Print

(New York, NY) With our flight departing in just three hours, we had already decided beforehand it would be wise to eat dinner at the hotel. Their restaurant, called Print, caters to local, farm-fresh cuisine. Breakfasts thus far had been pleasant and tasty, but we had yet to experience the lunch or dinner offerings. After a cocktail in the lounge, we were seated at a small table (but not too small) near the back of the retro-modern dining room. (Kudos to the hostess, who mindfully seated patrons with space between tables.) Excitedly, we pored over the menu for something different as our last meal in Manhattan...

He Fed:
Print restaurant is an unusual place, situated to the right of the lobby, past the bar and lounge areas, then back toward the rear of the ground floor. It flows organically from the surroundings, seeming to be more of the hotel than a separate space. Likewise, the furnishing are seemingly crafted from nature, with influences ranging from kitsch to Japanese modernism to typical bistro decor. I am immediately put at ease while titillated with soft music and shocking explosions of wheat grass in carefully situated vessels. I really like this spot, especially the booth which is firm and comfortable (I hate saggy booth seats, where you can hear the crinkle of broken springs, reminding you not to eat too much).

It has been a long day, and I'm not sure if I'm up for a big meal. While Juliet toiled at the trade show, I gallivanted across the breadth of Manhattan, peeking into shop windows, stopping for a quick beer and enjoying a hearty lunch at Landmark Tavern. Looking at the menu (and seeing way too much to like), we decide to keep our last meal simple: appetizer, entree and wine pairings. No dessert, no parade of small plates, and certainly no beef. Right? Well...

Although the Prosciutto beckoned, I could not help but suggest the Grilled Octopus. I know it will be like calamari, which I have been trying on and off for the last year. In fact, calamari is one of those holy grail items for me...when a chef does it right, it is so perfect, so delicious, that I forget I ever disliked seafood at all. But, if the chef isn't up to the task or the calamari is not very fresh, I am very unhappy. Chewing on rubbery circles is no fun at all. It is actually quite sickening, in some instances, though I try to put on a brave face and get through it. So why order grilled octopus? Despite the 50/50 chance it'll be good, there is chorizo, potato and herb puree to help ameliorate the taste and texture. It's worth the risk, I decide.

So glad we did! The octopus arrives in cross-sections, surrounded by chunks of spicy sausage, drizzled with olive oil, and topped with a tiny herb salad. One crunchy tentacle slithers up the middle, obviously the worse for its meeting with chef's grill. I dig in immediately, forking a piece of the octopus into my gullet. The meat is firm but tender, not at all rubbery, and the taste is smoky with heat, influenced by the sausage. Although there are potatoes somewhere in the mix, I dismiss them entirely, focusing on the octopus.

In our throes of enjoyment, we nearly forget our second appetizer...Salvatore's Milk Ricotta with Arugula Pesto on a small crostini. It is creamy, fresh and delicious but, in all honesty, pales in comparison to the octopus. Perhaps it was unfair of us to order such a "weak" dish that could only bask in the glory that is our tentacled favorite? Oh well, live and learn.

This repast is so glorious that Juliet succumbs to reality too quickly. All visions of the Grilled Red Snapper or Arctic Char dissolve under the onslaught of our appetizers. What to do? She decides upon another appetizer as her entree! Despite her new favorite obsession -- Roasted Beets with toasted walnuts, which is on the menu -- she plays it cool by ordering Goat Cheese Gnocchi with Pancetta (Yowza!). I am a little jealous, though I get over it rather quickly when I spy my choice for dinner: Braised Short Rib with mashed potato, carrots, watermelon radish and gremolata.

I know, I know...no beef, right? I can't help myself, though. I've been good over the weekend and I'm a sucker for short ribs. (Again, it's that holy grail thing. A short rib prepared correctly is dynamite; one too-fatty cut can ruin the whole dish for me.) It looks as though I've made the correct choice when the short rib arrives in a wide bowl of dark, lusciously cooked meat on a bed of mashed potatoes swimming in a red wine sauce with carrots, radishes and hunks of other root vegetables. The gremolata -- basically Italian herbs -- provides a green halo over everything. I take one bite and I'm in heaven. The beef is tender, succulent and just fatty enough to retain flavor without being sickening. The veggies are crisp and have soaked in the broth for a bit, imparting the salty flavor that binds everything together.

Although dessert had not been on our radar initially, we decide to share an unusual rice pudding paired with salted peanut ice cream and candied kumquats. As you well know, I worship at the altar of the holy kumquat, so I was pretty excited. When it comes out with candied chestnuts instead, I am pretty bummed. The ice cream is nice and the rice pudding pleasingly home-made, but with the promise of kumquats already broken, it's too late to win back my heart.

With bittersweet memories of a fantastic weekend in Manhattan, Juliet and I share a cab to the airport, enjoying our final glimpses of the famous skyline before boarding separate planes and already planning our next trip to NYC.

She Fed:
After working a full day in the booth, I dash back to the hotel. And by "dash" I mean I walk a block, decide my feet are just in too much pain to continue, flag down a cab and ride in comfort the rest of the way. It probably took longer than if I had just hoofed it, but my feet are grateful for a little rest. Because Jeremy had to check us out this afternoon and I am too much of a germaphobe to change in a public restroom (how do you keep your feet from touching the floor when changing trousers?), the suit I have worn all day today will be suit I wear for my flight down to Atlanta for the next work event. No day off for me this week. I decide such suffering merits a lovely dinner and, perhaps, dessert as well.

Print's menu is quite impressive. They source locally whenever possible (I always wonder what "when possible" means. Is that PR spin on "when convenient and cheap"?) and use organic, hormone-free, antibiotic-free...whenever possible. The offerings are truly chefy without being intimidating and even if you're not staying at the hotel, a visit to Print would be worth the hike or cab fare across Manhattan.

We start with an appetizer of smoked octopus with grilled chorizo, potatoes and olives. I adore calamari of any kind - fried, grilled, sauteed, and the idea of trying it smoked was just to tempting. The fact that Jeremy was eager to try it, even though he's still learning to like fish and seafood, made it even more of a thrill. Someone to share smoked octopus with? Great!

We explain to our waitress that we need to eat, pay and leave within one hour and she does a fabulous job of helping us make that deadline. The starter arrives quickly and it is gorgeous with chunks of grilled chorizo sausage, roasted fingerlings, green olives and the herb sauce all framing the octopus. Rings and tendrils of what almost looks (minus a slime factor) like raw octopus. Of course, it's not raw, just sans any coloring from grilling or sauteing. One bite and I am in love, seriously considering proposing to a plate of calamari. The consistency is similar to cooked chicken breast - very solid and not overly chewy like some octopus can be. Interestingly enough, the flavor reminds me very much of when I used to smoke chickens with my grandmother's smoker. Deep, seriously earthy, smokey flavor throughout. If it weren't for the purple and white tentacles on the plate in front of me, I would have sworn I was eating smoked chicken. Slightly chewy smoked chicken. It was fantastic with the herbed pesto and all the fixins.

I opt to have an second appetizer for dinner and choose the goat cheese gnocchi with pancetta. Now I like to think of myself as a gnocchi connoisseur. My step-grandmother made loads of gnocchi when I was a kid. I have made many batches of of gnocchi in my day; when Thomas Keller gives you his gnocchi board after a cooking demo, you are pretty much bound to using it. No slacking. However, when this gnocchi arrives...I hate to say it because it sounds so trite...but Print's gnocchi is a revelation. It is life changing. It is stuffed with goat cheese. So I have tender potatoey dumplings smaller than my thumb stuffed with warm, slightly sweet goat cheese. A moment of silence might be in order now.

After my first bite, I consider asking the waitress for a second order of gnocchi appetizers. They are comforting and warm and remind me of home -- everything you want after working all weekend and I just know Jeremy is going to want a bite and I don't want to share! I reluctantly give him one tiny gnocchi and give him that "hands off buster" look. I finish the small plate off quickly while keeping one eye on his fork hand to make sure it doesn't stray.

The realization hits me that Jeremy will head home tonight and instead of joining him, I will fly down to Atlanta for a full work week. Ten days away from home is no fun and I can feel myself feeling a little teary-eyed at the prospect of saying our goodbyes somewhere between Gates 5 and 6 at LaGuardia. I distract myself with dessert -- rice pudding with salted peanut ice cream and candied kumquats. The rice pudding is slightly gritty, which I do not enjoy, but the sweet and salty ice cream is such a great combo and the candied kumquats are so unusual. The texture is not what I would expect and the flavor seems surprising as well. I realize soon enough the "candied kumquats" are really candied chestnuts. They are tasty, but not at all like kumquats with a completely different mouthfeel.

I'm not sure my rating of Print will be fair. Dinner was rushed (at our request.) I was exhausted and slightly uncomfortable. My mind was preoccupied with my midnight arrival in Atlanta. I was missing my husband already. They were a little slow in clearing plates and the kumquat vs chestnut thing is worth a demerit. That said, our service was prompt, the food was innovative and fun and I would go back anytime.

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Pera Mediterranean Brasserie

(New York, NY) On our second evening out on the town, we cabbed it just south of the theater district and east of the New York Public Library to a place called Pera Mediterranean Brasserie. OpenTable.com members rated it highly, with good reviews. We were looking forward to something out of the norm, seeking to stretch our culinary adventurous spirits a bit. After our cab dropped us off at a cross-street, with only minutes to spare before our reservation, we had a panicky minute when we couldn't find the storefront. Finally Juliet spotted it and we went into the warmly glowing interior with high expectations...

He Fed:
Sometimes you can tell, just walking into a place that it's going to be good. The servers are smiling, the cooks are intent on their work, and there are great arcs of fire coming from the open air kitchen. Alchemy at work! We are shown to a small table (but not too small) in the center of the restaurant, where we have a good view of one wall filled with bottles of wine and the rest of the patrons. There is a family of six, with small children, clearly enjoying a late dinner out. Other tables seem to be mostly couples, making eyes at each other over glasses of vino. The atmosphere is cozy, warm and inviting; the smell is smoky enticement.

Our waitress seems a little out of place and perhaps a bit too eager to please, but she is competent and pleasant. We decide to take the pace a bit more lax than usual, starting with some small plates before the main course, just to try Pera's offerings. Although I enjoy Mediterranean fare, it's not my first choice when I think of going out for dinner. I'm not exactly sure why...probably some deeply-ingrained need to see a slab of meat on a plate and when I think Mediterranean, I think hummus. I love hummus -- don't get me wrong! -- but forking over hard-earned cash for a bowl of mush just doesn't compute, sometimes.

Looking over the menu, I begin to notice a theme: lamb, lamb, and more lamb. Never mind that; we order Warm Hummus with Pastirma to start. It is warm, creamy and tinged with a salty lemon taste. Best hummus ever? Maybe. Juliet makes a mean homemade hummus, but this rivals her best efforts. What is Pastirma anyway? Wikipedia notes it is a salted meat that has been dried for days on end before having the blood and salt squeezed out of it. Then it's rubbed in cumin paste and air-dried. The resulting chunks are spicy, kind of like pepperoni or lamb jerky. It goes very well with the hummus and the fresh-baked bread.

The Pastirma is such a hit, we decide to try more of the meat wrapped around cooked dates stuffed with Feta cheese. Delicious! They have a more delicate, complex taste than the bacon-wrapped dates we make at home, sweet and smoky with just a hint of hotness before the Feta mediates the two contrasting flavors. On a roll, we decide to get the fried artichoke hearts as well. Artichokes have been a passion for Juliet ever since we came back from Rome. There, we'd experienced the best variations on artichoke preparation and we've enjoyed preparing fresh artichokes at home, but it's a tricky vegetable to cook and to eat. I'm reminded of this as I bite into a dry, tough artichoke heart that does nothing for me. The breading isn't compelling and the interior is just too much work. Oh well, can't win them all.

Finally, we head to the entree. I decide on the Chicken Brochette (having had my fill of lamb). Before ordering I ask our server if she can recommend a good pairing for the dish; after some deliberation with another server with more wine experience, she offers up a Malbec or a pretty ordinary Shiraz that I've had several times before and am frankly amazed she would suggest it. I think it goes back to the new philosophy, if the customer doesn't ask for a specific vintage or price point, you are to offer them a range of two or three price points. So, on that point I can't blame her for suggesting the Shiraz...but it still ruffled my feathers a bit. I go with the Malbec, obviously.

My fire-roasted cubes of tender marinated chicken arrive on a plain platter, almost blushing in deep red tones like the devil's own flesh. One bite, though, corrects my impression. This is heaven! The chicken parts easily with my fork and the taste wavers between smoky, spicy and juicy. With some difficulty, I manage to clean the plate. We finish our wine slowly, reluctant to leave but too full for any dessert this evening.

As we pay our bill and flag down yet another taxi to take us back to the hotel, we agree the adventure warrants another visit in the future. The problem is, Manhattan has so many other noteworthy establishments that require our attention and appetites. Still, Pera ranks up there with some of the best eateries we've encountered. Next time I'll try more lamb.

She Fed:
I have been fascinated with hummus since finding a recipe in a 2008 issue of Food & Wine for what was called "the definitive" hummus recipe. Made in a small eatery in Israel, the hummus is rumored to be so incredible, tourists trek to the restaurant from foreign lands just for the experience of eating it. I've made the recipe many times, varying it with the addition of mint, harissa or olives, and each time it is better than any hummus I've ever had. (And yes, you really do need to start with dried garbanzos and not canned; canned will do in a pinch, but you will taste the difference.)

In any case, I knew before we walked in the door that I would be ordering hummus. Our cab ride is unexpectedly long due to traffic and we actually talk of making faster time by hopping out early and hiking it, but my feet are throbbing from a nine hour day standing at the trade show and I beg off, dreaming of the hummus that awaits.

I am not disappointed. Pera has an extensive list of small plates and we choose three: warm hummus with pastrima, fried artichoke hearts and pastirma-wrapped feta-stuffed dates. Pastirma is air-dried salt-cured meat, often seasoned with Middle Eastern spices and Pera's is made with lamb.

The warm hummus arrives with a sprinkling of slivered pastrima, a generous drizzle of olive oil on top, with a basket of sesame-seeded square-shaped breads piping hot from the oven. The hot bread schmeared with warm hummus tastes better than it sounds. The bread tastes like no pita I've ever eaten before and the hummus is creamy, nutty and garlicky all at once. Still not as good as the Israeli recipe, but good enough to warrant a refill on the bread basket to finish it off.

The artichoke hearts have a light crispy coating and come with a spicy (maybe paprika) dipping sauce. The artichokes are good, but some of the sharp, dry outer leaves have been left on which leads to some unpleasantness mid-chew. The dates just don't do it for me. They're fine, but I've had better ones stuffed with various cheeses and wrapped in bacon. Maybe my tastebuds are acclimated to the strong flavor of bacon, while the pastirma is less assertive? I'd hate to think I'm too jaded for lamb bacon!

I have every intention of ordering lamb tonight, but the question is, "In what form?" The menu includes lamb brochette, chops, loin, adana, steak, tenderloin and riblets. The weird thing is, after last night's beefy steak, none of the lamb is really appealing to me. Neither is the fish or seafood, so I opt for the moussaka, something I've only had once before.

Unlike other moussaka dishes which are typically baked, made with ziti or penne and served as a square slab on a plate (think Greek lasagna), mine arrives freshly composed in a large bowl and made with pappardelle. I am a sucker for pappardelle, having first had it with wild boar ragout in NYC three years ago. There's just something about that long extra fat ribbon of pasta that I love. It reminds me off a "double-wide" version of fettucine and even though pasta is more about the sauce than the pasta, I just love the appearance and even the mouthfeel of pappardelle.

The pasta is smothered in a thick ragu of lamb and eggplant, drizzled with bechamel and topped with shaved parmigiano. The meat sauce is hearty, robust and comforting; the perfect thing after a long, hard day of work. The bechamel is seasoned with cinnamon and nutmeg, which might sound a little odd, but it works. Those spices, more like ones you'd use in holiday cookies, add richness and even a bit of sweet heat to the ragu. And my beloved pappardelle is the ideal vehicle to wind around it all and scoop it up. This moussaka is deeply satisfying and intensely flavorful. I pronounce this the best meal I've had in the city so far this trip, finish every last bite and try to figure out how I can fit my head in the bowl to slurp up the sauce my fork can't get.

Definitely worth a return visit. Makes me want to move to NYC just to go for after-work beverages and small plates.

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Seasonal Restaurant and Weinbar

(New York, NY) With Saturday forecasted at sunny skies and record temps (mid-70's), I felt compelled to explore the city by foot while my wife worked indoors. I walked from our hotel near Pier 93 to Central Park, about a mile and a half away, and enjoyed the early afternoon sunlight with the rest of the population. People walked dogs, baby strollers, and hand-in-hand, enjoying lunch from a food cart or nearby sandwich shop. Today, thanks again to OpenTable.com, I had lunch reservations at the nearby Seasonal Restaurant and Weinbar where I hoped to find some authentic German and Austrian sustenance...



He Fed:
My first thought as I walk into the small doorway to Seasonal Restaurant and Weinbar is, Am I underdressed? OpenTable.com says the dress code is "smart casual"...what the heck is that? A quick check of Wikipedia provides no concrete information, though it boils down to slacks and collared shirt, most likely. I am wearing a collared shirt and jeans. Will that suffice, or will they turn me away, despite my reservation? The reason for my apprehension is the very elegant table presentation and the host dressed in suit and tie.

Turns out, I need not have worried. In this day and age, most restaurants roll with the punches. Even French Laundry let me dine without a jacket when they couldn't loan me one big enough. The host checks me in and leads me back to a booth, only one of about ten tables. There is one gentleman at the bar, clearly a regular, but otherwise the place is empty. It is prime lunchtime, so the absence of patrons worries me slightly. Perhaps the perennial NYC construction outside has hidden the entrance? Or is there something wrong with the place? Again, I worry too much, needlessly. As I proceed with my lunch, other patrons begin to filter in until there are another three or four tables filled.

I've already previously decided, through careful inspection of the online menus, that I'll order the three course lunch for $27 and ask them to pair some wines. (That is our new practice in restaurants with an extensive wine list, asking the server or sommelier to pair a glass of wine with the first and second courses. We will attempt to do a better job of documenting these wines in future.) I start off with the Kartoffelsuppe -- Potato Soup with Speck, Taleggio, and Dill. It arrives in a wide bowl, the dill and cheese in the bottom, while the server pours the warm potato soup into the vessel. Bits of speck (juniper flavored ham) float in the creamy white suspension. My first spoonful is warm and comforting, coating my tongue in a sheath of buttery potato and cheese. I feel a momentary pang of guilt because I know Juliet would love the taleggio, but the emotion dissolves as I sip a crisp, cold Austrian white wine that perfectly complements the earthy goodness of the soup. I am nearly transported to levels of La Pergola delight.

Sadly, the suppe comes to an end and the empty bowl is whisked away. Originally I had planned on the veal cheeks for my entree, but their menu had changed slightly and I didn't see that particular offering (perhaps veal cheeks were unseasonal at that moment?). Instead, and a bit reluctantly, I chose the Wiener Schnitzel -- Breaded Veal Cutlet with Warm German Potato Salad, Cucumber Slaw, and Lingonberries. It arrived in short order...a work of art on a clean white plate. The contrast between the deep golden cutlet, the green cucumber, the purple berries and mild yellow potato salad was composed in such a way that I felt reluctant to disrupt the tenuous accord. One bite of the veal and my reluctance melts away. Then, quite by accident, I decide to create one bite out of veal, cucumber and lingonberry. It is as if I've discovered electricity! The brooding, tart berries offset the fried sweetness of the veal and the dill on the cucumber slaw ties it all together. All too quickly, it is gone.

I ask the host (who is also my server, as this is clearly a one-man show at lunchtime) which dessert he would recommend. Without hesitation, he says, "The Sacher cake." I have no idea what it is, but I order it along with one of their German wheat beers on draught. The torte arrives, a chocolate-covered confection with a dollop of whipped cream on the side. My first bite is dry, but pleasantly so, contrasting nicely with the sweet dark chocolate and ephemeral whipped cream. The beer washes it all down nicely. As my cutlery and dishes are taken away, replaced inevitably by the bill, I'm kind of sad to have to go back out into bustling New York City. It has been very pleasant to sit here, enjoying a quiet luncheon as if I were in Europe. It is, without a doubt, one of the best meals I've had, ever.

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Triomphe

(New York, NY) Recovered somewhat after our late lunch, we cabbed it down to the theater district for a late-night (at least by our standards; New Yorkers are notoriously late diners) dinner at Triomphe. The restaurant is described on OpenTable.com as American-French, perhaps one of our favorite cuisine variations. We arrive early, surprised to find it is a smallish establishment within the Iroquois Hotel. The bar just happened to have a couple empty seats so we enjoyed a ginger champagne cocktail poured by a lively, funny bartendress, before the hostess beckoned us with menus to our table...

He Fed:
We are led to a nice, quiet table that is elegantly set with polished silver and white linen. The rest of the small dining room is only perhaps 30% full. Talk is low and the vibe is relaxed. Our server starts us off with sparkling water (with lime, of course) while relaying the day's specials. Nothing quite jumps out at me, though some of the surf 'n turf options have Juliet second-guessing her initial choices.

What is it about restaurants who decide to call appetizers "small plates" on their menu instead? For me, it's almost a cattle-call. While I would not ordinarily order an appetizer, I invariably want to order multiple small plates. Is that Pavlovian response in action? I'm not sure, though I doubt anyone who happened to see Pan Roasted Chorizo Sausage with Tomato and Garlic Cannellini Beans on the menu would have blamed me for my moment of weakness! It arrives in a large bowl at the same time Juliet's small plate choice -- scallops -- and I am immediately intimidated by the cross-sections of grill-marked chorizo sausage. Doesn't chorizo usually come sliced or diced? Undaunted, I bravely go in with my spoon, using the tensile strength of my wrist to sever off a bite-sized morsel of chorizo, then dip it into the white bean stew before delivering it to my mouth.

Utter bliss.

The creamy, comforting salty flavor of the cannelini envelops the spicy sausage with garlic smokiness. As I bite down and chew the meat, the skin snaps, releasing the charred sweetness of the grill onto my taste buds. It is nearly sexual, and at that moment all I want is more, another spoonful, and fast. Reluctantly, I share a bite with my wife, who seconds my opinion. It is the best small plate I've ever had, and rivals the cassoulet I had last summer in Saugutuck.

In deference to the illusion of abstinence, we decide to split a salad. Lately, Juliet has been on a beet kick and I usually don't mind them unless they are delivered up solo (the dirt-like taste and squishy-firm texture give me the creeps, if they are served by themselves), so we go with the first selection: Baby Lettuce with Beets, Goat Cheese, Pistachios, and Rum Soaked Raisins. The kitchen kindly puts it on two plates for us so we don't have to stab at the center of the table, hunting for forkfuls. Although the preparation seems simple, the complex interplay between the few ingredients elevates even this salad beyond the norm. The raisins are definitely the standout, although I am partial to pistachios as well. We cannot wait for our main course.

Juliet, after careful deliberation, decides to go with a dish that I would have ordered any other time: steak au poivre. She gives me a taste, and it is very nice (the au poivre sauce is smoother and less demonstrative than others I've had), but in the end I'm very glad I made a different choice. Frenched bone sticking high in the air, the Creole Roasted Berkshire Farms Pork Chop arrives, cloaked in a ghostly veil of Roasted Elephant Garlic, doused in lemon oil, atop a pool of Spinach Risotto. I looked forward mostly to the risotto (one of my new passions) but it is disappointing. Although the risotto itself is prepared perfectly -- creamy but with a little tooth left in it -- the spinach had been allowed to stew too long and was now squishy, stringy and altogether unpalatable. I push the greens aside and fish out the risotto.

The chop, however, is bar none amazing. Spicy, but not overly so, with a smoky undercurrent that is enhanced by the garlic. At first, I thought the garlic was cheese melted on top! It has the texture of stewed cabbage but tastes sweet. I strip away the meat with knife and fork, not even once thinking (until now) that I'd had a full day of gnawing pork down to the bone. That tells you how different each restaurant and chef can prepare a similar dish. Thanks to the Elephant Garlic, I'll be reminded of this particular cut of pork for the rest of the evening and even until tomorrow's breakfast...but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Satisfied and full, with well-matched wine pairings dispatched, we decline any suggestion of coffee or dessert. It is easy to catch a cab back to the hotel. On the way through the theater district, with windows rolled down to enjoy the mild night air, we witness a gaggle of looky-loos and paparazzi snapping photos of a grey-haired gentleman, who waves and signs autographs before jumping into an chauffeured SUV. It is Christopher Walken, evidently done with a pre-season performance of his new Broadway show. You gotta love New York!

She Fed:
While the bar area was hopping, the restaurant is very quiet and relatively empty. I wonder if we've given ourselves away as tourists -- Gasp! As Midwesterners even -- arriving for dinner at 8 pm on a Friday night. Once the waiter brings our menus, I forget any worries about appearances and start planning what will surely be a memorable NYC dining experience.

When at a French restaurant, I always start at the end and select my main course, then my salad or starter (or in this case, salad then starter). Because French food can be heavy, if I know how rich and decadent my entree will be, I work backwards to select items that will contrast and compliment. Actually, now that I think about it, I do this anytime I'm having a multi-course meal. I work it back to front, same with my wine pairings.

For entree, it's just a process of elimination at this point. I've only been on the road for three days and already I can tell I'm getting a little jaded. I've got eight more days out so I can only imagine what kind of a mood I'll be in. But back to the menu. None of the fish dishes are grabbing me. We've already established I rarely order chicken in a restaurant due to my extreme fussiness over cuts and preparation of chicken. I am not up for venison and I suspect I will have lamb tomorrow night at the Mediterranean place. That leaves the pork chop, which I know Jeremy will order, or the steak au poivre. That's settled, steak it is.

Working back to the salads I know immediately I want the baby lettuce with beets and goat cheese, and Jeremy and I decide to split an order. Then up the menu to starters...I am torn between the winter mushroom soup or the scallops with porcini mushroom and foie butter. Since it was nearly 70-degrees out and sunny today, I decide against the winter mushroom soup and go for the scallops. The waiter agrees to select a wine by the glass for each of us to go with the starter and the main.

My starter arrives with a bed of porcinis topped with two seared scallops crested with slices of foie gras. I thought "foie gras butter" meant a sauce or a pat of flavored butter, but these were slices of the actual lobes. Not at all disappointing for a foie lover like me, but it makes for a much heartier and richer dish than I originally imagined. The scallops are perfectly cooked with a crisp golden crust and a just-cooked-through buttery inside; they taste clean, fresh and a bit briny. The mushrooms and foie are lusty and rich, contrasting the brightness of the scallops. It is truly all I can do to not lick my plate clean.

Our split salad order arrives already divided on two plates, which is a nice touch. Again, the salad is very clean and fresh tasting and I am reminded that spring is here. I am indeed on a "beet kick" and enjoy the tartness of goat cheese with the earthiness of roasted beets. Throw in baby greens and pistachios and I'm in heaven. Add some rum soaked raisins and it's now perfection on a salad plate. (Why aren't my salads at home this darn good?) The white burgandy our server paired with my starter and salad worked perfectly with both; shame on me for not writing down the name of the wine. Same goes for the beautiful silky cabernet he paired with my strip steak.

I love Manhattan for many reasons. For the people, the architecture and the culture. For Central Park, Columbus Circle and the Theatre District. For the opportunity to bump into Glenn Close and Eric Ripert in one 24-hour period. For the fact that you can hear 100 different accents and languages in one day and smell 100 different amazing ethnic foods with your window rolled down during a 10 minute cab ride. But I absolutely LOVE the confidence it takes to serve the customer a medium rare strip steak carved off the bone and pre-sliced. If I did that at home, it would be dry and lifeless, all the juices would be on my cutting board. Only in NYC can each slice still be juicy and flavorful. And this steak is no exception. Best of all, it tastes like beef. Not spices, not a marinade, not an infusion. Like a damn good steak. The truffle infused creamed spinach is divine and I mix it with my whipped potatoes (you can't take me anywhere). But the star of the show is the steak and Jeremy rolls his eyes back when he tastes the slice I offer.

Triomph was warm and friendly; the dining room was beautiful. The waiter could have easily gouged us with his wine pairings and did not. The bar was fun and lively. I would go back again in a heartbeat...or perhaps I should say, in a New York minute.

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Daisy May's BBQ USA

(New York, NY) Last weekend, we decided to hang out in NYC. Juliet had to work a trade show during the day, but our nights would be free so it sounded like the perfect opportunity to revisit one of our favorite cities on the planet. Yes, Manhattan can be a bit expensive, but the sheer opportunity for foodie nirvana outweighs the monetary concerns. And the challenge, for us, is to find the gems, polish them up and offer them to you for consideration and enjoyment. With that in mind, I boarded an early flight out of GRR and landed at LGA while the warm sun rose over the skyline...

He Fed:
After a lengthy cab ride, I make it to the hotel just in time to see Juliet before she heads to the trade show. I unpack, then head down for a quick bite of breakfast in the hotel restaurant (more on that in another review). We are supposed to meet for lunch a bit after noon, but there is a snafu and we are delayed a couple hours. By the time Juliet is able to leave for lunch, I am starving.

We leave the hotel and walk 2 blocks south to Daisy May's BBQ USA. In preparation for the trip, I had queried "Who has the best bbq in NYC?" on Aardvark. This place was recommended and it is only a stroll away from where we are staying! It is an unassuming brick building with red canopies and the familiar red canvas entryways nearly every restaurant in NYC sports. Even though it is well past lunchtime, there are a few customers ahead of us waiting in the narrow corridor to order at a cafeteria-style food line. The menu is a parade of pulled pork, ribs, and various other meats; the smell is maddening.

Finally, we are able to order. I ask the cashier what she thinks is better, the Kansas City Sweet & Sticky Pork Ribs or the Memphis Dry Rub Pork Ribs? "Get a mixed plate," she advises. "That way you can try them both, three of each." Good deal, because I can never remember which I like best. My plate special also comes with two sides so I opt for Cajun Dirty Rice and Beans, and Golden Spicy Corn Bread. Thanks to advice on foursquare, I also order the sweet tea served in a mason jar. (But just in case it isn't palatable, I get a Magic Hat #9 as well.) We grab our tray and drinks, then head into the dining room.

The dining room consists of three long trestle tables with many stout chairs. On the wood-paneled walls, various placards and awards tell you the story of Daisy May's, and just how good the meal is that you're about to eat. We hunker down at the far table, just next to a freezer door. There is salt, pepper and other minor condiments, but no barbecue sauce. No barbecue sauce!?! That's okay; I'll make do without it.

My first bite, I dive into the Kansas City Sweet & Sticky Pork Ribs. They are indeed sweet (but not overly so) and lead to sticky fingers. Unfortunately, this is my least favorite cut of meat because the "nodules" of cartilige at one end of each rib. The flavor, however, is amazing...smoky, spicy with just the right amount of brown sugar sauce. I'm initially a little nervous because the meat is so tender it seems raw. A quick inspection shows it is cooked just fine. I move on the Memphis Dry Rub Pork Ribs. The meat is tight to the bone, and you really have to work at it with your teeth. Again, the smoky flavor shines through the generous spice rub. Both ribs are good, but I've had better.

Sweet tea isn't my favorite beverage. In fact, I've only had it a couple other times. It's just too sweet! As I chug down glass after glass during lunch, though, I think I finally discover why this sugary beverage exists in the first place: it's a soothing counterpoint to typically over-spiced southern cooking. I nearly finish the large mason jar all by myself (along with the beer).

Both of my sides are quite dry. The rice and beans, though flavorful, would benefit from a gravy or brown sauce (especially in light of the lack of sauce at the table). I munch a couple bites from the cornbread, but it too lacks moisture, as well as flavor. My stolen forkful of Juliet's baked beans makes me realize the error of my choices; it is creamy, smoky, and sweet. I am not as impressed with my sampling of her pulled pork, with its heavy mustard overtones and pedestrian preparation.

The atmosphere leaves much to be desired. A young family had seated just after us (thankfully at the far table), and the little kids were just too rambunctious, yelling and crying and playing with the furniture. You could tell the mother was trying her best to corral the kiddies, but having a difficult time of it. Dad looks like he couldn't care less; the kids are mom's job. Also, some of the staff has to load and unload products from the freezer and bang the door against my chair several times, blocking our exit.

When we are finally able to leave, we do so with some relief. The food was decent, but exactly what you might expect from a rib shack situated alongside car dealerships, auto mechanic garages, and plumbing supply shops, in a more industrial section of Hell's Kitchen. For a quick lunch place, it's suitable but I think we both recommend the takeout option for serious foodies.

She Fed:
To my surprise, we 're overstaffed at our booth on Friday, so I'm able to go have a real "lunch hour" with my husband. The plan was for me to leave the booth at 12 noon, but it ends up being past 1 pm before I can bolt. Jeremy and I are both ravenous and as soon as I can change out of my business suit and into jeans and flats, we racewalk down the street to Daisy May's.

In the interest of full-disclosure, I should tell you I'd been to Daisy May's just two nights before with a few co-workers. We were tired, it was late and barbeque just a few blocks from our hotel hit the spot. I had the beef brisket, macaroni and cheese (like that's even an option for me) and creamed corn. And a bottled water, Corona and Diet Coke...like I said, it had been a long day. I didn't pay much attention to the atmosphere or the other patrons. It was nearly 9 pm and we were all scarfing down our food. I remember the brisket was sweet and rich and the mac and cheese was dense and comforting. The creamed corn had white cheddar in it and had I known that beforehand, I never would have ordered it. It had no spice or kick to it like most Southern creamed corn dishes; it was essentially corn in a thick cheese sauce.

I am so excited to have some time with Jeremy on Friday, I don't really care where we eat and I know he has his heart set on Daisy Mays. I figure this will give me an excuse to try some different things. As soon as we walk in, my mouth starts watering because the place smells so damn good. Smoke, seared meat and barbeque sauce...a trifecta for the nose that will evoke more than one fond memory of warm summer nights, cold beers in hand and a white hot grill begging for ribs, brisket, chops, steaks and more. Ahhhh, but I digress.

The set-up at Daisy May's is confusing and none of the staff seems to be in any big hurry to help you figure it out. You walk in and must either head right to the dining room (where you will never, ever be waited on) or head left to the order counter. As you walk left (or wait in line as the case may be) you will see all of the day's sides in large steamtable vats. I know the word "vats" sounds so very unappetizing, but once you see the mounds of mashed potatoes, red eye gravy, macaroni and cheese, braised collards, baked beans with burnt ends, creamed spinach, peaches with bourbon sauce, creamed corn, dirty rice and corn bread...your stomach will begin to growl and you will happily order something out of the vat.

This time around, I order the pulled pork which comes in a vinegar-based Carolina style sauce and a side of baked beans and macaroni and cheese. (I truly will never be bored with mac and cheese; it's an addiction and I may need professional help.) While the brisket from a few nights ago had been chewy, dense and sweet, today's pulled pork is a tender, fall-off-the-bone consistency in a spicy but sweet sauce. The mustard, vinegar and brown sugar all play very nicely together. It would be impossible to pick a favorite between the brisket and the pork and I would suggest asking for half portions of each if they'd let you try it.

The mac and cheese is fabulous again, only even more so as I asked the server to scoop me up a few of the crunchy pieces from the corners. (I'm an "edger", I like those crispy, crunchy bits around the edges of any casserole or roast.) The high point though is the baked beans with burnt ends. They are slow-cooked, probably overnight, but still have some tooth to them. The sauce is dark and sweet, I can still taste a bit of molasses, and the burnt ends, at least for an edger like me, are chewy little bits of meaty bbq heaven.

Like so many NYC eateries, Daisy May's is doing the best it can with it's limited space. The seating is communal, the tables are slightly tacky with the slightest residue of barbeque sauce and you're stuck eating with whoever else is there the same time as you. (Yes, I'm talking to you, the two beastly children who screamed, scratched and chortled nonstop while Daddy pretended to be anywhere else but here.)

In any case, this is not a place you come to for haute cuisine, personal service or memorable atmosphere. You come for the 'Q and perhaps what I hear is the best red velvet cupcake on the planet...alas, I find I am too full to try one. The sides are very generous and most of the meats, excluding ribs of course, are available on a sandwich. I recommend scoping out the dining room first and maybe considering getting your meal to-go. There is a small park a few blocks to the north and I can see a lovely feast of brisket or pulled pork, baked beans and a cupcake in my future!

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Six.One.Six

(Grand Rapids, MI) A few years back, Grand Rapids buzzed with excitement because Marriott had decided to erect it's flagship property, the J.W., on the shores of the Grand River downtown. Certainly construction of DeVos Place, with its convention center and concert hall, had a lot to do with that decision. One bored winter, we had popped in to the adjoining bar for a quick afternoon beer and sandwich, and went away just as bored. To be fair, that should have cast no reflection on executive chef Andrew Voss' abilities, nor his team's; indeed, that uneventful lunch was no indicator of the experience we would soon have at Six.One.Six...

He Fed:
Although it is Juliet's pick this weekend, I influence her slightly when I make mention that it would be nice to have a "proper dinner" this time around. By that, I mean no lunchtime outing, no bar food, no diner...an actual meal prepared by a thoughtful and creative chef. As she runs through suggestions nearby, I casually mention the restaurant at the J.W. Marriot, and we're decided. I research the menus online and make a reservation through OpenTable.com, my favorite free service.

We drive to the hotel (only minutes away from home) and valet the Prius. With dinner, you get 4 free hours of valet parking! Although we're a little early, the manager takes our coats and arranges for us to be seated at a table in the back of the restaurant. It is busy, with other nearby couples enjoying wine and conversation in low tones. The dim light does not bode well for photography without flash, and we are reluctant to distract other diners with our snapshots.

Our waitress arrives, friendly and attentive. She fills our waterglasses with tap water from a pitcher. I guess they do not offer sparkling? No matter; I had assumed as much by their credo of buying local. She relates the specials, but I've already decided online what I'm going to have. We order the cheeseboard with wine pairings immediately. It is delivered shortly, a generous helping of each:

* Fromage Blanc (Arcata, CA) paired with Cantine Saccetto, Prosecco: My favorite of the bunch, the goat cheese is creamy but lively with the wine. Smeared on a cracker and topped with golden raisins, it is the ultimate cocktail party snack.

* Reny Picot, St Rocco Brie (Benton Harbor, MI) paired with Arona Sauvignon Blanc: Smooth and buttery, it's hard to believe this hails from Michigan. The wine is a bit too sweet for me.

* Carr Valley, River Bend (La Valle, WI) paired with a Riesling that took the place of the Alsace Gewurztraminer they were out of: Hard white cheese dipped in honey is good but not that memorable. Not digging the vino at all.

* Manchego (La Mancha, Spain) paired with Soquel Pinot Noir: If you know me, you know I love a good Pinot Noir and this one grabs me right away. It has such a smoky character that I mistake it for the Malbec at first (much to Juliet's delight). The cheese is delicious dipped in strawberry jam.

* Rogue River, Oregon Blue (Central Point, OR) paired with Malbec Decero: I'm not a huge blue cheese fan when eating it alone, but this is palatable. The wine is appropriately stiff-backed to stand up to the blue. I'm still in love with the Pinot, though.

After we've scraped away the remainders of all cheeses and accouterments, we order dinner proper. Juliet mixes it up with a salad and flatbread, while I gravitate to the Curried Goat Cheese Ravioli (and a full glass of that Pinot Noir). In my past life, ravioli didn't really do it for me as a meal. Since La Pergola, however, I continue to chase that dragon, hoping this pasta will at least come close enough to remind me of heaven yet again.

The handmade ravioli arrive—two of them, large and pregnant with warm goat cheese inside—floating in a thick pool (nage) of sage brown butter and red curry squash, topped with baby mustard greens. My first bite is utter bliss, taste buds bouncing from the curry to the peppered ravioli to the warm goat cheese to the squash. Diligently, lovingly, I work my way to the bottom of the bowl, pausing only for more water and wine (the Pinot goes very well with the curry). In the end, I really enjoy the dish though the unique components eventually dissolve into a mustardy-curry melange that is almost too rich.

I try to help Juliet with her flatbread (her salad is enormous) but I am saving myself for dessert. Ordinarily I might order coffee, port and a slice of something but tonight I am satisfied with "merely" the Coconut Rice Pudding Brulee. I love a good brulee, I love rice pudding and I love coconut. Does it all work together? Yes and no. It really just tastes like rice pudding with a slightly caramelized sugar topping. Nothing special...good but not worth seeking out on its own merits.

As we pay the bill (which is quite reasonable), collect our coats and ask the valet to retrieve our car, both of us agree we will be back. Six.One.Six is pleasantly out of place by the standards of other eateries in Grand Rapids. It truly does feel as though you are dining in Manhattan or San Francisco. When summer finally dawns, we look forward to enjoying dinner al fresco on the deck overlooking the river.

She Fed:
Jeremy and I have eaten here for lunch in the bar twice before and I thought the place was okay. Once we had to help the server pronounce "aioli" and this was before we were foodies, so my expectations were not high.

The JW Marriott offers free valet parking (good for four hours) with dinner. When we pull up, the first thing I notice are the uniformed valet attendants dressed like Marines. For a split second, I wonder what dignitary is in town because the guy opening my door looks 100% military, right down to the buzz haircut under his hat.

Upon entering, we discover a special furniture exhibit with projects from Kendall students lining the foyer, which adds to the trendy vibe of the place. The lobby curves and opens into a lounge bar called "Mixology", filled with sexy leather chairs and sleek tables. It strikes me as almost too cool for Grand Rapids, but at the same time I'd like to come back with some friends for a drink. This is, by the way, the same bar we had lunch in and I don't remember it being this cool. But with the lights dimmed and a chi-chi crowd sipping martinis, the place is ultra hip. Or is it "hep"? Being neither sleek nor trendy, I don't know these things.

We proceed to the restaurant which is dimly lit, has lots of curved granite, dark wood, and an open kitchen. I see sushi being prepped and salads assembled fresh to order, which gives me hope. We are seated at a very dark table and given a wine menu, dinner menu, and cheese tasting menu. Ding, ding, ding! Did someone say cheese? I have come to believe that a good hunk of brie, chevre, or tallegio is a much better way to stave of osteoporosis than a vitamin any old day. We order five cheeses and wine pairings to match...probably one of the best I've had. The condiments are simple: almonds with brie, strawberry jam with Manchego—you could do this at home.

My one criticism is that the entree selections are slim...eight choices, which doesn't seem enough. I was planning to order the red grouper I'd seen listed on the website—I love mild, flakey fish—but unfortunately they changed it to swordfish, which is too oily and strong for me. The seafood mac and cheese with lobster, scallops, shrimp, and a mornay sauce seems like just too much after that glorious cheese board. I've had so many fancy-pants, multicourse dinners this week that I just want something simple and not meat-centric. Jeremy's already called dibs on the one vegetarian dish they offer and we try to never order the same dish.

I decide to go with the roasted beet and apple salad. It arrives on a colossal plate (the waitress calls it their "infinity plate") and it is decidedly gorgeous. A softball-sized mound of frisee is dotted with sauteed Jonagold apples, diced roasted beets, and candied pecans. Underneath is a lovely schmear of salted caramel and the entire creation is topped with a crescent of the same mild goat cheese we had on the cheeseboard. The frisee is crispy and fairly bitter; the roasted beets and apples are slightly caramelized and sweet; and the pecans, caramel and goat cheese just take this salad over the top. Quite possibly the best frisee salad I've ever had. I find frisee difficult to eat, hard to tame and get on the fork, but this is well worth it.

Along with the salad, I order the ham and pineapple flatbread which I enjoy immensely. The whole-wheat flatbread is thin and covered with small cubes of ham and fresh pineapple, sprinkled with mozzarella and baked until the cheese is gooey and the pineapple caramelized in spots. A chiffonade of red cabbage is arranged on top, not exactly what I pictured when I read "slaw" on the menu, but the crunchiness of the cabbage works with everything else. I'm only able to eat two pieces of the flatbread; Jeremy helps me by eating two and the rest goes in the take-away carton. I do find room for a scoop of caramel gelato, but can't even finish it and am almost painfully full.

Six.One.Six boasts a focus on fresh, local organic ingredients and I would have liked to have read more about this on the menu. The cheese tasting menu credits sources, but I'd like to see them extend this to the entire menu and let diners know where the salad greens, meats, and veggies originate. One side of their wine list features "40 Wines Under $40" which is fun and approachable. The portions are very generous. The prices are what you'd expect for a nicer restaurant. Our waitress was attentive without being too "clingy" and the manager made the rounds refilling waters and checking in on every table; I found that to be a nice touch. There is a deck overlooking the water and I can already picture Jeremy and I with a group of friends ordering some of those under $40 wines and a bunch of small plates out there this summer. Worth a return visit or two at least!

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Old Boy's Brewhouse

(Spring Lake, MI) There's nothing like a break in the weather to lift your spirits and cast your mind's eye on the warmer months ahead. After a week of moderate temperatures and sunny skies, we decided to head toward Lake Michigan on our latest adventure. Some friends had recently attended the Michigan Winter Beer Festival and had nice things to say about Old Boy's beers, headquartered in Spring Lake near Grand Haven. Although the earlier forecasts had predicted rain, Sunday dawned partly sunny. A perfect day for a short road trip...

He Fed:
There is an intangible something about brewing establishments that appeals to me. Oh, sure, they serve beer, but I'm talking about an eclectic vibe that you just can't find in your (gag!) average chain restaurant and is somehow beyond the reach of the neighborhood bar. Around here, we are blessed with several such places: HopCat, Founders, and Grand Rapids Brewing Company (though that latter one has certainly dwindled over the years). When you walk into these places, there's a relaxed feeling of belonging, as if by purchasing a pint you become almost family. It's comforting and keeps you coming back for more.

When we enter Old Boy's Brewhouse—with lunch companions John and Rachel—that same feeling settles over me like a cloak. The first thing I see in the foyer are the tuns and vessels that make up the brewery, gleaming stainless steel and copper behind a large window. Beyond this are clever t-shirts, mugs and assorted paraphernalia for sale. A sign invites us to "please take a seat". We glide into a larger hall with many tables to the right and a medium-sized bar to the left. An even larger room extends beyond, and we choose a table here for more privacy. Windows overlook the nearby river, where people pass by walking their dogs. Already, I can tell this is a hopping summer spot.

Our initially offish waitress hands us paw-shaped menus with the back-story printed on them (essentially, the place is named for the owner's departed dog). It is an extensive selection of food! I immediately order a beer sampler while everyone else makes up their minds. All of the brews are solid, not overly intimidating. The Kolsch and the Golden Sour (the Kolsch with lime-aid in it) are standouts, calling with summer's siren.

We start off with some Pluto's Pickles and Scoobie Snacks. (Are you starting to see the theme here?) Pickles arrive as deep-fried spears, crunchy but deserving of more than Ranch dressing for a dipping sauce. Scoobie's snacks are nothing more than glorified nachos and I am not a big fan of their too-thick and tasteless tortilla chips. They are loaded with salsa, chicken and beans but even with sour cream and guacamole on the side, they are instantly forgettable.

While everyone else gravitates toward sandwiches (Juliet orders perch, John gets a reuben, and Rachel selects prime rib), I decide on the brisket. Oh man, am I ever glad I did! A too-generous helping of shredded beef brisket bathed in chipotle strawberry barbeque sauce lounges on a large platter next to tater tots and vanilla bean sweet potato mash. Each forkful is sweeter, hotter and more flavorful than the last. Sadly, I can only work my way through half of it. In retrospect, I should have eased up on the potato portions but it was all so delicious, I had a hard time keeping my mouth in check.

Everyone proclaims my dish the winner, and I am happy. I ask our waitress (who has warmed up to us or to her day-long stint working) to pass along my compliments to the cook...something I don't ordinarily do. On our way out, we pass the dessert tray, loaded with double-wide carrot cake (a personal fave), gigantic swathes of deep, dark chocolate cake, and some kind of monster sundae. Not today, sweets. I am too sated.

Without a doubt, my experience at Old Boy's is memorable. In fact, once summer is in full swing it will be torture to be away. For now, I can only imagine sitting out on their deck on a sunny, warm day, sipping a cold beer and enjoying more of that beef brisket.

She Fed:
I have heard great things about Old Boy's Brewhouse, mostly their Bloody Mary's, margaritas, and awesome summertime deck. Paired with 45-degree weather (still too cold for the deck) and sunshine after a dreary winter, the drive to Spring Lake was a welcome adventure. But the real adventure came in finding the place! It's one of those joints you don't see until you've passed it, off one of those wanky inverted cloverleaf overpass/underpass highway structures.

We walk in and proceed through a hallway filled with cool sweatshirts, tee shirts, polos, and doggie treats. There are pictures of dogs, and dogs with their owners, plastered everywhere. I spot (pun totally intended) a photo of a dog taking a whiz on a sign reading "No animals allowed on the beach." This is clearly going to be a laid back, relaxed lunch site.

To get to the non-smoking section, we have to walk through the bar and a fair amount of smoke. We find a nice table for four in and our waitress brings us menus (shaped like a dog paw) right away. There is a wide selection: pizza, burgers, sandwiches, salads, entrees, and plenty of interesting-sounding appetizers.

Jeremy orders a beer sampler right away and I order a house-brewed root beer. I'm not big on full sugar soda, but the fact that they brew it onsite is just too good to pass up. The beer sampler arrives and is presented (trust me, it was a production), then Jeremy orders deep-fried dill pickles and "Scoobie Snacks" (aka nachos) for the table.

I'm a sucker for fried pickles. Old Boys' are good, but nothing out of the ordinary. Crispy coating, hot dill pickle, and ranch dip. The nachos arrive and are HUGE, gorgeously dotted with black beans, tomatoes, cheese, and bits of chicken throughout. I like when toppings are mixed throughout the chips and not just dumped on top. And while I am a fussbudget about ordering chicken in a restaurant, Old Boys does not disappoint: All white meat, very clean-tasting with no funny parts or pieces. (A lot of restaurants try to sneak in a chunk of cartilidge or the part that went over the fence last.)

Our meals arrive quickly and I can tell that ordering the side of mac and cheese was a good move. Baked in a crock, it could have been lunch on it's own, rather than just the side for my perch sandwich. The perch filets are tiny and dry but the bun tastes like it was baked that morning. I discard the sandwich and delve headfirst into the mac and cheese. When I ordered my lunch, the waitress asked about some sort of toppings for my sandwich and I said yes without paying attention. Turns out she was asking if I wanted "chives and bacon" on the pasta, not the sandwich. I was clearly giddy with the prospect of mac and cheese for lunch. The layer of bacon and green onions (not the same thing as chives by the way) is nearly an inch thick. It's lovely, but even I have my limits and peel it away nicely.

John (who's battling a cold, so who knows how good his taster really is) reports his corned beef sandwich on marble rye is "very good". Rachel's prime rib boursin sandwich on foccacia is pronounced "flavorless", but she takes it home...probably for their dogs. Jeremy's smoked brisket in strawberry chipotle sauce is the clear winner and we all take a few bites. The portion of brisket is best described as GUTBUSTING. With two sides, it could easily be shared if you're willing to pay the $2 fee to split an entree. Our waitress is efficient and cordial, but slightly offish. Even though our group's reviews are mixed, I would go back to Old Boy's this summer to enjoy drinks and apps on the deck.

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