Take A Chillaxative!

One thing I don't understand about New Yorkers is- why is everyone in such a rush? Men in suits jostling past you, SUVs barreling down the little streets, people pushing onto subways, people even grabbing lunch at fast food restaurants to save time....if everyone would just slow down a little they'd enjoy life much more!
Now, I never thought that I would ever see the inside of a fast food restaurant, but thanks to those masters of creative repurposing, FastBuck, it's now safe for the smart young foodie to pass under the golden arches. The team behind White Capsule and Bar-ger King have done it again: they've taken a mainstay of mainstream American fast-food and brought it up to fine dining standards, while ironically preserving the original ambience.
And so, one late Wednesday morning I ventured to MacDonald's ( 1124 Honeywell St., Long Island City) to see about some brunch. Several likeminded adventurers were waiting outside, tweeting each other and waiting to be pinged to their table. As we waited, a few locals, baffled by the exterior, wandered in, and then right back out, apparently unable to fathom irony.
Once I was seated, I looked over the Value-Added Meal menu and found an interesting appetizer: Chicken MacNuggets ($15)


The hand-formed nuggets of pastured pedigreed Barbu d'Uccle chicken breast are breaded with crumbled pane casareccio from Il Forno Caterers, then panfried in Mongolian dromedary hump oil. The dipping sauce is a pomegranate/Chilean wildflower honey reduction with Brown Turkey figs, coarsely ground Aleppo pepper, sriracha, Tuthilltown bourbon, ras-el-hanout, preserved lemon peel, heirloom habanero chile, vinegar of Bartolo Mascarello 1989 barolo, Bartlett pear, grains of paradise and Virginia Dare Red Color. This simple glaze perfectly overwhelms the subtle flavors of the nugget.
Our cicerone recommended the Fentiman's Dandelion & Burdock Cola ($6) as a suitable pairing, and my tastebuds benefited immensely from his impeccable taste and encyclopedic knowledge of soda. The main course arrived after a respectful ninety minutes of slow-food languor: The Big Mc with Fries ($28)




As high as my expectations were, I was not prepared for the masterful alchemy of ingredients that comprised this re-interpreted classic sandwich. The beef patties are hand formed from 100% locally-sourced, grass finished, home schooled, pro-active, mollycoddled Black Angus cattle. According to Gullible Manhattan, the music of Sting is played in the slaughterhouse to insure a peaceful departure.

The patties are then char-broiled over palo santo wood, with fire passed from the Olympic torch. The two outer buns are sesame kaiser, and an extra center bun is sourdough challah, all baked on premises. Adorning the sandwich are mascarpone cheese, homemade heirloom tomato and okra ketchup, garlic pickles from Greenpoint Brinery, shredded heirloom Bibb lettuce, Vidalia onion, and a secret special sauce made of bacon-infused mayonnaise (I LOVE bacon!), diced bread-and-butter pickles from The Triangle Gherkin Factory, and saffron.

The French fried potatoes are hand-cut heirloom Vienna Fingerlings, seasoned with black pepper spray and Indonesian Kalak Numakala ("child laborers' tears") salt, then deep fried in polar bear grease.

I must digress here to mention the decor. Anyone who's been to Di Faro's Pizza can appreciate the gritty charm of an unswept, dirty dining area. With a knowing wink, the MacDonald's crew neglects to wipe the tables, restock the napkin dispensers or mop the floors, giving the space an urban edginess and a real simulated "dive bar" look. Expensive dining doesn't always have to be a fancy affair. It's fun to dress down and go slumming once and a while! Unfortunately, the previous occupants of my table had thoughtlessly cleared it of condiment globs and crumpled napkins, so I slipped the server a ten and asked her to dump some floor sweepings from a dustpan onto my table. This little touch of authenticity completed my dining experience.

The bill came to $90 with tip, which isn't so bad for lunch. As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, drinking in the babble of tongues and pallette of complexions that makes Queens such an exotic foodie destination, I wondered why fast food gets such a bad reputation. My meal was inexpensive and delicious, and only took up a mere four hours of my afternoon. One of these days I might just pop into a little taqueria by my condo and spend the afternoon. It called Taco Bell. Ever hear of it?

Pints of Interest

Is it just me, or are the pint glasses in New York City getting smaller? I think it's great that bar owners here are thumbing their noses at the boring traditional English system of measurement and trying new ideas. Personally, I'm tired of drinking out of some old-fashioned, morbidly obese, supersized Budweiser pint glass that Joe The Plumber slurps out of! When the bartender pours me a perfect pint of Guinness at Zooropa on Ludlow St. (only $10 at happy hour), it's like I'm in a Dublin pub with James Joyce and The Edge.


Now, I am a hopeless beer geek, and I'm always trying the latest experiments out of the most daring breweries in the world. These breweries are half Hogwarts Academy, half Astra-Zeneca, and the stuff they come up with is AMAZING! At Nausealeum in Williamsburg, I tried a beer from Dog Mountain River Brewing Co. out of Alva, Oklahoma. It's made from 100% yeast, and it's unlike any beer I've tried before. According to the insane wizards at the brewery, the beer is made from 46% California ale yeast, 21% lager yeast, 15% Burton ale yeast, 8% Weinstephaner hefeweizen yeast and 25% Belgian yeast. The beer contains no alcohol at first, but after you drink it, the yeast ferments all the sugar in your body and you get REALLY drunk! On yourself!! It is served with a shot of hop extract to balance the sweetness of your blood sugar. The taste is reminiscent of sourdough bread that's been soaked in Jagermeister.
I was literally drunk for three days afterward, for the yeast continues to multiply in your system until there's no more sugar. It pretty much wreaks havoc on the old tripe. If I had a job, I don't know what I would have done! But I can now add "being fermented" to my list of accomplishments.

Sole Kitchen

When I was about eight years old, my father sat me on the butler's knee and told him "Son, your stomach is an exclusive supper club. Your tongue is the red carpet. YOU are the doorman. Be very selective about what, or whom, you let in past the door." I was already quite the little gourmand, but after I heard this stern lecture, I vowed to leave the culinary mausoleum that is New Orleans and live in the edible crazy quilt that is New York City. Since arriving two years ago I've taken my meals at hundreds of amazing restaurants, several of which are still operating. In this blog I'd like to share some of my discoveries with you.


A few weeks ago I had a great meal at The Dusty Skillet in East Bushwick (1272 Flatlands 3rd St., near the Rockaway Parkway L stop. No phone.) Owner Chris Gaines had worked in several Denny's in New Jersey before he became a raw-food devotee ("I burned my finger on a hot pan during a dinner rush. That was it.") He now serves all-organic, locally sourced meats according to the "paleolithic" raw-meat diet.



Here is the Berkshire trotter on ciabatta ($18), served with rocket and Kopi Luwak coffee beans from Brush Fire Roasters.The hoof meat was cold and chewy to perfection, the skin leathery with very few bristles.




I asked Chris whether there were any all-raw dishes. I was offered the pastured Heritage chicken feet on a pigfoot roll, clover garni ($20). The chicken toes were lightly stained with clover from the fields, which I licked off greedily.



I couldn't resist the Grand Slam Head Cheese Plate ($16), one full pound of homemade Berkshire head cheese, so fresh I could almost taste what the pig was thinking when it was slaughtered. Flecks of tender eye and jowl gave the cheese a nice marbling. All in all, an AMAZING meal!