Eat Cook Live

A quick lunch with co-workers at Pescatore (Italian for fisherman).

The Smoked Salmon Sandwich was good.  Not amazing, not innovative, just the smoked salmon, red onions, arugula, capers, and a generous amount lemon dill mayo.  Simple and done right—enough for me to want another, to make me trust what they do, and to make me go back and try something new.

What got me excited though was the cucumber-yogurt soup.  Light, fresh, with a bit of that yogurt tart.  Some chives for a few fun spikes of flavor.  Perfect for a hot humid day.  I’m sure it’s a simple recipe; I’m going to have to hunt for one and make it for the next roommate dinner.

On a final note, the atmosphere at Pescatore is clam and pleasant.  And staff actually spoke Italian.  A server to two young Italian men at the table behind me and (shockingly) in the kitchen—there were actually people yelling at each other in Italian!

Pescatore
955 2nd Avenue
New York, NY 10022
www.pescatorerestaurant.com

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The long furlough is over and we are back at it. Our apologies for the delay, Arthur was studying for the Bar Exam and I was in the middle of changing jobs and apartments.  Now that these things are out of the way, we’re hoping that we can once again get into a regular rhythm of new recipes and restaurant reviews.

I’m happy to say that my new residence is far more conducive to culinary advenutures and the documentation thereof. The kitchen is much bigger, the stove /oven is much better and I also moved in the with my buddy Tyler, whom our readers may remember from the Lasagna Files. I’m sure some of Tyler’s own cooking experiments will be featured at some point, as he has some nifty recipes of his own like soy-pickled jalapenos, pickled northern pike, creamed cucumbers and other things.

Those serial killer eyes hide some culinary inspiration.

Today’s recipe was inspired by two things. First, my new place has a grill, something I’ve been missing for the last year. Second, we were in the middle of a horrid heat wave at the time. With temperatures hovering around 95-100 with outrageous humidity, we were doing our very best to not do any cooking inside.  Thus were born the cheddar-bacon cheeseburgers.  And because that sounds a bit too simple, we’re gonna go for internal cheddar and bacon. You’ll need:

• 1.5 lbs of ground beef
• 3 strips of thick cut bacon, chopped
• 1/2 cup of shredded cheese, like a sharp or smoked cheddar
• 3 large cloves of minced garlic
• 3-4 dashes of Worcester sauce
  

  Get your hands in there and make some burgers!

• 1 egg
• American cheese slices
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Maybe a little something else. I threw in a bit of minced oregano and rosemary, mainly because we have a huge herb garden outside the back door. Chili pepper flakes would not be a bad idea either.

Mix all of that together with your hands, then separate and form the patties. We got 5 burgers out of the batch, and they seemed to be a good size.  Throw them on the grill for a few minutes per side.  Because these burgers have raw pork in them I cooked them a little more than the medium/medium-rare I usually prefer.  By the time I took them off  the grill there was almost no pink in them, but because of the bacon the burgers were still incredibly juicy. Add the (fake) cheese slices  about a minute before you take the burgers off the grill, then let them rest post-grilling for a few minutes before eating. Top your burger with whatever you normally prefer. Unless that happens to be mayo; don’t do that to any burger.

P.S. FOOTBALL SEASON IS RIGHT AROUND THE GODDAMN CORNER! Its a cruel irony how much football makes me look forward to the end of the summer.

Especially when this pantload is no longer whiffing blocks all game long. Anyways, we’ll have some more great appetizers and grazing food here on ECL once the season officially starts, including beer-cheese dip and fresh spring rolls with jalapeno syrup dipping sauce!

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It’s been a while, a long while, since I last posted.  A difficult break-up, followed by finals, followed by studying for the bar kept me out of the kitchen and off the blog.  The last few months have been arduous.

I sat for the last day of the bar exam on July 27 and on the 28^th began my return to the real world.  But, when I tried to get back on ECL on the 29^th I found an unfortunate “Fatal Error” message.  After only a few hours of work behind the scenes I was able to break the blog even more—no contact with the server.  But today, I final got everything back up and running.  I had no idea when I started this thing that I would learn so much about computers.

Last Saturday, for the first Saturday in recent memory, I woke-up and didn’t open a bar study book.  Instead I grabbed an ice coffee and made the mile and a half walk to the farmers market for the first time this summer.  I went from stand to stand looking at all the green, red, yellow, and orange delights.  But I had a mission: caprese and pesto.

I found a huge plant of basil for only $3.  I say plant because it really was still a plant with roots and all.  It kills me to think about how much I’ve paid in winter for a handful of sorry looking basil from the supermarket.  For the tomatoes in the caprese I got some bright red cherry tomatoes.  Other random finds included some garlic scapes (long shoots that grow out of the head of the garlic) and a head of broccoli.  [My apologies for the details on the mundane.  What can I say?  I’m excited.]

On the way home I picked-up pine nuts from Russo’s Mozzarella and Pasta up the street from me.  On the walk home from Russo’s I realized I had forgotten the cheese!  So I stopped in a Union Market and picked-up some Parmigiano Reggiano and some amazing mozzarella.

Now when I say this was amazing mozzarella I’m not doing it justice.  I didn’t realize when I bought it, but I had gotten Burrata.  Burrata is basically cream filled mozzarella.  It’s rich, silky, and decadent—like no other cheese I’ve had in my life.  Outside is a layer of the familiar fresh mozzarella, inside is a semi-solid pudding like structure.  I started cutting the fist size balls to make caprese but quickly turned to tearing with my hands.  I then cut the cherry tomatoes in half and cut about a half dozen basil leaves into strips.  After mixing it all together with some good olive oil and some coarse sea salt I enjoyed an incredible afternoon snack.

But I can’t forget the pesto.  I used the following recipe as a template (it’s almost identical to the one in Loren’s pesto post), but improved it with two more cloves of garlic and about another cup of basil.  Also, make sure you buy actual Parmesan Reggiano and some decent olive oil–the extra few bucks are worth it and can be spread over several batches.

Ingredients:

•  2  3 cups fresh basil leaves, packed  [going from 2 to 3 cups made it less runny, which I personally like]
• 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan Reggiano
• 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 1/3 cup pine nuts
•  3  6-7 medium sized garlic cloves, minced [I needed more garlic, all the vampires in pop-culture today have me worried]
• Salt to taste

Instructions:  First, combine the basil with the pine nuts, pulse a few times in a food processor.  Then, add the garlic, pulse a few times more.  Next you’re supposed to slowly add the olive oil in a constant stream while the food processor is on.  I only have a miniature Cuisinart Chopper and Grinder.  The lid doesn’t have an opening so I had to pulse, add oil, pulse, and oil…. you get the idea.  It was a little slower going, but worked great.  Scrape down the sides of the food processor with a rubber spatula and add the grated cheese and pulse again until blended.  Finally, hit it with a pinch of salt to taste and give it one last pulse.  When you’re done the whole room will have a wonderful pesto smell and you’ll have enough pesto for a few people.

Oh, and the pesto keeps in the fridge for a few days or the freezer forever—so you don’t need to eat it all right away.  This is a good thing, because I made a return to the farmers market yesterday and just made a giant batch.

It’s feels good to be cooking and typing some non-law study words again.  There isn’t a lot of summer left, but I plan to make the most of it!  Sometime soon I’m coming back from the farmers market with squash blossoms.

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Look for the red steer

I’m going to start this out with something I don’t think I’ve ever said before, and I hope Arty doesn’t revoke my posting privileges for saying it: this recipe might have been better without the bacon. *cringes* It’s not an easy thing to say. Partly because I made it with the BEST BACON EVER! Quick aside:

I was introduced to this bacon at a young age. It comes from a small town around Lake Mille Lacs in northern Minnesota, called Pierz. This bacon is amazing. Inspiring. Life-affirming. You must try it. Don’t believe me? Go check out this write-up in the New York Times. Everything she writes is true, it is the perfect balance of thick and thin, meat and fat, smoky and delicate flavor. My dad and I made a point to make the 40 minute trip once a month to make sure the freezer was always stocked with this manna from heaven. Now the Lund’s in Uptown carries it, although I don’t know how far their distribution has spread outside Minneapolis. Either way, order yourself a pound or ten (they will ship it from the website, I’m pretty sure).

Back to the recipe at hand: the next time I make this, I think I’ll be using pancetta. In this case, the smoke flavor just did not marry well with the white wine/tomato/basil flavoring. Ingredients:

• 4lb fresh mussels, scrubbed and de-bearded
• 1/2lb smoked bacon (I will use pancetta from now on)
• 2-3 medium shallots
• 5 cloves garlic
• 1 bay leaf
• Pinch of red pepper flakes
• Handful of fresh basil leaves
• 1.5 cups white wine
• 1 can (~20 oz) of diced tomatoes
• 1-2 tbsp butter
• Salt and pepper to taste

Brown the bacon in the pot (remember, it has to be big enough to hold all them mussels), then remove it to a plate. Add the sliced shallots and minced garlic to the pan. When the shallots are translucent and before they really brown, add the wine to deglaze the pan, stirring to incorporate the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the tomatoes and juice form the can and let everything simmer on medium-low for about 10 minutes.

Now it’s time to add the mussels. Standard disclaimer when working with bivalves: look for any ones which are open. Tap them or squeeze them a few times; if they don’t close on their own, toss ’em. Add the rest to the pot, shake them around and stick the cover on. Put on the lid and let them steam for about 6 minutes, then check for doneness. Step one is are they all open. If yes, give one a try to see if it’s done correctly. They might need another few minutes, but probably not much more than that. Add in the tablespoon of butter, and chiffonade the basil then stir that in as well. Remember to get a good amount of that wonderful sauce in the bowls with the mussels, and serve some nice crusty bread with dinner to sop it up with.  Enjoy!

Think I will have to make this again soon...

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It took me a long time to try Ramen Takumi.  I lived off of ramen in college.  You know the plastic wrapped square of noodles with the little seasoning packet.  It costs about 5 cents and while filling isn’t exactly a pillar of culinary excellence.  Or so I thought until Ramen Takumi changed my mind.  Ramen Takumi translates to artisan ramen, and the name delivers on its promise.

Every time I walked by Ramen Takumi, I couldn’t help but wonder how it was a restaurant could be dedicated to ramen.  Day-by-day my curiosity slowly wore me down.  I had to taste these noodles for myself.  When I finally walked through their door, everything I thought I knew about ramen was blown away.  After this first trip I was hooked and I had no choice but to throw the place into the regular lunch rotation.

From almost any seat you can see into the open kitchen where giant pots boil and simmer away with broths for the various dishes.  When sitting at the bar you can see the cook setting timers and dropping baskets of noodle into boiling water as he handles slices of meat on the grill.

Ramen Takumi offers up 11 varieties of its namesake dish with flavors including curry, miso, and sweet soy sauce.  Served with a ladle like spoon and a pair of chopsticks, each dish has its own flavor and mix of ingredients.  Unlike the bowls of ramen I knew before, Ramen Takumi’s come full of veggies, meats, and egg.  The curry ramen, with scallion, chicken, bamboo shoots, and ginger pickles, packs a great spicy punch.  The miso ramen is completed by slices of pork, scallion, bamboo shoots, bean sprouts, and corn, and has fantastically savory flavor.  Every heaping bowl is a delicious treat that satiates without leveling me in a food coma for afternoon class.

Finally, in addition to the ramen, the mochi ice cream is a must try.

——————————

Ramen Takumi
90 University Pl
(between 11th St & 12th St)
New York, NY 10003

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I’d like to introduce you to a friend named Tyler. I met Tyler roundabout 6 or 7 years ago through a friend of a friend, and we ended up living in a house together while I was in college. Tyler and I are the ultimate example of diametrically opposed forces in the

My favorite pic of Tyler. He doesn't always look quite so deranged.

kitchen. Whereas I ususally know what I want a dish to look and taste like before I start cooking it, Tyler is very much a person who is enthralled with the process of cooking itself. He will start out with the ingredients at hand, but usuaully does not know what the food will look or taste like until its done. To the best of my knowledge, this only lead to inedible food on one occasion, when he added a tablespoon or two of cumin to a noodly-cream sauce dish… we shall not speak of that horror.

Since we were the biggest cooks in house, we invariably ended up collaborating on meals on some nights and our contrasting cooking styles always made for interesting meals. The entire process was a struggle between us; Tyler would make a suggestion and I would resist because I already knew what I wanted. I would make a suggestion and Tyler would resist because he wanted to see the outcome of what he was doing. We didn’t always listen to each other, but there was usually a shared commitment to accept some input, and typically the meals we created ended up better than either of us could have produced on our own. This night was no different. Tyler sent me a text saying he had spent all day roasting red peppers and was planning on making lasagna that night. How could I resist?

Unfortunately, I don’t have an exact ingredient list for you because Tyler bought most of the groceries and (of course) did not have a recipe while doing it. Here’s what I think we had though:

• 2 boxes of lasagna noodles (one was regular pasta, the other was whole wheat. We preferred the latter.)
• 2 jars of Bertolli alfredo sauce
  

  Tasty, tasty venison.

   

• 2 frozen chicken breasts
• 1lb of venison steak/cutlets
• 1-2 lbs of mushrooms
• 2 cups of roasted red peppers, cut into strips (if you have homemade, god bless you)
• 20 oz. frozen spinach, thawed (I normally dont like frozen spinach, this turned out quite well.)
• 2 logs of fresh mozzarella
• 1 tub of ricotta cheese
• Wedge of parmasean and/or asiago
• Fresh basil
• Red pepper flakes

We pre-prepared everything so we could just bake the lasagnas long enough to melt everything together and not have to worry about uncooked meat. The chicken breasts were boiled in a heavily seasoned (salt, pepper, garlic powder, sage, rosemary and thyme) pot of water, then diced into small peices. After that, we tossed them with the liquid left in the jar from the roasted peppers to add another layer of flavor. Note: while the boiling liquid smelled fantastic, I don’t think enough of the flavor trasnferred. You might be better off brining and roasting them. Alternately, you could use chicken thighs which usually have more flavor. The venison was already sliced into medallions, about 1/4 to 3/8 inch thick. We patted them dry, seasoned with salt, pepper, garlic & herb, and chili powder, then seared them in a very hot pan with a teaspoon or two of canola oil. By the time they are well browned on both sides, they should be done. Then cut them into matchstick peices so they can be sprinkled throughout the layers. Lastly, the mushrooms were cooked with some butter, garlic and seasonings. Just make sure you get a good amount of the moisture out so it doesn’t come out in the lasagna itself. One thing we forgot to do: the recipe we were loosely consulting suggested mixing the ricotta with an egg, then mixing the spinach into that. I think that process would have helped hold the lasagna together a bit better when it came time to serve.

Put all the various ingredients into some bowls so you can put together the lasagna via assembly line. First layer was alfredo sauce and a small amount of spinach. Then noodles. The next layer was meat(one lasagna was chicken and the other was venison), spinach, mozz, roasted peppers, shrooms. Then noodles. Then sauce, ricotta, and spinach. Then noodles. Then meat, spinach, mozz, roasted peppers, shrooms. Maybe a littlle sauce too (this was hardly a scientific process). Then noodles. Then sauce, ricotta, spinach, red pepper flakes, and some chiffonaded basil, then some shredded parm/asiago. Then the last layer of noodles. Top layer is some sauce, spinach, peppers, and a larger amount of mozz than you had been using. I really tried to cover the top layer in mozz so it would broil up well, then topped with some more shredded parm. Spray some aluminum foil with cooking oil, then cover the lasagna with it. Throw the lasagna in an oven preheated to 350 degrees. After 15 minutes, remove the aluminum foil and let it go for another 25 minutes in the oven. Depending on how crusty and brown you like the cheese, you may have to finish it under the broiler, which is what we did. Let it sit for 10 minutes, then furiously devour it.

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And I learned that by "Perch," they don't mean the fish.

Saturday morning, after a late night of grilling, poker playing, and a backyard bonfire, my roomie Nick suggested that it was time for brunch.  Fayaz was out of town to Miami on “spring break” and Meg was stuck in Midtown editing an article for the law journal, but a few guests had spend the night – one visitor from Maryland and two NYC friends who decided not to brave the 4:30 a.m. subway ride home from Park Slope — so we had a nice little crew.  After a bit of internet searching to decide where to go, we were out walking in the cool spring air to the Perch Cafe.

Before I talk about Perch Cafe I have a Minnesotan confession.  When I heard the name Perch, I immediately thought of the little fish that I would catch as a kid–not the thing birds do on sticks and wires.  I know, surprising since I currently live with two pet birds.  I guess it just goes to show: you can take the Minnesotan out Minnesota, but not the Minnesota out of the Minnesotan.

When the five of us arrived at 12:30, brunch was in full swing.  True to Park Slope the children were numerous, but after almost three years out here it’s kind of nice to see them.  There wasn’t an open table in the place… but there was outside!  All wasn’t lost, we wouldn’t need to wait 30 minutes to get seated, as we made our way directly to the patio.  The air was cool, but the sun was warm so we jumped at the chance to take the brunch outdoors.

Last week, I wrote a post about my brunch experience at Sette and I can’t help but compare.  The Perch brunch was filled with pandemonium, but the terrific attitudes of our server and the manager, plus the pure awesomeness of the food made for a night-and-day difference in brunching-experience at this place after my recent disappointment with Sette.

The confusion for our server seemed present from her first appearance: she poked her head out the back door, looked around and pondered, seemingly to herself, whether we were her party of five.  She slipped back inside and came back in a few minutes with water and only 4 sets of cutlery for the 5 of us.  But she was positive and upbeat and we all enjoyed exchanging a few stupid jokes as we ordered.  The food came out in spurts, and there was a need to switch-up an order of waffles because the kitchen had run out of batter.  After the first plate or two came out Matt, in visible pain, decided that the night before had gotten the better of him, and that it was best that he head home for a nap.  There seemed to be a lot of confusion about what food would be ready when.  At one point, refilling our coffee, the waitress looked  particularly stressed and we inquired what was going on.  A little prodding finally invoked a report of a fight in the kitchen (which she had just broken up), but she assured us that everything was back on track now and the rest of the food would be on its way.   We then, along with a number of apologies, received the rest of the orders  as they were ready.

It was all little crazy.  But the waitress was upbeat, apologetic, and happy to joke with us about the situation.  A complete contrast to the manner of the sulking waiter at Sette, faced with similar hiccups.  And, near the end of our meal, that manager came over, introduced himself, and explained that there was a new cook getting used to handling the big brunch rush and that our drinks and some of the food would be comped.

I should also note that the patio started to fill as we ate, and that other tables seemed to have smooth sailing with their orders.  I think we just got hit by some of the chaos that can happen at any restaurant and the people at Perch handled it well.

But, let’s not forget to address the excellent food.  Between the five us, we filled the table with huevos rancheros (my order), waffles, French toast, eggs Benedict, corn chowder, tomato soup, and grilled cheese.  With a lot of sharing  at the table, I was able to sample a little of everything.

The huevos rancheros started with a tortilla and with a layer of black beans, topped with two perfectly-fried eggs, some sour cream, and guacamole.  With a generous helping of the Tabasco sauce (I’m a big fan of spice, in case you haven’t noticed), I was very content.  I just love  the combination of black beans and eggs for breakfast.  And the eggs were done right, with nice runny yolks, but a good crisp on the bottom and edges.  (The color in the photo is a little  off, the guac was beautiful and bright in person–my cellphone camera sometimes just decides to blue out pictures.)

The eggs Benedict, which I have an ever-growing soft spot for, were delicious.  Again, nice runny yolk and a good ham-to-egg-to-bread ratio.  In an interesting twist, Perch used corn bread as a base, in place of the traditional English muffin.  In my experience, corn bread can be hit or miss.  Sometimes it’s just too dry for my taste.  In this case, either from some inherent cornbread moisture or from the runny yolk and Hollandaise sauce, the corn bread had just the right level of moisture and worked as a perfect base for getting all the deliciousness onto the fork.  This dish also came with homefries, which, in an interesting change-up to the standard fair, included sweet potato.

The French toast and the waffles were good–if you are into that kind of thing.  I just don’t understand why I would eat the “sweet” when there is so amazing “savory” to be enjoyed.

The corn chowder was good pick for the cool day and actually pretty perfect to eat via dunking the bread that came on the side.  Finally, the grilled cheese and tomato soup was rock star.  Yeah, grilled cheese and tomato soup is pretty much always satisfying and it would probably take some work to make it fail, but this stuff was really done well: the soup was thick and chunky and grilled cheese had just the right crunch to the bread.

Each dish was a solid execution of a simple, tasty idea.  All-in-all, Perch Cafe should find it’s way into everyone’s BK brunch rotation.

Next up, the Do-It-Yourself brunch!

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Who doesn’t love brunch?  And here in New York it’s practically an institution.  There is no better way to shake off whatever you got up the night before than a little grease or sweet paired with Bloody Marys or Mimosas.  But, with so  many great places to choose from, it’s a waste of an early afternoon to head back to a place that is OK at best–which is where Sette Park Slope ranks.  There was no single disaster when Meg, Stu, and I made our Saturday afternoon trip to Sette, but we were met with a seemingly constant series of missteps.

The restaurant is, without a doubt, aesthetic. The main dinning room presents an exposed kitchen, thick wood tables, and wine storage on the walls above the kitchen. On arrival,, we chose seating on the enclosed patio and got a table in a corner with a great view of Park Slope’s 7th Avenue and 3rd Street.  After being seated, we got water and some amazing raisin and walnut foccacia bread.

My disappointment with Sette started with our server.  He was a handsome man, with an intriguing accent (when he begrudgingly spoke),  who clearly didn’t want to be there and didn’t seem to care that we knew it.  Now I’ve worked in the service industry (admittedly only for a short time) and I appreciate that being a waiter is hard and often shitty job, but the active disinterest he showed our table was over the top: no  “how are you doing today?” and thinly veiled annoyance when we weren’t ready to order right away – and even annoyance at getting our  first round of all you can drink drinks.  Stu, always friendly, tried to warm things up by asking his name, which he gave half turned around sulking from the table.  Brunch is all about a fun times with friends but the server set the opposite tone, and a good friendly tone could have helped me over look the other problems with Sette’s brunch.

There were three choice for the unlimited drinks: a Bloody Marry, a Mimosa, or a Bellini.   All of which tasted fine, but were definitely on the weak side.

Sette’s brunch offers an antipasti and an entree, in addition to the unlimited drinks and the raisin walnut foccacia bread.  Both Stu and Meg ordered the ricotta fritters with fruit puree which were a complete home run.  Fried and the size of doughnut holes these little gems were moist, not overly sweet, and perfect when dipped into the fruit puree.  I ordered the seasonal melon, balsamic figs, and prosciutto.  I have fond memories of prosciutto melone from a past trip to Italy, so I may have had the bar set a little high, but I was very underwhelmed.  The  long thing slices of cantaloupe were under ripe, hard, and not sweet enough.  The prosciutto was fine.  The main problem came with the balsamic figs.  They were almost rock hard and were drowning in a super sweet syrup (balsamic reduction?) that would have been great on french toast.  The syrup was completely out of place in this plate and it flowed it’s way over to the prosciutto, overwhelming it and the melon with it’s toxin sweetness.

For the entree, Meg and I each ordered the poached eggs “Benedict” on foccacia bread with black forest ham and tomato sabayon (a sabayon is similar to hollandaise sauce, but without the butter–so in this case probably some egg yolks, sugar, and tomato puree).   Stu ordered the egg panini with fennel sausage and fontina cheese, but, being a vegetarian (yes, shock of shocks, I can be friends with a vegetarian), she ordered it with some onions and no sausage.

Stu’s entree was the first to arrive, with the onion, but also with the sausage.  The food runner or whoever it was that brought the entree was great though.   He apologized and took it back to the kitchen to get fixed.  While we were waiting for round 2 on Stu’s meal,  Meg’s entree arrived.  A few minutes later Stu’s panini made a return sans meat.  But I was still waiting on the my eggs Bendict.  So I asked the guy bringing out the food; he seemed confused and went to check with the kitchen.  He came back to the table and said the kitchen had never gotten the ticket, but it was making the dish now and it would be out soon.  A few minutes later, a nice woman, who seemed to be the manager, came over and apologized and assured us the food would be there soon.  After another few minutes, our elusive waiter stopped by to say the same, but started to run off as we were mid-sentence asking for a coffee and booze refill.  Finally, my eggs made it to the table.  Again, this wasn’t any huge disaster (thought I’m not sure how it seemed normal that I was only doing part of the prix fixe), but was just one of many things–especially the server’s attitude–that soured the brunch.

The eggs Benedict was good.  The picture makes it look unappetizing, but it really looked amazing.  The white on the outside of the eggs had a perfect cloud like appearance.  My one criticism would be that there was too much ham.  More precisely, the  ham formed a meaty shield for the bread so that when I cut into the poached egg the wonderful yolk ran over the ham on to the plate and didn’t get much of a chance to sink into the bread.  Also, foccacia bread, because of the the nature of its outside, simply isn’t that absorbent.

We got the bill.  When we left we passed the manager, herself seeming a little stressed. I knew that she knew about at least part of the problems we had.   She asked how everything was.  I just said “fine” and continued out the door.  I know I should have asked for something, a little off the bill etc., but I hate doing that, I feel that when the manager knows about these kinds of issues they should be proactive.

All-in-all I think I might have hit Sette on a bad day.  If I had to guess, here is what was happening: more than one of the waiters called-in or just didn’t show up, our server got a call that dragged him out of bed after a long night out into a crazy understaffed brunch rush.  The manager was struggling herself (she was out re-filling drinks) to keep things going.  But that wouldn’t change the food.  Like the excess ham on the Benedict’s foccacia , Sette is reaching a little too far.  It has some really great thing going for it, but some of the dishes are just over the top and should be paired back and simplified for a better result.

There aren’t a huge number of brunch places in the Slope, but there is no reason to risk a mediocre C+ when there are enough great brunches to be found (especially considering the endless number in the city).

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The Melodramatic Prologue

It was December 2010.  In the biting chill of winter.  The piercing wind whipped through the man-made canyons that are the streets of Manhattan. Two adventures set out on a culinary quest.  Months before Meg had eaten at a Japanese bar that she thought I would love.  It reminded her of Village Yokocho.  She wasn’t exactly sure where it was.  Between 6 and 7 Ave.  On 51st Street.  Maybe 50th.  Definitely in the 50s.  What was it called though…?  She wasn’t sure, but there was a boring bar a couple doors down and there were stairs in the restaurant  that bring you down to the seating area.   Against my better judgment, I became the second adventurer on this foolhardy adventure.

We started on our way, walked the five avenues over and four blocks down, the winter air challenging us to turn back at every step.  Once we got to 50th street, we walked its length west from 6th Ave to 7th Ave.  The mysterious restaurant did not reveal herself.  Meg assured me that it must be on the next block.  So we walked 51st going West from 7th Ave to 6th Ave .  The mysterious restaurant still did not reveal herself.  “I’m sure it’s right near here, it must just be the next block up.”  52nd Street from 6th Ave back to 7th Ave.  “OK, really, it’s right near here, I’ll know it when I see it.”  53rd Street from 7th Ave to…..  We made, snaking between 6th and 7th Avenues, it all the way up to 59th Street, where, frozen and defeated, we gave in and turned back to eat at Joe’s Shanghai midtown location on 56th.

But like all good tales, this one comes with a happy ending.  A few weeks ago, Meg tracked down the location of this mystery restaurant.  It’s on 49th, just on block South from where we started our Northward hunt!  But the meal we finally enjoyed this weekend made the earlier chilly trek worth the pain.

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The Place

Finding ourselves in Times Square, we stopped by the mystery restaurant, which we learned is actually an izakaya, or Japanese pub, called Sake Bar Hagi.  We had to pass an hour waiting for a table, so we passed the time at the bar of Pasta Lovers, a few doors down. It was early evening, around 6:30, which made us a little surprised to find a huge crowd at Saki Bar Hagi.  But, given the Midtown location, Hagi seems to draw a large after-work crowd.  (As an aside, please ignore all of the great things I say about this place, avoid it like the plague, so that next time I go there it won’t be so crowded!)

The sign above the outside door simply reads: Sake Bar.  Once past the first door, there’s a narrow staircase leading down to  another door to the bar and seating area.  I felt like I’d stepped out of New York and into an Osakan sports bar.  The actual bar is medium-sized, with most of the warmly lit room dedicated to long wooden tables, with smaller tables on the outskirts.  From pretty much wherever you sit you have a view of a one of the many flatscreen TVs on the wall and get a view of one of the many signs with the daily specials.

The Eats

The menu and drink list were a little overwhelming at first.  Laminated page upon page of bright text and pictures of unending deliciousness.  In the end, with the help of an unfiltered sake, we narrowed our choices to a seaweed salad, wasabi octopus with cream cheese (from the special menu), the octopus balls, a beef skewer, wasabi pork dumplings, rice and salmon, and the spaghetti with flying fish roe.

Seaweed Salad

I’m not really sure what they did to this seaweed salad, but it was hands-down the best I’ve ever had and it was Meg’s favorite dish of the night.  It was visually beautiful, with the dark black seaweed punctuated by little bits of green and red.  The flavor was sly and ephemeral with little bits of salt, light acid, bright onion?, garlic?, and lemon?  And the crunchy texture was great.  If I had it to try again I might still have to much fun eating it to really focus on all of the flavors going on.

Wasabi Octopus with Cream Cheese

What is wasabi octopus with cream cheese?  I had no idea my self when I order it off the chalk-written specials menu next to our table.  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I was definitely surprised when it got to the table.  There were maybe a half-dozen crackers on the plate with a small pile of what could pass for a dip in the Midwest sprinkled with something green (minced green onion I think).   After putting some of the “dip” on a cracker and biting in, I found the octopus hiding in 1/2 inch to 1/4 inch pieces in the mixture.  It was one of the more subtle uses of wasabi I’ve tasted–it was there adding flavor, but the burn was completely mellowed by the cream cheese.  My mouth got a barrage of flavors with each bite.   The cream cheese seemed to be mixed with something–it was much less thick than I expected it to be.  Honestly, given the texture, I’m not sure how it held it held together in a little mound rather then spreading all over the plate.  The flavors were bright and the cream cheese made the dish comforting as any good bar (izakaya) food should be.

Octopus Balls

On the menu, there were two options for the octopus balls: pan fried and deep fried.  I really wanted to try the octopus balls – in part to compare them to the ones I know and love and Village Yokocho, and since Village Yokocho pan fries, I had to go that route.  The first difference between the balls at Hagi is they are fewer but larger.  On biting in, the difference continued.  The Hagi balls are  bready on the inside, a very moist bread, but still a bread texture.  In contrast, Village Yokocho’s balls are slightly doughy.  The size of the bits of octopus encased in the little bread balls was also different.  At Hagi you could feel the chunks of octopus; at maybe an inch to an inch and a half you had to give a couple good chews before swallowing.  At Village Yokocho, the octopus comes more as bits than chunks and require no more chewing then doughy balls they’re in.

My verdict on the winner for octopus balls is still out.  But never fear.  I’ll take one for the team and eat as many as it takes until this problem is resolved.

Beef Skewer

Yeah, we ordered just one.  Something told us we might have enough food coming our way to fill us up.

The skewer was simple and great.  It was fatty (maybe a little grisly) cut of beef with a sauce coating of some kind.  With each bite the delicious fatty bits melted in my mouth.

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Wasabi Pork Dumplings

These bad boys packed a tasty wasabi fueled punch.  Again, I was interested to see how Hagi stacked up on a known favorite from Village Yokocho.  As with the octopus balls, size of the protein was bigger.  Hagi’s pork had a very coarse grind, where as at Village Yokocho the grind is finer.  Again, the stack-up here is tough call.  The only thing I can think to do is to take a day and head to each with Fayaz and implement a proper comparison.  (Too spicy for Meg’s taste.)

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Rice Ball

The rice ball really wasn’t much of a ball at all, but more of a rice triangle with a small dent in the middle filled with Salmon.  This dish was probably my least favorite  of everything ordered.  All-in-all it was just fairly bland.  A rice triangle, with a crispy outside, chewy inside, and some salmon flavor.  Still, if I’m throwing back the beers at Hagi while watching a game on the flat screen, I could see where this simple, filling rice dish might have it’s place.

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Spaghetti with Flying Fish Roe

Meg had sampled this dish at the encouragement of a friend the first time she came to Hagi and was determined to try it again.  It takes a lot for a dish to make me think to myself, “WTF is going on here?!” and this plate of spaghetti definitely made me do that in a very good way.  I liked, but didn’t love this dish.  Still it was exciting to try something so different.  The base of the sauce on the spaghetti seemed to be mayonnaise or cream based–maybe a little to much mayo for my taste.   The fish roe and a good level of saltiness and some interesting texture.  There were some other flavors at play but, like so much of what I tried,  I had trouble picking them out of the shuffle.

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The Epilogue

The food arrived at Hagi in a nice ordered progression with never more then two dishes on the table and never more than a few minutes with nothing on the table.   In contrast, at Village Yokocho the food either seems to arrive all at once or in random clumps.  But Hagi hasn’t replaced Village Yokocho as my go to izakaya. For once thing, it’s a bit more expensive, though only maybe by $1-$2 a dish.  For another, Village Yokocho will just always have a special little place in my heart (and a large piece of neighboring real estate in my stomach).  Still, I can’t wait to get back to Hagi and tear through some new menu items!

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