I didn’t think DBGB was my kind of place. The name itself seemed like an unnecessary wink at the gentrification that’s been creeping up the Bowery above Houston Street. The shell of CBGB, a block away, has become a marketplace for designer fashion, and the upscale hotels and condos popping up around it are rapidly transforming the strip into a frolicking ground for the rich and fabulous. DBGB, housed in one of these shiny new monoliths, is chef Daniel Boulud’s take on a gastropub, and reading about his restaurant Daniel–considered one of the best in New York–is what finally piqued my interest in the downtown spot. Even though the menu is essentially comfort food, everything we had was excellent. In fact, this was one of the best meals I’ve had in a while.

We arrived at around 7:30 on a Friday evening, hoping that even though the dining room was booked (in fact, there were no reservations available until Monday) we could snag a table in the cafe area. We were seated immediately at the bar, where the full menu is offered. Although it was roomy enough for two people, it would probably be awkward seating for more. We did have a couple hovering behind us for part of the night but since we were seated with our backs to the room, the scene behind us hardly seemed to matter.

I started out with a pear sidecar cocktail, with Bulleit bourbon, peat liqueur, lemon, and rhubarb bitters ($12). If you like potent cocktails with just a hint of sweetness, this was a solid drink. I followed that up with the special beer on tap, a malty Hof Ten Dormaal dark farmhouse ale ($11). I’m not sure if this is regularly offered, but either way, beer lovers won’t be disappointed with the over 20 beers on tap, including a bevvy of Belgians.

For an entree I ordered steak frites ($28). The steak was a 10 oz black angus New York strip topped with peppered butter. I ordered it medium to medium well and it arrived I bit more well done than I would have liked, but it was tender and perfectly seasoned. The fries were fantastic, with a perfect thickness and crisp outer shell. The steak came with a small salad of watercress dressed with zesty vinaigrette, and I also ordered a side of buttery broccoli rabe ($7) for added greenery. It was a good-sized portion, and anyone who knows me knows I rarely clean my plate. This time I ate ALL OF IT.

My dinner companion ordered the house-made pappardelle bourguignon, with slow-cooked brisket, red wine, pear onions, mushrooms, smoked bacon, and herbs ($23). This was a perfect example of how comfort food can be both simple and complex. The sweet roasted tomatoes contrasted with salty cuts of bacon, which managed to be both chewy and crisp. I would order this on my next visit.

For dessert we split the sticky toffee pudding. This isn’t regularly on the menu, since our server mentioned it was a winter dessert, but it should be. The toffee pudding was warm and similar to bread pudding in texture, with sweetness provided by chopped prunes. It was served with poached pineapples and kalamansi sorbet, which added a bit of cold, citrusy sourness, and topped with a paper-thin piece of caramelized sugar. We chased the various ingredients around the plate with our spoons, trying to catch all the flavors in one epic bite.

Our bill came to $128 for four drinks, two entrees, a side, and a dessert. In other words, Snackish will not be frolicking with the rich and fabulous on a regular basis, but on this night, it was money well spent.

DBGB Kitchen & Bar
299 Bowery between E. Houston and 1st St.
Reservations recommended for the dining room

Before I found out that “Gotham” is Anglo-Saxon for “Goat Town,” I expected the menu of this recently-opened restaurant to heavily feature goat meat. In actuality, aside from goat meatballs, Goat Town favors the usual seasonal gastropub fare: burgers, oysters, mussles, steak, pork chops, and veggie sides. The space looks like a comfortably elegant bistro, with an arched tin roof, a long bar with a view into the kitchen, tile-lined booths, and a promising-looking, albeit presently snow-covered, back patio. The bolt on the bathroom door was as thick as my thumb, a detail I liked. It felt cozy, like anyone living three block radius could slide into one of the booths and have a tasty and tasteful meal, without going to the uncomfortable effort of going “out” on a bitterly cold night. Read more…

You know the expression, “life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans?” I was reminded of it after eating at Kampuchea. While I don’t know much about Cambodian cuisine, I know that Cambodia is close to Vietnam, so I was planning for some bahn mi-style goodness from Kampuchea’s num pang sandwiches. But as it turned out, the highlights of the meal were not what I was expecting.

On my first visit, I sat in the dining room, a streamlined space with a view of a spotless open kitchen. On my second trip, I ate at the adjoining Norry bar, dark, cozy room with rustic tables and cushioned benches. The Norry’s ipod was cranking MC5 and De La Soul, some of the rare hip-hop I can actually stand. Overall I slightly preferred the informal atmosphere of the bar to the dining room, although the menu was the same.

grilled corn

First of all, I was pleasantly surprised by the beer list. The Norry and dining room have several mircobrews on tap like Mothers Milk from Keegan Ales, Sixpoint Sweet Action, and Blue Point Toasted Lager. There was even a Belgian on tap (St. Bernardus). On both visits I opted for a cocktail to start, and the Norry ($14), a mix of lemongrass-infused maker’s mark, fig puree, honey syrup and lemon juice, was a winner. Most of the time I find restaurant cocktails to be disappointing, but this one was well-mixed and quite soothing for a cold–if a tad overpriced. I expected little from the grilled corn on the cob ($6), but I ended up savoring the roasted kernels covered with spicy chili mayo and coconut flakes. If you’ve had the corn at Cafe Habana you know what to expect, but this is twice as good. Fried chicken with chili-spiced salt ($11) was the perfect accomplice to a pint of Sweet Action, although the chicken was more lightly-breaded than deep-fried crunchy. The crispy pork belly with honey/cider glaze, scallions, and toasted lemongrass had a satisfying crispy layer–like a crust of bacon atop succulent pork and rivulets of fat.

fried chicken

Of the num pang I tried the catfish sandwich was the best ($11). The fish was topped with cracked pepper, honey, soy sauce, carrots, cucumbers, and cilantro, and served on a crunchy baguette. It was a well-balanced sandwich, if overpriced compared to what you’d pay for bahn mi. The cured bacon, pickled chili and red onion sandwich ($10) was poorly executed; the bacon was so tough it was impossible to get a good, balanced bite. The oxtail, tamarind, and honey sandwich ($13) wasn’t bad, but wasn’t especially enjoyable. I felt as though I should be eating a pulled pork sandwich, but the pork had been replaced with something stringier and suspiciously gamier. Granted, I’m not no oxtail connoisseur, and this may be a fine example of the ingredient. The sandwiches were served with sweet potato waffle chips, which were unforgiveably uncrisp.

catfish sandwich

Dessert was notable in that it was both a near-miss and a total disaster. The fried brichoe with apple butter, pecan, and butterscotch would have been good if the apple filling inside the doughy balls was warm instead of barely unfrozen. On the other hand, the honey granite with winter citrus and thai chili was, in a word, weird. Picture a bowl of shaved ice, topped with something akin to fruit and hot sauce. I’d recommend rolling into the Norry late at night for relaxed beers and appetizers, or maybe starting off the evening with a Norry cocktail and catfish sandwich. If you want a tasty sandwiches quite similar to this but cheaper, and atmosphere is no object, it’s a no-brainer: veer south into Chinatown for bahn mi.

Kampuchea and The Norry Bar
78 Rivington St. at Allen St.
Dinner: Mon 5:30pm-11pm, Tues-Thurs 5:30-1am, Fri-Sat 5:30pm-2am, Sun 5pm-11pm
Brunch: Sat-Sun 11am-3:30pm

Dining-out disappointments on this scale only happen once in a blue moon so Snackish has returned from vacation to share the tale of her spotty dinner at The Spotted Pig. I’d been eager to to try this place for a long time. It is the gastropub of gastropubs in New York City–starred by Michelin, revered by Yelpers, and favored by the Times. Celebrities knock elbows with plebians in its small confines and its kitchen, bolstered by a well-regarded chef, supposedly justifies the sceneyness. I even have a couple of first-hand accounts from friends who said they liked it.

So Saturday night my associate and I finally landed at the Pig. After not-unbearable half-hour wait (they don’t accept reservations, you must walk in and put your name on the list) we were seated at the coldest table in the house, near the door. (Lest you think I’m a bloodless wimp, a bearded dude sitting next to us wore his coat and hat throughout the evening). But my need for food was greater than my need for warmth so I ordered a pint of highly-enjoyable Sixpoint Righteous Rye cask ale to combat the draft. Appetizers arrived in the form of perfectly-paprikaed deviled eggs ($3) and a plate of “devils on horseback”–pear-stuffed prunes wrapped in sticky candied bacon, speared with toothpicks ($7). They tasted better then they looked but were powerfully sweet, salty, and not entirely pleasant. My next course was the sheep’s milk ricotta gnudi in brown butter sauce with fried sage ($15). The sheep’s milk added an interesting bite to these tender dumplings, and I enjoyed the crispy sage, but yet again the dish was overwhelmingly salty. Next came more beer and an epically-proportioned burger under a heap of paper-shaving thin “shoestring” fries. Someone had tried, unsuccessfully, to make the fries substantive by adding a copious amount of rosemary. The burger all but disappeared under the funk of the Roquefort cheese which stubbornly adhered to the bun. I suspect it was a good-enough burger, but it was hard to taste anything but cheese, and for $17, I expected to be in burger heaven.

(Rosemary fries comin’ atcha. Run!)

At this point our server wandered off and we spent several minutes getting drunker and chatting with a couple next to us, who were similarly underwhelmed. By the time the she re-appeared, the sting of how much this meal would cost was sufficiently diffused for us to order dessert. I had a scotch and the creme caramel–a fine take on creme brulee ($8)–while my associate wound up with a stale-tasting walnut tart (perplexingly, the server recommended it but it was the worst thing we had all night).

Aside from the tart, I can’t say any one thing about the meal was terrible. But the combination of the wait, bad seating, strange seasoning, sluggish service, and just-beyond-reasonable prices is enough to keep me from going back. In retrospect the burger, perhaps, was not the thing to get (but judging by the steady stream of burgers floating by on servers’ upraised hands while we waited, it seemed to be a house specialty). I can say that the space had a convivial upscale-pub atmosphere and seemed to be full of pretty and interesting people. If you’re lucky enough to grab a seat upstairs you’ll probably stay warm, and on an off night I could see it being pleasant to cozy up to the bar for a pint of Righteous Rye and some deviled eggs. But I suspect that the Spotted Pig’s off nights are as few and far between as my epic dining disappointments.

The Spotted Pig
314 West 11th St. at Greenwich St.
Brunch: 11am-3pm (weekends), Lunch: 12-3pm, Dinner: 5:30pm-2am
Bar Menu: 3pm-5pm

I wanted to like Back Forty. I’m all for elevated gastropub fare using ingredients straight from the Greenmarket, and I don’t mind the rusticated interior design that’s in vogue these days. And there were a few highlights. An impeccably-sugared mint julep ($10), mixed with Ezra Brooks bourbon and muddled mint arrived in a de rigueur frosted silver cup, cooling under a mound of snowconeish ice particles. The golden beet and chevre salad ($10) seemed aimed to make you marvel over the perfection of each green, balsamic-coated arugula leaf. Spicy homemade ketchup, with a rich undercurrent of molasses, kicked up the interest factor on some otherwise so-so rosemary fries. A pint of Chelsea Sunset Red ($7) was the first cask ale I’d had since the cask ale festival, and was suitably flat and complex in flavor.

Unfortunately, we were waiting 30 minutes for a table and when another party of two who just walked in was seated immediately, it become apparent the host had thought we’d requested a table in the backyard. We had not. A simple mix-up I suppose–however, another place might offer a free round of drinks or something for wasting our time, and we received a brusque “sorry.” The second screw-up happened when I ordered the burger. The menu recommended ordering the grass-fed beef not cooked beyond medium, but I ordered it medium-well, having had that work out with grass-fed beef before. It arrived just-past-rare, and I suppose I should have sent it back, but I was at that point starving, and crankily picked at instead. Fans of rare beef might like this burger, it probably would have been fine cooked, (the Burger of the Month Club put it on their top ten), but for $11, I don’t want something that’s been thrown back on the grill.

There were other items on the menu that piqued my interest (pork jowl nuggets, chicken and waffles), and I believe a review usually warrants two tries, but I’m in no rush to go back. We ended up, predictably, at the bar, tossing back another round of cocktails, which at $10 each, were well-mixed and not too outrageously priced.

Back Forty
190 Avenue B at 12th Street
Dinner: Mon-Thurs 6pm-11pm, Sat 6pm-12am, Sun 6pm-10pm,
Brunch: Sat&Sun, 12pm-3pm