pizza, burger, mom

I'm always overwhelmed with my mom's unconditional love. I just don't get how moms develop that much selflessness when it comes to their children. I like to think that I'm a pretty nice, caring person, but I just don't think I'll ever understand the level of niceness moms are on. Like when I was a kid--I could never finish a whole McDonald's hamburger, but my mom would still take me there and waste her money on half-eaten meals every time I asked. Then when I finished a whole burger for the first time, she was actually proud of me. This would be a good time to note that I am an only child. Small victories, I guess.

 

Roberta's: cheeseburger on a house-made bun and fingerling potatoes

 

best burger ever

She used to pick me up from school every day with a lunch packed so I could eat before going to the piano lessons that I begged for, but eventually abandoned ten years later because the only thing I had really learned was how to play "chopsticks." Also, it wasn't just a PB&J type lunch, it was serious multi-layered lunch box filled with Korean food--fried rice, rice cakes, noodles--plus a million side dishes that I liked. And obviously, I only ate the kind of side dishes that took a lot of time to make. Even after all that, I would ask for a calzone at Pizza Hut, and she would take me to get one. I'd make her order it because I was way too chicken to order my own food until I was about 13.  I was so so spoiled, and I think that must partially be why I love food so much. 

 

Speedy Romeo: "The White Album"

 

a pocket of ricotta

pickled peppers to tame the dairy-ness of the white pie

I used to be really really tiny and in desperate need of fattening, so my mom let me eat whatever I want. And since I would get hungry every two hours like a bird, she would make me anything I wanted to eat at any hour of the day--like tuna fish sandwiches and cheetos at 6 am. This is probably the least sentimental, least beautiful way to describe how much I appreciate the love my mom has shown me, but it's what sticks with me the most. Even now, whenever I come home, my mom treats me the same way.  I've definitely woken her up to say that I wanted instant ramen, and she's made it for me with a side of kimchi and an egg plopped into the broth. Even after reaching the pinnacle of laziness--asking your sleeping mother to wake up and rehydrate noodles for you--I know my mom still loves me enough to do that a million times over if I asked. So when it comes to food, I approach it in the only way that I know how--with lots and lots of love and a stupidly, endless appetite.

So what I'm trying to say...all this food I ate, it was all for you, Mom!! Happy Mother's Day!

Just joking. That would be the worst gift ever.

brunch, three ways

Crispy Kale & Avocado Sandwich crispy kale and avocado sandwich with piquillo pepper, currant and marcona almond relish. From Tandem Bar

I never really understood what people meant when they would proclaim their love for brunch. I mean, lunch is my preferred meal, but I've never thought, "Omg, I love lunch so much!" because that's weird. It doesn't make any sense. I'm still not sure that I even get what brunch is. I used to think it just meant extending acceptable breakfast hours, then I thought it was just a weekend word for breakfast. But once I moved to New York, I noticed that all these restaurants and bars have special brunch menus, although that often seems to just involve adding an egg and a side of home fries to the regular menu items. I'm still confused about the concept of brunch as it's own meal category, but now that it's been almost 2 years of living in Brooklyn, which is like, brunch headquarters, I'm starting to get it. 

I like brunch because anything goes--you can eat pancakes at 2 pm, put an egg on a hamburger and call it breakfast, add champagne to your orange juice--and nobody's gonna judge. It can be really tiring always trying to do what other people want and expect from you, and I think that's why people like brunch--it's a nice respite from a week spent trying to appease others, whether it's your friends or your boss or hungry customers. Going out to brunch is like re-claiming all those moments you had swallow that annoying lump in your throat, force a smile and say "Okay! Sure, whatever you want."  It's your turn to indulge yourself and do whatever makes you happy without worrying about anybody else. As my pal Nina would say, "You do you."

I ran out of things to say about brunch before I could transition into these photos, so I'm just going to stick them in here. Lazy, I know.

My sandwich at Tandem came with a choice of two sides. I chose patatas bravas and a side of grits because if that's an option, I always want it. I think Tandem named the potatoes "patatas bravas" just because it sounds nicer than "home fries" or "fried potatoes." And I'm pretty sure patatas bravas are supposed to come drizzled with mayonaise, and these did not. It's like when restaurants use "mayonnaise" and "aioli" interchangeably because aioli sounds fancy. Anyway, I'm not really complaining though because those were some seriously good potatoes. I swear they were fried in bacon fat--a nice hint of porkiness to my vegetable sandwich. The sandwich, by the way, was the most delicious vegetable sandwich I have ever had. And that's saying something because to me, a sandwich without cheese is hardly a sandwich at all. 

"Turkish Breakfast" from Olea: Eggs scrambled with cilantro, tomato and red onion, fattoush, eggplant salad, herbed yogurt and grilled pita bread. But as you can see, the pita bread was not grilled. I didn't care though.

Patty melt and fries from Mega Bites, which is a really strange name for a diner. I had never been there before, but my roommate loves diners, so I knew I'd end up there eventually. The only bad thing about my meal here was that I realized how close it is to my apartment next year. I know that sounds like a good thing, but I foresee way too many meals taking place at Mega Bites. I've never been one to exercise much control when it comes to my food cravings.

I hardly ever get patty melts, but this one made me wonder if I should make that a regular thing. The buttery sandwich bread really puts it over the edge. The fries were perfect--well seasoned, crispy on the outside, warm and soft on the inside. I kept eating them long after I had started feeling uncomfortably full. I guess that's what they mean by Mega Bites?

carbs and cheese

Ah, carbs and cheese. My two favorite things in the world. Is there a more perfect pairing? Besides David Bowie and Iman.

This is the product of the only food I have in my apartment (really, the only food that wasn't molding): anchovies, onions, and pecorino romano. 

Ricotta and honey grilled cheese from Saxelby's in the Essex Street Market.

Pawlie Grilled Cheese, also from Saxelby's. Made with Pawlet cheese (from a farm in Vermont) and spicy Rick's Picks pickles. Spicy and tangy always pairs well with something heavy, like buttery bread and gooey, nutty cheese. But I've known that since I was in elementary school and loved eating my mac and cheese with cut up pickles. I'm not trying to take credit for this sandwich or anything, but you know, JUST SAYIN'...my 6 year old palate must have been seriously advanced. 

Di Fara: Pizza Dreams Come True

I don't know when I started loving pizza, but there's not really much of a pizza culture in Seattle, and I think the best pizza I ate before I left for college was probably Pizza Hut's stuffed crust pizza. Then when I moved to the East Coast and realized that you could get pizza by the slice, my relationship with pizza totally changed. It went from being a once-in-a-while treat to something that I could eat all the time. Pizza and I have been pretty inseparable since. When I lived in Rome, I ate amazingly delicious pizza every day for breakfast and lunch, and by the time I moved to New York, I was a goner. Pizza was every where all the time. The thing is, all these different pizza experiences haven't made me like one kind of pizza more than another--good pizza, bad pizza, cold pizza, Neapolitan pizza, Sicilian pizza, fast food pizza, pizza bagels...I love it all. It's that unbeatable combination of bread and cheese, and even when it's bad, it's good. You just can't lose. 

But then I went to Di Fara's Pizza for the first time. And while I don't think it was the BEST pizza, I can safely say that it was my favorite pizza that I've ever had.

Ever.

Maybe it was the puddles of oozing, gooey, milky buffalo mozzarella. Or that greasy drippiness the extra pour of olive oil creates. Or perhaps the way that the tangy-sweetness of the tomato sauce plays so well with the bunches of fresh, fragrant basil. Oh, or maybe it's that crispy, chewy, black and bubbly crust. And the generous extra sprinkling of Parmesan cheese, too.

But all of that aside, what I really think makes Di Fara's pizza special is watching Dom Demarco make each and every pizza himself. It's a slow (and almost painful, depending on how hungry you are) process to watch, but it's totally mesmerizing. He makes each pizza as if there isn't a hoard of hungry customers crowding around the counter, as if it's the only one he's going to make all day. Lots of love and care, I think. After 40 minutes of watching him stretch the dough, grate the cheese, and pooouuuur the olive oil, I knew I'd eating more than just a pizza--I'd be eating 40+ years of this guy's pride and hard work, a little piece of Brooklyn's history, the magical art of pizza making, and a lot of anxious anticipation and excitement.

Look at this guy. Just going for the pizza with his bare hands.

Pizza preview!

Seriously. Bare hands, hot pizza. What a guy. If this grosses you out, go away. 

I can't even remember if this was our pizza or someone else's. I just know that with every pie that hit the counter, everyone would descend on it like vultures, hoping it was theirs. It's funny how calm the pizza-making area is compared to the chaos of the rest of the restaurant. If you can even call it that. It's small in there. I consider it nothing short of a pizza miracle that 9 of us all managed to get tables and three pizzas in under an hour. 

There he goes pouring some more olive oil at the bottom of the square pizza pan.

And there's the square pizza in all of its charred, gooey, oily glory. 

 I went for one of the coveted corner slices. After the first piece, the Sicilian slice was the winner in my book. The crust was hefty yet airy, and it soaked up most of the oil instead of letting it slosh around on top of the cheese. But by slice 2.5, I thought maybe I liked the regular slice a little more. I'm not complaining about the oiliness, but there is a lot of it. And on the regular slice, it kind of drips off and you can either try to slurp it up, or let it spill all over your plate. With the square slice, you have no choice but to consume it, and once you've had a few slices too many, it really starts to hurt.

 

If I didn't know what it felt like to be waiting with baited breath for a pizza and a table, I might have stayed at Di Fara's a little longer. Let the pizza sink in, digest, close my eyes. But I know how hard it is to stand there, watching everyone chow down in pizza ecstasy, hoping that this next pizza that Dom is making so slowly will finally be yours. I honestly don't quite remember how we got home. It was a long, drowsy train ride, but one that was totally worth it. I think that all the effort that goes into getting to Di Fara and then having to wait for it, makes it that much more enjoyable and memorable. Besides, it was Danni's last night in Brooklyn, and I hadn't seen her in THREE YEARS. There really couldn't have been a better way to end her visit.

Except like this. (Mom, if you're reading this, which you probably aren't, don't be mad at me!!!)

Shake Shack + HK Wonton Garden (Alone)

 Oh man, I'm almost too embarrassed to make this post. Yes, everything you see here is exactly how I have been eating every day for the past few weeks. And that doesn't even include my roast pork sandwich from Coppelia or everything I ate at Mission Chinese (post coming) or the fat salami and mozzarella sandwich I got from Parisi Bakery or the huge, fluffy pumpkin buns from that steamed bun shop on Mott and Grand whose name I still have not learned. Thank you New York, you really bring out the glutton inside of me. Not that it requires much effort. So indulgent.

The always photogenic Shake Shack

I never get the Shroom Burger at Shake Shack because I'm a carnivore through and through. It's actually kind of annoying because I love all vegetables, but I always default to the meat option. But I've heard so many good things about the shroom burger, I had to finally get it. God, so worth it. I might even like it more than the Shack Burger (just kidding, the romance will wear off soon). The portobello cap is breaded and fried and filled with oozing melty cheese. It has that nice crust and juicy interior just like the smashed hamburger patties do.

Then later that night (or really, early this morning) I found myself at this HK Wonton Garden having the most serious internal struggle I've dealt with in a long time. I couldn't decide on what to get. This was made even more difficult by the fact that I was alone with nobody to guide me and also totally not in a sober state of mind at all. I mean, I don't even know how I ended up there and I only learned the name of the restaurant once I woke up and checked my credit card charges online. Ok well, I do know how I got there. I was running away from a failed attempt at meeting Danni and Jordan because there were way too many flashing blue and green lights and people trying to be sweaty in a room together, and I couldn't deal with it. I was walking to the subway, passed by this Chinese restaurant, decided I was hungry, and went in only because I saw that they accepted credit cards.

 Wonton Noodle Soup, with shrimp and pork wontons. Usually the pork and shrimp get ground up together, right? In this one it was literally a shrimp and half a pork meatball, kind of a weird franken-wonton.

Once I finally decided what to get, I realized that everyone else in the restaurant kept giving me funny looks. Is it really THAT weird to eat by yourself in a Chinese restaurant at 2 am? I didn't think so, but then, the group of dudes in suits at the booth adjacent to me, were definitely laughing at me, so that answered my question. I mean, whatever, I was mumbling to myself and writing down food notes in my notebook, so really, an easy target. But I had such a weird, fun time. It felt like a quiet escape from the overwhelming party mess that I bailed out of, and I really needed to chill out with an egg roll. There were 3 other groups in there: the dudes in suits, 3 old Chinese men, and a couple that kept giving me what I assume were pitying glances or "stop staring at our food, you creep" looks. One or the other.

I also got fried tofu. I'm was pretty pissed about this, not because I didn't like it, but because I got tofu. What I REALLY wanted was like, beef and broccoli or roast duck on rice or shrimp fried rice. Something was in the air yesterday making me fight all my carnivorous urges.

At the time I thought I was getting a good close up to show you the silky tofu on the inside, but turns out, not so much. It really was so smooth and soft, a nice contrast to the crispy skin made more delicious by the sauces that I poured all over it. Loading up on sodium!!

 As I was kind of sadly slurping my soup and poking at the tofu, I decided I needed at least one bite of meat. So I ordered egg rolls too. The kind that have the super crispy, flaky wrapper. Everyone on Yelp is telling me this is "really authentic Chinese food," but I mean, "Chinese food" is so vague, isn't it? I think I would say it was a blend of authentic Cantonese and Chinese-American food, but I don't really know--I always go for the bastardized versions of food.

 Anyway, I get the egg rolls, and there I am sitting alone, with three plates of food, the same number of plates as the couple and the old Chinese men. And I'm feeling kind of self conscious now, but wanna know the worst part about this?

 NO MEAT!!!!!! It was a crushing blow.

Really though, I was bummed out. Of course I ate it anyway and totally loved it. Around this time, the quiet groups started leaving, and groups of party people started coming in. I took that as my cue to slurp the rest of my soup and leave with my bag of leftovers, but not before some guy came in, sat at a table by himself and ordered three dishes. It was so validating.

Mile End

The best part about having brunch at Mile End was that there was no wait for a table. My theory is that a lot of people in that area have babies so they eat at real breakfast hours. Not at 2 in the afternoon. Actually, maybe not the best part though.

 That would be my Smoked Meat Hash.

Meat bit

 

So you can see what the hash looks like--greasy, fatty, crunchy, salty mixed in with a little bit of a pleasant char. It looks burned, but that's not how it tasted. Oh and runny egg yolks filling all the little cracks and crevices! It added a nice creamy, sauciness to it all. So basically, it made this meal even heavier and more delicious. 

windy weekend food

It's still so cold, but from the inside, the weather looks beautiful and you don't have to feel the sting of the wind. It makes me wanna eat like this:

Bloody Mary from Brooklyn Label

More vegetables! There are never enough. If restaurants were less skimpy with their pickled vegetables, I wouldn't need to have anything else for breakfast. 

Bagels and lox, nothing special except for those grated/shredded eggs on top?? So weird, but good.

Went to Corner Bistro and got a window-ish seat

 

Cross-section

I love Corner Bistro, but I can't totally explain why. Their burgers aren't the greatest-- the patty is too huge and the bread lacks structural integrity, which sounds stupid but really, it's so weak! Unless you have snake-jaw and can eat this whole thing in one bite, that bread is going to fall apart so fast. It wouldn't be as much of a problem if the patty was smaller. But despite all that, it's still one of my favorites burgers in New York. I think it's just the feel of the place and how straight-forward it is, like something your parents would make on the patio for the 4th of July. That, plus french fries and a cold root beer, makes for a good Friday afternoon.

Salted caramel and chocolate soft serve with cocoa nibs from Victory Garden, also in the West Village. Spending a weekday afternoon in the West Village is a nice way to pretend that I'm rich. Dream big, you know?

Oh P.S. this soft serve is made with goat's milk. It's amazingly good. The chocolate was my favorite because it had just the right hint of tangy-iness. The salted caramel was great too, but a little TOO goat milk-y for me. It's so creamy.