Cuba Cafe, 200 Eighth Ave (between 20th and 21st St.)

To celebrate the successful (?) launch of uRadiate, the website startup that Dave has been working so hard on, we found it nothing short of appropriate to go out for a dinner in Chelsea.

We found Cuba Cafe with it's wild, upbeat Spanish music pouring out onto 8th Ave with the front windows open and patrons munching on plantains, sharing empanadas and casually sipping mojitos. We spoke with the waiter and decided to wait an additional 30 minutes to snag a window seat, as it's been one of the first real spring days in New York, and who doesn't love eating (semi) outside?

Unbeknownst to us - that was the only good decision we made that night.

Upon perusing the menu, my order choice was made easily - Atun, the seared yellowfin tuna, marinated with guava, soy sauce and rum, served with a side of chorizo mashed potatoes. This dish alone is what made Cuba Cafe into the runnings for where to go out to eat, but was also half responsible for Cuba Cafe's demise. Dave ordered the marinated grilled pork tenderloin laced with rioja demi and garlic mojo served with onions and tostones. We also got the chorizo appetizer, and a coconut mojito.

The coconut mojito was AWESOME - really sweet, coconut-y, not very rum-y but hey, who's counting - it tastes good. The chorizo arrived soon thereafter and was okay - MUCH better than the sausage we got at Bone Lick - it had a good flavor but wasn't as spicy and crazy as the menu had depicted.

Our meals arrived, and looked incredible. I took the first bite of my tuna, and it was AWESOME - I felt like I was eating a pile of salt on my plate, sprinkled with tuna. (You all know that I love salt, to an unhealthy degree.) By the second bite, I could feel my arteries closing with every molecule of NaCl that hit my mouth. By the third bite, I was wondering if it would be worth my while to run to the bathroom and wash the tuna off from all of the salt it was doused in. Dave expressed this sentiment perfectly when he said, ". . . even chinese restaurants dont pour soysauce on everything."

I guess soy sauce isn't really Cuban, but it sounded really good, right? The chorizo infused mashed potatoes, on the same token were way over-salted, but very very tasty.

Dave's porkchops were equally terrible, but for different reasons. Dave described it perfectly when he said that ". . . it tasted as though the pork chops had been shipped, defrosted, were refrozen and then sat out on the counter for the night before they were cooked and plated." The sauce on them was tasteless and terrible - the only good part about his dish was the rice and beans, which I don't even like - but I had to eat SOMETHING to wash the salt out of my mouth.

We became increasingly dissatisfied as the meal progressed, and at the end just wanted to get the hell out of there. The music was now too loud, our server was nowhere to be found, the people next to us were obnoxious, and there was no more booze. We got the tab, only to find that they charged EXTRA for the coconut in the mojito (not designated on the menu). Way to pinch pennies, seriously. If anything, you're SAVING money by putting less alcohol (or a less potent alcohol) in. Nice.

Cuba Cafe, maybe you should change your menu entries to the following:

Chorizo 8.95
Mediocre Sausage sautéed with tastlessness and the worst vegetable ever

Atun 21.95
Pan seared yellowfin tuna, infused with salt, NaCl, das salz, le sel & de sal.

Chuletas 18.95
3 days old-style pork chops covered in weaksauce with a side of disgusting and terrible

Cuba Cafe gets a .5 fork rating:

Gradisca, 126 West 13th Street (between 6th and 7th Ave)

Wow, can you believe it's been almost a month since our last tragedy at Bone Lick in Chelsea. I was anxiously (but also patiently) awaiting George's week-long update from when he and T were in town. I received it today, but frankly...it's not up to the Fork qualifications. We're going to have to work with the amateurs over here to spice it up and give it the true flavor, the ZEST of what the Flying Fork embodies.

While you all bite your nails in anticipation of this monster, mother-of-all posts, I give you Gradisca - just barely enough to whet your appetite.

Gradisca has been one of the restaurants in my card deck of restaurants that keeps coming up as a place I want to try, but every time gets denied - either for the location, menu, cuisine, etc. (Dad and I denied it in favor of Cafe Loup, which is right across the street from Gradisca.)

So, it came up last night as I presented the options for restaurants that I picked to David as he basically kicked my ass in chess while not even thinking. After a short, brutal game, Gradisca wasn't too long of a walk, I was getting cold as the sun was setting, and it was Italian, which is a great cuisine if you have no idea what you want, or aren't that hungry.

We pondered the menu outside for a minute or two, and decided to check it out, despite being relatively expensive. Upon walking in, my mind, heart and soul were immediately warmed by the three candles on each table, diners leaning in casually and closely over bottles of wine and delicious looking pastas, and our host and waiter being extremely Italian (calling me bella several times throughout the meal). So classy.

We sat down and I felt a little under dressed (jeans and a polo), but it didn't matter as we were treated with amazing service from our waiter. We decided on the pappardelle con ragu di agnello tagliato al coltello (fresh egg pappardelle sautéed with hand-ground lamb ragu), and maltagliati di pasta fresca in crema di tartufo nero (handmade “badly cut” egg pasta in a black truffle cream sauce).

The bread came and was mediocre at best - nothing special or out of the ordinary. Our pastas arrived soon thereafter and I could probably count the number of noodles in my bowl at about twelve - it was that small. $20 for this!? Are you crazy?! I saw Dave immediately dive into his truffle sauce pasta, and the next time I looked up, he was about 2/3 of the way done. (Interesting because he wasn't hungry when we walked in...)

After allowing the smell to slowly permeate my nostrils for a minute or two, I tried mine. The lamb was so tender, so tasty, and the sauce - oh my god. A perfect blend of herbs and spices - this isn't your classic Ragu or Newman's here. It perfectly complemented the homemade pasta, which is a flavor, consistency and texture I feel only existed on that night, at that moment. Maybe they hand-made it in the kitchen. Maybe when we ordered, they had a bullet train that came over from Italy to deliver our food in a special temperature controlled car. Please allow me to say, I have not tasted Italian that good since Mom and I were in Italy two years ago.

And David's truffle pasta? Well, let's start by saying that when they said truffle cream sauce, they didn't mean "cream sauce with some flecks of truffle", nay, they meant truffles pureed INTO a cream sauce. There was absolutely no skimping on the sauce of any kind. I don't even LIKE mushrooms but I definitely just inhaled the pasta and sauce on my fork for a good two minutes before I took my first bite. And the bite held up perfectly to every single expectation I had.

I forced myself to eat slowly, almost a bite a minute to really savor, and enjoy these flavors I know I will probably never taste again.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, we ordered a chocolate soufflé that disappeared within the minute it was put down. So rich, with the perfect hint of dark chocolaty bitterness complimenting the vanilla cream that flooded the edges of the bowl.

Maybe I died last night. Maybe Gradisca was heaven. Maybe I fell from heaven this morning. Do I really care? Nope, it was all worth it.

Gradisca gets 4/5 forks, only because the portion sizes were just so damn small.

Bone Lick, 75 Greenwich Ave (btwn 7th Ave S & Bank St)

The first summer I came to New York, I was invited by Dave and Miranda to join them at Dinosaur BBQ on the west side underneath Riverside Drive bridge.

We had the most amazing experience - a pitcher of beer, delicious shrimp appetizer, brisket was awesome, ribs were great...and of course, west Harlem is such a cool area.

Hoping to replicate this experience with Dave and Logan (who currently lives in that area), I suggested and made plans with both of them to re-visit last Friday night.

Somewhere along the line, DVH and Michio and Brad were invited (not that I'm complaining), and due to Dinosaur being on a two hour wait (!!!), we needed a plan. That plan involved lots of standing on a street corner, smoking (for everyone BUT me), and Blackberrying for a potential dinner spot. Bone Lick seemed to be the best recommendation, within walking distance, and well...Bone Lick? It's kind of weird to say, like who actually has ever admitted to licking a bone? It almost sounds taboo.

I was skeptical, but upon walking in, we were immediately seated with menus. As we peruse, we discussed the pulled pork butt that feeds 10. No price, no description...our waiter finally comes over and, in the middle of our question, he walks away without even saying "excuse me" or "hang on for a minute." He walks away, goes to another table, runs a plate back to the kitchen, takes an order from another table and comes back. We ask AGAIN and he says he doesn't know, and runs into the kitchen to ask.

What the fork? ADD? Doesn't care about our tip on a party of six? He comes back and says it's unavailable, and takes 4 drink orders and runs away as I'm in the middle of asking for a Georgia peach margarita. Runs away.

.....

Needless to say, the service was terrible. Except for the busboy who, when Logan spilled his iced coffee, had a rag on the spill as the drink was tipping over before it hit the table. The timing was incredible, and honestly, I think we might have entered the Matrix at that moment.

Anyways, we started with three appetizers (which usually I'm against, because it spoils your meal and is unnecessary) but frankly, I'm glad we did because the portions for the main course were microscopic. We got the vidalia onion rings, bayou fried oysters and Texas link sausage. I hate onions, so I can't speak for the onion rings, and I don't really like oysters so I can't speak for those either, but the "Texas link sausage" was sliced up Oscar Meyer kielbasa. As in, the same shit I have in my freezer right now, pre-cooked and ready to just heat up and eat. And, the portion wasn't even a whole piece of kielbasa.

What is this, Poland? If I want kielbasa, I'll go to forking Veselka, not a Texas BBQ restaurant.

Oh, wait, I nearly forgot to mention - it took THIRTY FORKING MINUTES for our appetizers to arrive.

We wolfed down the appetizers which were, as mentioned, mediocre at best, and sat around for about another 20 minutes with our dirty dishes in front of us. Our food finally arrived and we had no room to put the new plates - genius, nay brilliant, from a serving perspective.

First let's talk about the sides - each dish came with one. The mac and cheese was decent, but could have been better. The collared greens and ham hocks was quite tasty, and my brown sugared yams were absolutely incredible - reminiscent of Thanksgiving dinner at mom's house. (We would mash yams so they were smooth and creamy, and bake them with marshmallows on top. My favorite part of Thanksgiving dinner!)

As for the main courses, let's just say the portions of the food looked like they were portions off the kid's menu. No seriously, I ate my brisket in about 4 bites. Dave's pulled pork was about 1/3 fat (which is awesome for me, I love that part) but for the average restaurant-goer who doesn't like to consume heart attack for dinner, I can see how it'd be frustrating. My brisket was also a little fatty, but moist and not overcooked. However, while the meat was moist, it had hardly any flavor - we ran out of BBQ sauce halfway through dinner and our waiter never took the hint to refill it, with both bottles sitting EMPTY on the edge of our table. So much for "slow cooked with cherry, apple and hickory woods." More like "slow cooked in terrible with a dash of I want my money back."

I had to order ANOTHER one of their ridiculously strong margaritas to get over the pain from this meal.

At least the company was good.

Bone Lick gets 1/5 forks, because the margaritas were delicious.

Novecento Bistro, 343 W Broadway (between Grand St. and Broom St.)

After what has been culminating to a stressful 2+ weeks at work, I narrowed my selection of where to go to eat to about 10 (!) of my restaurant cards, most being Italian or French. Upon many vetoes from Dave, we went for an Argentinian (or so we thought)(dun dun DUN!!) establishment called Novecento.

Usually when I choose locations to dine, I'll pull up the menu on menupages - and if there is something unique on the menu that piques my interest, the restaurant will go into the "possibilities" pile.

In this case, it was the following dishes: fresh grouper over spicy black beans, mango salsa, pico de gallo & avocado AND sesame crusted pan seared tuna, shitake, bok choy, peppers, ginger soy glaze. (I haven't been feeling too hot in the past bit, so fish sounded appealing as a healthy, smaller dish alternative.)

As I rolled up to Novecento Bistro, 40 minutes late, it became apparant that maybe I had not chosen so wisely.

Décor & Ambiance: Confused, wanna-be European and dark with candle lights. (But wait, I thought it was supposed to be Argentinean?) White table clothes with paper overtop and cloth napkins. Loud trance-y / house music. Italian hangings on the wall. Name of restaurant employs French word, "bistro." This could definitely have potential in the summer with the great vibes spilling out onto West Broadway when they open the giant windows in front. All in all, not bad - but what are they going for? South America? Italian? French? Antarctican? NYC? It feels swank and upscale but...pick a theme and run with it. Congruency, people.

Service: Hostess was fine, and the waitress was friendly and pretty - however after she offered us some Pellegrino and we declined, the quality of service went down drastically. (We were the ones confused, because we ordered wine (thanks for introducing me to the delicious Malbec varieties, Dad!), appetizer, main courses!)

Das Essen: Confused again. (If you can't tell, this is the theme of the night.) First of all, I didn't even see those fish dishes that brought me to Novecento on the menu. Secondly, look at the menu. All of the dishes are thinly disguised mostly typical Italian food with Spanish names. Let's look at the appetizers, for example - quesadilla (Mexican), empanada (variety of Spanish speaking countries), mussels steamed in white wine and garlic (called Mejillones on the menu, which is a city in Peru, noting that this is normally a dish seen in Belgian and French restaurants), beef carpaccio (Venitian) and caprese salad (Italian)? Sounds like someone's going through an identity crisis. Pastas were paired with typical red and vodka sauces. Salads were typical, and the main entrees included steak, burgers, and a variety of toppings.

And the dessert menu? Don't even get me started. I found no uniqueness, no craziness, no creativeness on there. Unless you think créme brulée is unique, but hell we used to serve that at Nova (and that's saying something).

Regardless, Dave and I were hungry and sitting down, we frankly didn't care (and as I said before, I wanted Italian so I was okay with it). I got a glass of the Malbec red (quite tasty), and we ordered the beef carpaccio, spaghetti capri (fresh mozzarella, diced tomatoes, plum tomato sauce and fresh basil) and the ensalada nocecento (grilled skirt steak, french fries, baby mixed greens, avocado, dijon vinaigrette).

The carpaccio was very tasty, but how could you not like filet mignon, arugula, Parmesan cheese and avacado? My pasta was great too - how can anything with tomatoes, basil and mozzarella be bad? However what really took the cake was Dave's salad. It was steak with greens and avocado and dressing, on top of FRIES (or in this case frites? Papas fritas?). What?!

What was incredible is how the fries soaked up all the juices from everything in the salad. The only thing that might have made it better is cucumber. But either way, wow. Who would have ever thought of putting fries at the bottom of a salad? It's almost as ridiculous as the concept of a taco salad (taco in a bag anyone?), the Big and Cheesy, or carrot cake. Except it's actually good.

Anyways, Novecento gets 2 4/7 spoons out of 5. Spoons?

The Flying Saucer / Reata, Fort Worth, TX

DOUBLE FEATURE!!!!

Double feature I say?!?

DOUBLE FEATURE I SAY!!!

This is going to be a rather long post, so you might want to grab your favorite beverage (some Great Lakes perhaps? mmmm), maybe some popcorn and chips, and settle back into your comfy desk chair before you continue reading.

....ready?

[curtain]

Act I: The Flying Saucer, 111 E. Fourth St @ Commerce, Fort Worth, TX

I was in Texas this past weekend, and after a long day of shopping for cowboy hats, Rob and I decided to walk around downtown Fort Worth to check out some shopping, watch the sunset, and generally just spend a swank Saturday night. We ended up at the Flying Saucer Beer Emporium after a stellar recommendation by one of his coworkers. We amble in for a drink, and immediately head for the rooftop tables so that my UV deprived skin can take in some soleil and some 70 degree temperature. There are no open tables, and we notice a man sitting alone - we ask if we can share his table, and he says no problem.

While attempting to decide on a beer, he steps in with a very unique recommendation - why not try a beer brewed in an abbey across the street from his house in Belgium? (What?! He's from Belgium!!) So of course, we can't resist trying the Westmalle Triple, a blonde ale. So smooth and complex were the flavors, so high the alcohol content, so great the company....I almost didn't notice when 5 MORE PEOPLE sat down at our table.

Turns out the meeting was random; I'm not sure how much I believe that. Tom and Katty had just recently moved from Belgium to Texas, Wilfried is from Belgium and traveling on business, and the other two guests were from Texas originally. Talk moved from SEO to their company (they manufacture playing cards) to Belgian beer to traveling to their board game that is being release in the US in a few months - Key Largo (I recommend checking it out, Katty was at dinner with us)...one Westmalle and one Duvel later, I came back from the restroom with the bill taken care of (whoa!) and an invite for Rob and I to join them for dinner.

Invite some random college-age kids for dinner with some swank, high-class Belgian and Texan 30+year olds?! No way. No WAY. NO FORKING WAY.

WAY.

Did we go? What happened to the guys harassing the waitress across the roof from us? Why can't I find Westmalle here in New York? Where did the sun go? Why don't they serve Great Lakes? Where did they want to go to eat?

All of these questions (and more!) answered in Act 2.....stay tuned....or go get a refill of whatever you're masticating at the current moment.

[curtain]


15 minute intermission.........


[curtain]

ACT II: Reata, 310 Houston St., Fort Worth, TX

Due to the only things having been eaten that day being some Disaronno-infused French toast, and some Swedish meatballs at Ikea (oh my God, so tasty, so scrumptious), my delicious ales caused what we refer to as "rapid onset", a condition that occurred many times after working late nights at Nova and hitting the 'Stretch after. (You don't eat anything, and then you have a drink or two and they slam yo' ass to the ground.) I somehow found my way downstairs and outside and on the walk over, contemplated what other intelligent conversation I could make all the while being careful not to slur my words. We walked for about 2 blocks, and came to Reata, fine Texan dining. We had a private room, all grabbed seats and perused the menu. A Zinfandel was ordered, everyone ordered appetizers but me (stupid, always follow the crowd), and main courses as well. While the rest of the members dined and wined on their salads and soups, I ate some of the jalapeño cornbread muffins...not bad, but could have been a bit spicier. What I was anxious for was my pan seared pepper-crusted tenderloin with port wine sauce, with mashed potatoes and a side of corn. (Come on, I'm from the Midwest Rob...give me some slack.)

Dinner finally arrived, and two waiters come around the table with flashlights and ask us to cut into our steaks to ensure they are at the proper temperature. Perfection was tasted when I cut into that first bite of Texan beef....as I chewed and the meat hit all of my taste receptors in my tongue, I swear I was on the fast escalator up to heaven as it got better the more I ate. The corn was more of a mix with peppers in it, which complemented perfectly the mashed potatoes. Oh my God. This has to be one of the better steak and potatoes dinner I've had in a while (and probably the only one I've had in a while).

When I handed my plate to the waiter, there was nothing left on it. No really, not even remnants of the port wine sauce, as I had used the remnants of my potatoes and corn morsels to soak up every last drip.

Then, everyone insisted on ordering dessert. Dessert?! As stated previously, I'm not really a dessert person, but I was coerced into sharing a dessert with Rob, the chocolate bread pudding tamale served with dulce de leche ice cream.

To describe? Heavenly.

The check came, and credit cards came out of wallets...our hosts paid for the meal in full. Incredible. We thanked profusely for the night's festivities, and walked away with business cards and contact infos for everyone that had attended.



Incredible. For the entire experience, I give a full 5 forks (!).

Gold St., 2 Gold St. (Between Platt St and Maiden Lane)

After working late on a move at one of my company's sites, Friday found myself and two of my friends (both named David) in all of it's splendor at what seems to be ordained as a Friday night tradition down on Wall Street, where the bars are empty and the service is great.

We started off at the Irish Punt, an Irish pub where Dion provides us with excellent pours, deliciously mixed drinks and great stories of working in a bar where most of it's patrons make more money than I'll ever see in three lifetimes. After the Punt, we moved on to a small Thai karaoke bar a few blocks away, which much to my dismay, allowed smoking inside the establishment (and where most of the patrons were obnoxious). On the other hand, I felt like I was right at home when I saw a mouse scurry across an open doorway. (Did I tell you? We caught three baby mice on Thursday night behind our stove with a sticky trap. Awesome.)

Once everyone had agreed to party all night and stay out until Dim Sum in Chinatown the next morning, we realized we had to refuel and recoup, and Gold St. seemed like the only logical choice (being one of the only things open down in the Financial District after market hours). I was immediately energized by DJ Dan who was spinning and excited by the prospect of a diner with a bar. We sat down, and were given the Late Night Menu.

Our choices included the Stone St. Omlette, Spinach and Artichoke dip, and Disco fries.

I didn't try any of the omlette, but I tried the spinach and artichoke dip and I'm sorry to say but the most exciting part of the dish was when a drunk chick from a few tables away walked over and asked us if she could try some on her way out. Other than that, frankly I thought our dip at Nova, my old stomping / bartending ground was far superior, as often times patrons would take pity on my impoverished student exterior and allow me the last bite or two of their dish. (Which definitely beat gnawing on mostly-eaten T-bones off plates that I collected while bussing down tables. Just kidding, I never did that. I also never dug out of the trash we used to scrape into for half-eaten hamburgers. I swear.)

The Disco fries, on the other hand were a completely different story. While in Niagra, I didn't get around to eating these delicious morsels of perfectly fried potato, double dipped into both beef gravy and fondue'd brie. I don't even LIKE brie, nor was I hungry and I found myself with the strange urge to pick up the little plates and lick off the remaining dip once we had cashed the fries.

So tasty. So Jersey-ish. So exquisite.

I might have had a dream about them last night as well, already going through withdrawal and shaking like an addict would like being hooked after first shot of coke. Er....

Unfortunately, we were driven out of Gold St not by an abundance of patrons, nay because the music was just TOO FORKING LOUD. We could barely hear ourselves think, let alone talk and when I woke up the next morning, my ears were still ringing. Not only that, the music selection was mediocre at best.

Gold St gets 1.5 / 5 forks, which in essence could be translated into the DISCO FRIES get all the credit for this place. And I hear you can get them at any diner in NYC anyways. No no no - thank YOU, New Jersey.

Penang, 41 Elizabeth St. (between Canal and Hester)

I apologize for my lack of posting over the past week, even though I'm sure none of you are really that heartbroken. I was going to enter a teaser post in about my TGIFriday's experience at Pittsburgh airport, but work got busy and frankly, I'm trying to be upscale here people. Seriously.

I've been to Penang with a group of friends before, and I don't remember much, except showing up late (and not much about the food). I think I was kind of miffed that all the prices were $10+ and it was all weird asian food that wasn't your classic American Chinese faire, so I got dumplings or something boring like that.

I stopped by after work on Tuesday to get over this prior experience and truly begin living again, and the establishment was near deserted. Maybe three tables were occupied, and I forgot how cool the decor was. Again, out with fellow foodie David and we split a few dishes: Roti Canai, fried wontons, coconut fried rice and dried curry chicken.

The Roti Canai was really good - it was this thinner-and-flakier-than-naan piece of bread with this delicious coconut curry sauce. Tasty. The fried wontons were fried dumplings...although the sweet and sour sauce that went with them was very nice! The dried curry chicken was just okay (it kind of upset my stomach). The coconut fried rice was pretty good, although they falsely advertised and said that there were beans in it, when there were no beans and onions instead. Lame-o. However, the dish did come with shrimp, and might I tangent for just a moment, I HATE it when restaurants do not devein their shrimp. It's so gross to be eating a shrimp, and seeing that little black vein running along their back that you know is filled with waste product. Gross gross gross. Ew ew ew.

After this par meal, I decided life would not be complete without some dessert. More specifically, the mango with sticky rice. I like mango, and I like sticky rice. How could I go wrong?

It's more possible than not that I could, as at first, the waiter said "Oh, I don't think we have anymore left, but I'll check." He went away, and then poked his head out of the refrigerated case after grabbing a 5"x2" rectangle of white saying "We do! I'll have it right for you." I stared in disbelief as he put it in the microwave. What?!

Microwave?

You can't be serious.

But he was.

Thanks to modern technology, minutes later he served up some sticky rice with mango slices. And I want you to know I finished every last grain it was so good.

Penang gets 2.5 rating forks out of 5:


Menu found here.

Zen Burger, 465 Lexington (Between E. 45th and E. 46th St.)

So I guess I'm already breaking my rule of only posting about restaurants I go to dinner to (or was it really a rule in the first place? Maybe implied...hrm.), but I was convinced by my co-worker Rob to post about this place.

Zen Burger recently opened as an all-vegetarian joint. There is no meat in it's products, just made from good ol' veggies and soy. Everything on their menu is vegetarian-friendly, down to their ZenBacon and ZenBeef.

Personally I didn't feel too "zen" walking in there - in fact, the decor was harsh with it's white and orange detail, and despite looking in "Employees only" entrances and broom closets, I did not find my rock garden or quiet waterfall to meditate upon. However I did find a calming fountain (of soda - haha I almost had you!) and two large calming containers of iced tea (a rarity to find in NYC - unsweetened iced tea, that is).

But back to the lack of zen. Zen Burger was swamped when Rob and I entered, and even moreso when we left. In our span of waiting 10 minutes for our orders (not bad for the turnover) I saw two people had their orders get misplaced. I wondered why they got so mad...again, not very Zen of them. Instead of getting angry while I waited for my special order, I cleared my mind, practiced some yoga and contemplated the meaning of life.

Rob ordered the ZenBeef Burger meal, and I bought the ZenSouthwest Burger meal - so we each got a veggie burger with the standard suite of toppings, and Rob's with "Special ZenSauce" and mine with "ZenChipotle Sauce". Upon bringing our food back to our company's cafeteria (about a 5 minute walk), we began to devour our food, but much to my un-zenlike dismay, my burger was cold. Not even lukewarm, and neither was Rob's. I was very surprised with the amount of turnover that the store was going through; and mine was a special order! Neither of us received our sides of ZenSauce that the menu promises, making me very unhappy with my fries and having to opt for ketsup instead.

However as mediocre as the food was, Rob was right when he said that ZenBurger was good tasting, and a reasonable price for lunch (~$7 for a meal) in Midtown East.

Zen Burger gets 2/5 rating forks:


Website located here: http://www.zenburger.com/

Diablo Royale, 189 W. 10th St. (between Bleecker and W. 4th)

While at Starbucks sipping green tea, when I finally narrowed my selection of 18 restaurants down to two, I ended up opting for some Mexican over Asian fusion tapas last night around 18:30. Diablo Royale welcomed me in for dinner, embracing me with her warm heat, the glowing glass candles lit the entire way around the restaurant, her antler chandeliers and the aroma of tasty Mexican. While sitting at Starbucks, I really had no hunger whatsoever (hence the tapas idea), but once I stepped in that door, I couldn't shovel chips and salsa fast enough in my face to help defer the hunger.

The waitress came over and (easily) convinced my fellow foodie David and I into ordering appetizers, a round of margaritas and large main courses. Another (!) basket of chips and salsa found itself on our table, as we demolished the first faster than an illegal handbag vendor running from the cops. We rounded off our order with a raspberry margarita and a blood orange margarita. At $9-10 a drink and seeing how small the glasses were, I was très skeptical until I had the first sip, and ZING! The taste of pureed fresh raspberry and incredible top shelf tequila (not that Cuervo shit; those days are OVER) rolled over my tongue like the Wave pool used to be at Geauga Lake. (It's kinda lame how they have it now, the bunch of little waves. Although I admit it's probably safer; once when I was about 8 I was riding the "kahuna" wave in and a really fat woman landed on top of me and I couldn't get up for air. I think I just kicked a lot until I broke free, totally riding that killer instinct till the end. They don't call me The Killer for noth-okay, maybe they don't call me the Killer at all. Whatever.)

Soon after (but not soon enough, as within about five minutes of basket two of chips and salsa were placed on our table, they were cashed) the appetizer arrived - four mini cobs of grilled corn with lime mayo, cotija, and cayenne. I was hesitant because I just paid $6 for corn on the cob, but within one bite I was hooked. I gnawed off each so tender, so tasty kernel typewriter style, and the waiter had to pry the plate out from under me as I was attempting to lick the remnants of the seasonings up.

About 30 seconds later, the main course arrived - Al Pastor tacos (roasted pork and pineapple-pico-crema served on a flour tortilla) and adobo spare ribs (braised with chilie and Mexican honey and served with tostones). While perusing the menu earlier, I thought that the ribs would be the surefire winner, and they were definitely good - the meat was falling off of the bone! - but I thought the sauce was just okay, and frankly, the sauce makes the ribs. I'm really not one to overdo on sauce of any type - I barely put any salad dressing on my salad, I rarely use gravy, and I hate sugar in my tea (what the hell does that have to do with anything?!) and I think they overdid it. I was looking for more of a rub with a sauce on the side. The tostones that accompanied were pretty good although slightly salty (which I do like).

The tacos on the other hand - I mean, they had me at Hello, but the flavor was so complex I didn't even notice I had them dripping down my hand. The pork was ever so spicy, enough to not notice at first but to overwhelm your taste buds and inhibit anything else you taste for the next ten minutes or so (or at least until you refresh with some margarita). They could have put more pineapple crema nonsense on, but the tacos were overstuffed as is. An excellent dish.

We did not stick around for dessert, as I'm not really a dessert person...but the tab was pretty reasonable for two drinks, an appetizer and two main courses. Our waitress was very upbeat and knowledgeable, and extremely convincing (although I didn't put up much of a fight). The service was good, the decor and ambiance were notable.

I give this restaurant 4 rating forks.


Link to their site is here: http://www.diabloroyale.com/, menu on page.

Wilkommen, Bonjour, Greetings, Konnichiwa, etc.

Greets and welcome to the Flying Fork - if you don't Fork it, fork you!

What I'm hoping to do is set up a blog that reviews restaurants I go to in the city, and use it as a record of what's good, what's bad, and what's ugly. I have a "deck of cards" that lists 52 restaurants in New York City, where each "card" is a $10 off of a $30 tab coupon.

Obviously I'm not going to review and eat just at those venues, but at least it's somewhere to start.

So without further adieu....

Cheers,
Katie