After my minor orgasm at Fatty ‘Cue, I felt the need to check-out the Fatty Crews’ original place, Fatty Crab.  I thought I’d knock out two birds with one stone and go there on a second date with this girl I met recently. Yes, there is a Fatty joint stigmata with me and dates. But worst comes to worst I'd go back to sitting on my couch and eating pizza on Saturday nights.  

Fatty Crab is located at 643 Hudson and, of course, I walked right by it, even though they had a bright red awning with “Fatty Crab” written in bright yellow letters.  The space was small and dimly lit, the walls painted a dark red, with a glow from the bar and kitchen shining through. The scene in this place was mellow and calm, which means I was getting laid after dinner. Chatter filled the room but was drowned out by Kanye West’s “Can’t Tell Me Nothing” in the back ground.  Any place that plays hip-hop is a place I’d be more than happy to eat at and when I say hip-hop, I don’t mean Ludacris featuring Justin Bieber.

We sat down and the clipboards (menus) were handed to us. Everything looked so damn good we couldn’t figure out what to get, so we started off with ordering drinks. I had the Fatty Sour (bourbon, Pedro Ximenez sherry and fresh sour bitters.) It was fresh and sour, but something was missing. It definitely wasn’t the ‘Cue. 

So we finally decided on what to order, and here it goes: the quail egg shooters ($7), charred squid ($14), chicken claypot ($16) and, of course, the chili crab (market price, $48). We wanted the Wonton Mee, but they ran out. I was kind of hesitant about the crab because, let’s face it, eating anything in a shell is work and if I wanted to work for my food I’d get a job at the Food Network. 

First to come out were the egg shooters: 6 quail eggs lined up on a quail egg holder, which I did not even know existed. The waiter warned us that the quail eggs were a little spicy, so I tried one with caution. Nothing. Tasted like dry fish with no spice. Fucking liar. So I reached for the next quail egg and h-o-l-y fuck was it spicy. The mixture of the dried fish was good, but the spice overpowered the whole egg to the point where I was dying for the burning feeling to go away. 

Next is the charred squid salad, which consisted of broccoli, herbs, lemon juice and squid. Honestly, I couldn’t find any squid. Maybe this girl scarfed them down while I wasn’t looking. I think I had one piece, which was really good. It was perfectly cooked and tender, although the broccoli and herbs had my palate more confused than a hipster at the Ed Hardy store. There were too many things going on at once to really nail down a flavor. I’m glad that at least the Fatty Crew hasn’t fallen prey to the word “calamari” because, honestly, if I saw the word calamari in an Asian restaurant, I would walk out and proceed to curse them on twitter. 

Next up was the Clay pot, perfection served in a wooden bowl. Perfectly cooked chicken, with tender tofu in a thick soupy broth with scallions and chives. My date and I were utterly amazed and both agreed this was the dish of the night.

Finally, the chili crabs. I have to the say, the presentation was beautiful. Perfectly cooked red crabs, stuffed into a bowl with thick-cut toast and herbs, and immersed in a pool of chili sauce. Like I said earlier, I hate fighting for my food. The crab was cooked well but, honestly, the show stopper was the chili sauce. WOW! I’ve seriously never tasted a chili sauce like this before. Ever! It was spicy, it was sweet… it was good.

I ended the night with a Fatty Bar ($6), a candy bar sold exclusively at the Fatty Crews’ places. I had a choice between a bar with dark chocolate, roasted almonds, chili and sea salt, or a milk chocolate bar with ginger puffed rice and crisp rice. I went with the milk chocolate because I’m not really a chocolate person. The only reason I even got a bar is because of the ingredients. Wrapped in a 70’s, hippie wallpaper and gold foil, the bar was about 5” long (no, that’s not what she said.) Eh, it was a candy bar that tasted like Lo Mein. $6 down the drain. 

The bill came to $140 with tip. I’m on the fence with Fatty Crab. Yes, the food was good. Well, some of it.  The clay pot and chili sauce were good. Everything else sucked. Another thing that bothered me was the $48 price tag for crabs. Yes, they were good, but not $48 good.  Would I eat here again? Yes, the other menu items looked good. Would I pay to eat here again? No. I guess I’ll always have Fatty ‘Cue.

Fatty Crab 

643 Hudson Street

(212) 352-3590

www.fattycrab.com 

Working in Bushwick, Brooklyn, your lunch options are limited. So I’ve been skipping lunch and waiting until I get home to eat something.  I get into daily arguments with myself on what I am going to have for lunch/dinner on the drive home. One day, as I hit Atlantic Avenue, it came to me; I was going to get a sandwich from Defonte’s. I found Defonte’s by mistake. I was working on the Ikea project in Red Hook and, once again, the food options in the area were limited. Yes, there’s the Good Fork and the newly renamed Ice House, but they are never open for lunch and I hadn’t found out about the Fairway Café at the Fairway Supermarket until the day after I left Ikea. Defonte’s is located on the corner of Columbia Street Luquer, on the street level of a building painted green. They’ve occupied the space since 1922. A large white sign with red letters spell out Defonte’s and green letters spell sandwiches. Pauly D. was nowhere to be found.

Inside, a large steam table occupies one side of the shop, while refrigerators housing cold drinks take up the other. Above the steam table there are signs of the types of special sandwiches they offer. I went with the roast beef, an Italian hero roll stuffed with house-made roast beef, fresh mozzarella and thinly sliced, fried eggplant -($9.) I was feeling nostalgic so I grabbed a Stewart’s orange soda. Of course, I’m a fucking idiot and realized later that it was an orange and cream soda. FUCK! I hate cream soda, I think....  
  

I was rushing to get home in the hopes of eating a warm sandwich but, as my luck would have it, every asshole in Brooklyn was driving in front of me. There was definitely a plot against me. These motherfuckers knew I had a hot sandwich and were doing anything they could to make sure it was cold when I ate it.

I finally got home and as I took the sandwich out of the bag, I noticed it was a little small. But I was hungry and, as always, my eyes were bigger than my stomach. I picked up the sandwich it felt cold. Thanks, life. Whatever, I started to chomp away. The bread was ultra fresh and flaky, but somehow not soggy. The roast beef was medium rare and thinly sliced. The mozzarella was sliced thicker than usual, and was creamy and salty. The fried eggplant was soggy, but what should I have expected? Small hints of garlic in the roast beef and the fried coating on the eggplant were just outrageous; it was like a party in my mouth and Defonte’s was the only one invited. No homo.

So if you’re spending your day at Ikea, trying to return the book shelf you completely fucked up because you were looking at the pictures and not reading the instructions, or if you’re looking for a quick bite after you get out of the Battery Tunnel, definitely checkout Defonte’s.

Defontes 

379 Columbia Street Brooklyn, NY  

(718) 855-6982

www.defontesofbrooklyn.com

May your glass stay full of champagne and your pockets full of money. Happy New Year from devour | nyc

After months of constant harassment from a friend, I finally tried Lucali Pizza. I had been reading rave reviews about this place and had to try it out for myself. I would like you to know this was my second attempt at trying to get a table at Lucali. Our first try came three weeks earlier, on a beautiful summer night. What made it so beautiful? I was off from work that entire week. After spending some time finding a parking spot and walking over a few blocks to the restaurant, my friends and I were informed that it would be a three hour wait and that we should have called ahead. Okay, so I guess this was a dry run.



Three weeks later, we returned. And this time, with a reservation. My friend made the call and was told to come in one hour. He left his phone number and was advised he would receive a call when our table was ready. I was surprised. A spot like this, without a snobby attitude towards the customer? At Totonno’s, they basically throw the pie at you. Okay, so now I had one hour to shower, get dressed and drive to downtown Brooklyn. Did I mention I had to pick-up another friend? No way in hell were we making it there in one hour.



Shockingly, one hour later, we arrived at Lucali. Parking was pretty simple to find this time and I had a good feeling that we would actually be eating pizza shortly. My friend gave his name to the hostess and was told we were next. Okay, time to wait. Good thing it was nice outside. Without much scenery to look at, I started to deconstruct the décor of the place. There was no sign, just a green and white awning. Next to the hostess was a chalkboard menu with the types of pizza and toppings served: A pie, $24; large calzone, $20; small calzone, $10. Toppings: portobello mushrooms, pepperoni, garlic, basil and onions. It doesn’t get any simpler than that. As I looked around I noticed Lucali did not have a gate; just a doorknob lock and a hasp with a padlock. The owner didn’t have much to worry about, what’s the worst that could happen? A bunch of hipsters get wasted off Pabst Blue Ribbon, break into the place and hang Obama posters everywhere? Maybe chain their fixed gear bikes to the front door? This place was old school and I was kind of happy it stayed that way, because I was going to vomit if I saw another Dunkin Donuts or Subway.



An hour had elapsed and I was getting hungry. I mean mirage hungry. I was reading the chalkboard and all of a sudden it turned into a calzone. As I reached my arm out to grab it and take a bite, my friend told me our table was ready. Score! I don’t know what’s better: when your table is ready at a restaurant or when the doctor finally walks into the room. As I walked in, the smell of pizza hit my nose, hard. Inside, the place was tiny; about twelve small, rustic looking wood tables, with chairs to match. In the back was a fire burning oven and a low counter on which the owner, an older Italian gentleman and some young guy made the pizza. This was a good sign. I’m tired of Mexicans making my pizza. Yes, they supply cheap labor, but at $24 a pie, the only thing I want a Mexican doing is cleaning the dirty dishes.

Our order was placed: two pies (one plain, one with half pepperoni), a calzone and a few sodas. As we waited for the food, pizza was whisked by only inches from where we sat. I was getting anxious. I had read all the reviews and heard all the raves. Over the past 15 years, pizza had taken a decline in quality; from the ingredients, to the way it was made. To get a good slice of pizza in New York City nowadays was a tough thing. The good pizzerias know they’re good, so they charge ridiculous prices. Like DiFara’s! Dom must be losing his mind at $5 a slice. If you’re charging that much at least make your own sauce and don’t get it out of a can.



Ten minutes later, our pies arrived. I quickly swooped in and grabbed a slice with pepperoni. After taking a few bites, I decided this was going to be a tough sell. The pepperoni overpowered the sauce and buffalo mozzarella. I needed a plain slice so I could judge this pizza. I reached in for seconds. After a few bites, we had a winner; a nice, thin crispy (yet chewy) crust pizza. The sauce was a little on the sweet side but gave a nice balance to the fresh basil, olive oil and buffalo mozzarella. I was chewing with a huge grin on my face, as if I just had sex with a group of Asian female porn stars, when our calzone arrived.

This calzone was huge. I’d say a foot and a half long, and it was cut into eight pieces. Served alongside was a bowl of Lucali’s homemade pizza sauce, some fresh grated cheese, a few leaves of basil and a stem of rosemary. I was pretty shocked to see cheese oozing out of the sides. Usually a calzone just has ricotta cheese. You can never have enough cheese. I grabbed a piece and threw on some sauce, grated some cheese and added basil. After a few bites, I realized I would give up women, alcohol and sleeping to have this calzone every day. Chewy and crispy, and made with buffalo mozzarella, this was a home run. The calzone was incredible.

Okay, enough is enough. I was stuffed. Two pies and a calzone, between three people, is a lot of food. I thought I would never say this, given that the place is a newcomer, but Lucali is now my number one pizza joint, putting Patsy’s (Grimaldi’s) in second place. The bill came to $73, without gratuity. The service could have been a little better, as the place is the size of a one bedroom apartment in Manhattan, but we left a healthy tip. As we walked out to get into my car, we saw the owner outside and thanked him for the great pizza. He seemed like a pretty nice guy and he apologized for not personally making one of our pies, but said he hoped we enjoyed our pizza and calzone. I was pretty shocked that he kept tabs on who received the pizza he made, considering there were two other people making pizza alongside him. He also confirmed a rumor that they would be opening another location in south Park Slope, but that place would be run by his brother.

Fatty ‘Cue has been on my radar for months. A new concept in BBQ, it mixes southern style cooking technique with Asian flavors mostly Thai and Malaysian flavors, and it's pretty hard to ignore. What is also hard to ignore is the massive amount of press this place gets. Everything is covered, from videos on how they smoke their meats to how they decorate the place, a lighting fixture shaped like a pig hangs in the main dining room - these guys are serious about BBQ.

This was my second time going to Fatty ‘Cue. My first experience didn't go so well. I was on a date and ummm… let's just say I was happy the night ended quickly and I didn't have to resort to stabbing myself in the eye with a chopstick to speed things along. Fatty ‘Cue is located on South 6^th Street in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, not far from Peter Luger’s Steakhouse and the Williamsburg bridge. A good thing to know, for you Manhattanites who might go buck-wild one night and cross the bridge, even though it's in hipster land, I promise you won't return to Manhattan a liberal.

As my friend and I entered the place, a dude bro rocking a fedora let us know it would be a 45 minute to one hour wait. That didn't scare me because from what I can recall on that train wreck of a date, the food was the best part of the night. I was down to wait it out. So my friend and I made our way over to the bar.

Fatty ‘Cue was dimly lit with a packed bar that took up 1/4 of the space. A few tables took up another 1/4 and hipsters took over the other 1/2. They also have a main dinning room, which I didn't get to see again, where the pig light fixture hangs, maybe next time..  I ordered a drink called the ‘CUE ($9), Wrey & Nephew Rum, smoked pineapple, citrus, Tabasco sauce, Pernod and served in a tiny martini glass for my big, bruised knuckled hands to enjoy. The potent scent of citrus from waffed into my nose, my friend had a cold but even she could smell it. The drink was sweet and tangy, and left me with a minor burning sensation, it hurt so good. Bravo, Bartender.

(courtesy of always hungry)

 My Friend and I spotted a nice little nook with two bar stools for us to hang in while we wait. As we waited, any argument ensued between my friend and I, Can we just eat here? I wasn't sure, so after 15 minutes of yapping back and forth on the issue my friend took matters into her own hands and asked the dude bro with the fedora if we could eat there and, before she could finish her question, dude bro said yes. Shit, sometimes I wish I was a cute Asian girl. Life would be so much easier.

The waiter came by with two plates, some chopsticks and a bottle of tap water. No need for menu's I already knew what we were getting: The 'Cue Coriander bacon ($14), the cucumbers($6) , the noodles ($11) and the Brandt Ranch beef brisket ($21). While waiting for our food my friend and I noticed someone eating  heritage pork ribs ($12) at the bar, so we added that to our meal.

And here it comes…

The noodles were drenched in meat juices and served with a scallion and chili sauce.  I added a little hot sauce to make things interesting. The noodles were firm, the meat sauce gave it a nice flavor with a nice kick in the balls from the hot sauce a few seconds later. HOLY FUCK! These had to be the best tasting Asian noodles I’ve ever had in my life!

The cucumbers were diced up with smoked chili peppers, brown rice vinegar and topped with sesame seeds. They didn’t really play with my emotions as much as the noodles did, but they were good and fresh and had a nice crunchiness to them. I guess that’s all I can say.

The bacon had a hint of coriander and was served with toast and yellow mustard. I didn’t try the mustard but I can tell you one thing: I used to think Peter Luger’s had the best bacon, but now, Fatty ‘Cue gets my vote for best in show. Tender pieces of perfectly seasoned bacon with a perfectly fat-to-meat ratio gave me a little poke in my pants. 

(courtesy of wanderingfoodie)

 The ribs made me feel like Fred Flinstone. They were huge and tender with every bite. A little spice, a little sweet and a little Asian flavor made them perfect.

( courtesy of glenwood )

Last but not least came out the Brandt Ranch Beef Brisket - a sliced brisket, charred perfectly and served with chili jam, aioli, steamed bao buns, pickled red onion and a bone broth. I started to put together the perfect brisket bao sandwich for myself, consisting of all the sides, except the aioli, and it was perfect. The brisket was soft and juicy, and leaked as I bit into it. The chili jam gave it a little kick but cooled off at the end, as I got a hint of sweetness.

(courtesy of brigidpearson)

As the night went on, the service started to slow. It was difficult to find our waiter at times but, needless to say, when he was around he was helpful. The total came to $85 plus tip, which is damn cheap for the amount and the quality of food Fatty ‘Cue serves.

Fatty ‘Cue, I think I love you.

Fatty 'Cue
91 South 6th street, Brooklyn NY
(718) 599 - 3090
http://www.fattycue.com/

It was Friday afternoon and time for lunch, and I wanted a burger. I was in close proximity to Shake Shack, on 44th and 8th, but I had come to the conclusion that I’d never make it there in-time because by 11:45am the line is usually out the door and down the block. Then I remembered this place I had passed a few times, called Schnippers. I always wanted to try it but I have this thing about eating alone in public. I feel it’s one step closer to being the type of person who buys irregular underwear. Luckily, I talked my co-worker into joining me.

Schnippers is located in the New York Times building, on the corner of 41st Street and 8th Avenue. Constructed of metal and glass, with gleaming white walls and a huge orange Schnippers sign, you can’t really miss the place. After walking through two huge glass doors, you’re greeted by wooden table tops along with white and silver metal chairs, (beware, some tables are communal) I fucking hate motherfucking communal tables! I think they’re disgusting and impersonal. I honestly don’t want to hear about whose cock you sucked last night and I don’t want your bed bug circus jumping ship onto me. Anyway, there’s an open kitchen with a bar-like eating area next to where you place your order with huge signs on the wall that say " food " and " drink ", good thing they were there or I would of mistaken the place for subway station. The patrons at Schnippers were of tourists, construction workers and people who couldn’t bear to wait an hour at Shake Shack.

The menu is full of “comfort food” (i.e. burgers, fries, hot dogs, milk shakes etc.) After scanning the menu, I decided to get this burger with blue cheese, bacon, crispy onions, hickory smoked BBQ sauce and Schnippers sauce, whatever the fuck that is ($9.75) and an order of sweet potato fries served with maple dipping sauce ($3.99). Oh and a soda. The total was $19, which is pretty fucking pricey for a burger and fries! And a soda! One thing I found strange was that they didn’t ask me how I wanted my burger cooked, especially given that it’s a made-to-order type of place. I was handed a stick with the number 170 on it and headed over to a table with my co-worker.

A few moments later, my burger was brought over by the server. On a round metal tray laid a burger, which looked pretty good, and a cup of sweet potatoes fries with a dipping sauce. I snapped a few pictures and wrote a few notes as my co-worker strangely looked on.

The burger was dry and had way too much blue cheese and BBQ sauce on it, which is fine, if I wanted a blue cheese and BBQ sauce sandwich. But I wanted a burger. The onions weren’t crispy and the bacon was rubbery. Thumbs down to the burger.

The sweet potato fries were good; crispy on the outside, semi-sweet and cooked perfectly. Although the maple sauce was very sweet. Okay, “very sweet” is an understatement. The fucking thing will give you diabetes at the end of the meal.

Well, Schnippers, what can I say? Thanks for unlimited refills on the soda.....

Schnippers Qaulity Kitchen
620 8th avenue
New York , NY (212) 921-2400
www.schnippers.com

What can I say about Coney Island? I love the place; born and raised and planning on having my body buried under the parachute jump, right next to Jimmy Hoffa. Although my one gripe about the neighborhood is the lack of good places to eat. In a sea of take-out Chinese restaurants, fried chicken/pizza/halal places stands-out a small sandwich shop called Classic Heros.

Classic Heros is located on Neptune Avenue, a stone’s throw away from the g-d awful tourist trap Nathan’s, and that awful pizza place Totonno’s. The owners of Classic Heros, Adam and Matt, are both from the neighborhood and, just like myself, were sick and tired of the lack of good food in the area. So, they opened Classic Heros.



 

As you walk into the small space, the walls are decorated with old pictures of the cyclone, old celebrities and vintage Coca-Cola signs. A large steam table that holds the days specials takes up most of the space.

Adam and Matt started me off with the special: bowtie pasta with roasted garlic and olive oil, topped with the house marinara sauce and sprinkled with parmigiano-reggiano cheese. The pasta was tender. I got a hint of the  roasted garlic but the olive oil over-powered the dish.

Next, Adam and Matt served me their famous brisket. The brisket is slow cooked for 8 hours and rubbed with all kinds of spices. Adam explained that this recipe has been in his family for years and has become the house specialty. Dripping in fresh gravy and caramelized onions, the brisket was cooked to perfection and the onions were sweet, I wanted more! 

Finally, Adam and Matt made me a sandwich called “The Belly Whopper” ( $9) . I have a special bond with this sandwich. Many years ago there was a shop called Amados, on Mermaid Avenue. It was a really old school Italian deli / Butcher shop, with sawdust on the floor - the whole nine yards. I remember riding my bike there in the summer with a few friends to get a sandwich called The Belly Whopper, which was exactly as the name implied. It fed 4 of us. Sadly, they closed and The Belly Whopper became a distant memory, but Adam and Matt had brought it back to life.

Genoa salami, ham, pepperoni, fresh mozzarella (which, by the way, is made in-house by an old Italian lady in the back), roasted red peppers, lettuce, tomatoes, red onions, banana peppers, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper and a pinch of oregano – all served on a loaf of fresh, flaky Italian bread. I took two bites and it was 1993 all over again. Adam and Matt had re-created this sandwich to perfection, as if Nick himself had made it.

Recently, Zagat’s put out a list of places to eat in Coney Island and it was awful. Not only did they not include Classic Heros, but they added places to the list like Totonno’s. I don’t give a fuck what you read, Totonno’s is garbage. I haven’t had a good pie from there since the old man passed away in the 90’s. I guess when you have junkies from the neighborhood making your pizza, it tends to suffer. Thankfully, New York Magazine made Classic Heros a critic’s pick ( new york magazine link). So if you’re in Coney Island, skip Nathan’s and Totonno’s, and head over to Classic Heros for a great sandwich.

Classic Heros
1410 Neptune avenue, Brooklyn NY
Phone ( 718 ) 266 - 4376
www.classicheros.com