The pizza at Alligator Lounge is a strange phenomenon of budget snacking. I can’t quite figure out how it’s free. Well, not exactly free–you must purchase one drink, at about $5 a pop, to get a free pizza ticket. If you want toppings, it’ll be $2 for the first and $1 for each additional. But assuming you don’t, in about ten minutes you’ll have a piping-hot 12-inch pie to accompany your beer at a cost of zero dollars (except a tip for your pizza guy).
How is it possible? Because the pizza actually isn’t terrible. True, it tastes better after several beers. (more…)
It’s winter for another month or two, so there’s no better time to partake in the finest of heart-attack snacks, and curl up in front of the TV holding your engorged tummy.
I’m talking about poutine. If there’s a reason to love Canada, it’s because they thought of marrying freshly-cut fries with cheese curds, and topping it with extremely thick, scalding hot chicken gravy. The potatoes absorb the salty gravy while remaining slightly crisp at the ends, and the curd gobs soften, especially in the melty center of the bowl, and squeak a little in your teeth. (more…)
A few months ago wormwood absinthe was legalized for sale in the US. Now instead of trekking to Europe, we can openly sip the green fairy in a few reputable New York City lounges. Employees Only (fear not the psychic in the window–walk on by and through the velvet drapes) has the kind of classy, speakeasy-inspired vibe ideal for quaffing vaguely-illicit substances. But Jazz Age ambiance aside, the artistically mixed and presented cocktails are the big draw there.
The bartender charmingly answered all my questions about absinthe, despite teasingly asking if I was a cop. At Employees Only, instead of merely diluting the absinthe by dripping water over a sugar cube, they light the sugar on fire, which adds a carmelized flavor as well as a dramatic flair to the drink. He thought that the absinthe sold in the US still lacked a few ingredients one can find in their foreign counterparts, and although it is strong (about 120-140 proof), its hallucinogenic effects are much exaggerated. The “real stuff”–his eyes darted to a glass liquor cabinet–cannot be “sold,” he said carefully.
I wanted to try straight absinthe, but being a bourbon fan I opted for the billionaire cocktail–Baker’s Bourbon shaken with lemon juice, grenadine and absinthe bitters. The bitters are made in-house and stored in a glowing green stoppered bottle with “absinthe” etched on the side–how I coveted that bottle. (more…)
It’s actually Abraço, and I think it’s destined to be my favorite neighborhood coffee spot. I wandered in this morning, thinking I was on my way to Dunkin’ Donuts, and instantly my day started looking up. The barista, a cheerful, lanky dude with a mop of gray hair (this must be Jamie), poured me a polished cappuccino. The espresso ($3) tasted a little less mellow than 9th Street Espresso‘s, more slap-you-in-the face, but was very good, and topped with leafy foam art. While I waited, I was swayed into ordering zeppole–two fried-to-order balls of light, doughnut-like ricotta, rolled in sugar ($3). The standing-only space holds two narrow bars just wide enough for coffee cups, so the folks eating in were either chatting or just drinking coffee–no newspapers, laptops, or cell phones. But ambiance aside (Abraço is Portuguese for “hug”), this cafe’s secret weapon is that it has an actual cook, so there’s a whole rotating lunch menu to explore, complete with grilled cheese panini ($6), a deliciously light, eggy frittata ($4), and sweet-and-savory olive cookies ($2).
The only downside is that Abraço is sure to be popular, so I’ll have to get my happy tropicalia coffee fix early to beat the rush.
Abraço Espresso, 86 E. 7th St., at First Ave. 8 am – 8 pm, Sun. 9 am – 8 pm.
I’m well into my morning commute by the time I breeze through the Union Square Greenmarket, but I don’t become conscious until then. Revived by a new landscape of radish-end hills, jam jar pyramids, and arugula forests, I start scanning the stands in hopes of breakfast. When I pass the Muffin Madness stand I weaken, but keep walking. (more…)
I’m not a big fan of delayed gratification. I think there’s only one thing better than getting something you know you want right away, and that’s getting something you didn’t even know you wanted.
This was pretty much what I thought when I spied Stone’s 07.07.07 Vertical Epic Ale ($5.99) in the beer section at Whole Foods. The story is thus–every year the San Diego, California brewery releases one “larger-than-life, heroic adventure” (according to the label copy) on 02/02/02, 03/03/03, 04/04/04, etc. up until the year 2012. Each brew is different and meant to be aged until 12/12/12, on which date the careful collector is urged to do a “vertical tasting” of every blend in order, resulting in said epic. Presumably sometime before 12/21/12, or Mayan Doomsday, to be on the safe side.
Genius. But because I have an annoying habit of being honest with myself I knew I couldn’t horde it until 2012 and cracked it open as soon as I got home. This year’s edition draws inspiration from Belgian Saisons and Golden Triples, clocks in at 8.4% alcohol, and packs a flavorful punch of spices–ginger and cardamom, and something like pumpkin. It’s tasty stuff and I only wish I knew how it will stack up five years’ hence.
Vertical Epic 07.07.07 while supplies last at Whole Foods on Houston St.
Tonight, when I called Caracas Arepa Bar for takeout, there was no hello. Instead the receiver hovered within hearing-range of vague, delighted sounds–people enjoying buttery, cheesey arepas and beers. The second and third times: busy signal. This was not the first time this had happened.
And this is how I know I’m in deep with a snack obsession, because instead of pulling out another dog-eared menu, I threw on pants and ran out with shower hair, slinking past all the pretty people spilling out from bars. Because I need arepas and Caracas can’t ignore me if I’m standing there in the flesh, demanding them. (more…)
Today while wandering through Soho I happened upon my favorite New York street performer/salesperson, Peeler Man. I call this a performance because his impassioned schtick is a notch or two beyond your average QVC spokesman. I mean, not just anybody can sell vegetable peelers to busy New Yorkers passing by on the street. (more…)
The next time you’re pub crawling in the East Village with someone you really want to impress and they say “where to next,” here’s what you do. Head over to Crif Dogs on St. Mark’s Place, a high-traffic dugout peddling franks and fries with gut-busting toppings. On the left-side wall pull back a sliding door to reveal a booth straight out of a David Lynch film, glowing red and empty except for a white plastic phone. Lift the phone, press the buzzer and wait. Do this like you know exactly what you’re doing. (more…)
I don’t realize what copious amounts of dairy I consume until I’m out with someone who can’t eat it without getting an upset stomach. I feel a reciprocal pang in my tummy as they scour a menu at some place I’ve raved about, looking for any item not slathered in cream sauce or cemented by gobs of cheese. It’s true, I am woefully under-prepared for adult-onset lactose intolerance.
So I was intrigued when I heard about the pizza at Grandaisy Bakery, served up at room temperature in cheeseless squares. The pomodoro especially interested me, as it consists only of sauce and crust; and as I peered at it under glass it looked kinda unfinished and possibly not good. But one taste changed my mind. The crust is crisp and light, and the sauce thick and slightly sweet. It highlighted the two elemental pizza ingredients in a refreshing way, and at $2.75 makes a great snack. (more…)