SoHo Park Pickles

Around lunchtime we had an interest in a light lunch, and ironically we found ourselves at SoHo Park, purveyor of many varieties of deep-fried potatoes and other vegetables, as well as a wide range of mayonnaise-based sauces.

While our son was only game for the fries, the adults opted to try something a little bit different and so we chose the fried pickles. Having enjoyed similarly named foods in the past, we were fully expecting deep-fried pickle chips (i.e. thin found cross sections of pickle possibly with ridges, as you would find in a jar of Vlasic hamburger dill chips).

Instead, what we received were pickle spears, and after trying these I have to say that it is an objective statement of fact that fried pickles are better made with chips than spears. The reasons are as follows:

• Chips provide a significantly higher surface-to-volume ratio than the equivalent mass of spears. For deep fried foods surface area equals fried batter, and so it goes without saying that increasing the crunchy outside to pickled cucumber inside ratio means better eating.
• The larger volume of pickle packs more liquid content, which likely means that it is much more difficult to drain, pat, or squeeze out enough moisture so that the outside will be dry enough to allow the batter to cling properly. Although the spears were clearly well cooked and the fried outside initially crispy, the batter easily flaked off because no matter how much moisture is driven out of the pickle surface, the thick spears still retain plenty inside which quickly rises back to the surface one the pickles start to cool, making the batter slough off in an unappealing manner.
• When served in the basket, the spears make for a much heavier, denser serving mass, easily packing efficiently into the available space. I think we probably had a whole jar of pickles in that one serving basket, which probably weighed a couple of pounds, and they were closely packed together which increased the tendency to get soggy and lose their coating. With fried foods it's much better if the individual pieces are small and oddly-shaped so that as they tumble into the serving container there is plenty of air space and overall the portion seems lighter and more airy.

By far the best part of the experience were the various sauces; both the fries and pickles came with two choices and so we were able to try a total of four. Of course, it's hard to go wrong with anything that's whipped into mayonnaise, but still we found the variety interesting, with the basil mayo being the best. We did try one non-mayonnaise choice, the spicy ketchup, which was also excellent.

Off the Menu at Balthazar

This morning we decided to drop in on Balthazar for breakfast, our first time eating there before 10am when they start serving brunch. Earlier than that on weekends they only serve a continental breakfast which we though would be okay, but on arriving we discovered that a couple of crucial items we really wanted were not on the menu.

Specifically, we were looking for a couple of breakfast staple items, bacon and fruit salad. After a quick discussion about the continental menu and the conspicuous lack of these items, we decided we would take our chances and ask the waiter whether the kitchen could possibly prepare them for use even though they were not officially part of the continental board of fare. We had in mind, of course, the fact that it was 9:30 and at 10:00 they would begin serving a full brunch menu including both of these items, so it didn't like that great a stretch, but one never knows what sort of reaction the question will produce.

My wife went first, her assigned request being for the bacon. The waiter handled that one fairly easily, with a perfunctory answer that brunch items were not available without exception. There was no hint of relent or apology in the tone (not that this was expected).

Then it was my turn, with the request for the fruit salad. This time the waiter seemed quite taken aback. His first response was an awkward pause, followed by an admonition that he would have to check with the kitchen (emphasized with a broad gesture in that general direction). As I was following up my request with an attempt at assurance that we know it wasn't time for brunch yet so no problem if they couldn't manage it, he again held up his hands and indicated that he was going to have to check them "them" (meaning the kitchen, I think).

Apparently he meant that he would have to check before he could continue with taking our order, because at that point he backed away slightly before turning and heading off to the kitchen. I was left feeling like we had done something inappropriate at that point. I wouldn't have been surprised at that point if we had simply been ushered out by the management.

Instead, a couple of minutes later new a women appeared at our table. Apparently she was also on the staff in some sort of escalation capacity, and she asked us if indeed we were the ones who wanted the fruit salad. I wasn't sure what to say at first, since I thought it possible that she would be the one responsible for implementing management policy of showing us the door for our excessive pattern of unreasonable requests. Instead, though, I admitted that we had indeed inquired about ordering off the menu. She then told us that they had exactly one fruit salad in the kitchen (and no more), and then asked if we would like to have it.

This still seemed like a trick of some sort, with the progress of questions and the strange behavior of the waiter. On the other hand, this new person was fairly upbeat and seemed on the surface to be enthusiastic about the prospect of us taking the fruit salad off their hands. Also, I figured there were still plenty of places around the area to eat breakfast if this suddenly all went wrong and so decided to accept the offer of the fruit salad.

After nodding in confirmation, the woman disappeared and a few moments later our waiter returned. We weren't sure about the status of the order, since the waiter had left somewhat abruptly. There followed a somewhat awkward exchange where he asked if someone had come to see us, to which we answered yes, that we had been generously offered a fruit salad. He then asked if we wanted it, which by that point really seemed strange given that we were going through so many layers of questioning to get it.

By this time it was nearly quarter before ten, and so it wasn't long before we started seeing lots of fruits salads being whisked around the dining room, heightening our feeling that this was indeed a strange way to handle our special request.

Once our food arrived (including one bowl of fruit salad), we began to speculate on the amount we would be charged for this highly irregular option. I was sure that the extra grief the kitchen had gone through to fulfill the off-schedule request would be deemed worthy of a price somewhere in excess of $10, but it turned out that we were charged only $5, which was the same as the price of the granola and yogurt bowl with fruit, which incidentally was available on the continental breakfast menu.

Journey to Mars 2112

This evening we traveled to Times Square to visit the space-themed restaurant Mars 2112. Certainly one doesn't go to a place like this for the food; in fact anyone not accompanying male children under the age of 12 should automatically be barred at the door as a preemptive measure to prevent any misunderstandings related to the labeling and signage that indicates this is in any way related to the traditional meaning of "restaurant & bar."

Instead, this is of course an entertainment complex that happens to subsidize the cost of the various novelty decor, television displays, and pseudo entertainers in martian costumes through sales of food and beverage items. On this particular night it was my goal to entertain our six-year-old son, and having done some research on the place beforehand I was fully aware of the prospects going in. Thus expectations on the food front were low.

My rule in situations like these is to stick with the most basic items that are hard to mess up, and so we ordered the chicken fingers and a cheeseburger with swiss cheese and mushrooms for he and I respectively.

I always find the handling of a burger order to be a revealing indicator of the quality of a restaurant operation, specifically with regard to how thoroughly the meat is cooked. One option for the restaurant is not to ask and simply serve the burger well-done, which is the safest and hardest to botch from a safe food handling or competent preparation standpoint.

A restaurant that fancies itself a notch above fast food or entry-level family restaurant will ask the diner how they prefer the burger cooked. This gives the diner the impression that the kitchen is more sophisticated and accommodating, and if done correctly can result in a higher degree of customer satisfaction. On the other hand, going this route can is not without risk for the restaurant since they will have to ensure that a) the quality of the ingredients along with their handling and preparation are sufficient to ensure that the desired temperature can be achieved without making the diner violently ill, given that medium-rare and below precludes cooking the meat to the FDA-recommended 160F and b) the line cooks have the skill actually to come close to the requested temperature consistently. For me the worst is when I am asked how I want it (as long as I don't see any obvious warning signs I wil ask for medium-rare) and then have it delivered well done. Better not to ask than to set expectations and not deliver.

In this case I asked for medium-rare and the delivered product was a solid medium, which was a pleasant surprise given my expectations. The rest of the food on both our places (fries, chicken tenders) was competently deep-fried, and so we finished our meal without a major disappointment.

The most negative thing I found about the place was that the A-1 steak sauce on the table was clearly stretched very thin through and showed substantial dilution. I expect that kind of thing from a public school cafeteria, but it should be absolutely forbidden in commercial restaurant operation.

On the whole, I would probably avoid eating there again, but doing so wouldn't be the worst thing in the world (or on mars).

Otto

Tonight we were in the mood for something reliably good for dinner, so we headed down by Washington Square Park to eat at Otto. At this point I can say from experience that the experience there on a Sunday evening is much different from a Friday or Saturday night. The beginning and middle of the weekend at Otto seem dominated by a younger crowd eager to see others and be seen, but certainly not to converse with each other since the ultra-loud audio system would seem to ensure that the only way to communicate with hand signals. Not that people don't try to yell over the music, though, which adds another layer of noise to foundation of eclectic popular, alternative, and electronic music selections.

On Sunday evening, though, the music is toned down and coincidentally or not a completely different clientele shows up. It wouldn't be hard to convince me that someone is coordinating a flash mob of strollers to storm in every Sunday at 6 PM, despite the fact that they can only get in by accomplish a miracle of volumetric geometry by threading them through the revolving door that serves as the single customer entrance. Lucky for us our son is well past the stroller stage and can slip through the door under his own power.

For tonight's dinner we repeated a standard formula involving a selection of antipasti including meat, cheese, and vegetables. This time we go for the daily special bresaola, a trio of cheeses including pecorino peppercorn goat and gorgonzola, brussel sprouts, and alfonso olives.

The wide variety of antipasti combined with the fact that every time we have visited they are all executed very well is probably the number one reason we enjoy this place so much. Every one we have tried has proven excellent, without any hint that the range of choices is being constrained by a scarce allocation of attention to detail and quality. The best choice tonight was the brussels sprouts, which had a really good roasted flavor without any hint of the unpleasant taste that can arrive from ovvercooking.

The only negative comment I can make about the experience of eating here is that the food runners typically deliver the food in a gruff, almost grudging manner. Certainly it's understandable that they are in a hurry, and if it were the army of kids running free from the strollers I could sympathize as well, but since this seems to be the case all through the weekend I don't think it's just the strollers.

In any case, tonight's entrees included pizza with roasted cauliflower and spaghetti carbonara, and our son enjoyed the kid's plain cheese pizza. Currently Otto holds second place (behind Crispo) in my own personal ranking of Manhattan carbonara dishes, which I have a specific sentimental fondness for.