So you may or may not have seen my all too long review of the recent releases from Eminem and Asher Roth. After talking about it for a bit, I thought, hey, maybe I should write something positive about music (as well as other things) as opposed to crap like the aforementioned albums. But how can I qualify things as good enough to merit listing on a post to a poorly updated blog? Well, for the inaugural edition, we’re talking food that helped me survive the recent post-wisdom teeth surgery week.
On the healthier side, here’s the softest (except for the kale, which I’ll get to in a second) brunch in the world: scrambled eggs with grits at Egg, on Bedford and N5th. A very nice gentle meal on the border of wimpishness, but their ingredients are fresh and from their upstate farm. But while I didn get there early enough to avoid the hipster scum, I dined at the same time as an annoyingly boorish and FlyoverstateIstan-ish couple that really made me agree with something that my dad said recently: Williamsburg? “You mean SouthSoHo?” Jesus. But back to the food, and the meal’s secret weapon: concealed in the dense thicket of kale lie morels, any great chef’s gift to your taste buds. Admittedly, the healthy kale was the one item I didn’t finish, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. There was a lot of it, and it was the secondary definition of what Han would call Chewy. So while the kale wasn’t finished, I did have enough to make up for future transgressions.
Above is my typical breakfast during the week-long-stretch of time where I found myself in search of something to eat that was both filling and soft. What I found, at my standard iced coffee spot El Beit, was a freshly baked warm flaky croissant. I was so enamored with the thing that I didn’t move onto the pain au chocolat. For some reason, these nice little croissants have not been there to assist me dragging my self through Williamsurg, onto the dreaded National Lampoon’s Dachau Vacation that is The L Train, and into the city. Their sandwiches at El Beit are advertised in store to be from Amy’s Bread, so maybe that’s where I have to go to track down these flaky pieces of brilliance.
Among some friends it’s well known that I have a thing for the chocolate-chocolate cookie that’s served over at Momofuku Bakery & Milk Bar. So much so that a few warning signs of an addiction have already appeared. I’m on a first name basis with one of their cashiers whom I once said (and before you read the below exclaimation, let me acknowledge that it’s not meant in spite and yes it’s said by someone who knows he’s not in perfect shape by a long shot. Ahem,) “I don’t mean to sound like a fat kid or anything, but I really hope you’re baking those amazing chocolate chocolate cookies tonight,” to. Said cookies, pictured below, manage to steamroll over the fine line of sugaryness and actual powerful flavor without really pissing on either side of the proverbial toilet seat.
And when I came in the day after my left-side wisdom teeth were taken out, I had to tell this cashier, “No, no, that cookie is a bit too rough for the state I’m in. I’ll have a chocolate mint milkshake instead.” And it was an amazing milkshake. One that became something of a crutch, along with their soft-enough pork buns, which I ordered pickle-less because I’m not all about pickles and I had the excuse of nothing with seeds in it. The pork is as soft as it gets, as it’s the wonderfully fatty pork belly. These items helped my bad habits last through the aftermath of routine surgery, and I thank Christina Tosi and David Chang for doing their part to make the city just a bit more diabetic.
Up next will be a piece on a movie you can bring some of those Momofuku munchies to: Up. Fun Fact: That last sentence was about %1 palindrome!