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

La Tur, described quite accurately in the tasting notes as being “like ice cream served from a warm scoop; decadent and melting from the outside in,” was definitely our favorite, but the other cheeses were among the most complex, delicious and thought-provoking I’ve tried. Our second cheese, called Beekman 1802 Blaak, is the first cheese attempt from the Beekman 1802 farm, based in Sharon Springs, NY. (The farm was founded in 1802.) The texture of the cheese was slightly chalky with a surprisingly subtle goat’s milk flavor. It didn’t quite pack the punch I was hoping for, but I suspect that was because it followed La Tur.

We paired these first two cheeses with 2006 La Segreta Bianco from Planeta, a winery in Sicily. It’s a carefree blend of Chardonnay, Fiano, Grecanico, Sauvignon and Viognier. The second half of the tasting was paired with 1999 Domini Douro, a blend of Touriga Franca, Touriga Nacional and Tinta Roriz (Portuguese Tempranillo) from the Douro region of Portugal. Portuguese wine is still coming into its own, so it’s possible to get a bottle this old for under $12. This one had plums, blackberries and vanilla with soft tannins—pretty complex for the money.

Our next cheese, the Brebis, came from the Basque country and the Bearn region of the French Pyrenees. It was aged for four-to-six months (in an old railroad tunnel, no less) and had a beautiful, smooth and creamy texture with sweet, nutty notes. We saw numerous cheeses like this in one of the caves down in the basement on our tour. A cheese like this would probably have to have its rind washed in water or a saline solution every so often and be turned lovingly and cradled a few times each day. I’m telling you, these cheeses get a lot of pampering!

The final cheese in the tasting was the Cabot Clothbound Cheddar from Vermont. It was dry, crumbly and tasted strongly of the fresh cut grass the cows that made it had undoubtedly been eating. There was also a great balance between saltiness and sweetness in this one, helping it stand up to the robust wine. This baby was aged (and coddled) for a year to enable all the proper molds could grow—it’s good to be a cheese at Murray’s!

We discovered exactly how good it was once we donned our hairnets and followed one of the cave managers down into the depths of the store. There were four caves and a walk-in refrigerator. We toured through the three where the most action was happening. The first was filled with soft, ripe blue cheeses and was calibrated to let the proper molds grow. The second housed primarily hard cheeses with washed rinds and all different colors of mold (humidity: 93%). The final cave, which also had high humidity, was home to the rounds that aged for even longer like Gruyere and Parmesan.

The smell was strong throughout all three rooms, but what we were smelling was not the wonderful scent of stinky cheese I had expected. Instead, we smelled tremendous wafts of ammonia being released by the cheeses as they aged. My nose hairs trembled under the sheer power of it! If we were not already convinced enough, the smell reminded all of us that the cheeses we were visiting and consuming were, in many ways living, breathing, creatures. And like all living creatures, our trip to Murray’s reminded us, cheeses should be treated with appropriate respect.

Murray’s Cheese
254 Bleecker St.
New York, NY 10014
888.MY.CHEEZ or 212.243.3289

Much of my life since my trips to Spain in high school and college has been devoted to trying to get back there. I will be taking Empanada Boy there as soon as we get the money and time. In the meantime, I search for ways to recapture the flavors of Spain. As you may recall from reading previous posts about Spanish restaurants, I am usually disappointed in this pursuit. But I recently went to La Nacional with Honey Roasted Peanut and Corned Beef Hashette to sample what purported to be highly authentic Spanish food. La Nacional is the restaurant of La Sociedad Benefica Española de Socorros Mutuos, a Spanish social club founded in 1868. Tucked away on the basement level of a West 14th Street townhouse, the restaurant opens onto a bar area has TVs playing Spanish shows and sports. Old Spanish men sit at small wooden tables with a glass of beer. They chat and play cards. The only truly Spanish element of this picture that’s missing is the clouds of cigarette smoke.

The restaurant area is modest with more of the same solid wooden furniture. We started with a round of vino tinto de la casas and some tapas. When the tortilla española arrived along with a plate of fried baby artichokes, I was so eager to try them that I forgot to take pictures. The tortilla was the closest thing to a real Spanish tortilla I’ve tried. It was served at room temperature with just the right balance between the softness of the egg and potato and the firmness of the wedge that they had become. They were cooked in flavorful Spanish olive oil, and there was a nice edge of saltiness. The fried artichokes had a crispy crust and a satisfyingly rich center. Still, they weren’t amazing. I wanted to try the sardines or the salpicón de mariscos, but CB Hashette doesn’t eat fish. Those will definitely be on my list of tapas next time. Our final tapa, which I remembered to photograph after we had already eaten half, was the Plato Campero. It consisted of a spread of chorizo, jamón serrano and manchego cheese. While the jamón wasn’t quite the oil-soaked patanegra variety so famous in Spain, the cheese and the meats were of high quality. This was the first assemblage of its kind outside of Spain to truly evoked some of the authentic flavors.

La Nacional is known for its paellas. The owners of the restaurant also own Soccarat, a pricier place devoted almost entirely to paella. Paellas come in two sizes. We sampled two smalls— one with chicken and chorizo and the other a classic mixta with shellfish and chicken. The first of these was a special creation for the benefit of the non-seafood-eater at our table. The scent of saffron wafted up as both paellas were brought to the table. The rice was pleasantly al dente in both, but neither had enough of the crusty, crunchy base (soccarat, sofrito) that traditionally forms at the bottom of the pan. Although I loved having the shellfish in the paella, the addition of chorizo to the other pan gave it an extra smoky depth that the paella de la casa lacked. Both were delicious, but if I could have combined the two and crisped them up a bit, I would have been in heaven.

For dessert we shared a crema catalana, the Spanish equivalent of crème brulée. This version had a more crackly burnt sugar crust than the brulées offered in many more expensive French restaurants. The custard inside a crema catalana is a bit eggier and less solid than its French cousin, and this preparation remained true to its Spanish roots. Although we ended up spending more than we had anticipated because of the two paellas and the dessert, two could dine for $25 here, including wine. Perhaps that is the restaurant’s most authentic trait of all: tapas are meant to be light snacks, and paella is meant to share. Neither is meant to break the bank. Although it wasn’t mind-blowing, La Nacional hit the right notes. I left wishing I were on my way to Spain. With enough restaurants like this and shows like “Spain— On The Road Again,” I may be able to tide myself over until I can hop aboard a plane.

La Nacional
239 West 14th St.
New York, NY 10011
212.243.9308

I went with Daddy Salmon, Mango Mama, Flava Flav and Daddy Salmon’s second cousin Maple Syrup. We wanted to try as many antipasti as we could, but it was difficult for us to get past the awesome selection of vegetable choices. (Cheeses and meats will have to wait until next time.) Eggplant Caponatina was rich with excellent spicing. Summer squash with delicious, crumbly fresh pecorino was enhanced with lemony zest. Roasted beets and saba were sweet and earthy. I also loved the three varieties of house-cured olives. The Tuscan lentils were the only thing item that was a little bland, but for $4 apiece, I can’t complain. We also tried a simply-dressed, pretty little salad of cucumber, fennel fronds and radishes. Finally there was a fish dish—kingfish “in Soar”— composed of large chunks of the meaty fish with a sweet sauce and sautéed onions. Delicious! I could have eaten only antipasti along with a few sips of our delightful bottle of Kerner Abbazia di novacella and walked away happy.

But there was still the pizza course. Pizzas here are made in the Roman style with thin crusts and without an excess of cheese or other toppings. We tried two kinds. One was topped with a stunning combination of mozzarella di bufala, artichokes, roasted peppers, tomatoes, fresh chilies and basil leaves. It was creamy and flavorful with just the right zing. Our second pizza— made with tomato, fennel, bottarga (monkfish roe), pecorino and mozzarella— sounded more interesting that it actually was. The bottarga was spread into strips across the pie, but it wasn’t as salty and pungent as I had hoped it would be. I ended up tasting tomato and fennel, but not enough of the other flavors.

We were getting pretty full by this point, but the desserts sounded too interesting to pass up. Plus, Otto makes its own gelato. Ever the chocolate lover, Daddy Salmon ordered a scoop of coffee cacao crunch gelato served inside a brioche bun. We also tried a ricotta gelato atop lemon curd with a tomato jam, pignoli-rosemary brittle and candied lemon peel. Being the family gelato connoisseur Flava selected three that sounded original and interesting: olive oil, sweet corn and mascarpone. Mango Mama was turned off by most of the desserts, but she liked Daddy Salmon’s more traditional selection. I actually enjoyed all of the gelato selections, but I think I could get tired of sweet corn after a time. It really tastes like corn! Certain elements of the ricotta dish, including the tomato and pistachio brittle were also a little unappealing, but I’m glad I tried them.

Otto was a huge success. It just goes to show you that five people can dine well at the New York restaurant of a celebrity chef, while still keeping budget in mind.

Otto
One Fifth Ave.
New York, NY 10003
212.995.9559