So it’s a humid 95 degrees in New York on a Saturday. Every part of your body is sweaty and sticky and maybe even chaffing. It’s so disgustingly hot out that you are cranky and just want to puke or punch someone in the face. But you decide to go out to a nice restaurant. What do you think most people would choose to eat?

1. Light, (relatively) healthy fish with some spring veg.
2. Red meat: Fish is for women!
3. Risotto with duck confit: Nothing like a big bowl of hot, steamy, creamy, buttery starch on a hot as balls day!

Nothing says Summertime like hot, heavy dishes!

You can tell someone is a restaurant cook just by looking at how fucked up their hands are. If you are an avid cook, then chances are you’ve hurt yourself doing it. Either with a knife or through heat. This isn’t through any lack of skill, shit just happens. And the more you cook, the more likely you are to fuck your shit up.

So, there are three things you can do with your knife: Stab (and in an out motion with the tip), slice (a back and forth sawing motion) and chop (and up and down motion as with an axe). Guess which method I used to break down this thumb?

If you guessed chop, then you are right. You know when you are dealing with an onion and sometimes you get a weird layer underneath the crispy skin and before the to-be-delicious flesh? A kind of leathery layer? Well my paring knife slipped of that layer and landed into my fingers (I got two fingers with one motion). This was on a Wednesday afternoon and I had to come up with multiple ways to keep it safe and clean for the rest of the work week, but still be able to use that digit.

Here are some products in my arsenal for minor mishaps:

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Being a grown-up means things like responsibility and jobs and taxes and cleaning up after yourself. It also means you can do whatever the hell you want. From eating chorizo, chippos and soda for dinner to staying up until four in the morning playing videos games to not being forced to go to church or piano lessons. And that’s fucking awesome.

It also means that you get to buy your own shit for your own place. No more plastic on flower printed couches and and stupid, ugly, useless chotchkeys. Shit like new dishes!

Matt and I went to Fishs Eddy on 19th and Broadway to get new plates, bowls and flatware recently.

We selected from The Diner Whites line, which are off-white, of restaurant quality (read: really heavy and sturdy) and has a large selection of shapes and sizes.

We got six each of large dinner plates ($6 each), lunch plates ($4.50 each), soup plates ($5 each) and cereal bowl ($6 each). We selected modern and heavy 18/10 stainless steel flatware, which cost $5 for each piece.

Fishs Eddy is located at 889 Broadway at 19th Street in Manhattan.

You should buy these dishes if you hate getting laid.

As I mentioned before, Quench, the douche bar on Smith Street closed down. I was pretty psyched to hear a wine and cheese bar was opening up, because I love cheese. And although I know almost nothing about wine, I do enjoy it now and then.

I’ve been into the replacement bar, The Jake Walk, on Smith Street a handful of times since it opened. Of course, with my luck, they always stop serving food just at the time I get there after work. I went in this week with some of the waitrons from The Restaurant. I ordered a $6 glass of blended red. It smelled like ass. I tasted it. It tasted like ass. I gave it to everyone at table to sample to see if I was wrong and everyone smelled it and refused to take a sip. So I placed the glass on the far, empty end of our table to signal to the server or bartender there was a problem. Too bad the bartender and barwench were too busy chumming it up with each other and not keeping an eye on the bar or the tables. Eventually the bartender comes over and after using the word “ass” and asking him to smell the wine he gives a diplomatic answer that everyone has a different palate. I ask for a glass of the $5 wine my friend was drinking. The tab comes and they end up charging me for both glasses. Fucking lame.

Isn’t it part of a bartenders job to make sure their stock is up to par? Especially while working at a wine bar, where your product can go rancid in a few days? I mean, at some restaurants, servers have to get the manager to smell and taste every bottle that’s opened or has been opened for a couple of days. Also, being a new bar, wouldn’t you try not to alienate customers?

What I do like about the place is the decor and the concept. I would love to go back. But too bad I’ve only seen the same three people working the bar and I don’t like the cut of any of their jibs. I’ll stick to the beer bar (Bar Great Harry) across the street, where they are very welcoming, apologetic if anything gets fucked up and not up their own asses.

The Jake Walk
282 Smith Street, at Sackett
Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn

Smugness Alert: Code Orange
Attentiveness of staff: D
Decor: A-
Food: I wouldn’t fucking know and I’m bitter about it
Drink menu: Too big for me, but I guess serious wine and whisky drinkers will love it
Ratio of female to male customers: Clam Bar, 6:1

Yeah, keep on Jake Walkin’ until you hit Bar Great Harry.

Kitchen knives are to me what wands are to witches and wizards in Harry Potter. Not every knife fits every person. You have to be comfortable holding your knife. Preferance for size, shape, weight, balance, metallic make-up all vary from cook to cook.

Really, for the home cook, you only need three knives: A chef’s knife, a paring knife and a serrated knife. And the latter two can be cheap–in price and quality. (And if, for some reason, you don’t eat fresh crusty bread, then you don’t even need the serrtated one.) Unfortunately this doesn’t apply to me, so I end up spending lots of money that probably seems ridiculous to you. But I do like sharp, shiny, pointy things.

I have recently purchased three new knives. I already posted on my new chef’s knife. The only problem with it, is that it’s too large to keep on my station at work during service. So I bought a utility knife which I use as a service knife to do little a la minute jobs–like chiffonade parsley, trim down protein portions and cut pasta sheets. It’s the same brand as my new chef’s knife (Kikuichi) and almost as expensive, but didn’t come with a wooden sheath. The manufacturer calls it a boning knife for some reason. Maybe this is a mistake in translation or maybe they like to make boning things hard for themselves in Japan. 6″ and is carbon steel sandwiched between stainless steel.

Next up is the Wusthof Cruster Buster serrated knife. The fucking this is a called a Crust Buster! It’s 10.5″ inches long and is shaped like a curved chef’s knife for maximum busting through of crusts with minimal effort. $60 with free shipping from Amazon.com. It pretty much rules.

Finally, we have the slicer. Used to, um, slice through meat. Called a sujihiki in Japanese. Using my chef’s knife to make pretty slices out of dozens of portions of meats a night was clumsy and awkward. Kinda like using a toilet wand to brush your teeth. As expensive and the same length as my chef’s knife (9.5″) and obtained from Bowery Kitchen. It’s fucking dreamy and cuts like a hot knife through butter. Using it brings a big shit eating grin to my face.

On knife care: It seems like everyone has an opinion on how to proper care for you knife: Some people hone it on steel before every use (which I don’t). Some people say to never use a diamond honer (which I do). Some people say to never use a honer and only use a sharpening stone (which I use once a week). I find it’s like masturbating–everyone has their own technique to get to the same end.

Alton Brown brings his knives (he is the spokesman for Shun brand) to a professional sharpener, which I was bummed to learn because he’s usually a big D.I.Y. guy.
Now I just have to figure out how to properly dispose of unwanted knives as it’s probably illegal to just leave them on my stoop like people do with clothes, books and old electronics. Anyone have any information regarding this?

As you may or may not know, I have an affinity for baby wipes. People may think it’s gross, but any arguement you have against them, I have a great defense supporting them. I don’t know why more people don’t use them. Why should babies be the only ones? I mean, those dudes don’t even know how to control their own bowels.

Anyway, Fairway decided to jack up the price on them. Which is fine, because I will pay for the luxury of them. But raising the price sixty fucking cents in two weeks?! Come on! That’s just some effed up ess, right there. I remember in high school when my local supermarket raised the price of Little Debbie’s Zebra Cakes by twenty cents and I went berzerker then, too.

In addition, Seventh Generation even changed the packaging slightly - making the baby a little more, um, whiter. I always thought that thing was a ginger halfie, which made me even more inclined to buy it because I was ginger when I was a baby. Now it’s juse some cracker baby taking my money.

Soon baby wipes will cost more than smokes.

But at least there aren’t naked children on a pack of Camel Lights.

This really fucking annoying bar on the corner of Smith and Sackett has closed it doors forever this past Saturday. Quench had more guidos, meatheads and bimbos hanging out outside of it instead of drinking inside of it. It blasted stupid music like the crap that goes “nst-nst-nst” and Bon Jovi. Stereotypes from Bay Ridge would show up drunk and driving, in sweatpants, full of cat-calls and pick fights with each other. Even the people who worked inside would do asshole things.

PS-What’s replacing it is a cheese and wine bar by the owners of Stinky Brooklyn (cheese shop) and Smith & Vine (liquor store).

Smell you later, Quench. Smell you later, forever.

There’s a cooking show on WLIW 21 called Everyday Food that is produced by Martha Stewart. I’m not quite sure of the premise, but I think it’s about a bunch of lesbians with no personalities who live in a house and take turns cooking in an awesome looking kitchen with awesome equipment and an awesome view. They cook simple, (mostly) fresh, healthy food. And they do it painfully slow. I want to reach into the television, grab them by the collar and tell them to hurry the fuck up I’m fucking hungry why the fuck is it taking you ten minutes to chop a fucking pepper you fucking donkey and why the fuck do you all have french manicures and handle raw produce like it’s a live cockroach fucking get in there and cook with some balls you goddamn automatons.

ChewFood grade of food made: A-

ChewFood grade of hosts: D+

Just because you are a woman it doesn’t mean you have to cook like a pussy. 

This book is a lot better than “The Apprentice” that’s on NBC. First of all, there’s no yelling because you are reading it to yourself. Unless you are one of those dumb people who I went to junior high with who have to move their mouths when they read and who are probably grandparents by now. Also, there are no sycophants with dillusions of grandeur. Instead, it’s about an adorable happy-go-lucky Frenchman who loves America. And it’s got recipes in between chapters. Oh, yeah, the guy can cook, too.

Pros: Recipes, America, HoJo’s, the French word for shower is douche

Cons: Donald Trump, babies having babies

ChewFood Grade: B+

Chef Pepin’s partner was never accused of having a fetish for spitting on hookers. I’m just sayin’sall.

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.