Post Vaccination Mastication

Friedman's - Hell's Kitchen

Disclaimer: Let me be honest. I didn't go to breakfast intending to write about it. I've never written a review of a place I've gone alone, at least I don't remember ever doing it. But halfway through breakfast, I thought of the title for this and had to write something to justify using it.

I started my Saturday morning at 6:45AM. There were days, many moons ago, that I used to just be getting to sleep at that hour. I stumbled around my apartment and dragged my disgruntled ass to the Javits Center for my second vaccine shot. It's pretty impressive just how streamlined and quick that process was and how pleasant all the people there have been both times I was there. I was in and out in about 25 minutes and that includes the 15 minutes you have to wait after you've gotten the shot. Can't complain about that at all.

Since I was up and in the city, it seemed like a good idea to find myself some breakfast. A quick
trip to the Google showed me that there was a place called Friedman's just 2 blocks away. So I strolled my newly vaccinated self those blocks in search of caffeine and tasty morning victuals.

I walked in, had my temperature taken, filled out the contact tracing form and was seated right in the window pretty quickly. There was outside dining and a dining room in the back that I didn't see. I was seated in the little coffee shop up front. More or less nondescript. Some exposed brick and a tiny bar.

I then sat there for a solid 15 minutes before anyone even spoke to me again. The guy that seated me was in constant motion. It almost seemed that he and the busser were the only people working. There were two other people that I noticed as I was there, they seemed to spend a lot of time chatting with each other or with friends. Quite honestly, I waited at my table so long without anyone even looking in my direction that I considered leaving. Right before I put my notebook away and walked out, I someone finally came over. I think the busser noticed me writing in my little review notebook and said something to someone. I noticed that he kept staring at me as he went past me. I thought maybe I had begun to grow a cock from my forehead, but maybe it was just that he noticed me writing and thought it was about the restaurant. He was right...about me writing about the place, not about me having a cock on my forehead. I spoke to all 3 of the waitstaff while I was there. I didn't speak to the staring busser (I can't call him “bus boy”, he was easily older then everyone else working there.), he freaked me out a little bit. They were all very nice and friendly. It just quite often seemed that only 1 of them was working there.

I was hungry.  It was good.  

I will say that once I placed my order, the food came out pretty quickly. The pastrami hash had
nice chunks of pastrami, perfectly cooked oozy eggs and scallions that really helped brighten up what could've been a heavy meal. Even the toast was good. The dish was in need of seasoning, but after adding some salt and pepper...it was really an excellent breakfast. The side of bacon was thick and nicely cripsy without being burnt. After a couple of pieces though, the sweet glaze, or something that was put on it, became a little cloying. Not that I didn't finish it. There was nothing but empty plates and cups left when I left. Unfortunately, the coffee was kind of bitter. Not bold, just bitter...maybe a little burnt. If you're serving breakfast, you've got to have good coffee. This coffee was a fail. I finished that cup of coffee with a grimace, which will tell you just how much I needed the coffee.

A slightly uneven experience. But if I find myself at the Javits Center again, hopefully for something more pleasant than getting jabbed in the arm with a pointy object loaded with drugs, I'll try them again.

Friedman's – Hell's Kitchen

450 10^th Avenue

New York, NY, 10018

212-268-1100

Sometimes You Have Dinner In A Bank Vault

 Butcher and Banker

Before we get started, I just need to say this. I'm eating dinner in a bank vault. A FRIGGIN' BANK VAULT! Fucking cool! Yeah, I'm a dork. So what.

It was Good Friday and for those of you that have been reading, you know what that means. It means it's time for MEAT. We've been at this for about a decade I think. We started this at the Benchmark in Park Slope and enjoyed our first couple of times there. We moved on to some hits and misses. I'd say Butcher and Banker was definitely a hit...with a couple of minor dings.

I was thinking about our sinful outings as I've been getting ready to write this. At pretty much every one there's been at least one fellow diner that manages to make us hate him or her. They're obnoxious to the staff. They're loud enough that it's impossible not to eavesdrop. And the conversations we eavesdrop on are always just terrible. This year was no different. This guy was across the vault from us and just annoying as all hell. This jackhole should definitely have been swallowed 40 years ago. Some folks just shouldn't be allowed out. I'm pretty sure these people are our penance from Jesus for so blatantly chewing meat in his face.

The setting really is kind of special here. I mean, that's true of all steakhouses. There's something classic and cool about a good steakhouse. But this took it to a different level. You enter through the New Yorker Hotel and then take an elevator downstairs. For some reason, I really liked the idea of going underground for dinner. It felt like we were going down to the Bat Cave. That feeling only increased when we were seated in a bank vault. I felt like we were having dinner in a Batman movie. Annie and I were seated beside a wall of safety deposit boxes. Oddly, the opposite wall was decorated pink flowers printed on a baby blue field. I have no idea what the heck that was about, but it certainly made you notice it. It sort of looked like pillows you'd find an a grandmother's couch. Kind of reminded me of the walls in this Italian restaurant, Gino's, that was on the beginning of the Upper East Side. They had zebras on a red field. Completely insane.

Our waiter, Miguel, deserves special mention. He was very pleasant. Seemed actually happy to be doing his job. And when Annie couldn't figure out what kind of cocktail she wanted, he was on the ball to help. That kind of attention to detail. He was clearly a professional and very good at what he does. It's that kind of service that helps make steakhouses special. Thank you, good sir.

That was a lot of writing and I haven't gotten to anything edible yet. Here we go.

After Annie settled on a negroni, which was excellent, and really hard to make properly because Campari is so bitter, and I ordered a fantastic Old-Fashioned (I'm a man of habit, I guess), they brought us out some delicious buns covered in herbs and butter and served with onion butter. I didn't know what onion butter was before last night, but I do now and I can never go back to not knowing. It was delicious and I want more of it. Then the appetizers started coming.

We began with a seafood tower. I didn't realize I'd be knocking down a dozen oysters, I figured on a half dozen. But when one has a job to do, a tasty tasty job at that, one does his duty. The oysters were fresh and briny and wonderful. The cocktail sauce needed some horseradish punch but the vinaigrette was good. Really, the oysters didn't need anything. The cocktail shrimp were the size of those mini-bats they give away at baseball games and were just as good as the oysters. The crab was good and crabby, I can't really think of anything else to say about it. The salmon tartar was pretty bland. It really needed some salt and maybe some heat. We also had Burrata Caprese, which was absolutely perfect, creamy and gleefully decadent. And finished off appetizing with Fried Calamari, Rock Shrimp and Shishito Peppers. Perfectly seasoned. I really liked the wasabi sauce. Annie preferred the curry salt. (BTW Annie, it was curry salt.) What is it about shishito peppers that make them so good?

Then the main event happened. We ordered the porterhouse for two, roasted mushrooms, creamed spinach and a potato cake cooked in duck fat. The porterhouse was really good. Incredible crust and well salted. Unfortunately, we ordered it medium rare and some of it came out well done. But somehow, even the well done parts were really tender and tasty. Just not as good as it could have and should have been. The creamed spinach was good and there was A LOT of it. It basically came in a gravy boat. The potatoes were crispy and rich. You could actually taste the duck fat. I could've eaten a bucket of those mushrooms. I would have if I didn't feel like I was going to explode at the table. There was just no way I could accommodate anymore food.

I would definitely recommend Butcher and Banker and would absolutely enjoy going back. This was a great time. I just want to say thank you to the Romans and Jews for offing Jesus, and for doing such a shit job of it that he came back a couple of days later so that Annie and I could enjoy fancy steak dinners once a year.

*Some pictures courtesy of Annie and her fancy new phone.

*If you want to see more pictures, you can fine them on Instagram @mikenico13

Butcher and Banker

481 8^th Avenue, Vault Level

New York, NY, 10065

212-268-8455

WHEN IS A "CLASSIC" NOT A CLASSIC?

Rebecca and I rocked out at a Michelin-starred joint a couple of Saturdays ago. Turns out Michelin-starred restaurants are, on occasion, like “classic” books or movies. Sometimes after experiencing them, you're left wondering, “Really? What's all the fuss?' At least, that's how I felt about Meadowsweet. It was good. A nice experience. Nothing even remotely bad. Also, nothing great either.

To start with, they're on top of their Covid game. They take temperatures on the wrist, take contact information from one of us and even ask that you put your facial covering on when interacting with the staff. Which is a step further than I've seen so far. But if it makes them feel safer, I'm all for it. I appreciate the effort. So much so, that I feel like, probably for awhile, it'll have a position in my reviews. It's important to feel safe and comfortable to enjoy a meal properly. Even as we go forward with vaccinations, I can't wait to get my second shot already, the world will probably need some precautions for a bit. It's a tough position restaurants hosts and waitstaff are put in. They have to enforce whatever rules the state, city and their owner have decided are necessary, and they have to do it in a way that is somehow unobtrusive to the experience of their restaurant and still be firm enough that the few that still think this was/is all a scam comply without making a scene. And you never know when that needle in the haystack asshole may pop up and try to ruin everyone's night like a rotten fart.

Sorry about that, it felt like I needed to say it and it just landed in the middle of this review.

That said, I liked the interior of the place. Light woods, cute dangly light thingamawhatsits, banquet seats along the wall...it had a comfortable but classy vibe. Not particularly unique, but nicely done. I dug the music that was playing too. Weirdly, I can't remember what was playing, I just remember noticing that I liked it. The staff were all very pleasant. Although I kind of felt like our waiter was some kind of stealthy assassin. Being that you're supposed to be masked when dealing with the waiter, I tried to get my mask on before he got to the table. But he kept sneaking up on me. Not once did I manage to see him coming, not one damned time.

We started our meal with Olive Oil rolls with Thyme Butter and Burrata with Autumn Squash. Those rolls were outrageous. I'm not even sure why. They were just dinner rolls. Hot, fluffy, flavorful dinner rolls with yummy butter. Damn, I want more of those rolls. I really love carbs. The burrata was really tasty. It came on a sage pesto, with Brussels sprouts and spiced pecans. It was all delicious, it just wasn't burrata. It was a loaf of fresh mozzarella. That messy, delicious creamy center just wasn't there. And without that, it's just cheese. Not the indulgent glee that burrata is.

Daffy tastes good covered in Mole Sauce.

The Bavette (Which is just a fancy way to hangar steak) was cooked absolutely perfectly. It came dressed in a tasty vinaigrette. I only got a bite of that, but it was a good bite. I had the Duck Breast Mole. I didn't know duck should be prepared medium-rare. Turns out the chef was right.
That duck was delicious. So was the mole sauce it came in. Just the perfect amount of heat and sweet. The potatoes and Brussels sprouts were delicious in the mole too. My sneaker would be delicious in that mole.

The Barrel Aged Brooklyn was a Manhattan...but not a barrel aged one. It was mediocre at best. So I moved on to the Mary, Queen of Scotch...great name! This was a scotch cocktail with vanilla and citrus. It could have used some heat to balance out the sweetness, but still a good drink. Just not more than one, I think.

Dessert was a Flourless Chocolate Cake, which was OK. It didn't feel classic, it felt passe. The Caramel Ice Cream it came with was really good though. Caramel is usually too strong and sweet a flavor for me, but this was nicely balanced. The Rose Water Panna Cotta was just not my jam. (Jesus, those last sentences felt really douchey to write. I'm not sure why.)

The overall menu isn't very deep. But what's on it, is mostly done well, based on what we had. I know, I know, I said a lot of very positive things considering I started this review saying it was “classic”. And I stand by that. It just doesn't quite come together. I know, nothing is quite coming together right now, we're living in strange times...and I get that. It just didn't feel like that was it. Like Meadowsweet, while good, was not the great I was expecting. If there was a Meadowsweet in my neighborhood, I'd be a regular. I just wouldn't travel out of my way to go there. Like I said in the beginning, it was good just not a classic.

Meadowsweet

149 Broadway

Brooklyn, NY, 11211

718-384-0673

Time To Get Back On the Brunch Horse

It's been a good long while since I've written one of these. But I'm hoping to move past my rampant laziness and do it more often this year. I like to eat. I like to drink. I like the people I get to eat and drink with. And, as it turns out, I still like to write sometimes. Hopefully, I still remember where the ballgags go and what the safe words are. Hope you're hungry.

First brunch of 2021. And it was a good one. My partner in brunch adventures, Rebecca and I checked out Ainslie in Williamsburg. It's been what feels like a decade since we went out seeking a new brunch place. It felt like it was about time we got back on the horse...or some other cliché that means start doing something again.

I really liked the look and feel of Ainslie as soon as we walked in. There's a lot of greenery. It's all wood and brick. A very rustic feel. It looked like they had a nice outside set up as well. No waiting for our reservation despite being 15 minutes early and clearly being a bit busy. And they didn't rush us out when our 90 minutes were up. They definitely had reason to, there was a decent crowd outside waiting for a table. The hostess took our temperature, which is still weird, and off we went to our table.

Outstanding bloody Marys. The perfect amount of horseradish. At least for me, I prefer my bloody Marys to kick back. Let me know they're there. Just be sure to stir it as you go. They don't go light on the vodka, nor should they, so if it settles...the end of your drink is really potent.

The food that I got to eat was excellent. I'll start out by saying I didn't get a chance to try Rebecca's eggs benedict because she doesn't share. She's like Joey Tribbiani with red hair and a nicer butt. I did snag a fry, but right after I put it in my mouth she told me that if it was bacon, she'd have stabbed me. I've been stabbed a couple of times before over food, I'm not taking that chance again.

We had some of the best cooked arancini I've ever had. Not greasy in the least. Perfectly crispy, nice and cheesy inside. The tomato sauce had a nice taste. I could easily eat a dozen of these and have been a very happy man. As it was, I had two and was pretty pleased.

The burrata with tomatoes was delicious. The only complaint, and it's a tiny one, was it wasn't quite creamy enough. I'd gladly eat it again. But I love me some burrata and this just wasn't quite perfect. The taste was spot on, it just didn't quite nail the consistency.

Let me tell you, breakfast pizza is the fucking bomb. This was delicious. The Bongiorno Pizza was outstanding. Pancetta, red onions, mozzarella and sunny-side up eggs on a perfect pizza crust is what breakfasts should always aspire to be. The crust was tangy and chewy and wonderfully blistered. The pancetta was...it was tasty tasty pig, what else is there to say. The eggs were just barely over-medium, which is generally how I prefer them. They were just runny enough. The red onions though were the real star...their punch really tied everything together. I really want another one of these pizzas right now. I'm yearning.

All in all, an excellent return to brunching. I'm definitely going back for lunch or dinner to try other pizzas...or other foods that they serve. If brunch was any indication, I'm going to be happy to return.

Ainslie

76 Ainslie Street

Brooklyn, NY, 11211

347-725-3400

Reservations via Resy

Sinning Is Usually More Fun

Good Friday just passed, and you know what that means...steak dinner. My favorite yearly tradition. Every year, on Good Friday, my friend Annie and I go out for a big meaty dinner. Unfortunately, we've struck out a couple of times in our search for new places to sin. This year's choice turned out to be pretty uneven...Sparks Steakhouse.

Now, if Sparks Steakhouse sounds familiar to you, and you live in NY, you may know it as the restaurant Paul Castellano was shot in front of. Which brought about the rise of John Gotti as the head of the Gambino family in 1985. Right off the bat I was disappointed. There was no chalk outline. No faded red blood stain. Not even an ancient shell casing. Quite honestly, the biggest reason I wanted to go to Sparks was for it's unique place in New York's history. As it turns out, that was also the best part of the restaurant.

Sparks has a pretty nondescript kind of front. It just didn't have any character. I'm not sure why, but I expected something more. The interior, however, has quite a bit of character. Not necessarily in a good way. When I first walked in, I kinda liked the place. Deep reds and browns are generally what I think of when I think of a steakhouse. That's exactly what they've got going on here. The maitre'd that greeted us was in a tux. He was extremely pleasant. Showed us to our table right away. Of course, the place is HUGE. So there's no shortage of tables. But then after being seated, Annie and I started looking around. Everything seemed kind of dated. There are dozens of paintings in faux gilded frames of trees hanging on the walls. The maroon carpet has golden curlicue type things in it. The waitstaff bring out the food and take away the dishes on rickety wooden carts. Keens is an old restaurant. Delmonico's is an old restaurant. Peter Luger's is an old restaurant. Those places are classic. This place is passe. It's a little sad actually. Our waiter, Luis III (I checked the bill specifically for his name) was borderline rude. Every time he brought something to the table, you got the impression that he wanted to be anywhere else. And by the time you said “thank you” he was gone. It took him forever to notice we wanted him on the few occasions that we did. In the outstanding restaurants, the staff are always there when needed and just sort of fade away otherwise. It's one of the great mysteries of the great places. They're like ninja. But at Sparks, the staff is very much conspicuous. I don't EVER tip less than 20%. Luis got double the tip and I really didn't want to give him that.

First thing's first, what kind of steakhouse doesn't offer a rib-eye or a porterhouse. You shouldn't be allowed to call yourself a steakhouse if those things aren't on the menu. It's my own fault for not checking out the menu ahead of time. OK, I'll climb off my soapbox now. The waiter brought us our giant menus and we were on our way. We ordered ourselves some drinks. Being that I don't really drink wine, Annie asked our waiter what wines came by the glass. Not much point in ordering a bottle for herself. He actually kind of looked down at her and rattled off a couple of wines with a bit of an attitude. He looked at me funny too when I told him to use Bulleit bourbon instead of Maker's Mark in my manhattan. We were off to a wonderful start. I will say, I've never had drink come so quickly in a steakhouse. We didn't wait 5 minutes for the booze to arrive.

Not the most appealing looking piece of meat, but it was tasty.

We ordered a crab-meat and scallop combination that was broiled in butter. The crab was nice and sweet but the scallops didn't taste like anything. Not even the butter they were broiled in. We had mediocre Caesar salads. Although I did find the croutons to be kind of oily, the salad was OK. Since there wasn't a porterhouse to order, we both got Prime Sirloin. I will say, these were the best part of the meal. They were excellent pieces of meat that were only a touch overcooked. I only even mention that they were overcooked because I'm being picky because I had a problem with pretty much everything else we were served. As sides we got creamed spinach, hash brown potatoes and sauteed mushrooms. All of which tasted like absolutely nothing. The potatoes and spinach had pretty much no flavor and the mushrooms, which did manage a tiny bit of earthiness, were incredibly rubbery.

After dinner, since we didn't really eat all the much. There was room for dessert. Honestly, I just wanted a cup of coffee. But I figured why the hell not get something. Maybe it'll be redeeming from such an underwhelming experience. Along with the coffee I got a chocolate mousse cake and Annie had some peach sorbet She said her sorbet was quite good. The cake was mealy and I wish I'd have just gotten some from Aunt Butchie's. At least the coffee was excellent. I like that they brought you out your own little carafe. I did think it odd that there was no regular sugar. There was Splenda, Sweet N Low, Equal and Raw Sugar. Not that it mattered, it was just odd.

All in all, it wasn't really a great experience. With a lesser companion, it would've seriously sucked. Especially since we probably ordered the least amount of food and drink we've ever ordered at one of these dinner and paid the 2^nd most we ever have. This really wasn't worth the price. No sign of the famous murder, bland food, high prices and a rude waiter. There won't be any Fat Kid outings here in the future.

Sparks Steakhouse

210 East 46^th Street

New York, NY, 10017

212-687-4806

The Whole is Greater Than the Sum of Its Parts

I walked out of American Whiskey full of glowing thoughts. Blake, Gina (Who happen to be 2 of the finest people to share food and booze with in the history of food and booze. If I could pimp them out as drinking and dining companions, I'd make serious bank.) and I stood outside the door on West 30^th Street with that warm feeling that you only get from being properly fed and just the right amount of inebriated. We had ourselves a fantastic time. We imbibed, consumed and laughed until our faces hurt.

American Whiskey has a nice long bar when you walk in and what look to be comfortable and roomy booths right opposite it. There are tables in the back, which is where we wound up. Exposed brick walls (which I'm a big fan of) and a big set of free standing bookshelves loaded with A LOT of whiskey bottles serving as a room divider round out the rest of the noticeable décor. Someone working there had an excellent iPod playlist going because we were dancing and singing along at the table for the entire 3+ hours we were there. Our waitress (who's name I don't remember...I've got to get better at that) was terrific. She answered any questions we had. Made suggestions whenever asked. She seemed to be having a good time bantering with us a bit whenever she stopped by to check on us. She even brought us a couple of drinks gratis when the bartender made extras for a different order. She knew that's what we'd been drinking and decided we were worthy. I'm sure it didn't hurt that she seemed to have taken a bit of a liking to Blake either.

The Strike Me Dead

Basically, we drank. We drank a pretty goodly amount at that. There was the Strike Me Dead, which was rye, vanilla, pink peppercorns and blackstrap bitters (Blake, who knows all, kindly informed us that blackstrap is a kind of molasses.) I liked this drink a lot. On a whim and put some hot sauce in it and I liked it a whole lot more. Took it to a whole new level. The Whiskey Smash was Evan Williams Black Label, lemon, mint and your choice of fruit syrup. Gina went with cherry which was good and I went with grapefruit, which I thought was better. The Brain Duster, rye, sweet vermouth, angostura bitters and absinthe. Basically this was a Manhattan for Hemingway. It was definitely too absinthe forward, it overwhelmed everything else. I've had much better versions of this drink at Dylan Prime (sadly closed) and at the Minetta Tavern (I was too lazy to write this up, but had a great time there.) Our favorite was the So Damn Fine, Jameson Black Barrel, Jameson Caskmates, Drambuie and reposado. This was the only drink I remember any of us ordering more than once. And lastly and unfortunately leastly was Please Press Play, rye, Single Cut Eric “More Cowbell Please” Milk Stout (which despite being a mouthful to order was the very tasty beer we were drinking alongside our whiskey adventures) syrup, coriander and Door County Hops Bitters. I really didn't like this. It was like drinking a slightly whiskeyfied IPA. Blake didn't seem to dislike it as much as I did. I wouldn't have been able to drink more than the sip I tasted.

Sliders

While we certainly imbibed a great deal of booze, we also ate. If we hadn't, there's no chance any of us would've been able to get up from that table. We had lots of lovely snackies. There was Tater Tot Poutine, which is exactly what you'd imagine. Crispy tater tots covered in gravy and cheese curds. I couldn't stop sticking these in my face. If any one person tried to eat this alone, they'd certainly die of a myocardial infarction before they made it out the door. (It also made me giggle to myself that the curds sort of made a tiny squeaky noise when you chewed them. Don't judge me, it's called Loving Your Inner Fat KID!) Oysters on the Half Shell which came with pop rocks and a mignonette. You wouldn't think pop rocks belong with raw oysters...but they were flavorless and kind of worked. It was pretty weird. And I think there were Fried Oysters but I don't really remember much about them. We also tried a few different sliders. There was the Homer L Ford IV (no idea who that is), Country Fried Sweetbreads, spicy honey and slaw. These were pretty good. The Duck Duck Goose had Duck Confit, Duck Breast and Foie Gras Butter. I expected to love these but didn't. There wasn't any real Foie taste and the duck was a little dry. And theAdobe Chicken, the most basic and the best of the sliders. Shredded chicken, preserved jalapeno and slaw. Great bright flavor. Definitely my favorite.

What's interesting is that I didn't realize until 3 or 4 days later, when I was starting to put my thoughts together to write this, that there were things about American Whiskey that I didn't love. We had such a great time there that it completely overshadowed the negatives. Some of that was because I was out with great company and we likely could have a good time sitting in a park drinking 40ozs of O.E and eating dirty water dogs. But it's also because American Whiskey is most certainly greater than the sum of its parts. I'll be back whenever I'm looking for a bite and a drink before or after doing something at The Garden.

American Whiskey

247 West 30^th Street

New York, NY, 10001

212-967-1070

It Was Worth the Wait...And I'm Never Waiting That Long Again!

I know it's been a long while.  I'm sure you all missed me.  I've been lazy and negligent...and the truth is I've had some fantastic meals that I just never got around to writing about.  That's changed today though.  Welcome to Monte's...

So, for about a year now, every time I would see John and Gina, they'd somehow work it into the conversation how they just had to take me to this restaurant called Monte's. It's this pizzeria/restaurant they discovered on Carroll Street around the corner from their tattoo shop. (I was going to call it a tattoo “parlor” but it just sounds ridiculous in my head.) This Monte's had been mentioned to me at least a dozen times and I had completely given up any hope of ever setting foot inside the establishment. After all this time, I should be forgiven is I thought this place was as real as the Easter Bunny, Brian Johnson's Canadian girlfriend (If you don't get that, you may be too young to be reading this.) or a compassionate conservative. However, on the day after we all went to a raucous 40^th birthday party where some of us danced with plastic skeletons and we drank Bay Ridge dry of whiskey... After Gina spent the day making her stunning debut as a runway model... After John and I made our spectacular debut what looked to many as gay parents, I was finally gifted with a visit to this Snuffleupagus of restaurants. And it was worth the wait.

As with most places John and Gina frequent, when you walk in, you're greeted with a handshake and a smile. John immediately becomes the mayor of pretty much any place he visits more than 5 times. Monte's was no different. All of the staff were very friendly. The waiter made it a point to include John and Gina's 3-year old, Chloe...who seemed to be pretty thrilled with the margherita pizza that she had. The only complaint I can even think of about the restaurant was that it was a bit dimly lit for my tastes.

The Bresaola Pie...ours had a lot more spinach.

We adults decided on a small pizza as an appetizer and then regular entrees for dinner. I was told

immediately after agreeing to this idea that we were getting the Bresaola pizza and that was that. When you're given a a “suggestion” as fervently as I was given that one, you don't argue. Am I ever glad that I didn't. Before I even bother telling you what was on the pizza, let me tell you how amazing the crust was. Monte's makes their pizzas in a wood-fired oven and the crust is just perfect. It's slightly chewy with a little bit of crunch to it in places and just slightly tangy. Typing the words is making me yearn for it. OK...so the Bresaola pizza has mozzarella, mushrooms, baby spinach, bresaola (which is Italian air-dried beef for those of you not in the know), parmagiano cheese and truffle oil. This was a magnificent pizza. Normally, I'm annoyed by salad-ish type pizza with a bunch of leaves all over it. It just doesn't look like pizza. And when they brought this pizza out and I saw it, I was annoyed. Then I ate and I didn't care at all what it looked like. I just wanted to eat it...forever. John and I also split a few really excellent Prosciutto Balls. A lot of places make them and they're disgusting greasy cheese balls. This were actually perfect. No grease at all. Crunchy outside and creamy heaven inside. If you hadn't guessed, I was already loving Monte's.

Not to be forgotten, we did get entrees. John and Gina both had Rigatoni Bolognese that I didn't get to try, but their plates were as clean as when they came out of the dishwasher when they were done. That's got to say something. I had Garganelli All'anatra which was a bigger penne-like pasta with roasted duck ragu, truffle oil and mascarpone cheese. Unlike the pizza, I could not eat this every day...but I was thrilled to be eating it on Sunday. So fantastically rich and indulgent. The duck was incredibly tasty. I'm not always a fan of mascarpone, as it can be too sweet for my taste. Not in this case at all. This was almost an alfredo gone wild.

To give you an idea of the impact this excellent food had, the majority of this sprang fully-formed from my brain like Athena the goddess of wisdom at 2am. I jotted most of this down deliriously in the dark on a pad I keep on my bedside table. I promise you I will be going back to try more of this menu. I can't wait to eat more pizza!

Monte's

451 Carroll Street

Brooklyn, NY, 11215

718-852-7800

Just tell 'em John and Gina sent you. I'm sure they'll know who you mean.