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

Sometimes all you need is a relaxed, candlelit bistro and a giant hunk of garnished meat to get your night back on the right track. Something about Belcourt–whose full length windows overlook the bustling downtown theater action at Fourth Street and Second Avenue–feels particularly welcoming; maybe because it’s a new place trying to be like an old place and arriving somewhere comfortably in between. Or maybe because there’s never a wait to be seated. Patience is not one of my virtues.

The menu will be familiar to any fan of european gastropub fare–selections of meats, cheeses, salads, and entrees ranging from hanger steak to fish. High-quality ingredients, often homemade, and a few twists and turns to the flavors elevate this beyond standard pub grub. Highlights include the spiced pear and mixed greens salad with beets, walnuts, blue cheese and pickled onions ($8) which delightfully mixes sweet with savory, and the thickest-cut pork chop I have ever seen, served on a bed of swiss chard with shitake mushrooms and gorgonzola sauce ($24). It was tender, perfectly cooked, and redeemed itself from the fact that someone left out the advertised and much-anticipated side of maple bacon.

(Photo by gothambill)

On a more disappointing note, the beer list could use a little more variety. I am not a huge fan of La Chouffe, although having a Belgian on draft at all is a plus. The coffee bbq-rubbed braised brisket suffered from way too much salt, although the side of polenta it came with was perfectly nice ($23). Probably the best value here is the beef or lamb burger, served on a squishy bun, layered with slivers of spicy pickled zucchini ($12). It comes with a side of fresh, crispy frites; the garlic aoli dipping sauce and spiced homemade ketchup alone are worth the price of admission. Update 4/2/09: The housemade ketchup has been discontinued! (Doesn’t prevent you from demanding they bring it back).

I hear the brunch is worth checking out, as well.

Belcourt, 84 East 4th Street at Second Ave.
Open daily, 11am-12am