This is why you fat

no really this is why your are fat. This blog is beyond description.

Think of corndogs and more corndogs

and hamburgers

and things that should not be related to hamburgers

in a deep fryer.

Oh the humanity.

And yet some honorable mentions:

the bacone...

the royal flush...

the McGangBang

no these aren't wacky sex positions you thought up when you were fourteen years old. Its food.

This is why you are fat. com

71 Irving

If you know me, and if your reading this you probably know me.

You probably know that I love a good cup of coffee. While a big cup of Starbucks will suffice when I am at work and only looking to suck down whatever caffeine comes my way through a straw, but when I want to kick back for some conversation and a big cup of Joe I need a place where I can stretch out and get my java served to me in a ceramic mug.

71 Irving Place

Any loyal spoonreader will know that the feeder is fond of feeding at at Friend of a Farmer. Every time I have finished my dinner full beyond belief I have walked by 71 Irving Place located next door and thought i want to be in there,

drinking that coffee

sitting in those chairs

its been several months.

and not a foot has been stepped inside.

Sometimes a good experience is waiting for just the right amount of inclement weather.

Walking back from Union Square up Irving when a monsoon struck and I sought protection in the safety of my local brewer

of micro roasted

estate grown

coffee.

Its just what i wanted and even more what I needed after getting poured on.

I have been back since, with better weather, and enjoyed a 'cup of Joe' outside at a table enjoying conversation and kicking back.

I have not had a chance to try the food that is offered with the brew but their quiche looks great and they serve Guinness by bottle. So if hot caffeinated beverages don't do it for you -

you can still get your fill.

71 Irving Place Coffee & Tea Bar

(Irving Farm)

71 Irving Place

212-995-5252

Bouley Upstairs?

What started as a cute outpost of David Bouley's awesome talent has grown from the confines of its upstairs moniker. When I first went to Bouley Upstairs, its was literally upstairs of Bouley's Bakery. Ascend a flight of stairs and enter the most jam packed resturant you've ever seen. Tables so close together you could easily participate in your neighbor's conversation or mistake their delicious looking plate for your own. As small as the main dining room is, they manage to squeeze not only the kitchen and a bar, but also an expert sushi chef with his own island.

***Warning: the Sushi chef is amazing, do not go to this restaurant without trying one of the Japanese offerings***

I've been to Bouley upstairs several times and at my last visit I was a little disappointed. Used to sitting in the upstairs aromatic paradise, I was surpised to find that they had converted the bakery into additional seating area; and when I went downstairs to use the bathroom, the tiny pescaria was converted into the manager's office. (Ok I wasn't that suprised, I am pretty sure I read about this transition somewhere). The food was good as ever, but somehow not eating in the cramped upstairs dining room really took a lot out of the experience.

Don't let my bashing of the modified interior keep you away from upstairs, downstairs, or any other part of this foodographic enclave. When I come here I love to do my meal half and half; half Japanese dishes and half American Nouveau. I have no doubt that any piece of sushi that comes out from their star sushi chef will blow your mind. I like to keep it simple with the fatty tuna roll, not fancy enough you say... just try a piece. Not a fan of sushi, ok, no big deal, then try the nanzenji - its a soup, its a pudding, its delicious 'signature home made tofu with truffle dashi'

Clear the plates, round two: American, fresh, brand new - simple and yet over the top. Line caught Halibut as good as it could be and yes even better. Silky and stunningly overpowering. For freshnesses a warm goat cheese salad. Its so good you may want to hold on to someone of their delicious bread to sop up every last bit of balsamic reduction and goat cheese.

When I take the time (and a cab) to make it all the way down to tribeca for a meal, I make sure to always to leave room for desert. Now you can take the bakery out of the building but you can't take the bakery out of Bouley Upstairs. Their dessert platters are everything you hoped for and more, at least everything I hoped for. Make sure you ask to see the selection of daily pastry offerings, as they are not brought out with the rest of the desserts. A wonderful meal topped off by a rose macaroon with rasberries and one thing I couldn't quite place, but I did: lychee. Damn if they didn't slip me that last bit of Japanese flare.

Bouley Upstairs

130 West Broadway

(212) 608 5829

TGI Sunday

I don't know why this place hasn't already been written up. I have been to Chat n' Chew a handful of times and have always enjoyed it. In fact, I've recommended it to friends more than any place else. While not a bad place to have a laid back dinner, this retro themed snack shack really shines at brunch.

Rusty license plates, old jukeboxes, a tin pig, and a glass display case of 3 layered cakes welcomes you in alongside a chalkboard of daily specials. Fares ranging from challah french toast to roadside chili warm everything from your stomach to your craving for nostalgia.

A few notes on personal favorites:

Now, I love huevos rancheros; Eggs, beans, salsa laying on a bed of cripsy tortilla chips. Maybe I'm just a sucker for Mexican in the morning, (that or I've fallen victim to the average breakfast joint's excuse for vegetarian brunch fare) but when its done right...damn tasty. To top it off, I stole a bite from my friend's blueberry pancakes smothered in blueberry sauce and laced with blueberry syrup; oh man fluffy, buttery, and...well...blueberry; you don't need to order them for yourself but you need to make sure someone at your sitting with does.

All in all, Chat-n-Chew is a downhome, easy to love place. If your in the mood for a low key night but your appetite has you hungry for more- you will surely be able to please both; without taking a hit to your wallet.

Turn up the Decibel

I've been to a few speakeasies before. Out of the way places you just need to know about. A small sign outside is all the notice you are going to get. While many of these places provide the kitsch of 1920's Americana, at steep prices most of them are unattainable on a regular basis.

When walking in little Poland last night my friend brought up Decibel sake bar. I'm not sure what I was expecting. Maybe the ultra commercialized dribble you get all too often, or perhaps the ever popular over sanitized Japanese restaurant. But one step in the door and I knew this place was a keeper.

A twenty minute wait to get a table and there is no option to put your name down as the hip materd in the kimono says, “I just remember your face."

For a visual reference, Imagine wall to wall Japanese graffiti, random bits of kitsch, a hello kitty shrine (an antique wood engraving, not the new shit) and some drops of anime for good measure. I've never been to Japan but what I've seen of it visa ve The Fast and the Furious and reruns of Anthony Bourdain I think it was a close approximation.

Reading the menu was a crash course in Japanese boozing (minus the obligatory karaoke): tons of sake, shochu drinks (distilled alcohol from sweet potatoes, supposedly with medicinal benefits), and a sampling of bar food…

Bar food... I'm not talking salted nuts, burgers, or fries...edamame, fried seaweed, and some pretty decent sashimi. I've never tried kohada (a mix between mackerel and herring) but served marinated with a little soy sauce and wasabi I can't even describe how good it was. Fishy but not overpowering, tender not gamey at all definitely something I would recommend.

Decibel was reasonably priced, offering the ability to enjoy the place on a budget (or in a recession) as well as the opportunity to drop a bill on a bottle or box of fine sake. Oh and unlike the American version of the speakeasy, name dropping is definitely allowed- it is in fact encouraged to be splattered all over the walls beneath the Saki lined cornice of this joint.

DECIBEL

240 E 9th Street

New York, NY 10003

(Between 2nd & 3rd AV)

New Spoon?

Dip your spoon anywhere good recently? Yeah you know what I am saying. The SpoonFeeder is looking for some feeding of its own.

Take this opportunity to share your favorite spots....

Not Rays, Not Famous, Good Pizza

When I talk of authentic Italian pizza I don't mean famous rays. Pizza straight from Italy is always thin crust covered with fresh ingredients of which anchovies and zucchini are always options.

I had walked by the restaurant Posto about a week earlier and saw diners feasting on the signature Italian dish. I wasn't let down by the pizza. Pies cooked to order on thin crust covered with buffalo mozzarella or fresh ricotta, perfection. It was without a doubt the closest thing to eating in Trastevere.

The restaurant wasn't pulling any punches it even served wine out of small cups...normal for getting served house wine in Rome, less common for dinner in NYC.

If you pass by or just have a craving, Posto is worth a visit. Just don't expect good service. Like any authentic Italian eatery the food delivers ~ the service doesn't.

Carlo and Esru (the impact of drunken bbm)

Out at Arlo and Esme: downstairs at this bar I feel like I am at some euro trash club. I would say I don't like it, but I do. Good people, some crazy looking club girl with shiny pants, and best of all I still get to chill on a couch. Couches or sitting otherwise allocated makes for a pleasurable experience.

This bar also has a gated porch so u can enjoy a drink outside if u get to hot from the crowded interior...sweet. They also make use of large industrial fans. Who needs ac when you can stand next to a blowing wind.

I should tell you now...there was no evading the hipster element. Tight jeans t-shirt with clever wording hat and white glasses...without prescription

Also, they have a DJ spinning tunes. At around 12 they started mixing the best of the 80s...version 3.

It wasn't cheap, and I don't know if it was worth it, but after a few gin and tonics into the night; are you really going to notice?

Shaking things up at the shake shack

I finally got a shake from the shake shack; two words: "Fucking Delicious". I had to wait online for 20 minutes on line and then 15 for them to shake the sucker up, but it was worth it.

Some advice: they have a b-line. Yeah I get it you can make a b-line for the stuff most people don't want like $3.50 for a designer dog biscuit. Seriously though, if you want to get some ice cream or a drink you don't have to wait on line for the whole time. That's a big plus considering that the 30 minutes it took to score some ice cream was short compared to what the line usually runs ( all around Madison Square Park), but like their onsie proudly states, "I've waited 9 months, this line is nothing!"

Caviar. Enough Said.

An unusual treat. I do not want to make a habit of posting my edible experiences of non consumer consumption, its not fair to post something that can not easily be shared. However, some things are too good to let slip through the cracks.

I was recently turned on by a Russian delicacy that has quickly risen to the top of the list of my favorite foods. To start take one crepe, shmeer lovingly with a dollop of sour cream and add caviar, liberally.

Its good, its great, its fantastic. I prefer it with salmon roe - big orange fish eggs that pop when you eat them; savory gushers that I have trouble passing up. You can find this in a restaurant or make it at home, either way add this to your list of must tries. The version of this you may get at a wedding cocktail hour just isn't going to cut it, go out and get the real thing.

Time after Taim

Sometimes, in our compulsive Food Network-watching sprees, we come across a chef who specializes in neither Pillsbury Bake Offs nor Texas BBQing. Her talent is so pronounced that Bobby Flay himself declared her the champion of her art. Whats with all the suspense? Add some Israeli roots and you have yourself the best Falafel in New York City. Though its no surprise to me that a 5 foot tall woman working out of a 10x10 kosher cardboard box in the West Village could have customers lined out the door, the versatility of her falafel ball does seem to shock us. Serving up three types of falafel (Red- with roasted red pepper, Green- with parsley, cilantro, and mint, and Harissa- with Tunisian Spices) Taim has redefined Israeli standards, adding a downtown twist for those self-professed health conscious of us who can't resist deep fried chickpeas.

Having done a couple of things right, Taim's claim to fame is their seemingly oily-free falafel ball. Raising the temperature of their cooking oil to a degree that shocks the falafel- crusting it over without allowing any oil to seep into the dough, Taim produces the most sumptuous fritter inside that I have ever tasted. Soft, flavorful, melt-in-your mouth herby goodness matched with the crunch of freshly julienned cabbage, homemade hummus and tahini sauce on a bed of Israeli salad. The combination can do know wrong, but served upon your choice of whole wheat or white pita made me rejoice in a way no falafel joint has done before.

Needless to say, our apartment search will have to narrow its range to a 5 block radius of this restaurant. Who cares about a subway when you could a falafel-to-go for your daily routine. Though we had a suspicion Taim would be a winner, it has incited us to introduce a spoon-rating system in our reviews. What does this one deserve... you ask? Four and a Half Spoonfuls of greatness.

Rating: (Out of Five Spoonfuls) 4.5 Overflowing Ones.

Taïm

222 Waverly Pl., nr. Seventh Ave.

212-691-1287

Tapas Shmatahs and Home

I was looking to make a purchase of a chandelier and an antique style mirror when would you guess it… I found a really great tapas bar.

Tapas bar? ABC Carpet and Home had the idea of combining a tapas bar with their insanely large showroom. Pipa Tapas Y Mas, like a Spanish version of Bad Bath and Beyond, but the food…way beyond the goods at BB&B. I still can’t decide if the idea was genius, or just derived from a really large surplus of free space. The first time I passed by this eatery on a Thursday night, it was claiming an hour long wait, and this was at around 8:30pm.

I am really glad I found my way back here. Espanola salads and Spanish tortillas on the menu gave the feel of Barcelonan authenticity, while the mix of flamenco and Ricky Martin grounded us back in New York. The menu items were all prepared in simple yet elegant ways and then added a flare of flavor to make the dish really taste worthy.

A few favorites: Catalan Spinach with garlic, effortless and elegant, but add figs to the mix and suddenly the dish gets a burst of sweetness. Wild mushrooms served in a croc cooked with oil and garlic – simple and utterly delicious. The garlic cooked to an intensity that produced a sharp bite while the mushrooms transformed in a texture masking itself as a fine escargot. For a meal composed of olives, goat cheese croquettes, and other assorted vegetables on flatbread, I left fully satisfied, ready to book my flight to Spain.

At Pipa, a wide range of flavors from the sweet to savory are always accompanied by an option of a reasonably priced wine pairing. I could go on describing more of the endless plates, but I think you are just going to need to checkout this chandelier showroom for yourself.

Pipa Tapas Bar

38 E 19th St, New York, NY‎

(212) 677-2233‎

The Tin Tin Pot

Though I must admit I am not an expert on Belgian cuisine, I am familiar with the likes of Tin Tin and restaurant menus-en Francaise. Sitting down in the dimly lit coquettish cafe, I was instantly drawn to the world of the Belgian Archie comic scribbled across the walls. The slight jests in decor set the mood for a light hearted meal, quickly incited by a fantastic glass of Riesling.
The menu instantly suggested that at Petite Abeille, one can choose from mussels in a pot, mussels in a white cream, mussels on the half shell, and the occasional lobster special. Not keen on shellfish, I immediately felt at home with the option of a salad nicoise, served in a hefty cooking pot alongside a touch of anchovies. The generous helping was certainly not compensating for taste, as the freshness of its ingredients convinced me that these vegetables were clearly not American. Tomatoes infused with layers of dressed herbs went down like the silkiest creme de la creme, while the zing of tuna laced each bite with a tangy euro-flair, one I have not tasted since the street side cafes of Rome. Enticed to keep eating by the idea of chocolate covered Belgian waffles with whipped creme (or gaufre dame blanche, for the sophistated eater,) we managed to resist our craving in exchange for an excuse to return another day.

As the combination of simple, fresh, and unpretentious food is becoming seemingly rare in this city of multicultural feasts, Petit Abeille's clean taste and hearty portions set a standard of excellence that is too frequently muddled with heavy sauces and fancy garnishes. If it takes a Belgian cafe to bring clean European modernism to New York cuisine, then so be it; as this little walk-in gem has a lot more than Tin Tin and mussel pots to bring to the table.

The Parmigianno Chopstick

I love Italian food. Give me tons of cheese and a red sauce, and I am in heaven. I also love Japanese food. I could eat sushi every day of the week and twice on Sunday. Between Japanese and Italian I have 80% of my meals covered. So its no surprise that my recent trip to Basta Pasta, a restaurant famous for fusing Italian with Japanese sensibilities, made for an enticing meal.

To enter this restaurant is to walk into the heart of a working kitchen. I like to be included in the cooking process, especially when I could have walked right up to the grill and thrown on a steak. Everything about the layout and design of this restaurant was aimed at breaking down its context. The food is Italian, but the chefs are all Japanese. There are no pepper grinders, but waiters shave rock salt onto your appetizers; at once you are down on earth and in a city of clouds, immersed in the 6 foot tall posters of endless sky.

Sitting down at this stylized fusion fest; the food was fresh, the pasta homemade, and the flavors were foreign but oddly familiar. I have had many a ragout, but never based around sea bass. Fresh pasta with ricotta cheese, a standard, but with shitake mushrooms? I would eat this right now if there were any leftovers.

I am still trying to figure the place out. The clientele was as varied as the food, and my waiter- an Asian version of Lando Calrissian. Talk about east meets west. Though no sight of sushi, the menu merged an eclectic array of Italian favorites with Japanese flair. Most notable was the pasta with flying fish roe and shisho. I still don't know what shiso is, but I am pretty sure it's Japanese.

The food at Basta Pasta was a shot in the mouth; I thought I knew what to expect, but was really happy when I got a unique twist of flavor like a round house kick to the taste buds. As always, a very reasonable wine list is a plus; but no Saki, sadly.

The Sumptuous Silver Platter

Conveniently situated alongside West 23rd street where thirst and tiredom meets temptation, lies a french cafe specializing in the provincial art of macarooning. Concocting cream stuffed puff cookies, Madeleine Patisserie infuses their desserts with a hint of lip licking goodness and antediluvian flair. From pistachio balls to soup-bowl sized cappuccinos, all food is served on a silver platter to be enjoyed from your personal choice of flee market couches. The rustic atmosphere consumes the book worms hidden within the nooks and crannies of the ottoman poofs and velvet thrones. Luckily having grabbed the last berry macaroon, we pleasantly indulged in the layered flavors of raspberry pastry and cranberry mouse, chased by creamy cappuccino foam with a side of espresso. Feeling entitled to have my cake and eat it too, I enjoyed every bite sans reserve, immersed in the quasi euro atmosphere which had to be laced with the guilt free bug.

Straight from the Utter

We were walking down Irving looking for some un-pretentious place to eat when we stumbled upon this gem. The outside awning looked like it should have been stocked with day old flowers like every bodega in NYC, but the people sitting at tables on the other side of the window were a dead give away that this was in fact a restaurant.

With seating upstairs you might as well be in a barn: fake preserves on the shelves, faux wood burning fireplace, wanna be farmers serving dinner (the wait staff uniform is blue jeans and plaid shirts) but for all this kitch it was really one of the most fulfilling meals I have had in a while.

First of all, forget the day old loafs many places pass off, hot cornbread served with apple butter. Awesome!

Daily cheese platter specials, I respect any restaurant that includes the cheese platter, but this place did it right. One cheese served with multiple fixings, so that you can really appreciate the complexity of the cheese. The cheesemonger in me awards 4 stars.

What really makes Friend of a Farmer special is the freshness of the ingredients used in the food. There is no earth shattering recipes at work, but the ingredients just Pop and that's a feeling you just can't beat.

For a meal that left me ready to undo my belt it didn't wreck my wallet; the wine is inexpensive and they have a good selection of some heady specialty beers. I am ready for more, just not immediately after, i need to find a bed after that.

Fancy Potations

A brisk stroll and silent entrance to a west village speak-easy led us down a flight of steps into a world of live jazz, flapper specials, and prohibition era decor; all in the name of a hooting-free, no name-dropping good time. The bar rules set the scene: no star-f**king, no play fighting, no talking about fighting. Do not linger outside the front door, and smoke only on the 7th avenue side of the building. Most notably Little Branch requests that you do not bring anyone into their establishment that you would not trust alone in the comfort of your own home. The oldie-but-goody rules of the game still apply, making the experience of drinking your bartender's choice cocktails all the more authentic. Drinks range in quirky titles from "a bee's kiss" to "south side fuzz," and are served alongside a perfectly suited heap of sourdough pretzels. The individual booths and dim lighting set the mood to a layed-back and worry free night- one derived from an other time, which we only read about in Gatsby-esque fiction. Completely in the hands of the mix-ologists to whom we left our taste trust and curiosity, we muttered simple requests of "chocolate cake in a glass," or "put a twist on a gin and tonic." The drinks were fabulous, the fashion was classy, and the night was exactly what we never knew we wanted. To that, we hold this holler-free potation hub in high regard, already planning our inevitable return.