Benjamin L. Haas

After a few wistful post-work pints at Peter McManus Cafe (co-worker's last Friday out at the bar), I almost went to BBQ Chicken & Beer down the street for recharging. But instead I agreed to meet Marci at Birdies, Grandma's Chicken in the East Village instead, where I was really just expecting to soak up the alcohol in my stomach with some greasy platefuls. GOOD CHOICE! Unexpectedly, I had some of the best damn fried chicken I've eaten in this city. Maybe it's because it was during a slow spot on this Friday evening, and maybe the food received an inordinate amount of careful attention in the kitchen, but regardless, I'm super impressed.

Marci said the secret ingredient was celery salt. I would've guessed just regular salt. Dunno which it was, and we didn't ask, even though we were the only folks in the joint at 9pm. We got a small basket (two drumsticks and a thigh), and two breast cutlets (they don't offer bone-in breast pieces). As usual, I tackled the dark meat and Marci stuck to the white, and we split an order of biscuits, an order of collard greens, and an order of mashed potatoes & gravy. The chicken pieces were huge — I mean big, fat limbs that were still sizzling when they arrived. The batter was crispy (but not oily) and extremely flavorful (but not over-salted or over-peppered). The potatoes were so-so, but the greens had some unctuous, meatiness going on, and the biscuits were just damn good – a little sweet and fluffy – and they tore apart in these cool whorls. Obviously we couldn't eat all that we ordered, so we boxed the remainders up to go (yes, we were the one with the stinky meat bag at the New Year show later that night at the Music Hall of Williamsburg). Stuff was a little dry when reheated the next day, but that's not even really a complaint.

Ok, fine, so I don't really know from good fried chicken. After all I'm just some Jewish kid from the Cleveland suburbs. Before age 18, I though chicken fingers in the Fry Daddy were the pinnacle of fried cuisine. I've never been to the South, unless a weekend in North Carolina counts. But here, in this case, I know I'm right. Total steal at just under twenty-five bucks.

Birdies, Grandma's Fried Chicken (map)
149 1st Ave
New York, NY 10003

Sapporo is my reliable standby for when I don't have much time to squeeze dinner in after work, and I'm trying to get my culture on uptown in the evening. Last night was one of those nights, since I usually work until 6:30pm (at least), and Marci had scored us 8:00pm tickets to see Don Giovanni at The Met. We usually don't have to wait to get a table, but last night, most likely due to the steady rain, we had to queue up. The hostess don't take names there, so you have to be a bit pushy and make sure no one squeezes past you on the churn to the front of the line. Once seated, though, everything comes together quickly. A waiter is invariably at your table to take your order about three minutes before you're ready, but it speeds along the whole process. If you order an appetizer, it arrives at your table in as exactly as long as it takes for the waiter to walk to the kitchen and return with a pre-cooked plate of food. I can't say that's the primary reason I was revolted by the seaweed salad we ordered to stave off starvaton — more likely it was because the salad reminded me of green millipedes and brown cockroach legs, and had a gelatinous coating that felt like raw egg whites. Next time, skip the appetizers. If you get the right ramen, you won't need them anyway. As is our custom, we picked one soy-sauce-based ramen, and one lighter one. We ordered the Gomoku Ramen ("2 shrimps and more vegetables") and the Sapporo Special Ramen ("special assortment of meat and vegetables"), and it was more than enough food for two (and as usual, picked up on Marci's dish after she called quits). The ramen bowls come to your table a few minutes after ordering them, and while they're never going to win the crown of the best ramen in NYC, they're steaming hot, consistently prepared, and full of all the stuff you want in there. And for nine bucks each, you feel like you got the only good deal available in Times Square.

One final lesson from past experience: while there's probably bar seats open, don't take them. They're empty for a reason. The non-stop shouting by the ramen cooks, calling out their orders, is a bit too much too much volume for an enjoyable experience.

Sapporo (map)
152 W. 49th St.
New York, NY 10019

I wanted to like Patois so much. Patois, the first restaurant to bring quality dining to the Smith St. frontier in the nineties. Patois, home of the $21 prix fixe menu, where no wine bottle is over $40. What's not to like? The price is right, the interior is charming, and most importantly, it's three short blocks from my apartment. Then why didn't I have a better experience last night? Because it took over two hours for the four of us to eat there last night.

It's not like we ordered anything fancy or complicated - we all ordered off the limited menu (appetizer choice of green salad, or charcuterie, main course choice of trout, chicken, or hanger steak, dessert choice of lemon or chocolate tart) - and we shared one bottle of wine. The waitress, though, disappeared for noticably long stretches, making us wait to order, wait for dessert choices, and wait for the bill (it should be noted, though, that the food came out quite promptly each time, leading me to believe that the problem isn't with the kitchen). Between the four of us we sampled everything off the prix fixe menu, and the first two courses were all very tasty and expertly prepared (and surprisingly generously portioned). The tarts were a bit of a letdown, with too dry and chunky of a crust, but I was too full at that point to be overly concerned.

I don't know why our service was so lethargic - it was a sleepy, drizzly Thursday evening, and the two-room restaurant was only about half-full. It's a shame, because it tarnished what would have been a perfect neighborhood experience.

Patois (map)
255 Smith St
Brooklyn, NY 11231