Food and Drink: March 2005 Archives

Actually, I'm wearing pink today in honor of the nice weather, but black sounds better with back, doesn't it? I'm posting today to get my only two faithful readers off my back--you know who you are! Sorry for the lag. I haven't been feeling inspired, which is weak, I know.

So last night, I went to Joya. I really like Joya. I really like its spicy basil noodle, its pad thai, its green and masaman curries, its spicy mussels, its prices, and I've long ago accepted that Friday and Saturday nights are when the yuppies from Brooklyn Heights and Cobble Hill invade the restaurant and when it is to be avoided at all costs. However, last night (a Wednesday) at 9:30pm, there was a half-hour wait. The bar was spilling over with girls in new spring boho stylings. Note to girls with  back fat: Do not sit on a bar stool in a short-ish top and expect the revealed fat to be attractive to the men (or women) behind you! Anyway, it just made me realize how much the neighborhood had changed, and I've only been here for two years. I still love you Joya--I'll try Monday or Tuesday next time :)

An astute abrooklynlife reader and blogger Michael Dietsch pointed out this New York Post article, reporting that the MTA is threatening F Line Bagels with a trademark infringement suit. The owners of the store are confused because they bought the merchandise from the MTA's website and meant no harm by the homage to the nearby subway stop and line. I'm assuming the MTA has some kind of legalize on its side, but don't they realize they're making themselves look like asses?

Our first post about the opening is here.

More chatter here.

If you're eating at Chipotle, most likely more than 1,000. Yep, more than 1,000 calories in one burrito (even some of the veggie ones).  As this handy little report points out, eating the entire 1,300-calorie Barbacoa Burrito is like eating a quarter pounder, large fries and a large Coke. Of course a lot of people refuse to eat at Chipotle because McDonalds is a major financial backer of the chain, but it's managed to deflect some of that criticism by pointing to its health-conscious offerings. Oops.

Here's an interesting google thread on the subject.

Thanks to my sis for sending me the calorie link.

OK, so I spent an inordinate amount of time in Williamsburg this weekend, but it gave me a chance to check out the second Brooklyn bar with the welcomed gimmicky offering of free pizza with a drink purchase. The new entry into this game is Capone's on North 9th Street. I love the space--especially the sub-level caged-in tables--but the pizza can't compete with that of Alligator Lounge. What makes the Lounge's pie so damn good? The thin, wood-oven crisped crust and the shockingly good cheese with which it's topped. The sauce, tangy without overwhelming the delicate pizza, adds to the experience, too. The pizza I sampled at Capone's, on the other hand, wasn't quite cooked  and the cheese had a mind of its own, sliding all over the place. (I saw more than a few hungry hipsters lose a chunk or two on the floor.) Capone's did, however, have condiments such as grated cheese and hot pepper flakes on the bar.  Of course, at Alligator Lounge, it feels like you are eating and drinking in a 20-year-old Pizza Hut turned fake flower shop turned bar. If you've never peeked into the back room of the space, you must! At Capone's, on the other hand, you really feel like you've walked into a private loft party (and you can't get more Williamsburg than that).  But back to the pizza. The good news: It's free  wherever you choose.

Went a relatively new bar in Williamsburg this last weekend. Duff's is a kind of Disneyland for hard rockers. The owner, whose facial hair features prominently on the bar's T-shirts and who notoriously drives a Hearse, decorated the spot with every last bit of odd-ball memorabilia he could find (much of it from his last association with Bellevue, the famed dive bar in Hell's Kitchen). I particularly liked the doll heads sitting in a row behind the bar, though the pin-up girls papering the benches were a nice touch, as well. There's even a poster for Duff's beer from the Simpon's on the ceiling--there's actually quite a lot of interesting stuff on the ceiling but don't let that distract you from the real live gorilla suit in the corner. What interests me most about this place is that Duff (and the girl in the gold lamé pants and halter top serving drinks from behind the bar) don't appear to lead their lives in irony, which is, of course, the pinnacle of the Williamsburg experience. But maybe Duff doesn't care if hipsters ironically wear their death metal shirts to his bar. Maybe he'll enjoy that as he chuckles from behind his dark sunglasses. Maybe that's why he put a Strokes CD along side AC/DC and Metalica in the jukebox. Who the hell cares, actually, as this bar has a lot more heart than most of the joints in the area. Right now, it a very long, cold walk to North 3rd and Kent, but I predict that when the weather's warm and the patio opens, there will be a gaggle of mussy haired Williamsburgers downing the $1 happy hour PBRs. And, I just might be there, too.

On a barely related note, I found these amazing sandals while searching for Duff's on that thing they call the internet(s). This is a must-click-through, trust me.