I’m all frowny face that Kitchen 22 (also it’s sister restaurant Kitchen 82) closed. Located in the Flat Iron District of Manhattan, Kitchen 22 was Chef Charlie Palmer’s cheap, yet hip, prix-fixe restaurant. For $25 you got three courses. It was an awesome concept for young people who want high-end, fresh dining, but who can’t afford most high-end restaurants.

According to a press release: “The seating capacity and the limited menu concept no longer fit the direction of growth and development of the company.”

I’m not quite sure what that means because I’m not proficient in politically correct, non-committal PR speak. But when a chef becomes a company, that makes me feel all icky inside. Like I need an adult.

Click link for obligitory photo (NSFW) …

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I had two weeks off from The Restaurant and tried to eat out at new places as much as possible. Let me preface this with the fact that, for some reason, I am constantly ordering the worst thing on a restaurant’s menu. I don’t know why this happens, but like in those Budweiser radio ads, I am the person that ends up suffering with “entree envy”. Also, when reviewing a restaurant, I don’t hold things like shitty service, having to wait for a table or if they run out of a dish against the restaurant.

1.) Crave (570 Henry Street, between Carroll and Summit in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn): A very small, but cute and modern restaurant. A majority of their business is take-out and delivery. The menu is pretty large for such a small place. It ranges from chicken sandwiches with fries to fine dining. Matt and I ordered from the $25 prix fixe menu (Tuesdays through Thursdays). I got the frog legs and fried chicken and mochi. Matt got Thai-style mussels and trout and panna cotta.

Would I go back? Yes.

2.) Hana Cafe (235 Smith Street between Douglass and Butler in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn): I went here for a late lunch of sushi because it was three pm and most places on Smith Street stop serving lunch at that time. Cute atmosphere and unlike most other generic Japanese restaurants, the staff doesn’t stand around watching you eat. The fish for the sushi and sashimi wasn’t so fresh, but the rolls were tasty. Sushi and sashimi lunch special $12 (lunch is from noon until four).

Would I go back? If they were my only option again. And I’d get kitchen food.

3.) Saul: (140 Smith Street between Dean and Bergen, Boerum Hill? Brooklyn Heights? I don’t fucking know and I don’t fucking care, Brooklyn) Saul has a Michelin Star and it’s prices reflect it. The amuse was a pureed red lentil soup with creme fraiche and chives which was simple and delicious but odd since it’s Summertime. I had the seared Hudson Valley foie gras (they also do a terrine of it) and Matt had a homemade pasta special that included a poached egg and mussel stock. I, unfortunatley but not surprisingly, choose my entree poorly: I had the diver scallops with hen of the woods mushrooms (also known as maitake) and chorizo. I picked this entree solely because maitakes are my favorite mushrooms. They smell so fragrant and earthy and I describe the taste as the what the air tastes like during a Summer thunderstorm. The mushrooms needed salt (and they don’t put salt on the tables, very arrogant) and I got some sand or bits of shell in my scallops. And my water glass had a chip in the lip. Matt’s entree, “a lamb tasting” special, was definitely Michelin worthy. Five different cuts of lamb! Including the kidney! They also do a $45 four-course prix fixe and a $95 tasting menu. Saul himself was in the kitchen, but he wasn’t in chef whites: Old t-shirt, cargo shorts, flip-flops and nothing covering his hair. Very dangerous. Like asps.

Would I go back? Because it’s so expensive, I’d rather try some place new. If money wasn’t an issue, then yes I’d go for the tasting menu.

4.) Kebab Cafe (25-12 Steinway St. at 25th Ave, Astoria, Queens): Holy shit! Did you see that recent episode of Bizzare Foods / No Reservations with Andrew Zimmern and Anthony Bourdain about New York City? Kebab Cafe is the Egyptian place they went to in Astoria that sells all sorts of awfully delicious offals. A teeny tiny restaurant with about five or six tables, but the chef (Ali) comes to your table and instead of handing you a menu, he tells you the menu. Choose your own adventure out of veg, fish and meat (all with “Egyptian hocus-pocus”). Meat included oxtail, tongue, mountain oysters (that’s a nice way of saying “nutsack” for you n00bz), heart, brains, livers, sweetbreads and more! Good god! I told Ali to cook me some sort of organ meat of choice. He made me sweetbreads, which satiated my organ meat craving, but were sauteed instead of breaded and fried. My friend Joe got the tongue and his girlfriend Red won with the oxtail dish (which contained a mysterious heart, about the size of a button and which I enjoyed).

So after a hummus, babaganoush and some other mystery paste plate, we shared two appetizers. Then entrees. Then a dessert plate and I still wasn’t stuffed. Awesome.

Would I go back? Fuck yeah, mother fuck! I’d go back for dinner right now if I didn’t have plans. I want brains and hearts and livers!

5.) Chimu (482 Union Ave between the BQE service road and Conselyea, Williamsburg, Brooklyn): An unassuming Peruvian restaurant in Williamsburg right next door to THE hipster bar, Union Pool. Oddly enough, there were no hipsters eating there but a whole lot of norms. A very welcoming, sincere staff. Matt and I shared the paella special for two. I’m used to paella being a plate of seasoned rice with some bits of seafood in it. This fucker was a pot of seafood with maybe half a cup of rice at the bottom. A whole lobster, crab claws, green lipped mussels, shrimps, calamari rings. Unfortunately, the fish wasn’t the freshest but I wasn’t expecting it to be. They do have pitchers of delicious sangria, though.

Would I go back? Only if my friends wanted to go.

6.) Fette Sau (354 Metropolitan Ave at Havemeyer, Williamsburg, Brooklyn): My third time. The pork ribs have gotten better. And this time they had pastrami on the menu, which isn’t anything like deli counter pastrami.

Would I go back? I’m gonna keep going until they have pig tails. After five trips and no pig tails, I’m gonna call shenanigans.

7.) Nita Nita (46 Wythe Ave at North 8th, Williamsburg, Brooklyn). A cute, hip-but-not-hipster tapas lounge and bar in Williamsburg. I went here for drinks and tapas for a friend’s birthday. I don’t know shit about tapas, but these dealies were delicious. Chorizo sausage with croutons ($6), cold medium-rare beef slices with rosemary jus ($?), a cheese board with three cheeses, baguette and apple slices ($12). And sangria. So much sangria. And other girlie drink specials. They also have a late night snack menu and midnight happy hour. Oh, and a garden.

Would I go back? Yes, with other ladies to escape the dive bars and meat markets in that neighborhood.

8.) Hibino: (333 Henry Street between Atlantic and Pacific, Brooklyn Heights?) Not your typical, cookie-cutter Japanese restaurant. You know, those neighborhood places that have exactly the same menu, except maybe they come up with difference names for their sushi rolls like “crazy roll” or “green dragon roll” or “viagra roll” and they all offer teriyaki and tempura and lunch specials. This place feels more authentic. A wonderful, clean, modern interior with an open kitchen. Japanese style tapas called obanzai for $4 a plate and the selection changes every day. We got broiled hamachi (yellowtail) jaw, beef tataki (carpaccio, pictured) and “fried squid bits”. Matt got the braised beef and I had the sushi dinner. We shared a soy pudding for dessert which came with soy tea! They also make their own tofu!

Would I go back? What time’s good for you?

9.) Cafe LULUc (214 Smith Street, between Baltic and Butler, Brooklyn): Fuck this place. It comes along all inviting like and says “Hey, look at me! I look like a cute Parisian cafe! Have a cafe au lait and read some magazines, why not maybe perhaps?” And then you go in there and order the tuna niçoise salad and you know you are gonna get canned tuna but fuck it you want it anyway but holy fuck they give you canned black olives!!! What fucking kind of “French” eatery does that? Shenanigans! SHENANIGANS!!! Fuck this place.

Would I go back? Fuck this place.

There also a new bar in my neighborhood called Bar Great Harry (280 Smith Street at Sackett, Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn). It opened two weeks ago and replaced the odd-smelling Bar. You know, adjacent and across the street from that loud, guido, tramp and douchebag filled bar, Quench. BGH is a beer based bar that also has liquor, but no frozen hurricanes nor $.25 wings nor ladies night. They sell DUB pies, though! Two beer-knowledgeable, friendly, hilarious brothers run it. 12 beers on draught and 60+ beers in bottles and cans. Mainly craft beers, but if for some health reason, like if you lack of tastebuds, they do have Bud and a few other crappy beers, but they will make fun of you behind your back. Or at least I will. Average beer costs $5-7.

Getting the gout is God’s way of telling us we should eat delicious organs in moderation.

No one thinks they have bad taste in anything. People with gaudy McMansions with a shitload of gold, marble and inappropriate colums and shitty art they buy at The Marriot art expo think they are cool. Dudes who have tricked out Hummers with five extra bumpers and a decal on the windshield of Calvin pissing on something think everyone is jealous. The same goes for people’s palates. And no, I’m not talking a matter of personal preferances, I’m talking about quality. Just because something satiates your thirst or hunger, doesn’t mean it’s quality. I had this old co-worker who found out I was into beers and said, “I love good beer! Corona is my favorite!” Since I was friends with her, I proceeded to school her after I made fun of her.

We had this guy come into The Restaurant, saw our little craft beer list and asked the server if we had “anything good… like Stella.” The server came into the kitchen and asked us and I started ranting about how Stella is the Budweiser of Europe and how shitty it is and how dumb the guy was for calling it good compared to the beers we carry and if that’s the kind of palate he has then he should go eat at the Olive Garden. So Chef went out to the table and told the guy pretty much what I was screaming about for five minutes. I don’t know why Stella is the best selling beer in NYC bars.

Yeah, I’m a fucking food and beverage snob. It’s like I’m getting hot sex and you’re humping the couch cushion during a Real World marathon.

ChewFood tip #1: Good beer doesn’t need to whore itself out.

I hate puns. I think they are one of the lowest forms of comedy. They are too easy and most of the time not very clever. But when a chef or restauranteur has the balls to put in a pun in the name of the eatery, I get amused. Not amused enough to eat there, though.

I’ve been tagged! I’m officially “in” with the blogging community! Oh, I feel so accepted. Foodette from RestaurantReviewWorld.com has axed me to list my five favorite places to eat in the area. Unfortunately, I don’t eat out at new places as much as I like to.

Favorite sushi: Kotobuki in Babylon, Long Island. Not to be confused with the sub-par Kotobuki Sushi and Thai in Carroll Gardens. Kotobuki LI is the fourth top rated restaurant in the Long Island Zagat. My only problem with it is that the sushi rice is overly seasoned and too sweet. I used to drive forty minutes and wait another hour just to eat there. The amuse bouche cold noodles are amazing. Service is great.

Favorite drunken snack: Pomme Frites. ‘Nuff said.

Favorite BBQ: Fette Sau in Williamsburg, Brookyln. I don’t care what my nay-saying friends think, I find this shit to be quality. Texas-style (dry rubbed, no sauces). Forgo the dry-ass ribs and go for the berkshire pork belly that melts in your mouth. Cafeteria-style seating. Three dozen whiskies and craft beers in drinkin’ jars. You just have to put up with slow service and young hipsters and their critical stares.

Favorite non-adult beverage treat: Ten Ren Tea House or Saint’s Alp Tea House. Bubble tea. Hot or cold, it’s milky and sweet and contains those giant gelatinous tapioca bubbles. I think I’m going to die choking on one of those things. It will be a delicious death, though. Dozens on flavors including coffee, coconut, ginger, taro and melon. Visually, they are adorable with their pastel colors, dome cap and oversized straws. Both businesses have international locations.

Favorite chain restaurant: Penang. I used be a hostess / server / bartender at the Long Island location. Only a handful of Penang’s are left: In New York, Boston and Philadelphia. It’s Malaysian cuisine, which isn’t really authentic, but it’s tasty and affordable with a “hip” atmosphere. I like the sarang burung: A deep fried taro root bowl filled with seafoods, veg and cashews. They also make an amazing green curry. The menus differ slightly from location to location.

The best meal I’ve ever had in my life: Le Bernardin’s tasting menu.

I know that’s six, but fuck it. And apparently I have to tag other food bloggers to do the same. I dunno who the hell reads this crap I spew out, though.

1. & 2.) The Paupered Chef boys. One lives in Brooklyn and one lives in Ohio. Great photos, writing, research, recipes and reviews. And good guys to get drunk with.

3.) Michele Humes. She’s from Hong Kong, went to a French school, lived in Edinburgh and now resides in Brooklyn and goes to The French Culinary Institute. She’s got an great palate.

4.) J. Slab of Porkchop Express. He reports on quality, cheap ethnic eats in Brooklyn. And he always replies to my emails.

As a woman of discerning taste, I could drink these shits until I puke.

I know people read food blogs in hopes of seeing some awesome, delicious, beautiful food porn photos. But instead I’m gonna gross you out by showing you what happened to me during service tonight. Hell, it grossed me out:

That’s a burn, son. From 375 degree oil. My hand modeling career is totally over. The sous chef even completed my night by accidentally hitting me over the head with a frying pan. Chef was calling me “Burnie” until one of the servers topped him by calling me “Leper”.

Now, to make YOU feel better, I’m gonna post the cutest photo of Pokey. Missing teeth and all:

My problem with Starbucks is that they do not have simple syrup out on their little fixin’s bar. I see people order ice coffees and put white or raw sugar in it. I cringe at the thought of getting a mouthful of grainy, sweet sugar while trying to chillax and enjoy a refreshing iced coffee on a hot day. Especially since you just paid $4 for it. You have to ask for their “classic flavored” syrup when ordering, I’m pretty sure they charge you for it, and you don’t even get to control the amount they put in. Big mistake, Starbucks. You’ve made The List.

The place around the corner from me, The Coffee Den, is where I get my iced coffees from. They are kinda expensive ($3 for a large) and the coffee isn’t the best. However, they have simple syrup out which I greatly appreciate.

Simple syrup is so named because it’s really effing simple. Sugar + water + heat = deliciousness. You can make it during a commercial break of Hell’s Kitchen and it’s extremely hard to eff up. And because of this newfangled thing called “science”, the syrup is actually about 20% sweeter than the OG sugar.

Take equal parts sugar and water and heat in a sauce pan over medium heat, stirring occasionally until the sugar dissolves. You can add more sugar if you want it thicker. Store at room temperature or in the fridge for several months. (I use raw sugar, which I just found out isn’t actually better for you.)

Make flavored simple syrup by throwing in a cinnamon stick, a vanilla pod, some lemongrass or a few citrus rinds. Put it in iced beverages, adult beverages, over fruit or whatever else Google tells you you can do with it.

R. Kelly is currently working on a song about sex and simple syrup.

I’m up the part in “The Omnivore’s Dilema” about how a human can only consume so many pounds of food in a year and how this is a bane of food corporations. That got me thinking about beverages.

There are so many more alternative (and malternative) beverages on the market than from when I was a kid. We had the big name brand sodas, powdered ice tea mix and those barrel “juices” that were 10 for $1 and made my throat scratchy. Then came along Snapple and Wendy with their juices, teas and sodas (which I miss, like the cherry-lime rickey) and other small companies that didn’t make it (Original New York Seltzer). Then Red Bell. Vitamin Water. Arizona. Pomegranate juice. The explosion of bottled water and fall-out of people ooh-la-la-ing someone who drinks Evian. We spend so much money on beverages when tap water is basically free.

Even the liquor companies have jumped on the band wagon and released new drink flavors. Vanilla vodka, mango rum and coffee tequila. Though, I think this is a total novelty and assume the market for these things are high maintenance women and guidos.

This isn’t a call to go back to the basics. I actually dig the vast varieties. I’m sipping on a Ito En peach tea right now that costs $1.50 each at Fairway. One bottle contains 120 calories and 30g of sugars. I am prone to buying the large gallon sizes of Diet Arizona Green Tea with honey, which I refer to as “Juice”. I’m not a soda drinker any more, but I’m currently a sucker for anything new and “natural” that’s flavored with natural sugars. Unfortunately, more often than not, they are shitty.

What is it about new beverages that make us say, “Oooh, I wanna try that!”? More so with most people than foods. When’s the last time you heard someone say, “Celery root? I’ve never had that. I gotta get me some.”

“‘Ey, oh! Lemme get a blueberry martini wit Red Bull. And a jack’n'diet for my bro.”

People like pictures. And I guess you’d expect a food blog to have photos of food. But it’s going to be awhile before I supply you with some because my third Canon Elph broke today while I was shooting Matt training his recently sprouted hop plants. I’m looking into a Panasonic Lumix camera because they have Leica lenses and they are half the cost of Leica digital cameras. The moral of the story is fool me three times, I call shenanigans on your camera company. Canon, you’ve made The List.

In other news, I was weeding my backyard today and found some sort of melon or squash plants! I’m not quite sure what kind they are, but I’ll find out later on in the year. I’d take photos and post them, but you know.

We finally dined at Petite Crevette on Hicks tonight. I say finally because it’s around the corner from our apartment and I pass by it at least twice a day. It’s an adorable little French bistro that’s heavy on seafood but light on the palate. Great service and a very welcoming staff (one of the servers recognized me from earlier in the day when I was walking Pokey by there). I wish we had a table by the kitchen, because it’s fascinatingly tiny: Four burners, one cutting board and only room enough for one cook. We started with the crab corn chowder and soft shell crab (deep fried and served with frites over a bed of greens with mustard and wasabi mayo). For entrees we had Long Island striped bass and tuna steak nicoise (rare) - both served with amazing mashed potatoes (creamy and buttery, but still fluffy and potatoey) and al dente carrots, haricot verts and zucchini. To finish, some of that famous Red Hook key lime pie with whipped cream, which I was really impressed with because it wasn’t too sweet. Petite Crevette is byob (corking fee is $5) and does not take credit cards. Total for two appetizers, two special entrees, one dessert and corking fee was $90 including tax and tip. They have a take-out menu and are open for lunch. This is a not an itis causing eatery.

Yo momma’s face is so ugly… 

There’s no food move that I hate more than an overcooked piece of meat. Especially a quality piece of meat. And yesterday I ruined a roast and am still lamenting it. It’s never happened to me before. I used to be able to cook roast beef to perfection even without a thermometer.

Yesterday I had a little casual dinner party. I braved Fairway twice this weekend for supplies. Jamie Oliver’s Sunday Roast: Roast beef with rosemary potatoes and a red onion, red wine jus and huge-ass Yorkshire puddings. I’ve made this meal quite a few times before, but never in my new apartment.

I bought this beautiful 2 1/2 lb. organical eye of round (not round eye, which probably would taste dry and bland). The color was this amazing bright pink.

I had a digital thermometer and all. I took it out of the oven when it hit 135 F. After letting it rest and making my Yorkshire puddings and pan gravy, Matt cut into the roast to reveal, gulp, well-done! We figured it was a combination of me covering it with too much with tinfoil while resting on the granite countertop. But from medium rare to well done? That’s craziness. At least it was the best well-done roast beef I’ve ever had (I think due to the organicalness).

I’m still all (meaning floating frowny head with no body) especially since I was having company over and wanted to impress them. And it doesn’t help that I’m working in a fine restaurant and should be able to cook a god damn roast beef to somewhat near desired doneness.

So now I know not to let foods rest on granite. I should go buy a janky cooling rack. And I’m never letting meat rest under tinfoil again. Lesson learned.