Mon 04.28.08

New York City?!?! Remember those Pace Picante commercials?

Last weekend I was in New York for a long-overdue visit to two most fabulous friends, Elizabeth and Linda, the latter of whom happened to be in town from Austin to receive the 1st annual Wasserstein Playwright Award. In addition to catching up with my friends, of course, the rest of my agenda consisted of a list of foods to be sure to eat while in town. Not that Central Park and the Met weren't spectacular, but we're talking about a city with celebrated Italian, Jewish, and Chinese neighborhoods packed into southern Manhattan alone. And that means really good food.

I didn't have a camera (I am without a memory card, hence the scarcity of posts of late), but I did make the trip with my professional-photographer-friend Mark who just happened to be itching to try out his new Leica. Which meant he had to endure a weekend of me protesting, "No, shoot the food, not me!" (and somehow I'm still in the pictures more than I'd like). But anyways, here's what I got to eat in New York:

Hot Dogs in Union Square, 12:30am. On nearly every street corner in lower Manhattan you can find a hot dog stand. What's more interesting is that they're all still selling hot dogs well past midnight on the weekends, perhaps appealing to the just-got-off-a-five-hour-bus-ride-from-DC demographic. If they are, kudos, it totally worked.

Pastrami Sandwich at Metro Diner, 11am. The next day, after a late night in Chelsea and back to my friend Elizabeth's place uptown, we stopped by the Metro Diner our way to Central Park. I've been a little crazy about cured meats lately, and the pastrami was very, very good - moist and pleasantly fatty, but not greasy. I do wish they had toasted the rye around the meat, but I guess that might be some kind of pastrami-sandwich heresy, as no one ever serves it that way. It wasn't one of those ginormous piles of meat that you'd get from the Carnegie Deli and that you can't even get your mouth around, but I'm not sure how I feel about a sandwich I'd need to eat with a fork anyways.

Sushi Plate at Westside Sushi, 8pm. More specifically, Mark's sushi plate, which consisted of tuna, fatty tuna, salmon, whitefish, and shrimp nigiri sushi and a California roll. I had some eel and a scallop roll. Linda and her two other friends, of whom all had grown up in Japan, picked the place, so I figured we were in good hands. The sushi here was fresh, which is to say it was very delicious.

When we were seated, we were brought tasty amuse-bouches of seaweed and mushrooms. I haven't had much seaweed before, but am now quite a fan - it tastes briny, though in an oceanic sense; not especially acidic or salty, but pungent, complex, tasting literally of the sea. The ever-present miso soup and edamame were good, and I especially liked their pork-filled gyoza, pan-friend dumplings much like a potsticker. And the sake helped keep things merry.

Chicken Kabobs somewhere in Chelsea, 1am. So in addition to the hot dog carts, there are also carts selling kabobs, gyros, and a variety of other things. The smell wafting through the streets from the kabob carts is just unbelievable, and as you get up to one, the reason is obvious: the street carts grill up the kabobs over beds of charcoal. The resulting meat is smoky and wonderfully charred, if a little undersalted. And this is all amid the scores of fashionably attired people out and about, looking for a club to party at. What an awesome city.

Mozarella and Ricotta pizza, Vegetable pizza at Ray's Pizza, 10am. As you might be able to discern from the photo, it was late night and early morning on Sunday. I ended up staying at Linda's hotel overlooking Times Square (apparently you get put up in very nice hotels when you're an award-winning playwright), so I had to go to Harlem and back the next morning to grab my stuff and catch the bus back to DC.

While in Harlem, Mark and I had breakfast of bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches at the Nadal Deli, and in our ravenous zeal, ate them before we remembered to take a picture. The deli counter was in the back of a cramped and narrow store, and was a real find. The owners are perhaps Middle Eastern or Egyptian or South Asian (god am I ignorant) but can break out in Spanish to those in the heavily-Dominican neighborhood. Which is why New York is awesome: tri-lingual deli guys.

After another subway trip back downtown, I had some time to kill before the bus came when I spotted Ray's Pizza on Broadway. It wasn't their first store in Little Italy, that mecca of authentic New York pizza, but it was still unbelievably good. Mark had a slice of their Vegetable pizza, loaded to the hilt with toppings and absolutely delicious. But I think I preferred mine, a slice of mozarella and ricotta pizza - no sauce, just a perfectly crisp, slightly chewy crust, good mozarella and even pools of even better ricotta. There's so much heavy, bland ricotta around that when you get really good ricotta, that's light, pillowly soft, and tasting of fresh, flavorful milk, it's really something to get excited about. I was tempted to get another slice, but had to remind myself, You were already full after the sandwich you ate just an hour-and-a-half ago. One slice is enough.

I already have plans for this summer when my family and I will stop by the city on our way to Montreal, which includes stops in Little Italy and Chinatown, two of the more glaring omissions from the weekend. There's still sausages and bagels and dim sum and I haven't even begun considering any of the many more upscale restaurants I've been dreaming of going to. So there might have to be some more weekend trips in the meantime. Elizabeth, I hope I can have your couch...