocks from the terminal Ditmars Boulevard station of the N/W. Sal, Kris, & Charlie Deli likes to call itself the "Sandwich King of Astoria," another claim not to be taken lightly in this culinary mecca. Obe is a repeat customer to Sal, Kris, & Charlie Deli, if only because it stocks everything a deli / bodega should have: massive sandwiches, tons of sugary, incredibly tasty drinks and treats, salty chips, and just about every cold cut known to man.

A small storefront masks the sandwich paradise within:

An interior shot of the deli:

The friendly sandwich guys behind the counter prepare the heroes with amazing alacrity, considering the enormous line that's usually present in the deli. The line, though, is a good sign: it mostly consists of policemen, firefighters, transit workers from the nearby Ditmars train terminal, as well as a motley assortment of Astoria residents.

Like the sign says: Sal Kris & Charlie Deli is where everyday is a holiday (for sandwich eating).

Sal Kris & Charlie Deli has a special sandwich called "The Bomb." It consists of just about every meat, cheese, vegetable, and condiment that the guys behind the counter can cram between two pieces of bread. A special note about the bread: it's a usually over-looked feature (like pizza crust) that can make the difference between a mediocre sandwich and a truly phenomenal one. Sal Kris & Charlie uses local bread (though they won't say from where - Obe suspects that Rose & Joe's Italian Bakery on 31st Street in Astoria is the source) that has more than a touch of semolina to it. It's usually firm and crusty without being stale, and holds up unusually well against the bombardment of bread-destroying ingredients like oil and vinegar. While Sal Kris & Charlie uses other superior ingredients (and lots of them), their bread elevates the sandwich to truly ideal levels.

Obe opted against a Bomb sandwich this time; the last one Obe ordered took 3 days to consume. Instead, Obe went for a prosciutto hero with mild provolone, lettuce, tomato, oil and vinegar. Obe forgot to get hot or sweet peppers, but the sandwich was overstuffed anyway. Obe also got some Wise New York Deli kettle cooked potato chips and an ice cold Coke (not pictured) to go with the hero. A perfect meal was in the making...

Close-up of the sandwich - check out that prosciutto and provolone:

The plate is set:

The guys behind the counter definitely don't skimp on the good stuff - check out how much prosciutto they piled onto the hero:

Obe was only able to finish off half the hero in one sitting...there was more than enough left for lunch the next day.

Astoria, Queens (BZ Grill)

2007-07-22T15:04:00.000-07:00

Ah, Astoria. Quite possibly the best neighborhood in Queens (though residents of other parts of Queens will surely contest that claim), Astoria boasts a healthy range of culinary options for the discerning food lover. Such is Astoria's prowess in this respect that even Manhattanites, not otherwise known for willingly leaving their happy little island, have (quietly) trekked out on the N train to sample Astoria's wares.

Numerous culinary options aside, though, Astoria is famous for being New York City's (and possibly America's) premier Greek neighborhood. Summer Sundays in Astoria often finds the smell of roast lamb wafting throughout the neighborhood, where it intersperses with the jingle of the ever present Mr. Softee mobile ice cream trucks and the sounds of Greek being yelled, sung, or most likely interrupted by a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

Perhaps the greatest tribute to Astoria's status as the center of New York's Greek world are the numerous gyro shops and carts sprinkled throughout the neighborhood. This sprinkling can, at times, rival the density of Duane Reades and Tasti-D-Lites in Manhattan, and for good reason: gyros are serious business in Astoria.

Obe has sampled many of these gyros, and recently paid a visit to BZ Grill, one of Astoria's newer gyro shops. Unlike some of its older competitors, BZ Grill has a clean, neat feel to it, with bright lighting and beautifully calibrated meat rotisseries.

But don't let the almost antiseptic decor fool you - BZ Grill is a serious contender. They are very upfront about this, as their advertising and menu demonstrate:

The proof, though, is in the pudding (or in the gyro), as it were. Could this possibly be both the best and most beautiful gyro in New York City? Them's fighting words in Astoria. Obe ordered the pork gyro platter, seen below:

The pork was...unbelievable. Tender but still crispy, with just enough fat to be really flavorful, this is the sort of perfectly cooked pig that makes culinary expeditions worth the trouble. BZ Grill isn't stingy with the pork either - there was a heaping mound of the stuff, along with ample quantities of fresh lettuce, tomato, onion, and french fries. Perhaps the only shortcoming of the pork gyro platter is the fact that BZ Grill only gives four pieces of grilled pita bread with it, but if you ask for more, the guys behind the counter will usually give you extra gratis.

It may not even matter, though, because chances are excellent that you will have polished off half the platter before even reaching for a slice of pita. BZ Grill makes its own tzatziki sauce and adds lettuce into the tzatziki mix, which gives it a nicer texture than the almost melted mayonnaise-like consistency of most tzatziki in Astoria.

The price is just right. While it is definitely possible to get a cheaper gyro in Astoria, the quality of meat in cheap gyros is usually borderline acceptable, and so it's worth the extra few bucks to guarantee a good, filling meal not made from elderly circus animals.

One other potential shortcoming of BZ Grill is the lack of really good dessert options. That's a minor sticking point, though, given the large number of bakeries in Astoria, all of which are more than happy to cater to your sweet tooth. But that's for a future post.

BZ Grill is located at 27-02 Astoria Boulevard in Astoria, Queens. It has a website, which can be found here (caution - the website plays music): http://www.bzgrill.com/

The New York Times did a pretty decent write-up of BZ Grill in March 2006, which can be found here (registration may be required in order to access the article): http://events.nytimes.com/2006/03/22/dining/reviews/22unde.html

Arthur Avenue, The Bronx, June 2007

2007-07-09T09:04:00.000-07:00

Phew!

Sorry for the delayed first post, everyone. Let's skip the excuses and get right down to business.

A few weekends ago, Obe dragged two friends up to Arthur Avenue in the Bronx. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the area, Arthur Avenue is justly lauded as the "real" Little Italy of New York City. Here's a website that the merchants of Arthur Avenue set up about their neighborhood: http://www.arthuravenuebronx.com/

Honestly, though, even this Little Italy isn't very large. It's vastly better than the remnants of Little Italy in Manhattan, which is basically a tourist trap adjunct of Chinatown. There's an element of touristiness to Arthur Avenue as well, but it's not nearly as pervasive.

After a lovely train ride on Metro-North, a famished Obe and friends stopped at Emilia's Restaurant on Arthur Avenue. We ordered the Mozzarella Fantasia appetizer, which came out promptly, along with tons of warm, tasty bread. The dish, pictured below, consisted of fresh mozzarella, lettuce, roasted red peppers, and crisp sliced beefsteak tomato, with some drizzles of olive oil.

Perhaps needless to say, the Mozzarella Fantasia did not last very long. Our lunches came out soon thereafter. Pasta carried the day, as our three lunches below display:

After a satisfying lunch, Obe and friends headed across the street to the fabled Arthur Avenue Retail Market. Built in the 1930's by Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia in order to clear peddlers and merchants from the crowded, busy streets, the Retail Market has thrived ever since. Cigar-rollers, Mike's Deli, fruit stands, and bakeries all hustle and bustle beneath its roof, and it remains a bona fide New York establishment in an era of proliferating chain stores.
Non-descript on the outside, wonderous on the inside.

Baby lambs! And baby goats! Alas, Obe's picture of a baby lamb did not come out well, but amuse yourselves with the picture of hanging meat below:

Obe stopped by Mike's Deli (pictured above) in order to pick up some prosciutto wrapped in fresh mozzarella cheese. See below and you'll realize why the prosciutto didn't survive to see another day.

After devouring nearly half a pound of prosciutto and mozzarella, Obe and friends headed next door to Madonia Brothers Bakery. Madonia Brothers is usually the winner of the best cannoli in New York, though Obe lives by another serious contender for that prize. Madonia's secret seems to be that they hand fill the cannoli while you wait. That way, the cannoli shell remains crunchy and does not have time to get soggy, as is the case with most bakeries that fill cannolis en masse beforehand. The ricotta cheese used for the filling is also sweet, but not in an overwhelming sugary way. It has more of a refined dairy taste, which seems to work a lot better than the cloying sweetness most cannolis feature.

It's magical.

And here's a close-up of that cannoli, which quickly met its fate not long after this photograph was taken:

The photo speaks for itself. Obe plans to return to Arthur Avenue again in the near future.

First post

2007-06-19T11:41:00.000-07:00

Greetings, readers!

As you can see, the blog is still bare at the moment. Don't worry, though. Obe will be up and fully running as soon as Obe's new camera arrives.

In the meantime, Obe welcomes any initial feedback about the blog's appearance in addition to foodie suggestions.

As a final note, this blog will be dedicated to food and food-related commentary, so please limit yourself to as much. Politics, religion, et cetera, all have their time and place, but Obe is not it.