New York Restaurant Reviews – Page 14 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Keens Steakhouse

72 West 36th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues
212/947.3636
$130 for two, with drinks, with tip
♥ ♥ ♥

To celebrate my getting a new job during these harsh economic times, the Dr. took me to Keens Steakhouse for their legendary mutton chops. I think I might have to keep him around for a while.

The meat from a sheep less than twelve months old is called lamb, and as we all know, is usually tender and mild in flavor. The meat from an older sheep is called mutton, and for reasons I can’t find on the Web, is not as popular on New York City menus as lamb. Someone please explain why I can’t enjoy mutton much more often! We ordered it medium-rare and it was perfectly bloody and hefty. Keens wouldn’t be the only Herald Square Theater District survivor today if they haven’t been this consistent since 1885.

For lack of better wording, mutton is more manly. I felt stronger and more carnivorous when I was eating it even though we were sharing one $45 chop. There is no lack of male reminders at Keens–the collection of churchwarden pipes from old customers cover the ceiling, from Teddy Roosevelt’s to General Douglas MacArthur’s. Walking in, you’d think you’ve entered a museum rather than a restaurant. If it wasn’t for Lillie Langtry, actress and paramour of King Edward of England, taking Keens to court in 1905 for having denied her access to its gentlemen-only premises, it will still be a rendezvous of the men’s club today. She won her case, swept into Keens in her feathered boa and ordered like a man.

Mr. Jones Yakitori

243 East 14th Street between Third and Second Avenues
212/253.7670
$222 for four, with drinks, with tip
♥

Update, 2009: My Deathwatch prediction came true after only a month.

Oy, I’m putting Mr. Jones Yakitori on a Deathwatch. I don’t know why anyone would open a yakitori restaurant a few blocks away from St. Marks Place where yakitori joints are a dime a dozen. I immediately looked around for the grill when I went in, but I only saw booths for group diners. Upon entering, you immediately realized it’s that type of place. The decor reminded me of some of the worst Thai places in the city where mod is the predominant theme and the restaurant converts into a club come the weekend. I just know that I regret paying over $200 for a mediocre dinner for four. Good thing my companions, two of whom were Japanese, had a good sense of humor.

The foie gras inside the meatballs were barely noticeable. The bowl of rice cooked in butter and truffle oil was, admittedly, an unnecessary selection but it was even more ridiculous that they charged $9 for it. The yakitori pieces that would have cost us $3 apiece elsewhere were $5, while a pair of chicken ones came in for $7. Everything added up quickly and we accumulated a pretty long list of small bites. If we brought our boys with us, they would have complained at how hungry they still were after all that expense. Heck, I wanted a slice of pizza on my way home! (If you know my relationship with pizza, you would know that that’s saying a lot.)

The waitstaff were pretty, and though they were attentive, none of them looked like they appreciated Japanese food. I wouldn’t be asking them the difference between kobe and wagyu beef anytime soon. But then again, they might not be around even if I wanted to.

Kyo-ya

94 East 7th Street between First and Avenue A
212/982.4140
$130 for two, with drinks, with tip
♥ ♥

I’d like to think that kaiseki is Japan’s answer to Spain’s tapas if only a pincho is served in bejeweled bread held together by a hand-carved toothpick. The most basic types of food need to go a long way in a kaiseki meal, so presentation is key to make them more appealing. For the Japanese, it’s an aesthetic experience.

I remember my first meal at Morimoto where a selection of fine sashimi was served on a large porcelain square container. The tub was so ridiculously big that it took attention away from the fish. Sometimes, you only need the most humble utensil to appreciate a skillfully-executed dish, no? At Kyo-ya, however, the attention to both food and presentation are pretty much equal: both are of very high quality. A very simple mackerel roll was beautifully presented with edible flower petals, while the uni came on top of a miniature bale of hay. The fish was served on a small mat woven together with a soft piece of thread while a twig of what looked like mistletoe stuck out of the crushed ice. Even the wasabi was on onion-skin paper I’ve only seen used for truffles. The accessories seem unnecessary, but Kyo-ya makes them so delicately that they don’t come off cheesy. Each order, even our very simple udon soup and plate of grilled sardines, came out looking like very special gifts.

Inakaya

231 West 40th Street between Seventh and Eighth
212/354.2195
$65 for two, with drinks, without tip
♥ ♥

Inakaya is a good place for two kinds of dates: one, an awkward first date when neither have to nervously talk but still have a good time; two, a long-term couple date when almost anything can slip by and forgiven by the end of the night. For the first couple, they can’t really have a quiet conversation while dining at Inakaya because it’s a robatayaki, also known as robata, or an open grill where every few minutes a chorus of waiters and chefs shout and repeat customers’ orders. For the long-timers, they may be amused with the very lively setting and shrug off another date night out.

The Dr. and I belong to the latter. We were to meet midtown for dinner to eat sushi, but we didn’t want to spend too much money. I was at the new Muji store inside the New York Times building and noticed Inakaya next door. It was only a week old when we visited, but it was already packed with Japanese salarymen who perhaps wanted to support the establishment’s efforts. There were a few families as well and the younger kids seemed to enjoy all the screaming. Some of them even participated in the mochi-making presentation by the window where a giant pestle is used to mush up the soy.

The robatayaki‘s origin leads back to the city of Sendai in the northeast region of Japan. The chefs sit on their shins wearing ninja-like socks surrounded by carefully-selected fresh ingredients. At Inakaya, it’s orchestrated how they kneel and reach out for the produce and they use the same fluid moves to serve the finished dishes. Long wooden paddles are used so that the chefs can reach you from across the grill while the rest of your order is served by kimono-wearing waiters.

The food can’t get any better for something across the Port Authority bus terminal. The oysters came from the west coast, and even though they lightly touched the grill, they still tasted like the ocean. The day’s sashimi special came from Tsukiji Market that morning but I don’t remember it being out of our budget. We unfortunately skipped the beautiful marbled meats that were displayed in front of us–we weren’t in the mood for red meat–but we couldn’t say no to the buttery uni.

It’s nice to know that there’s a place to go to to escape the mediocrity of Hell’s Kitchen and the awfulness of fast-food kingdom at Times Square. Now I know where to eat if I ever find myself at the bus station or the AMC movie theater next door even if it means putting up with a little bit more of noise.

Bubby’s Pie Co.

1 Main Street in DUMBO, Brooklyn
718/222.0666
$45 for two, with a drink, without tip
♥ ♥

We descended on the island of Brooklyn earlier than we would want to be, but Bubby’s was already teeming with young families and baby strollers. We squeezed ourselves past the waiting crowd and told the maitre d’ we would take the two empty seats at the bar. At Bubby’s, the bar is the way to go if there’s less than four of you so you avoid the long wait, but you also sacrifice service.

At the bar, we ordered a bloody Mary and a diet Coke. We split the grass-fed burger and opted for a salad instead of fries and shared a side of two eggs over-easy and bacon. As soon as our plates were placed in front of us, it took more than ten minutes to start eating because we had to wait for our waiter to walk by so that we can remind him about the ketchup and mustard. I walked to the other end to find one of the two guys running the bar, but couldn’t find them. When one of them came out of the kitchen, I couldn’t get his attention until he returned to our side of the bar to hear the lady next to us complain about her eggs. (She ordered fried and got scrambled instead.) But when we finally started eating, it was a very pleasant burger, and not because we were extremely hungry but because it as juicy, perfectly medium-rare and well-seasoned. The salad was boring so we mixed in some of the egg yolks with it to give it a kick. In fact, forget about well-crafted salads when you go to Bubby’s: order anything that’s heartier and heavier than a bowl of freshly tossed vegetables and expect to wait.