Bed Stuy: Do or Dine

While it's still far to early to write a proper review of "Do or Dine," the newest spot to open in the western reaches of Bed Stuy, after two meals I feel like I have at least the bare qualifications to give a preview.

We first checked out Do or Dine on what was supposed to be their opening night. It turned out that proprietors Perry Gargano, Luke Jackson and chef Justin Warner (along with his partner in the kitchen George McNeese) spent the day building a deck rather than preparing for their grand opening. I fully support their chosen priority, since the deck catches a cooling breeze on a hot evening and the freshly spray-painted walls drew my eyes each time I zoned out of a conversation.

The food is playful and promising and much of the braintrust previously worked in the front of house at the Modern. Having never been to the Modern, I'm completely and utterly unqualified to draw any comparisons whatsoever (read on anyway!)

Described as an American Izakaya to The New York Times, the comparison seems close, especially since the food pairs very well with alcohol (or after you've had alcohol). As of last week it's still BYOB, but they expect a liquor license soon. Then, Luke, along with a Pegu Club alum will create what he described as an "out there" cocktail list. Like I said, this is an early post (a second may soon be necessary).

Peaches Hothouse: Raising the Heat in Bed Stuy

There are only a handful of restaurants in Bed Stuy quite like Peaches Hothouse on Tompkins Avenue. Sure, there's Saraghina and a few others pushing an artisanal ethos through an emerging (though underserved) neighborhood, but Peaches Hothouse, from the owners of The Smoke Joint and Peaches (proper), is surely the only place where you can find an approximation of Nashville fried chicken shack in the middle of Brooklyn.

Inside is cramped, and you may find yourself uncomfortably close to your neighbor (but this is OK-- strike up a conversation, or better yet, challenge the manhood of the guy on a date sitting next to you in a hot chicken-off). At peak times, Peaches can be packed full and understaffed (you've been warned). If you're less inclined to ruin someone else's meal, order a beer or a drink ("likker" as they call it) and wait for your fiery chicken to arrive while grooving to the blues blasting over the speakers.

Dueling Jerk Chickens

I could have been floating in the air towards JRS&A Original Jerk Center on Fulton Street in Bed Stuy once I caught the charcoal scent of jerk chicken rising from their street-side smoker, enveloping me from over a block away.

Inside the narrow restaurant is your typical combination of Caribbean mains and sides. I got a small jerk chicken over rice and beans. They'll offer to put gravy on your rice-- and you would be stupid to say no. I opted for the dark oxtail stew. After the counterwoman returned with my chopped chicken, I topped it with only a responsible amount of jerk sauce.

Back at home, my jerk chicken was paired with a Fruit Punch Four Loko-- non-existent in Manhattan, but easily found at nearly every bodega in Bed Stuy. While a rich, smoky flavor had penetrated deep within the chicken, it was the spicy, sweet jerk sauce that caught my attention with its lingering heat. Not only that, but better than average macaroni puts JRS&A over the top. Instead of hot sauce, next time I'm going to slather everything in that addictive jerk sauce.

Calvin's Royal Rib House

Conventional wisdom says that any place with extremely limited hours is likely to be very good (see Shopsin's). Unfortunately, conventional wisdom can often be wrong (would anyone like to start a land war in Asia?). This may be the case with Calvin's Royal Rib House in Bed Stuy. It's only open three days a week-- Thursday, Friday and Saturday until the food runs out-- but these limited hours don't necessarily translate into a meal worth seeking out. That's a shame too, since I'd love to be able to find authentic Southern barbecue in New York City (beyond the Big Apple BBQ).

I admit that East Carolina barbecue, with its signature tangy vinegar sauce, is far from my favorite regional style. When I lived in Georgia, the local barbecue was similar, but (much) lower quality. Maybe that clouded my perception (you can see how hard I'm trying to be nice), because in my experience (and in many other's) the vinegar sauce completely overwhelms the flavor and smokiness of the pulled pork. This results in a sandwich that tastes like meaty vinegar with cole slaw. At least where I frequented in Georgia, this meat-vinegar was served on "Graecian Bread" (essentially extra-buttery Texas toast), which mitigated things somewhat (along with copious boiled peanuts).

Breaking the Fast at David's Brisket House

On Yom Kippur, the holiest of Jewish days, I surrendered to hunger and broke the fast at 4:30 pm (I take a liberal view of sundown) at a green formica lunch counter, with a massive brisket sandwich from David's Brisket House. To compound my sacrilege, I ate it with swiss cheese.

David's Brisket House sits on a busy stretch of Nostrand Avenue straddling Bed Stuy and Crown Heights in the heart of Brooklyn (and incidentally making the heart of Brooklyn the place I just moved, because the heart of Brooklyn is exactly where I say it is). Accounts vary on the provenance of the brisket house, (here's the Village Voice speculating as usual), but it's been owned since at least 2007 by Sultan and Waleed, along with their nephews and other relatives. These guys couldn't be more welcoming, (I'm easily swayed by samples and for showing off the various meats cooking directly in front of my seat at the counter).