I have been following Chef Michael White for a while. Between his nomination of best chef in new york city from the James Beard Foundation and his listing of 101 best pasta's from New York Magazine, I had to checkout things for myself. After two weeks, I finally snagged a 10pm reservation at Osteria Morini. Yes, two weeks, and yes, 10pm. A few weeks into my 30’s and 10pm on a Saturday night is late for me; fuck me.

Osteria Morini is located in Soho, on Lafayette Street. The space looked like an Italian farmhouse, with exposed wood beams, brick walls decorated with copper pans, pictures of random old Italian ladies and paintings of what I’m guessing is the Italian country side. The seating was quick. Within five minutes I had my ass planted at a wooden table.

The first thing I noticed was the bottle of olive oil on the table. If there is one thing I remember my Italian friends’ grandmothers always telling me that a true Italian meal starts with olive oil on the table. I knew I was in the right place.

We started with a few appetizers. First, a meats platter ($15)  Prosciutto di Parma, Sopressata and Salame Romagnolo, served with grilled bread and what my stupid ass thought was butter but was actually mashed up lardo. All the meats were perfectly cured and fresh, but the lardo was the winner of the 3. I've never had Lardo before, It was creamy, salty with a hint of meaty flavor, I couldn't believe I've been missing out all this time. Two weeks later and I’m still thinking about lathering myself with the lardo, but then I realize I would probably eat myself.

Bufala Mozzarella with figs, rosemary oil and saba ($11). The mozzarella was fresh and creamy, but a little too salty. As I went for my second bite I got a taste from the fig marmalade, which cut through the saltiness nicely and tied the whole dish together. 

Lastly, the Mortadella Skewers: deep fried mortadella and some sort of cheese that I couldn’t figure out, deep fried and served on a stick with a side of lemon ($8). Need I say more?

My friend was dying for some meat. Yes, that’s what she said. But I told her you don’t go to Peter Luger’s and order the fish, so we’re going straight to the pasta. We ordered three pasta dishes and shared them, which was a great idea.

Gramigna: macaroni, pork sausage, tomato and black pepper ($17). The dual-colored pasta was curly and perfectly tender in a creamy sauce, the sausage was sweet and spicy, with hints of black pepper every so often. It was Viagra in a bowl.

Tortelli Della Nonna: braised beef ravioli, sugo di arrosto and fossa cheese ($18). This dish would have a hardcore vegan wanting to eat it morning, noon and night. The flavors were outstanding. I kept wishing my friend would go to the bathroom so I could eat the whole thing myself. My friend later confessed she kept wishing I would do the same.

Cappelletti: truffled mascarpone ravioli with butter and prosciutto ($19). I love the simplicity of this dish; perfect little pillows filled with creamy mascarpone, the pasta shell was perfect and a hint of saltiness from the prosciutto.There were a lot of different textures in this dish which I fell in love with.

My friend and I polished off all this food off with a bottle of Bission Cinque Terre Bianco Marea 2008, a light white wine which was perfect with all our creamy pasta dishes. 

Our bill came to $138. I must also make mention of the service. Our dude bro server was on point with everything. The emphasis and detail he used to describe the dishes deserved an academy award. If he told me they were serving skewered subway rat on a stick and it cost $1000 each, I’d probably order three for the table and two to go. Our wine and water glasses were never empty and I felt like I was home, the only thing was missing was the old school rap blasting in the back ground and porn streaming on a laptop. I never really leave Brooklyn for Italian food, last time I did I end up at that shit show Fiamma , but I can truely say I’d walk on my hands over broken glass just to get my hands on the pasta at Osteria Morini.

Osteria Morini
218 Lafayette Street
New York, NY 10012
(212) 965-8777
www.osteriamorini.com

After my last disappointment with Good Burger, I was on the hunt for a decent burger. Luckily, in the building I work, there’s a take-out place called BV Burger, an offspring joint from Bobby Van’s Steak House. I figured, steak house, burger, how bad could it be?

BV Burger is located in the courtyard of 120 West 45^th Street, a location you would definitely miss if you didn’t know it was there. As you walk in there’s really no glitz or glamor to the place. There’s just a counter with a kitchen behind it, three people working the grill and some guy taking the orders. And, there’s no seating.

I got the 1/2 pound sirloin burger with cheddar cheese, ($8) with everything (lettuce, tomato, red onion, ketchup and mayo) on it. No mustard, I hate when mustard is being offered as a topping on a burger. The only people who put mustard on a burger are assholes and people from New jersey. I also got an order of fries ($3) and a bottle of coke ($2.50 for 16 oz). I was happy to hear the guy taking my order ask me how I’d like my burger cooked; medium, of course.

Finally unwrapping my burger and I notice there wasn’t a burger just a glop of melted cheese with barely a burger to be found, 1/2 pound my ass. After further examination I realized they served me a hockey puck. What the fuck? Did they use to cook this thing, the sun? Maybe I was missing something? Maybe this was a new technique of cooking burgers? All I know is this burger was blacker than the African dude trying to sell me a fake Louie Vuitton wallet on the train. As I took a few bites all I could taste was the texture of burnt meat topped with cheddar cheese. The burger was drier than death valley and that is where I wish the person who cook this thing would end up, dead and having is flesh being eaten by the crows. 

The portion of fries was pretty big. They were tucked into a shiny bag. I like shiny things. You’d think something in a shiny bag would be good, but these fries were awful! Steak cut, over-salted and mushy. It was like eating a wet paper bag pissed on a by dog with 3 legs.

I guess sometimes having a big name like Bobby Van’s doesn’t mean much. If you can’t cook a burger properly, I could just imagine what your steak tastes like. But hey, if I the rangers ever need a hockey puck they know where to go. I now realize why Bobby Van's hides this place all the way in the back, because it sucks. 

I wonder if these cheeseburgers were any good?

BV Burger 

120 West 45st ( rear courtyard ) 

(212) 575-2597

www.bobbyvans.com

 Do you remember the movie Good Burger? It was about a doofus who wrecked his mom’s car and had to work in a burger joint with an even bigger doofus. It was a pretty bad movie, even for nickelodeon standards. So when I passed a burger joint called “Good Burger”, I was a little hesitant to try it. But I was hungry and it was getting late; desperate times call for desperate measures. 

 As I walked in I was surprised to find there wasn’t some roller skating kid with dreads, welcoming me with the cheesy slogan “Welcome to Good Burger, home of the good burger, can I take your order?” No, it was just a regular guy. I asked a few questions and decided on a single burger ($4.25) with cheese (.75 cents extra), fries ($2.75) and a small drink ($2). 

 As I waited for my burger I was a little disappointed to see two things. First, the fries were not fresh. They actually opened up a bag right in front of me. If you’re supposed to be a specialty joint, humor me; open the package of fries in the back. Second disappointment was the open package of Arnold’s hamburger buns. Again, humor me. Open the buns in the back or bring them out on a tray so it looks like you they are " specialty ". On the plus side, they did make the burgers on a grill instead of a cook top, and they added two slices of yellow and white cheddar cheese to the burger. 

 My number was up and I had the whole places to myself, so I took a seat on the first floor. Decorated on the walls were Good Burger’s accomplishments: acknowledgments from NY Magazine’s “Cheap Eats of 2006,”, Time Out New York and The New York Times, among others. Okay, so this should be a good burger. I mean, NY Magazine is never wrong, right? 

 Wrapped in paper, the burger looked really good. But upon further inspection, I noticed the lack of meat. As I took my first few bites I felt like I was eating a salad or worst, a sandwich from subway. The burger was juicy but it had no character; no charred flavor, nothing it was like eating something Guy Fieri had prepared. It was just there. It was decent, at best. By now I was hoping for a guy to come out on roller skates and start singing “He’s a dude, she’s a dude, you’re a dude.” Maybe that would of made this burger a little better.

 The fries were thin cut and served in a bag, and were drier than the Mojave Desert. They reminded me of McDonald’s fries.

 Good burger sucked. I was really surprised, considering they have six different locations in Manhattan. Usually that means you have a really good product or somebody backing you financially who loves wasting money. If you love mediocre burgers and fries then good burger is the spot for you. If not, just like the movie, I’d steer clear of Good Burger, even if it’s 3:00am, you can’t sleep and there’s nothing to watch on TV. 

Good Burger

6 locations in New York City 

http://www.goodburgerny.com/

 In the Flatiron District of Manhattan, the equivalent of the Bermuda triangle had formed for food lovers, which I like to call Foodmuda and I was planted in the middle of it. Eataly, Shake Shack and Hill Country Chicken, all stationed on opposite corners from each other and forming a triad of deliciousness. Okay, so maybe it’s not a perfect triangle. It’s more like a triangle drawn by the kid in your second grade class who used to eat glue and pee in his pants on purpose. It was lunch time and I had to make a decision quickly, so I employed my usual method - the good old coin toss. Hill Country Chicken won. 

Hill Country Chicken is located on the corner of Broadway and East 25th Street. As you walk into the space, your eyes are immediately drawn to the high ceilings, colorful wall paper and wood paneling. The bright and airy design hits your eyes and senses like you just landed into the middle of a square dancing competition. To the left is a large display case filled with fresh baked pies, which I hear are out of this world, and a counter to order chicken that resemebled an old school southern kitchen you would find in someones trailer  home. It was early so there was tons of seating. 

I scanned the menu of chicken, sandwiches, sides and pies. I figured I’d go basic and try the fried chicken. There are two versions of it: Hill Country Classic and Mama Els’ Recipe, the latter of which is someone’s grandmother’s recipe. I decided to go with Mama Els’ and got a breast ($5.50), thigh ($3.50), small coleslaw ($2.50), biscuit ($1) and small drink ($2). 

While some country song about some slack jaw yokel's meth-addicted wife, who left him for his brother’s bloodhound Chauncey was playing loudly in the background, I took my first bite out of the chicken breast and in a split second, its juices exploded. I’ve never had such a juicy piece of white meat chicken in my life. The skin was crispy and perfectly seasoned and had a little bite to it and didn’t have a heavy coating of flour on it. It was so huge, I couldn’t even finish it. If this is what southern fried chicken is I'm about to Buy a trailer, marry my cousin, learn to play the banjo and move my ass to the south! 

The coleslaw was cold, crisp and refreshing. Light on the mayo and I think I even tasted a hint of wasabi. I’d love to eat this again on a hot summer day.

I LOVE BISCUITS! And this biscuit is one reason why; lightly buttered and salted, crunchy on the outside and light and fluffy on the inside.

My tab came to $15.50, which seems a little pricey for 2 pieces of chicken, a side, biscuit and small drink. Although, now that I am educated on the size of the birds Hill Country serves, it was totally worth it. Did I mention they have Boylan’s soda on tap? That being said, Hill Country Chicken is definitely my favorite chicken joint. 

Hill Country Chicken 

1123 Broadway, New York, N.Y. 

(212) 257-6446

www.hillcountrychicken.com

  Captain Ahab had Moby Dick, and I had Mexicue. No matter what happened, I could never catch these bastards, ever. If I was working downtown, they were in midtown. If they were downtown, I was sent to Alaska. But, I finally caught up with them! I mean, wouldn’t you be on the hunt for what they describe their food as ‘red-hot Mexican food meets down home BBQ goodness’? That's pretty much like claiming you have a Unicorn that shits gold bars. For me, it got to the point where I started following them on Twitter, and I don’t follow ANY food truck on Twitter.

So my white whale isn’t really white. And it isn’t really a whale. It’s more of an orange food truck, and when I walked outside of my building, I was happy as shit to see it. Mexicue is notorious for it's long lines, But no line! WHAT! This is maybe better than the time I found that onion ring in my french fries, maybe. Finally caught my white whale! Attached to my white whale was a list of specials of the day. I went with a pulled pork taco ($3) and a short rib slider ($4). As I got into the elevator, I took a peak into the white container that housed my food and the aroma of BBQ sauce filled the air, I started to drool.

The pulled pork taco was served in a soft shell and piled with shredded pork, salsa verde (whatever the fuck that means), salsa fresca (clueless on that one, too) and aged white cheddar. The pieces of pork were kind of sweet, but perfectly tender and left a nice, hot tingling aftertaste.

The short rib slider was served on a slider bun with pickled red onions and avocado. I've had a lot of BBQ in my life, enough to kill 3 healthy adults and I've never tasted something as good as this. The perfect combination of tender, sweet, spicy and tangy. In a nutshell, it was utter perfection. I was pissed I didn’t get more of these and cursed myself out for the rest of the day.

 I guess good things do come to those who wait. Good thing, because I couldn’t wait much longer.

Mexicue 
www.mexicueny.com

   Yes, it was time for lunch. I had it all perfectly planned. I was working on 45^th Street and 6^th Avenue. I was going to get something from the Daisy May BBQ cart. If Daisy May wasn’t around, I’d get a falafel from Moishe’s on the corner. As I made my way out of the building, I saw the Rickshaw Dumpling truck and the treats truck. Okay, fuck the treats truck. I wasn’t eating cookies for lunch. I had to stay focused; Daisy May, Moishe’s or bust. So after walking down 6^th Avenue and arguing with myself on the way to 46^th Street, I made a quick U-turn and headed back over to the Rickshaw Dumpling truck. Even though I had read that Anita Lo was no longer affiliated with them, I had to check things out for myself. I think in my past life I was a dumpling and that’s why my love for them goes so deep. 

There was a he & she dude-bro in the truck. Awesome, nothing says authentic like two hipsters serving you dumplings out of a truck in midtown Manhattan, welcome to the NEW New York. The female dude-bro quickly, and bubbly, asked me what I’d like. Looking at the blackboard I quickly yelled out “the pork & Chinese chive dumpling". Six dumplings for $6, what a bargain. I was handed a small Chinese food container, sealed with the Rickshaw Dumpling logo.  I grabbed a pair of chopsticks, some napkins and I was off.

As I got back upstairs to tear into the dumplings, I realized I lost a chopstick in transit, great. I should of went stereotypical whiteboy and just used a fork, like my brother does. I went straight gutter on these dumplings and ate them by hand. Unfortunately, it tasted like they came from a gutter; one that held run off from a melted dirty, yellow mountain of snow. Soggy, with a heavy taste of chives, these dumplings sucked! The skin on them was awful and mushy. I thought the dipping sauce would make them a little better but they actually made them a lot worse. I’ve had dumplings in the hood and when I say hood I don't mean the gentrified section of buschwick, that were better than these pieces of crap. 

It just goes to show, when you have a plan for lunch, stick to it; or you’ll be eating the equivalent of white dog shit.


RickShaw Dumpling truck  
New York City 
www.rickshawdumplings.com

 For me, there are two types of pizza places: there’s what I like to call the “new age pizza”. People who study under master pizzaiola's, who spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on brick ovens built by master oven builders from Italy and then open a pizza place just because it's "trendy". I must of been in the bathroom when pizza became a trend in new york city. I consider the makers of new age pizza as the hype beast's of the culinary world (definition of a hype beast).

And then there are the local pizza joints, where I don’t have to wait hours or weeks for a reservation, where I don’t have to wait on line with smelly hipsters and stupid tourists for a $5 slice of regular pizza because the assholes picked up the latest edition of frommers or even worse read it on Yelp. The local pizza joint is a place where I can walk to and get a slice with no hassle, where the pizza is always on point and when I walk into the place, the guy behind the counter knows exactly what I want. La Casa Bella is one of those places.

La Casa Bella is located on the corner of 26^th and Cropsey Avenues in Bensonhurst. Established in the early 90’s, it’s the perfect mom and pop pizza joint. The owner mans the counter while his wife is one of the waitress. My brother and I decided to pop in for dinner one night. Luckily it was a Tuesday because any given Friday, Saturday and Sunday you will be waiting a good hour or so for a table. 

 

As you walk into La Casa Bella you notice the old school charm: dim lighting with copper plated ceilings, wooden tables and chairs, and a long counter with all the pizza. In addition to pizza, La Casa Bella also serves a full menu of Italian food. My brother and I ordered two vodka slices ($3.95 each, I think), one order of fried calamari ($10.95) and we both decided to get the chicken Parmesan ($12.95).

Whenever I go to La Casa Bella, I start off my meal with a vodka slice which, honestly, I believe is the best vodka slice in Brooklyn. If it was humanly and socially acceptable to have sex and marry this slice of pizza, I would. And yes, there are about five other pizza shops that make vodka slices, but none can come near the one at La Casa Bella. A thin, crunchy, chewy dough, topped with a creamy, garlicky, tomato vodka sauce, which is then topped off with fresh mozzarella and a mix of basil and parsley with a sesame seed crust can honestly be the key factor in bringing world peace.

Next up was the fried calamari; perfectly tender pieces of calamari, fried to perfection and served with a hot or a sweet sauce. 

I FUCKING LOVE chicken Parmesan!  This is one of the very few dishes I could eat every day and La Casa Bella makes one of, if not the best, plates of chicken parmesan I’ve ever had. Thinly sliced pieces of chicken, deep fried, extra crispy, placed on a bed of La Casa Bella’s great tomato sauce, and topped with fresh mozzarella. The portion is huge. I usually eat half of it, but this time it was so good I kept eating until it hurt. 

The bill came to $50.

If you were confused with what I meant by local pizza joints, I’m sure after reading this you’ll understand and if you don’t, well, then you’re an asshole. In south Brooklyn, pizza has taken a nose dive in the taste category, with the new ownership of the pizza section at L&B by people who have no business making pizza, even though it’s the same recipe and because of Totonno’s, which is over rated, overpriced and over the hill. I’m happy to say La Casa Bella has kept its consistency over the past 18 years and if anything has gotten better over time. That's why this will always be my favorite local pizza joint. 

La Casa Bella 
2579 Cropsey Avenue Brooklyn NY 
(718) 449-0200
www.LaCasaBellaMenu.com