The Mango Lassie

This is a very momentous blog post because it is the first one to feature Percy, the dog who Empanada Boy and I adopted in May. Mango Mama was visiting New York last weekend, and we had planned to take Percy on a hike in New Jersey. But we were in need of some breakfast before we set off from (the fittingly named) Uncle Second Breakfast’s house in Williamsburg. He didn’t have any food in the house because my aunt and cousin were away. When it comes to Williamsburg restaurants, Uncle SB’s expertise is an hyperlocal, meaning it extends to the three blocks surrounding his house on each side and not much further beyond that. Luckily, he lives in a neighborhood packed with worthy restaurants. SB settled a place just a few blocks away called Lodge. It’s a spacious restaurant with windows that open wide onto outdoor seating. Inside, it’s decorated in the fake hunting-lodge style with wood paneled walls, taxidermied animal heads and other rustic accoutrements. We took a seat outside so Percy could remain close at hand.

As it turned out, we only ordered two distinct dishes between the four of us. Mango Mama, EB and SB ordered a breakfast sandwich made on a brioche bun, stuffed with a fried egg, pesto, bacon and a fried green heirloom tomato. The sandwich was commendable for its seasonal ingredients and its resulting fresh, bright flavors. All agreed, however, that an heirloom tomato should never be fried. The breading dries out the slice, masking the beautiful sweet-tart flavors of a tomato in season. This was particularly a problem in this context because the sandwich would have benefitted from the moisture of the tomato juices. Tasty, crispy home fries came alongside the dish, making about as substantial a breakfast I’ve had in recent years for a price as low as $8.

Though tempted by the sandwich, I decided to change things up by ordering a dish of corn cakes topped with poached eggs, crispy bits of Mexican chorizo, chopped tomatoes, pureed avocados and crumbled goat cheese. The egg yolks drizzled over the corn cakes when I broke them open, lubricating the whole dish. The chorizo added a nice kick of spice, but I think a bit of spicy salsa or hot sauce may have been the only thing missing.

Lodge also has a General Store next door, which sells a variety of gourmet items and sandwiches for takeout. It looks like a low-key, high-quality spot, which is pretty much what I found its sister restaurant to be. As for Percy, he managed to get his leash tangled up in the chairs and barked at a particular server who somehow rubbed him the wrong way, but he definitely got a few morsels that dropped on the ground. All in all, it was a pretty good place for his first restaurant visit.

Lodge
318 Grand St.
Brooklyn, NY 11211
718.486.9400

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

“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