Start your holiday shopping early

The MTA has some interesting items for sale.

Flying Wings Nutri Chips

I tried three flavors/prescriptions (“Calm” olive oil/feta [salty but good with some prosecco]; “Jet Lag” French Onion [fine, my favorite of the three, but not very onion-y]; and “Empower” New York Cheddar [super salty, not cheddary] of these low fat/high vitamin/got-some-protein-and-fiber chips.

My advice? Stick with some Kettle Bakes.

Laloo’s Goat’s Milk Ice Cream

Vanilla Snowflake is good and tangy, Deep Chocolate is more frozen-yogurty thank I’d like, but then there’s Black Mission Fig. Fig icecream always sounds like it will be good, but it usually disappoints. Laloo’s is the holy grail of fig ice cream: the creaminess and tang nicely balance the sweet dense fruit that’s evenly blended throughout the delicious treat.

(When I was a girl “blent” was the past tense of “to blend”)

Parachute Jump Gets Lit

Although I expected a bit more Marty Markowitz-style hoopla to surround the historic lighting of the Parachute Jump, I still though it looked quite pretty:

Before Lighting

After Lighting

Also, I know these people have been generating a lot of press, but I sampled their wares and I must report: coney island shortcakes are vile, damn near inedible. Someone went a little heavy on the baking soda, imparting a metallic/bitter flavor to the cake and highlighting the oversugared and limp berries. The whipped cream is fine, I guess.

Zim’s Crack Creme

Combining my love of old-timey products and my deep-rooted immaturity, I could not pass up Zim's Crack Creme when I saw it at a local pharmacy today. It's too soon to tell if the website's glowing testimonials are accurate, but it does have a pleasant feel and not unpleasant clove-y scent.

My Favorite Holiday, seconda parte

My aunt and uncle are visiting from Italy, so I thought they might enjoy my favorite holiday. My uncle was too worn out from his trip to the Intrepid, but my aunt was game.  On the walk there we ran into a happy little boy licking a cone. My aunt, who knows very little English, said "Free?" to him. "Yeah!" he gleefully replied. But then he turned a bit serious: "There's a REALLY long line."

The line was, in fact, quite short for free cone day (25 minutes of waiting, tops). Mesmerized (Baffled?) by the  flavor choices, my aunt settled on the exotic-to-her butter pecan, which she proclaimed  "saporito!' (tasty). I had the very delicious half baked frozen yogurt, which did not have anything yogurt-y anywhere in its DNA, but it seemed less likely to immediately give me an arterial blockage. 

Maybe I'm getting too old for free cone day… 

Sette Enoteca E Cucina

Dine in Brooklyn brought us to Sette Enoteca E Cucina tonight. In my opinion, it sits squarely in between Crave and Taku in terms of deliciousness. In addition to the yummy bucatini and marinara, there was a non-annoying (dare I say good) live music thing happenning. Also some tasty fruit tart with fresh whipped cream on the side. Quite good!

Tomorrow night, Royal's Downtown.

Crave

Our second Dine in Brooklyn outing was a smash hit. We splurged for an unremarkable Cotes du Rhone, but everything else was way above average.

Tucked away on Henry Street between First Place and Carroll Street, Crave, like Taku, gets the lighting right. The joint was already jumping when we arrived for our six o'clock reservation (the place seats twenty-five, max). The small space was more than adequately covered by two servers and the hostess, who pitched in bringing out dishes.

As soon as we were seated, they brought us a whole grain flat bread flavored with olive oil and speckled with rosemary. I could have made a meal of that, the bottle of tap water (I am a big fan of the bottle of tap water for the table) and the wine.

There were three prix fixe options, but I went with the meslcun/stilton/walnut salad to start and Daltron had the deep-fried leek and shitake spring rolls to start. Both were fabulous.

I had the delicately fried trout as an entree. The fish was lovely, as was the underlying bed – a mysteriously yet deliciously flavored orzo (I'm usually an orzo hater); Daltron had the pork loin with what he described as the platonic ideal (except for the liliputian portion size) broccoli rabe side, and a baby food (but in a good way) textured ersatz apple sauce.

Dessert (like cocktails, the cause of and solution to all my problems) was equally impressive: I loved my chili-spiced chocolate cake (which looked like a chocolate biscotti when they brought it out {the construction of that clause reminds me that an English teacher corrected my grammar today (I said "it's a good thing you're not her," to someone else, and Ms. Busybody was quick to correct: "it's also a good thing you're not she." I did come back with "it's a good thing I'm not an English teacher so I can say it my way." My way doesn't sound like I'm in a fucking Edith Wharton novel, you pretentious prig. But I digress.)} which was kept company by a tiny scoop of coffee icecream and a dime-sized dollop of the most intensely chocolatey sauce I have ever laid tongue on. Daltron had the mango creme brulee, scoop of kiwi sorbet. His was good. Mine was better.

Go to Crave during Dine in Brooklyn week. It's wicked expensive normally.

Taku

In observance of Brooklyn Restaurant week, we hit up Taku last night. Specializing in noodle soups and other non-sushi Japanese fare, it's an elegant little spot with perfect lighting, which can make or break a place as far as I'm concerned.

We got there a bit after seven wondering if we should have made a reservation, but that wasn't a problem as the place was empty at first. But before long the initially attentive servers disappeared, growing harried while trying to juggle the walk-ins, reservation-holders, and reservation-makers. At one point the chef cleared our dishes and I refilled our glasses with my ever-present bottle of water.

The food? We ordered from the $20.06 Dine in Brooklyn prix fixe: stellar appetizers (eggplant handrolls and longbeans in tofu dressing); uneven entrees (an underspiced pork ramen, an excellent crispy fish); and a phenomenal dessert (deliciously spicy ginger icecream with a sesame seed studded wafer.)

I think Taku merits a second visit, and when restaurant week ends I'd give it another try.

Terrible, and such small portions!

Here is the Times review that piqued my interest about Little Dishes, a new restaurant in the old home of The Cornbread Cafe. I was excited to finally go, and we got there super early (the place is tiny and doesn't take reservations). Immediately impressed with the flawless service, and pleasantly surprised to find an old favorite, Altos Las Hormigas Malbec, on the wine list, I looked forward to a delicious parade of tiny dishes. Sadly, things started to go south as soon as they trotted out precious single slices of that fancy wood-oven bread with a crust so sharp it hurts my mouth.

Daltron and I ordered an assortment of the small stuff: sardines (WAY too marinated and vinegary. Why are you trying to disguise the lovely sardine-iness, Little Dishes?), fried cod cakes (bland), baby octopus over fennel salad (overdressed), an unpleasantly buttery heap of swiss chard, and a pretty good wedge of iceberg with cheesy dressing and above-average black olive spaetzle. The best thing I ate were two oysters (one of each of the varieties offered last night).

Counterintuitively, our dining companions (the Galvinatrix and Matty A) thoroughly enjoyed their meals, and they ordered "Big Dishes": the lamb shank and the cod special. Perhaps the old rule of thumb – appetizers are always the tastiest part of a meal – gets flipped on its head when the restaurant specializes in the small stuff.

I think I can safely say we were all disappointed that Little Dishes really stands by its name when it comes to dessert. We demurely ordered two – the ginger cake and the lemon biscuit with fruit compote. When the itty-bitty portions arrived, I felt like my mommy had hinted at a "treat" in my lunchbox, and noontime revealed it to be nothing more than one of those boxes of raisins so small you can barely wrench it open with your little eight-year-old hands.

I hate when food disappoints.

A happy, unrealted coda: Big Nose Full Body was still open when we left the restaurant, and we scored two bottles of Cantina Zaccagnini and a $10 bottle of the Altos Malbec.