Maria the Tamale Lady

I would hardly consider myself a tamale expert, but every once in awhile a tamale comes along that's so terrific its deliciousness can hardly be disputed. (If you want to dispute me, I will gladly argue with you.) This is the story of that tamale.

Wandering down Roosevelt Avenue on a late night crawl led by Jeff Orlick, we stumbled upon a row of three tamale vendors directly beneath the 103d Street station. Though we were incredibly full by this point, we decided to try some tamales in the interest of science.

For a while I was content to ignorantly snack on the tamale I had purchased from the first vendor, a guy with a flashy sign and not much else. That was until I was fed a bite of Maria's tamale. I looked at my now disgusting tamale and couldn't throw it in the trash fast enough before pushing through the crowd now congregating around Maria. My fullness dissipated, I quickly ate two tamales.

Phayul: From Tibet to Wisconsin

I've wanted to try Phayul Restaurant since the first time I heard about it. Tibetan food in a comfortable, second floor space-- a respite from the bustle of Jackson Heights below, seemed irresistible. Seated on high, it's almost as if you're atop a mountain.

Highlights of our meal included Gyum Ngoe Ma ($7.99), which featured fried pucks of blood sausage along with peppers, chiles and Sichuan peppercorns. Apparently porridge is mixed into the mildly bloody sausage, giving it an almost creamy texture.

But the most interesting dish we tried was Tsak Sha Cu Rul ($3.99), a Tibetan rendition of cheese soup (or is it the other way around, with us Americans making a rendition of their traditional soup?). At first our waitress gave us the "not for you" speech, and throughout the course of the meal she continuously warned us that the soup would be strong. Wisely, we pressed on. When it arrived, a sulphuric funk wafted into my nostrils.

Swap the cheese and this could be eaten anywhere in America. Meat and potatoes floated in an intensely familiar soup spiked with Sichuan peppercorns and dried chiles. Thickened with zanba, a barley flour, the soup had the familiar consistency of a chowder, but with a deep spiciness (along with a faint tingling from the peppercorns). Meanwhile, the cheesiness was milder than I'd anticipated, with only the funky background notes providing a hint of the Tibetan cheese. Slurping my soup, I couldn't help but think of the numerous cheddar soups I've made and eaten at home in the Midwest.

Phayul
74-06 37th Road
Jackson Heights, NY 11372

Filipino Pork Sweats at Mama Meena's

Groaning, I reached across the table and forked the first piece of lechon kawali-- deep fried pork belly-- as it was set down on our table. I stuffed it into my mouth and immediately regretted my decision as pork fat exploded out of the deceptively meaty looking bite. I wheezed and leaned back in my chair. My hubris rarely bites me in the ass, but this time it had punched me in the gut. Picking up my white napkin, I threw it on the plate, barely even able to say "seriously you guys, I'm not gonna eat anymore pork." Defeat (or probably just sweat from dehydration) washed over me and a dancing image of a flying pig (like this one) floated in the periphery of my vision before dissolving amid the realization that I could no longer even look at anything pork related on our table-- truly a difficult task when 90% of what we ordered contained hog (and I'm pretty sure there were bits of pork in my water too).

Only an hour before I'd stepped off the J train with an empty stomach and an overconfident gleam in my eye. Conveniently, the Woodhaven station lies directly on top of Mama Meena's Family Restaurant. Soon I would soon be feeling like the station: bloated and stretched across the street (and also painted green).

Sisig, a light appetizer containing pork ears, skin and other random bits of pig topped with a raw egg had arrived first. I think there was mayo in this version-- which I've never seen before (but I'm still new to Filipino cuisine), but others chalked it up to the egg white, though it tasted much richer and mayo-ier to me. While you can top the sisig with lemon juice for some much needed acidity, I'd recommend adding vinegar as well.

The porcine procession continued with chicarong bulaklak, deep fried pork fat from near the intestines. It seemed to be a slightly thicker cut of "ruffle fat" than what I've had before, giving the fried fat a distinct, chewy bite. I probably ate more than a few too many pieces.

Meanwhile, each table sported a plate of Crispy Pata (pork knuckle). This had the menacing look of the fried jaws of a dead alien, complete with a knife plunged into what I can only assume was its throat. Killshot! Through my ever increasing meat sweats, I panicked. Hallucinations overtook me and I envisioned this dish more as an enemy to be vanquished then an innocuous plate of meat at a narrow Queens restaurant. But this may have just been sweat in my eyes or residual alcohol from the night before. We'll never know for sure.

The lettuce makes it healthy.

Generous use of vinegar (suka) on all pork products may have been the only thing that staved off a complete collapse before the end of the meal, and in the picture of our post-lunch devastation you can clearly see the bottle almost directly in front of me. It was full at the start of our meal.

Get it away from me.

Surprisingly I didn't need to go outside for fresh air (that may be because I was pinned against the wall, surrounded by diners on three sides).

Halo halo topped with a scoop of purple yam ice cream managed to hide the nastier effects of pork sweats, especially for the train ride home (others who slept on the train were not so lucky). Rather than give in to the -itis, I clutched my stomach and rocked back and forth, fighting the wave of nausea while pondering my next meal.

Mama Meena's Family Restaurant
94-20 Jamaica Avenue
Woodhaven, NY 11421


James Boo graciously wrote up the full meal on Chowhound.

A Long Weekend of Excess

Maybe it won't compare to Steve's weekend of similar excess in Chicago, but while we're measuring I'll line up my Memorial Day weekend with anyone. I'm sure everyone has eagerly anticipated hearing about it...

It started on Thursday morning. I was in court in Staten Island, a much easier, and far more relaxing environment than my usual spot in the hellhole of Kings court. I finished before 11 AM, grabbing an early beer and slice with a colleague at Pier 76 on Bay Street, only a five minute walk from the courthouse in Richmond Terrace.

Although Pier 76 was opened by the progeny of Joe & Pat's, the pizza was disappointing. I got two of the freshest slices from the first pizzas of the day: pepperoni and a Sicilian. Both slices were heavy on the cheese, with a thin, chunky tomato sauce. The crust was fine, but could barely hold the torrents of grease from the cheese and sauce. I'm glad to have tried it, but I'm doing a Staten Island Pizza tour this weekend and am preparing to have my mind blown. The best part of the meal was hearing the bartenders share their Fleet Week stories.

Pier 76
76 Bay Street
Staten Island, NY 10301
(718) 447-7434

The Glorious Muslim Lamb Chop

I had dinner at Fu Run in Flushing with a large group last week. While I don't plan on writing about the whole meal, I want to highlight the "Muslim Lamb Chop," a cult favorite among Flushing food fans.

From what I can tell, the lamb "chop" (it's actually a whole breast of lamb) is braised, then fried and covered in heaps of cumin and black and white sesame seeds. The meat, which pulls right off the bone, still retains a bit of chew, while the familiar Northern Chinese flavors of gamey lamb funk + cumin fills your nostrils. The best bits were the chewy, crusty edges slathered in cumin. Even after being devoured, a pile of cumin remained atop the fully soaked piece of lettuce.

It's the dish so nice we ordered it twice.


Fu Run
40-09 Prince Street
Flushing, NY 11354
(718) 321-1363

M.Wells: A Taste of Nouveau Québécois

Regular readers of our blog (do any really exist?) probably know by now that Noah and I are steadfast supporters of M.Wells Diner, the Long Island City restaurant that's gotten plenty of attention for serving up typical diner fare with a dose of Québécois flair. (We've written about it here and here.)

Perpetually tempted by a menu that always prominently features at least one (or four) unique foie gras concoctions, we've diligently parsed through their ever-changing options, even ordering a salad when required. Until recently our M.Wells experiences were confined to lunch, but when news broke that this destination diner would finally begin serving dinner (currently Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday), it was only a matter of time before I made a reservation.

The Flavors of Henan

On a Chowhounder's report, it was impossible to avoid the newest, most unique addition to Chinatown (especially since I was conveniently in the area for dinner). That night, we found ourselves at Henan Flavor. On Forsyth across from Sarah Roosevelt Park, Henan Flavor is the Manhattan branch of Flushing's Henan Fengwei. Billing itself as the "First Henan Restaurant in East America," there really is nothing like Henan Flavor in all of Chinatown.

Robyn Lee took much better pictures of our meal at the original location than my typically crappy photography, but be aware, they show the expanded menu at Henan Fengwei. Here, there are no cold dishes or casseroles, but the abbreviated menu features handmade noodle soups and the imposing "Big Tray of Chicken."

For a Sunday night between 9-10pm, the narrow restaurant was actually fairly full, with people coming in and out for eat in and takeout. The lady running the show is actually Fujianese, which is probably good for business, since this part of Chinatown is their territory.

Reaching My Limit at M Wells

The last month, despite my brain feebly pleading with me to eat better, has been filled with gluttony (much of it recounted here and on twitter). Most of the blame can be put on the holidays, etc. etc. etc., but at this point in January I have no excuse to keep eating like this (no, writing a food blog is not a valid excuse).

On Friday I finished work early, and Steve, apparently having nothing better to do, wanted to try M Wells, the popular Long Island City diner. I went a couple times after they first opened (and posted about it), but hadn't been back since leaving Midtown (two subway stops away) for Brooklyn (you mean I have to take the G?)

Kebab Café: Guaranteed Personality

Living in Brooklyn and working in Manhattan, Queens seems like a strange and distant land to me. With the exception of the occasional foray into Flushing to satisfy my cravings for Chinese and Korean food, I regretfully admit I've unfairly neglected this borough. But with Ali El Sayed's Kebab Café, it was always a matter of when, and not if, I would go. Serving his take on northern Egyptian food, Alexandrian to be exact, Ali has been a fixture on Steinway Street since 1989. Leave it to my good friend ESC, who happens to live just down the street, to finally drag my sorry ass up to Astoria and finally visit this legendary restaurant.

"All's Well at M Wells"

M Wells, the new diner in Long Island City from Hugue Dufuor, an alum of Montreal's famous Au Pied de Cochon, has a lot going for it. With so much positive buzz while still only serving a limited breakfast/lunch menu, they are seemingly poised to become a destination spot in Queens once dinner service begins. Currently, they're only open Monday-Friday from 7-3.

Yesterday I hopped on the 7 for the quick ride to LIC.  It was obscenely hot and humid, and sweat dripped from my elbows onto the ground as I turned a corner off the subway stop and nearly ran into the unmarked diner. Still sweating, I sat down at the counter and feebly tried to towel myself off with paper napkins while I chugged water as fast as it could be refilled.

The menu contains a little bit of everything, but for the most part can be characterized as classic diner food with some unique additions riffing off of some classic French and American dishes (possibly French Canadian as well, but I'm not sure if I'm qualified to make that pronouncement). At first glance, "chicken skin fried chicken" ($9) was impossible to resist (though I was torn between that, a classic beef tartar, a pork terrine and pork tongue). The chicken skin was marinated before being wrapped in a piece of dark meat, then breaded and deep fried. It was served over a house-made mayonnaise with a lemon wedge and an expertly pickled carrot. The result was inventive, with a great crunch from the crust, but slightly sweeter than I would have preferred. Definitely worth a try though.

The egg-sausage sandwich sounded delicious, especially after reading Joe DiStefano's rave, but I figured I should do my duty and try something different. I debated the two hashes (one with poached egg, bacon and greens, the other with salt cod subbing for bacon, $7 and $9 respectively), but the waitress recommended the cubano sandwich with roasted pork, pickles, mortadella and "cheese from Quebec" as well as the tortilla Espanola. I went with the cubano ($7). It was satisfying, especially with the sinus clearing mustard and gooey cheese, but I think I prefer shredded pork to the thick slices of roast pork served. Yet again the pickles were great, and I downed the whole sandwich.

I was also intrigued by reports that M Wells served Timmy O's Frozen Custard. My waitress recommended the peach-blueberry pie (check availability, as I think it was a daily special), but my profuse sweating had so far not abated, and I went with a banana frozen custard shake ($5) to cool myself down. It was a little thinner than I would have liked, but still delicious.

Incidentally, the service was great-- friendly and enthusiastic without being overbearing. We'll see how they deal with the inevitable crowds, but for now it's a great place to hang out with a newspaper and graze on plates of inventive snacks while watching Dufuor man the griddle.

M Wells manages to capture the New York City zeitgeist for downscale, comfort food prepared with fine-dining skill at reasonable prices (recession, comfort food, blah blah blah ad nauseum). If their breakfast/lunch menu is any indication, dinner could be fantastic and unique (there have been hints of foie gras tamales-- yes please). I truly look forward to a second visit soon. Yet, with so many similar places opening around town, it's only a matter of time before critical mass is reached. Until then, I'm content to ride the wave.

M Wells
21-17 49th Ave (at 21st Street)
Long Island City, Queens


www.mwellsdiner.com 

I just took a look at Au Pied de Cochon's menu. If even a fraction of their offerings (or something similar) ends up at M Wells, you can count me as a regular.

Sripraphai Thai Restaurant: Way More than Pad Thai

Often relegated to sickly-sweet Pad Thai at take out joints, I'm usually left disgusted with the selection of Thai restaurants in New York City. And with possible the exception of Mexican food, does New York do a greater disservice to any ethnic food more than Thai? Instead of delicious food that combines sweet, sour, salty and spicy flavors harmoniously, many of the Thai restaurants I've sampled offer a mere semblance of this proud and complex country. Yet, on further inspection, I've come to the conclusion that my inability to find good Thai food was the result of not knowing where to look.

Fortunately for me, one of MW's friends does know where some the best Thai food is and helped steer us in the right direction. So after work I found myself jumping on the 7 train uptown to Woodside, Queens where I met up with MW, YW, JC, MC and LC at Sripraphai Thai Restaurant. Located near the train station, Sripraphai was a full house when I met my dinner party outside. After a short wait, we were seated at one of the restaurant's larger tables. The interior has little, if any, ambiance. Instead, the restaurant's space is configured for squeezing the maximal amount of people into its walls.

Patacon Pisao #2: The Real Double Down

As one of many people who scour food blogs daily (read: hourly), for months I've had to listen to the ceaseless hype over KFC's new Double Down. I hope I'm not alone in detesting everything about this sandwich. The hype culminated (or scraped bottom), with Eater posting "paparazzi" photos of New York Times dining critic Sam Sifton, chomping down on a Double Down while Feast simultaneously declared it "The Day Everyone Didn't Shut the Fuck Up About Double Downs" (Incidentally, is anyone else turned off by "The Day We..."? It feels like they're speaking with an authority they don't have). I felt dirty, Sifton must have felt dirty (and greasy), and I hope everyone viewing that picture was ashamed of themselves.

This is the face of infinite sadness. Courtesy (unfortunately) of Eater.com

Is this what we've come to? The same hype-cycle occurred for the Pizzacone, an equally horrifying creation that is exactly what it sounds. For some reason, normally locavore-organic-seasonal-foodie types bend over backward to hype what is essentially two pieces of fried chicken with some bacon stuck in between from a fast-food restaurant perpetuating, not just bad stereotypes about Americans, but mass-produces chickens in toxic factory farms that pollute the environment. Can someone please reconcile this for me?

This is all just to say that the echo chamber of hype inspired me to think about other meals sandwiched between unorthodox foodstuffs. While I'm proud to say that I've made bacon-fried kugel sandwiches at home, I was craving something different. Then I remembered the patacon, a Venezuelan specialty recently popularized by Dave Cook of Eating in Translation. The patacon (pronounced pata-cone), is a sandwich with thin, fried plantains subbing for bread. It's stuffed with all kinds of meats, cheese, lettuce and sauce. I'd been wanting to try it for awhile now, but it was my hatred for the Double Down that motivated me to invite the DAsian on an excursion to Elmhurst.