The one word I would use to describeFriend of a Farmer, a country restaurant in the middle of Manhattan’s Gramercy neighborhood, is “oasis.”
This is not a restaurant one would expect in the New York suburbs, let alone in the city itself. The closest thing I can compare it to - although it’s painful to do so - is Cracker Barrel. There’s the creaky, natural wood floors, the rural decor and homey, comfort food.
But unlike that bastion of roadside diversion, Friend of a Farmer has the advantage of being one little place within the controlled chaos that is New York City. As a stand-alone shop, the place is not trafficking in mass food in a faux setting with questionable service. Our server was extremely friendly (although with a punkish vibe that would be unwelcome in Kansas) and the cozy atmosphere seemed stripped wholesale from a real country house.
And the food was mmm-mmm good! I honestly can’t remember the appetizers, but it’s hard to forget the entrees, especially when three of the four of our party ordered the same thing. This was the Fresh Roasted Turkey (cornbread stuffing, mashed potatoes, vegetables, fresh cranberry sauce & giblet gravy), a Thanksgiving meal on a plate. Enjoyed by my wife, my friend and his fiance, the food captured the quintessential family feel, with succulent pieces of turkey and accouterments worthy of any hard-cooking mom (or dad).
I, of course, picked the least country item on the menu: Honey Glazed Shrimp (mixed greens, mandarin oranges, pears, maytag blue cheese & grapes with a sesame ginger mandarin dressing). This was because 1. I had a big, heavy lunch and 2. my stomach was bothering me, probably because of 1. The salad was extremely tasty, with the tang of the various fruit playing off the sweetness of the shrimp and creaminess of the cheese. It was certainly well-balanced, but I could have used a few more shrimp and definitely more pear.
For dessert… PIE! I would have been extremely disappointed if a place like this didn’t offer at least one homemade pie. Luckily, the restaurant has a mini-bakery in its kitchen, offering a bunch of warm, carby goodies. Both couples went with the delicious apple crumb pie, a la mode. At first they had run out of vanilla ice cream, but managed to find some tucked away in the back. Between the gooeyness of the pie and the lightness of the ice cream, this was the perfect capper to a country meal.
Since Friend of a Farmer is now a friend of mine, I think I’ll return for breakfast… and brunch… and lunch… and more dinner. Care to join me?
Ever since moving from Philadelphia to the NYC area, we’ve struggled to find restaurants that in some way approximate the eclectic, yet sophisticated mix of cuisine and attitude to which we’ve become accustomed in that city of brotherly love.
But in the past few months, we’ve found a couple places that tap into that Philly flair.
The first (pictured) is Perilla, a great little restaurant nestled into the back streets of the West Village. We arrived there very randomly one night, having made a reservation in haste when I realized some out-of-town friends were coming into the city for the night. After a whole lot of web browsing and a few phone calls, we ended up with an 8:30 reservation at one of many NYC restaurants I never knew existed before that night.
You know how sometimes things just work out? Well, from the restaurant choice on, this was one of those nights.
Until, that is, I saw them at my local supermarket and had to call on all my strength not to buy every available box.
While tearing through these like Violet Beauregarde in a Wrigley’s gum outlet, I discovered two things I never knew about these tasty treats:
They’re New York City icons. The cookies were first sold in Hoboken, New Jersey (across the river from Manhattan), and a full 70% of all boxes sold are consumed within the immediate metropolitan area.
They’re seasonal. Because the thin layer of dark chocolate melts easily in summer months, Nabisco only puts them out between September and April.
The first point accounts for why I haven’t seen these in a while (I’ve been in Boston and Philly in the last six years), while the second just makes me sad. I guess I’ll just have to stock up and save some boxes in my freezer.
Question: Aside from Cadbury Creme Eggs, what other regional or seasonal products do you stock up on?
This time it was El Centro, a quirky little Mexican joint on 54th Street in Hell’s Kitchen. My friend from work and I entered around 12:45 on a Tuesday and the place was practically empty. Not usually a good sign for a Manhattan lunch.
The place is pleasant enough in decor. We sat next to a whole wall filled with small aluminum toys jutting out on metal spokes, while our table was uniquely crafted from beer bottle tops arranged under glass. Cool.
The chips and salsa were better than average, which was surprising. The homemade chips were crispy, not greasy, and the salsa was different than any I had tasted before. It was neither chunky nor entirely smooth, but had a somewhat more creamy texture, which coated the chips better than the watery types. It also had a nice spicy flavor.
For the cheapies like us looking for under $10 meals, there’s a decent amount of stuff. Unfortunately, the cheap eats are also the least interesting. My friend got a grilled chicken taco w/ red rice & mole negro, which wasn’t as small as we expected. It included an 8″ homemade corn tortilla topped w/ lettuce, queso blanco, caramelized onion and radish. For those with healthier appetites, one taco may not be enough, but my friend was well satisfied.
As for me, I also ordered a simple dish: the roasted chicken & Monterrey jack quesadilla w/ chipotle chiles & epazote. There was nothing fancy about the preparation; it tasted just as a quesadilla should. Although I could have used a bit more meat, I was satisfied if not wholly impressed.
What makes me want to come back for more, however, is the rest of the menu. The soups (pozoles) and enchiladas both look great, but I really want to try a chilaquile: homemade corn tortilla casserole topped w/ avocado, queso blanco, crema fresca and pico de gallo. While I couldn’t quite bring myself to order a casserole for lunch during the waning days of summer, I will return to try the pork version of this concoction.
Today was my second time visiting this small Thai eatery, located at 55th and 8th. In my humble opinion, it delivers on all the qualities needed for a perfect New York lunch:
It’s good. Sure, I’ve only had a couple things from their lunch menu, but they’ve both been impressive.
It’s fast. Not quite as fast as McDonald’s, but for sit-down service, it’s a breeze.
It’s cheap. For $6.95 (pennies in New York lunch terms), you not only get a succulent, filling entree, but a choice of salad, soup or spring roll. Not bad.
It’s nice. I love the asymmetrical bowls, the swizzley chop-sticks and the little floating-flower pool in the window.
If you’re looking for recommendations, you could do worse than the Pad Sea Eiw, a perfect noodly blend of salty and sweet. It’s my new obsession.
There’s something to be said for a no-frills, un-supersized, plain ol’ hamburger.
And that’s exactly what they serve to perfection at P.J. Clarke’s, an old fashioned eatery with a straight-ahead style.
Being the cheapo that I am, I ordered a plain hamburger (sans blue cheese, as opposed to the picture) when a friend invited me out to lunch at the restaurant’s Lincoln Center location. It’s unfortunate that the nostalgia doesn’t apply to the prices, because the burger was the only thing on the menu under $10.
When the waiter brought it to the table, on a small plate with nothing but a pickle to accompany it, I could only stare in disbelief. How would I be satiated by such a miniature serving of meat?
Well, I’m an official convert: size DOESN’T matter.
I bit through this succulent masterpiece like it was butter. The burger was moist and juicy, and in its unadorned state, exuded a recognizable beef flavor that often gets overshadowed by meaningless toppings. Somehow, despite looking as if it would fall apart, the paddy stayed together beautifully… that is, until I finished it five minutes later.
Everywhere I look, someone’s writing about food carts.
Details magazine just put up a compilation of the best in the nation. Then there’s one of my new favorite sites, Midtown Lunch, who do a semi-scientific survey of the meat-over-rice carts around the area of Bryant Park. It’s a piece they like to call Street-Meat-Palooza.
Even the UPenn crowd is getting more sophisticated about their carts. The new Penn Food Trucks site carefully rates, organizes and maps the various mobile eateries around campus.
So, why the increased focus on food carts? Maybe it’s the economy, or maybe it’s just the personalities.
But one thing’s for certain: those people you buy all this luscious food from aren’t just vendors. They’re members of the human race.
If you still have the energy, check out the only cart I wrote up in Philly.
I’m not sure what it has to do with Mexican food, but I love this wall-sized piece of modern art that greets you when entering the Rosa Mexicano near Lincoln Center.
On the other hand, I’m also not sure what to make of Rosa Mexicano’s cuisine, which I did not love, despite my usual passion for south of the border fare.
The special occasion (and for these lunch prices, it has to be an occasion) was my first week of work, and my boss was nice enough to take me out to a welcome lunch. Rosa was just up the street, and even though I had only been in the office for a few short days, I was already dying to try it.
We were seated outside and immediately ordered the fresh guacamole. While it wasn’t prepared table-side (is this service reserved for dinner patrons only?), the chunky green stuff was delicious; proof that when it comes to anything avocado, fresher is always better.
Having had a late breakfast and after scarfing down a bit too much of the guacamole, my eyes automatically went to the salads. I settled on the Ensalada con Atun: avocado leaf-crusted seared rare tuna served on a crispy black bean tostada over jicama, mango and cabbage slaw with papaya-habanero salsa.
Sounds great, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, it wasn’t my cup of tea.
I definitely expected the tuna to be rare, but the pieces that were served were completely raw. Still not a problem, except this wasn’t a sushi restaurant and the fish had zero flavor. The rest of the dish, however, was flavor overload. There was spice coming from every direction, but no sweet or salty flavors to balance it out. The acidity of the slaw was overwhelming, and I ended up eating around most of the fancy stuff.
Maybe it’s my fault for ordering a salad at a Mexican restaurant, even one that wears its nouveau-ness on its sleeve. Next time, I will return to the tried-and-true and order something with at least one of the following: slow-cooked meat, cheese or a tortilla.
After all, everyone deserves a second chance in America. Even a successful Mexican mini-chain location that’s probably doing well enough without one.
UPDATE - 8/18/08
Well, that second chance came sooner than I thought. I stuck with the plan and ordered the Mexican Club Torta: a pressed sandwich filled with ham, grilled chicken, bacon, avocado and chihuahua cheese with a black bean-chipotle spread and served with sweet potato fries.
It had everything that the salad didn’t: lots of meat, lots of flavor and lots of itself. Even though I still think it’s over-priced, Rosa Mexicano definitely redeemed itself today.
I should have known not to eat lunch at a bookstore.
But being new to the area where I now work (the Lincoln Center district of New York City), I was not quite sure where to grab a quick, cheap sandwich. I had already exhausted the few delis near my office, and I was craving something warm and toasty.
What’s a hungry, poor man to do?
I turned into the local Barnes & Noble, thinking that their cafe probably had something that would at least fill my belly. Little did I know, however, that lurking in this mild-mannered, big box media store was an evil piece of food unfit for consumption: the “Herb Grilled Chicken on Focaccia.”
It looked pretty harmless, sitting there wrapped pretty in cellophane and waiting for a suitor. It came with some sort of cheese and a roasted red pepper dressing, but they were besides the point. I simply wanted to rip into a nice chicken breast sandwich.
What I got - following the interminable wait for the sandwich to finish grilling - was pure, unadulterated mush. The round paddy in the middle did not come from a chicken… or at least a chicken from this planet. It did not even pretend to have the consistency of meat.
In tasted like something concocted in a lab, far from anything resembling a farm, and assembled by scientists who must have played a cruel joke on the new guy by giving him the task of inventing a type of chicken that doesn’t in fact “taste like chicken.”
After reading my fellow blogger’s article on “particle chicken,” I knew what I had come face to face with: a homogenized mass of reprocessed chicken pieces. After that first horrifying bite, I suppressed my gag reflex and proceeded to remove the “chicken” from my sandwich. I forced myself to eat the remaining grilled cheese sandwich because, well… I was still hungry.
The experience was so bad, I might even stop reading books just out of spite.
We were seated outside and immediately ordered the fresh guacamole. While it wasn’t prepared table-side (is this service reserved for dinner patrons only?), the chunky green stuff was delicious; proof that when it comes to anything avocado, fresher is always better.
