The Mango Lassie

Last night, Empanada Boy and I joined our friends Bass Drum Crumb and Curly Fries at the new Park Slope location of Fornino, a restaurant and pizzeria that has already made a name for itself in Williamsburg. I had read about the fantastic Neapolitan-style pies at the first location and saw the mouthwatering pictures of them on the restaurant’s website. A great Williamsburg foodie attraction had made its way to the less hipster ‘hood of Park Slope! This was worth a celebratory cheer and a visit. What I didn’t know was that Chef Michael Ayoub had decided not to build the requisite wood-fired pizza oven at his Park Slope spot. Instead, he opted to grill his pies and serve a bunch of other Italian pastas and more elegant fare. I didn’t realize this shift until our pizza arrived at the table. (The menu for the Park Slope location is not on the website, but I eventually found it here.) I was disappointed not to be eating the chewy bubbly crust of the Neapolitan-style pizza I had been craving, but the company was great and the grilled pizza had its merits, which I will be discussing below.

We started with two tasty antipasti: eggplant caponata and a salad made with radicchio, peaches and goat cheese. The caponata had a nice balance of sweetness from the roasted eggplant and saltiness from black olives that were blended in. It came with a nice herbed focaccia that had just the right chew (a true rarity, in my experience). The salad was vibrant and beautiful in its color contrasts. My only complaint was that the dressing was a little too mild. A bolder, tangier dressing could have set off the sweetness of the peach wedges nicely. Next came our pizzas. We ordered the Funghi Misti with wild mushrooms taleggio and white truffle oil and another one called the Calabrese, made with tomato, fior di latte (cow’s milk mozzarella) and a spicy pepperoni called caciatorini a diavolo. The crust on these was quite thin and almost cracker-like at the edges. It had good flavor with a hint of smokiness, but none of the blackened, bubbly pockets that come from an oven. The mushrooms on the first pizza had strong flavors of their own, but didn’t seem to have been seasoned enough while being cooked. One variety of darker color mushrooms dominated the others. But the flavors that won the fight for dominance in this dish was definitely the white truffle oil. I could have done with less of it.

Instead of the Calabrese, our server ended up bringing us the Pizza Vinny Scotto. This one had all the ingredients of the Calabrese, but added bel paese (a semi-soft Italian cheese), pecorino, ricotta and a bell pepper aioli. Crumb had been hesitant to order this one because he wasn’t into big clumps of ricotta, but the clumps turned out to be fairly small we decided to keep it when it came. Perhaps we made a mistake, though, because there seemed to be too many ingredients on this pizza. The sheer number of cheese alone was enough to create a conflicting flavor profile that didn’t successfully highlight the quality of any single one of them. The best part of this pizza was the caciatorini. It was hot and well-spiced and not as greasy as the generic pepperoni found on so many pies.

Speaking of ricotta, this cheese also featured prominently in the cheesecake topped with strawberries that we ordered as one of our desserts. I am not a fan of American-style dense cheesecakes, but this one had a pleasant lightness to it, and it was not too sweet. The fresh strawberries made for beautiful color contrast and added seasonal freshness.

Our second dessert was a torta di limone, a cake with a thin crust of brown around the exterior and and moist, but light, lemony interior. This was a great dessert and one I would like to try making at home. Curly Fries and I had enough to drink between the two bottles of Italian wine we ordered as a table and the glass of white she ordered for herself, but EB and Crumb wanted to keep the party flowing…I mean going. They each ordered a glass of grappa from the fairly lengthy list. EB’s ended up being smoother than Crumbs, which was more like a whiskey in its smokiness. Both were quite strong, but the Italians believe they aid the digestion, and I’m not inclined to argue with centuries of tradition.

In the end, the pizza was good but not great. The ingredients were nice and the restaurant itself was pleasant, but I had really been looking forward to that Neapolitan crust. Maybe it was just a question of managing expectations.

Fornino Park Slope
256 5th Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11215
718.399.8600

Fourth of July weekend was a burger-filled few days for Empanada Boy and me. We didn’t know it when the weekend began, but we would be eating two great burgers before Tuesday rolled around. One of these came on Independence Day itself when EB’s uncle Iceberg—a burger connoisseur if there ever was one—grilled some tender, juicy patties on his back deck in Westchester. But before we even dreamed of these, we happened upon some of the finest burgers I’ve had this year. These came from DuMont, a Williamsburg spot with a great backyard seating area. We went there with Cousin Ketchup who was house-sitting at our aunt and uncle’s place in the neighborhood.

I knew DuMont was famous for its burger—the owners have even opened a second more casual location called DuMont Burger where the menu consists of a burger, a mini burger and a turkey burger, in addition to a few other sandwiches—but I had assumed at least one of us would opt for hanger steak or half chicken on the menu at the more upscale sibling. I was wrong. None of us could pass up the opportunity to try the lusciously described burgers. We made the right choice. The expertly charred exterior of the patties gave way to a perfect, rosy medium-rare. Buns were light, but chewy brioche, with egg-washed tops, and pickled onions made for a truly standout condiment amidst the usually satisfying additions of tomato, lettuce and pickle. Being burger purists, none of us ordered cheese, although cheddar, American, Danish blue and Gruyère are available, along with bacon. Ketchup and I opted for the green salad side, the only accompaniment I could contemplate eating after I saw the massive size of the burger. I also knew I would be able to snatch a few French fries from EB who has never been able to pass up a fried potato. The fries were excellent—just the right thickness to be crispy on the outside and soft at the core. They were evenly salted and garnished with a minced parsley, a nice and surprisingly flavorful touch.

In short, this was a near flawless burger experience. The next time I go to DuMont, I won’t even look at the menu. No matter what’s on it, I know I’ll come back to that burger every time.

DuMont Restaurant
432 Union Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11211
718.486.7717

DuMont Burger
314 Bedford Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11211
718.384.6127

I’ve written before about my strange tendency to avoid my own neighborhood when contemplating places to go out to eat. When I’m home, I just think: Why not make dinner at home? But a few weeks ago, Empanada Boy and I were getting stir crazy and decided to try a restaurant that was not only in our neighborhood, but catty-corner from our house. We had heard good things about Java Indonesian Rijsttafel, an Indonesian restaurant (obviously). Not having tried much Indonesian food, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But EB and I are always up for adventure, so we decided to put the speculation to rest and give it a try.

The restaurant is small and simple, apart from a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The kitchen door is behind a screen, and at least when we went, there was only one woman (presumably the owner) working the floor. Unsure of what to order, we opted for some of the dishes with “Java special” in parentheses next to their names. The first, from the appetizer section, was the pastel, basically Indonesian empanadas, stuffed with thin rice noodles and vegetables. They came with two dipping sauces, one that was quite spicy, probably made with chilies of some kinds, and another that was a savory-sweet combination of peanuts, soy sauce and sugar. These were tasty in the way that most pockets of filled dough are. The fillings were flavorful, but I particularly liked the sauces. They added vibrancy and verve to the dish, which wasn’t remarkably seasoned on its own. After that, we had a traditional salad called acar, made with sliced cucumber, carrots, string beans, and onions, marinated in a sauce of vinegar and turmeric. The salad was refreshing, and I liked the crispness of the cucumber and carrot, but the string beans seemed a little limp as though they had been allowed to cook for too long. Turmeric gave the onions and cucumber a yellow color, but it added only a subtle flavor to the dish because of the dominant vinegar dressing.

Our final dish was another Java special called semur, made with beef stewed slowly in soya sauce. The meat was a little tougher than what I had been imagining, and the sauce was more like a soup. The abundant liquid had muted flavor without very distinctive or assertive spicing and was generally too watery. Still, the lemon zest on top added a nice acidity, and we hungrily sopped up much of the sauce with the accompanying rice. The leftover sauces from the pastel added a welcome occasional kick.

After hearing so many great things about Java Indonesian, EB and I really wanted to love it. In the end, we enjoyed it, but didn’t think it stood up to the hype. We may consider giving it another try the next time we set aside the time to dine in the Slope, but there are so many restaurants to visit that we’ll likely end up moving at least a few doors down the street.

Java Indonesian Rijsttafel
455 7th Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11215
718.832.4583

Unlike in Cannon Beach, Oregon—where I spent the long weekend, and which is still under a rain cloud— signs of summer are starting to appear in New York City. The weather has been in the 80s, and we’ve even had a few sticky humid days. People are out in the park, and most of all, people are starting to barbecue. There’s no better accompaniment to meat grilled outdoors than a nice potato salad. In honor of being on the cusp of summer, I decided to dedicate my June tribute to Gourmet magazine to a recipe for Potato Salad With Olives and Peppers from the June 2007 issue. The flavor combination of the starchy potatoes, the salty olives, the fresh parsley and the slightly sweet smoky peppers was spot on.

My only complaint is that there seemed to be too little dressing. I halved the recipe based on the number of potatoes I used, but It seems like I could have used half again as much dressing to really bring out the flavors in those potatoes. It would be an easy problem to fix. Either way, there are numerous potential variations on this recipe, offering the opportunity to add a twist here and there. I think it would be good with anchovies, lemon juice or capers added to the mix. It’s food for thought, but happy almost summer, nonetheless.

Potato Salad with Olives and Peppers

yield: Makes 6 servings
active time: 30 min
total time: 1 1/2 hours

Ingredients
3 garlic cloves
3 tablespoons Sherry vinegar
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon dried hot red-pepper flakes
5 tablespoons olive oil
3 pound hot cooked small (2-inch) boiling potatoes, quartered
2/3 cup bottled roasted red peppers (4 ounces), rinsed, patted dry, and chopped
2/3 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves

1/3 cup pitted brine-cured black olives, halved

Preparation
Mince garlic and mash to a paste with a pinch of salt using side of a large heavy knife. Transfer to a large bowl and whisk in vinegar, salt, and red-pepper flakes, then whisk in oil.

Add hot potatoes to vinaigrette and toss to coat. Let stand until potatoes cool to warm, about 30 minutes, then stir in peppers, parsley, and olives. Serve warm or at room temperature.

See my other Gourmet, Unbound posts:
May 2010, Moroccan-Style Mussels
April 2010, Shrimp Scampi Pasta
March 2010, Chicken with Black Pepper Maple Sauce
February 2010, Mexican Chocolate Ice Cream
January 2010, Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Garlic and Pancetta
December 2010, Walnut Spice Cake with Lemon Glaze

This weekend Empanada Boy and I took my cousin Bagel with Lox out to lunch for his birthday at Mile End, the new Brooklyn hot spot. It’s a Montreal-Jewish-style deli. For those confused by this description, Montreal has a thriving Jewish community, which has a deli tradition similar to that of New York Jews— similar, mind you, but different in a few key ways. One of these is the bagels, which ares smaller, denser and sweeter (boiled in honey water) than New York-style ones. We didn’t try them, but Mile End has them flown in St. Viateur in Montreal. Another is the meat. Instead of pastrami, the Jews of Montreal have a traditional of smoked, fatty brisket. Needless to say, this is what we focused on. Mile End was featured alongside my beloved Kenny & Zuke’s in Portland in a New York Times article on the new wave of delis that are reviving traditional fare with a gourmet’s attention to quality, provenance and flavor. Like Kenny & Zuke’s it’s not kosher, but it sources, cures and smokes its meat as only a true artisan would.

Considering the Times article and the fact that it’s the hottest thing in town right now, it’s no surprise that we were told the wait for three would be a hour when we arrived at 12:30 pm on a Saturday. Luckily, they let EB leave his cell number, so we took the bus to Target and got some shopping in, making our way back just in time for our table to be ready and for Bagel WL to arrive from Long Island. We sat at one of the three booths with a simple wooden table that we shared with a couple who had taken the train from Manhattan. There is also a counter with stools and a takeout window that opens onto the street.

Bagel WL and I ordered the smoked meat platter, which comes with enough brisket and rye bread for two and leftovers, a steal at $13. (We did see two strapping fellows order a platter each.) We slathered the bread with spicy brown mustard laid on slices of meat and bit into some of the juiciest, most flavorful meat you’ll find. Thick layers of fat rimmed each piece, and a smoky crust exuded the oak over which it was smoked. EB ordered the poutine with smoked meat, pictured here. You may recall from my post on Corner Burger, poutine is a Quebecois tradition, involving French fries, cheese curds, gravy and whatever else the chef chooses to add. (See this New Yorker article by Calvin Trillin for more.) It was worlds better than what we had tried: fries were crispy; homemade mushroom gravy had real flavor; cheese curds from Silver Moon Creamery were snappy and smooth and that brisket added smoke, salt and fat. The meat here seemed drier and crustier than on the platter, but it was a component here, not the main act.

As we chowed down and sipped coffee (from Stumptown), cream soda and orange juice, we felt the richness of the fat begin to overwhelm us. We needed a vegetable to work into the rotation. Then it came to me: pickles! We ordered three excellent, crisp half-sours. Perhaps I should have ordered some coleslaw instead, though, as I found my mouth parched with salt for hours after this meal.

In short, Mile End was a force to be reckoned with and lived up to all expectations. I can’t say it replaces Kenny & Zuke’s, which offers pastrami, corned beef, tongue and chopped liver at this level, but I’d rather come back here than the famed Katz’s. It’s better and less expensive. Our whole meal at Mile End cost $31, while Katz’s charges $15 for a pastrami sandwich. This is artisanal food with the full weight of tradition behind it, and you just don’t get tired of eating that.

Mile End
97A Hoyt St.
Brooklyn, NY 11217
718.852.7510

Empanada Boy and I are in a wine club that typically meets once a month (“WTF” or “Wine Tasting Fun”). We couldn’t find a host this month, so we decided to fill the void with some auxiliary activities. One was a dinner with seven person core group of members (Focaccina, Tamago, Tuna Noodle Casserole, Hungry Man, Beetrix and us) at Umi Nom, a BYOB place in Fort Greene. King Phojanakong, the chef at Umi Nom, is half Thai, half Filipino. His restaurant is pan-Asian in a distinctly focused and coherent way, more like the Momofuku empire than the restaurants with sushi on one page and pad Thai on another. Phojanakong also owns Kuma Inn on the Lower East Side, which is reputed to be great. I was excited to check out this Brooklyn outpost and even more excited that we could bring our own libations.

Umi Nom is located on an otherwise unremarkable strip of the street. The restaurant is long like a railroad car, with minimalist, sleek decor. We were seated a longer table in the back, which allowed us to be as boisterous as we needed to be. The menu is focused on small plates and delicious Asian street food-inspired items. On the advice of those who had been to the restaurant before, we decided to order a bunch of the small plates and eat them family style. The first two dishes to arrive were the Chinese sausage (pictured on top) and the chili-glazed prawns (pictured here). The sausage was delicious, sliced thinly like fatty, spicy chips. Satisfying sticky rice and a dipping sauce came with it. Prawns were tender and well seasoned with a kick of chili that wasn’t toned down for the weak of palate.

Soon, plates of plush tofu squares in chili black bean sauce and mushrooms in soy-mirin sauce arrived at our table. We also ordered a grilled mackerel, which came whole, its tender flesh coated in nicely crisped skin, and some amazing, melt-in-your-mouth pork belly. I know pork belly is way too trendy for its own good, but this stuff was evidence of why it got that way. The edges were crisped, but the middle was smooth and unctuous. The sweet-salty sauce made the dish positively addictive. (And what a dangerous addiction that might be!)

Our party was divided about whether to try one dish on the specials list for the night: a fertilized duck egg. We decided to get one, and those not vegetarian or squeamish (Tuna Noodle, Hungry Man, Focaccina, EB and I) gave it a go. The shell came sealed, so I cracked it with the handle of my spoon. Our server told us to drink the liquid out first, so we passed it around and each took a sip. I didn’t find it very flavorful, truth be told. Then we started in on the embryo itself. EB unknowingly ate the best part, the fetus, himself. He said it tasted a little like poultry. The rest just tasted like dry, pasty overcooked egg to me. Even with the lively sauce they provided, this was the most disappointing dish.

We were stuffed, but figured we could fit in a couple desserts when all of us were sharing. One was a delicious, warm Thai chili chocolate cake, which had just the right edge of heat and smokiness. The other was halo-halo, a traditional Filipino dessert made with shaved ice, milk and a variety of boiled sweet beans and candies. The dish is brilliantly colored, but it looks better than it tastes. Still, it was great to have the opportunity to try it. It didn’t tarnish my image of the restaurant a bit. It was far better meal than I expected and as good as I had hoped. Umi Nom will be on my list of places to come back to.

Umi Nom
433 DeKalb Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11205
718.789.8806

Living in Brooklyn finally gives me a chance to visit all of the borough’s hipster, locavore, gourmet locales that publications like The New York Times have been breathlessly extolling for a few years now. One of these is Franny’s, a pizza place in Prospect Heights that is a mere five-minute bike ride from our apartment. In the spirit of these parts, Franny’s sources all of its produce, eggs and fish from local organic farmers, and its meat is sustainably raised. Needless to say, the coffee is fair-trade, the cooking oil is recycled and the restaurant runs on renewable energy purchased from the power company. But I had to wonder: Was the food as good as it was green? I met my friend Onion there last weekend to find out.

The word on the street is that going to dinner at Franny’s means a guaranteed wait in line for a table. Apparently that is not the case for a weekend lunch. Onion and I were quickly seated in the simple dining room with a view of the bar on one side and a view of the kitchen and pizza oven through an opening on the other. In addition to the seats at the bar, there are also tall chairs at a window counter, which offer a nice view of Flatbush Avenue and undoubtedly good people watching. We could see from looking around that the pizzas weren’t huge, so we started with two appetizers. One was crostini with wood-roasted pancetta, olive oil and beautiful brown Italian beans. The combination— salty, smoky, spicy, nutty and rich— was to die for, and the bread was chewy and light. Everything tasted fresh and vibrant. I was starting to see why the devout foodie pilgrims like this place.

Our second appetizer was roasted fennel with red onion, lemon and chilies, a flavor explosion. The fennel was tender under our knives, and it had depth and sweetness beneath its charred edges. The anise flavor combined with the other sharp acids was refreshing and bright. This dish had everything, and it achieved it all with very simple, fresh ingredients.

We had ordered a white pizza with buffalo mozzarella, ricotta, garlic, oregano and hot peppers, but had to wait another 15 minutes or so before it was finally came. It was beautiful when it did. The crust was puffy and bubbly, and the wedges of roasted garlic were scattered temptingly amidst alternating circles of the two cheeses. Our urge to devour the thing was slowed somewhat by the fact that the pizza didn’t arrive sliced (nor did those we saw being delivered to tables around us). We couldn’t figure out why that was the case, but we dutifully sawed away at it with our serrated knives. The crust was chewy and light, reminiscent of Chicago’s Spacca Napoli, and the toppings melded together like a symphony. I could see myself eating a whole pizza if I came back hungry.

Besides not being sliced our only complaint about the pizzas were the prices. Our pizza was $16, but some were as high as $20— pretty steep for a two-person pie. Still, I’m willing to pay those prices more than once for food as good as what we ate at Franny’s. Excellence and a clear eco-conscience both come at a price.

Franny’s
295 Flatbush Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11217
718.230.0221

After not having eaten a burger for months, I have somehow spent the last few months eating what must be near a whole heifer’s worth of them. As I discussed in my post on Flipster’s and Five Guys, some of these have been better than others. Most recently, I dined at Corner Burger in Park Slope, only to follow it up a week or so later with a visit to Corner Bistro in Greenwich Village. These two spots merit comparison only because they are both burger joints and because they both have the word corner in their names—reason enough in my book.

I’ll start out by saying that while the burger at Corner Bistro had its drawbacks, Corner Burger’s was pretty much a flop. Of course, that doesn’t reflect at all on the company we had there: Empanada Boy and I went to Corner Burger with my colleague Chopped Salad and his lovely wife Vinaigrette. Chopped Salad had heard that the burgers were good, so I proposed that we meet there to give them a try. I was also intrigued when I learned that the restaurant recently started serving poutine, the gravy-and-cheese-curd-topped French fries of Montreal. Chopped Salad and Vinaigrette weren’t sure about poutine, but EB and I wanted to try it. I ordered the classic poutine ($6.50) instead of a burger. It wasn’t a great first impression for this culturally iconic dish. I could see how poutine would be amazing if the fries were hot, thin and crispy and the gravy more inspired, but the dish had none of these qualities. The cheese curds were squeaky, though, an attribute which I have learned to appreciate now that I have family in Wisconsin.

The burgers ($6.50) at looked far better than they tasted. EB ordered the one above with Swiss cheese and mushrooms. As I have said before, I consider cheese and other toppings undesirable because they obscure the taste of the meat. In this case, the meat needed obscuring. The burger arrived on the rare side of medium-rare, which would have been perfectly acceptable if the meat had been seasoned. It hadn’t been. We found ourselves biting into rare, bland meat, which proved a very disappointing combination, even despite the cheese and mushrooms. Chopped Salad and Vinaigrette ordered burgers too and were similarly disappointed. The curly fries may have been the only saving grace. We were among the only patrons there when we sat down and the only ones there when we left. We now understand why Park Slopers are staying away.

EB and I visited Corner Bistro with our friends Porky Braiser and Sweet Tooth who were visiting from Chicago. We were planning to get drinks at Little Branch in the Village, so we looked for some good cheap chow in the general vicinity to eat beforehand. A dark, old-timey and decidedly unbistro-like bar, Corner Bistro fit the bill. We waited for a seat in a pretty long line that snaked through the bar area. The wait wasn’t so bad, though, because we were throwing back $2.50 mugs of McSorley’s. In a city where it typically costs $6 or $7 for a pint, that alone is reason to visit. Soon we got a seat at a tiny cramped wooden booth. We had a good view of the Heinz ketchup bottles lined up near the kitchen window like soldiers awaiting deployment.

I ordered the basic burger ($4), while Sweet Tooth got a cheeseburger ($4.75). Porky and EB naturally ordered the Bistro Burger, made with cheese and bacon, but still a steal at only $5. And we got three orders of French fries. The fries were nothing special. They weren’t hand-cut and weren’t quite as crispy or hot as we like them. Clearly people come here for the burgers. The patties were juicy, tasty and well-cooked. That is what matters most in a burger, and that’s what Corner Bistro does well. Where it falls short is in its buns (whimpy, airy and easily destroyed by the meat juice) and in its toppings (flavorless American cheese, faded iceberg lettuce). In general, I found I could overlook these drawbacks because of the quality of the meat, the no-nonsense atmosphere and the excellent prices.

I’ll go back to Corner Bistro, especially when I’m looking for a real New York experience. I don’t think I’ll go back to Corner Burger. It may well close before I get a chance to. But first, I think I’ll take a hiatus from burgers and let my arteries unclog for a bit. There will always be more to try once I have a hankering again.

Corner Burger
381 5th Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11215
718.360.4622

Corner Bistro
331 W. 4th St.
New York, NY 10014
212.242.9502

How many guys does it take to make a good burger? Apparently more (or less) than five—at least that’s what the burgers at the Park Slope outpost of the cult chain Five Guys Burgers and Fries suggest. Two thin, dry hockey-puck-like patties come stacked on an unremarkable bun. The free toppings—including jalapeños, A-1 Sauce and grilled mushrooms and onions, to name a few—are the only plus. Fries are flabby and flavorless, lacking all crisp. Empanada Boy and I ordered the spicy Cajun ones, which were just the same fries doused with a dusty heap of cayenne pepper. They didn’t redeem this restaurant.

So why do people (such as my editor, Noodles, mentioned in last week’s post) like this place so much? Perhaps it’s the free toppings, or the free peanuts they give you while you wait. Or maybe it’s that people are comparing it to McDonald’s, which it obviously surpasses. I’m just not sure how to explain the phenomenon. Since EB and I moved to Park Slope at the beginning of January, we’ve already had time to try Five Guys, reject it as overrated and identify a far superior burger at a place up the street called Flipster’s.

The name Flipster’s admittedly leaves something to be desired. (The website says it’s a reference to the Brooklyn hipsters who flip the burgers, but I noticed no skinny jeans or horn rims behind the grill.) But EB and I were very pleasantly surprised when we stopped in at Flipster’s after signing our lease. It’s a pretty standard looking bar and grill with dark wooden furniture and a TV playing sports. The menu has items like chicken sandwiches and popcorn shrimp, but burgers are the clear focus. These range from the most basic option to Kobe beef burgers, bison and lamb burgers and even a pizza burger with marinara sauce and mozzarella cheese (might be gross, might be good).

I ordered the plain burger, which I believe is the true test of greatness because it highlights the most important ingredient: the meat. It came with lettuce, tomato, onions, mustard and ketchup. EB ordered the Brooklyn Flipster Burger with bacon, mozzarella and caramelized onion. Both patties were obviously hand-formed and nicely charred on the outside. Biting into them revealed the pretty pinkish hue of the meat, medium-rare as requested. The meat was flavorful, fresh and juicy and had obviously never been frozen. It was a far cry from the chewy shriveled disks at Five Guys. EB’s bacon was crispy and delicious. The cheese added chew. Still, I don’t think a good burger needs these accessories, and I was completely content here without them.

Lastly, I cannot fail to mention the superior fries at Flipster’s. They are waffle-cut, offering a greater fried surface-area-to-volume ratio. These were crispy and evenly spiced with a blend of seasonings. Five Guys may give double the number of fries (a huge paper bag full) in its large order, but who wants to eat double the number of limp, flavorless potato sticks? Flipster’s wins this round too, hands down.

P.S. EB has been back to Flipster’s once since our first visit. He was offered a frequent burger card with his check. As much as we liked Flipster’s, we think this could set a dangerous precedent. That’s one club we won’t be joining.

Five Guys Burgers and Fries
284 7th Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11215
718.499.9380

Flipster’s
444 9th St.
Brooklyn, NY 11215
718.832.5500

“What is an arepa?” So asks the rhetorical question on the website of Caracas Arepa Bar. If you click on the link you learn they are “dense, yet-spongy corn flour rounds,” “pita-like pockets” “cake-swaddled melange” and “like a Latin Sloppy Joe,” among many other descriptors. But, as I found out recently the best way to really understand what they are is to try them yourself. I met up with my friend Onion there a few weeks ago to do that.

I learned about the restaurant from Sweet Tea, one of my colleagues, who is Venezuelan-American. I asked her if there are any good Venezuelan restaurants in New York City. She didn’t know of many, she said, but there was one great one I had to try. That place was Caracas Arepa Bar, which has outposts in Manhattan’s East Village and in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

The Manhattan location is small and nearly always crowded, there happened to be a table for two waiting for us when we arrived. (It was also pretty dark inside, hence the poor quality of my photos.) Onion and I scanned the menu of arepas and liked the looks of too many of them to narrow it down. So we ordered, a curiara (Spanish word used in Venezuela for “dugout canoe”) filled with three varieties. The one we ordered, called La Popular, included two halves each of: La De Pabellón, with shredded beef, black beans, white salty cheese and sweet plantains; La Reina Pepiada, with chunky chicken and avocado mix salad; and La Mulata, with grilled white cheese with jalapeños, sautéed red peppers, fried sweet plantains and black beans.

Our server convinced us we needed an appetizer too, so we ordered tequeños—little fried dough sticks filled with melted, stretchy cheese. Those came with a slightly spicy dipping sauce, and they were satisfying (if a little too bland) in the guilty way jalapeño poppers and cheese fries can be, especially when eaten between swigs from our bottles of Negra Modelo.

As it turned out, we probably didn’t need an appetizer. Our arepas arrived in a wooden serving dish that was indeed reminiscent of a dugout canoe, but this one probably would have sunk to the bottom of the river because it was so filled with food. The arepas were chewy corn pockets that made for easy finger food. The only problem with this kind of finger food is once you start eating one, you can’t put it down for fear of it falling apart completely. Instead, I end up eating everything a bit too quickly.

My favorite arepa was the beef one. The salty cheese was like the crumbly Mexican cheese cotija, and it accented the slightly sweet beef and the plantains nicely. The chicken one was my least favorite; the meat was a little dry and the avocado lacked kick to counterbalance its fatty richness. (I added some of that hot sauce I’d put on the tequeños for some extra flavor.) The cheese and jalapeño one was more interesting, having great texture, heat and sweetness.

All-in-all, three halves of an arepa amounts to plenty of food for one person and enough variety to keep even the most indecisive eaters happy. If you still don’t know what an arepa is after reading this post, I suggest you go out and try one yourself.

Caracas Arepa Bar
93 1/2 E. 7th St.
New York, NY 10009
212.529.2314