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Friday Fridge Check
"This is basically what my car looked like in high school," said Jamie, commenting on the inside of her fridge. She really wasn't thrilled at the idea of me featuring it for the Friday Fridge Check. But I simply found it too irresistible. There's so much going on here! I love it.
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Can't say I've ever experienced anything quite like biting into a creamy, still-warm egg tart just after witnessing a chicken being slaughtered at the Yau Ma Tei market in Hong Kong. A guy I was with couldn't handle it and had to chuck his. (They were given to us as gifts.) I have a pretty strong stomach, and an even stronger desire to be respectful in challenging situations, but I am eschewing meat this month in the aftermath.
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I learned something recently: Just as one should never go grocery shopping when one is hungry, one should never set out on a 16-block hike in search of morning coffee unless one has ingested a pre-game cup.
By block 5, I was already mentally cursing the friend who had recommended Roots Café on multiple occasions. By block 10, she was dead to me. It was only at block 14, when I spotted perhaps the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in Park Slope exiting the doors I was headed toward, that I reconsidered my scowl.
But good looks only go so far with me. My need for caffeine runs much deeper. So the scowl remained in place as I entered the crunchy-cool coffee house.
Roots Café is located at 639 5th Avenue at the corner of 18th Street. Decorated with gently worn furniture, walls displaying a mishmash of local art and mounted instruments (Accordion? Check. Ukulele? Check.), and a predictably folk-centric soundtrack drifting around the room from hidden speakers, it is not the type of place that coordinates with frowning.
But frown I did, especially upon reaching the cashier counter and learning the previously suggested vegan Twinkies I’d also been hoping to sample after my pilgrimage were sold out.
“Sold out” are the two loneliest words in the world. It’s like getting rejected before you even make it to the first date. What? But I? Why?
The ecstatic server behind the counter, perhaps sensing my increasing discomfort, immediately suggested alternatives from the admittedly bountiful pastries around me. And as I decided between the Strawberry Peach Muffin, a gluten-free cupcake and a vegan brownie, she got to brewing me a tall cup of Stumptown.
As soon as the scent of coffee hit my nose, it was like a kick of methamphetamine to my veins (or so I imagine?), which is to say that everything began to assume Technicolor vibrancy a la that scene in The Wizard of Oz, when she awakens after the tornado.
I noticed the colorful, mismatched mugs hanging on nearby wall hooks. People sitting at various small tables, reading the paper or quietly tapping the keyboard of their laptops smiled happily as I scanned the room. Thumbing the top of the muffin, I found the texture to be sufficiently spring-y. And when my ever-glowing barista returned with my coffee, she was so earnest in her recommendation of the brownie that I splurged for that densely rich and chewy square too.
It was an unusual breakfast trifecta, certainly. But in this place seemingly so far from home, it came down to this: If you’re serving Stumptown, I already trust that you have a discerning palate. The Strawberry Peach Muffin was made by a local baker, and tasted exceedingly fresh, with a light buttery crumb. And the brownie? Well, I figured since I was so far… no one would ever have to know.
Fork Slope is a weekly review column of restaurants, cafes and bars in Park Slope, Brooklyn. You can find it on ParkSlope.Patch.com and on www.fwordsblog.com
Posted at 06:37 AM in Fork Slope | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I went to Hong Kong. It was a wonderful whirlwind during which I never stopped eating. No, really. I outdid myself.
Since returning, I've had the worst (only?) jet lag I've ever experienced in my life and been on deadlines galore. Hence, my lag in posting. Also, I need to save certain photographs for certain articles... But I will do my best to share a few food shots on fwords this week to tide over those of you who've asked.
Posted at 06:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
Posted at 06:00 PM in Friday Fridge Check | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Pizza. It seems like it should be so straightforward and, yet, when you really sit down and think about it, it’s not. There are as many variations on the pizza-eating experience in Park Slope as there are coffee shops. And why not?
Sometimes you want to eat a piece of pizza that feels sophisticated—topped with artisanal ingredients like house-made sausage, eye-catching clams still in the shell, speck or white truffle oil. Go then to Fornino or Campo de Fiori, both on Fifth Avenue, both of which have designed their menus to sate an adventurous palate.
Other times, you may want to eat a piece of pizza that emits a sort of nostalgia from the steaming imported cheese and a homemade sauce—no doubt credited to the owner’s mother or some such similar relative, who invariably lives upstairs or downstairs or possibly over in Carroll Gardens. In that case, I recommend Giuseppina’s.
In more vulnerable moments, likely late at night, you may even want to eat a piece of pizza that makes you feel a little bit dirty. For that, there are countless slice joints peppered throughout the neighborhood whose walls are as unremarkable and greasy as the pies they produce.
But while the décor at South Brooklyn Pizza at 447 First Street and Seventh Avenue is far from revelatory—framed photographs of historical Brooklyn ‘rias are hung about, a chalkboard lists the day’s specials, a few wooden tables and chairs wait to be filled—you may end up spending more time examining their walls than you would at another nearby shop.
SBP doesn’t store multiple pre-cooked pies in its pizza case. If you’re lucky, there are two just out of the oven. One will be the Margherita, featuring san marzano tomatoes, mozzarella, some fontina, grana basil and olive oil. The other will be the special of the day. Everything else is made to order.
This puts off some patrons who aren’t inclined to wait 15 minutes for a new pizza to be fired if they’ve unfortunately arrived after the last slice was just sold. But if you stick around, you’ll be rewarded with what I can only describe as, wait for it, the most straightforward pizza-eating experience in the Slope.
And why do I say that?
The slices at South Brooklyn Pizza taste of fresh ingredients, a measured but not overbearing amount of cheese and a medium crust that is crispy and charred on the bottom. Instead of grease, you find olive oil. In addition to mozzarella, you get hits of asiago. And if you splurge for some toppings, you will receive plump wheels of mushroom, perfectly steamed spinach and delicately wilting artichoke.
No frills. Not fast. Nor traditional. But absolutely simple and solid. In a sea of competitors, that actually makes South Brooklyn stand out.
Fork Slope is a weekly review column of restaurants, cafes, bars and other food-related businesses in Park Slope, Brooklyn. You can find it on ParkSlope.Patch.com and here on www.fwordsblog.com
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This photo was taken last weekend at Brooklyn Bowl, when a few girls and I decided to demolish some pins over lunch. My stomach had been upset all morning from ingesting too much BBQ, mac 'n' cheese, bourbon and late-night garlic knots the evening before. Initially, I intended to just order a salad with my ginger ale.
But when I saw the description of Blue Ribbon's French Toast on the menu, something touched me deep in my soul. It stood a little too close to me inside of an elevator, then whispered, "Hey, girl. I'm gonna make everything better with this bread I just fried up in sugar while wearing a Member's Only jacket. Then we're going to drive around in a fast car listening to pseudo '80s synth." (Yes, Ryan Gosling makes personal appearances inside my soul now!)
And don't you know I ended up scoring my best game ever: 87
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