Jimmy’s Corner is a dive in the best sense of the word. This narrow, 40-year-old haunt feels like it’s been plucked from Times Square’s seedier past and plunked down on today’s 44th Street where, ignored by tourists, it quietly ministers to a cross-section of locals. History stares back at you from walls cluttered with autographed photos of boxers, and from the tables, covered with snapshots of random folks preserved in amberish laquer. The beers are cheap ($4 pints of Bud Light, Hennekin, or Sam Adams), sports flickers on the TV, and the jukebox cranks out one Stax soul gem after another. I haven’t heard anything that sucks, or was recorded before 1980, from that wonderful device. If you endure this neighborhood as part of your daily grind, and especially if the recent storm of layoffs that are seemingly hitting everyone has you feeling a bit low, Jimmy’s is a cheap, low-key refuge. It’s a good idea to limit your posse to one or two friends, it is quite small.

Jimmy’s Corner in Midtown Lunch. (This review has a good neighborhood lunch tip–at Margon (136 W 46th st.) you can get a decent Cuban sanwhich for $6 or a heaping platter of roast chicken, rice, beans, salad, and fried plantains for about $8. They’re open until 5pm weekdays).

Jimmy’s Corner, 140 W 44th St. between Sixth and Seventh Avenue

There’s a near-legendary statistic that nine out of ten new restaurants fail. Of course, some important info, like what constitutes “failure” and how long it takes to achieve it, is left out of that soundbite. Reasearch shows that closer to 25% of new restaurants close or change ownership within their first year. That number rises to 60% within three years. These are still not happy statistics, but are close to the average failure rate for new businesses across the board.

Still I wouldn’t be surprised if that rate is much higher for certain parts of Manhattan. In the East Village especially, I’ve noticed that if a certain street falls out of my flight pattern for a few months, I end up re-discovering the block. Signs change, familiar spots are shuttered, once-dark places are ablaze and spilling drunk kids onto the sidewalk, and the whole landscape has re-shuffled in my absence. I found this novelty quite enjoyable, except in a few cases, like the lovely Italian place near my apartment, that decamped in place of construction and a swirly neon sign in Miami pastels. That sign gives me a bad vibe; like it is calling, in a pitch beyond normal hearing, screechy girls in tube tops and mini-skirts and their paramours. More obstacles to my front door. Of course, the rate of change also affects me personally when I realize it’s rendered portions of my blog out-of-date in under a year.

So for now, Boedguita Cubana, whose Serbian owners supplied me with delicious Cuban fare throughout last summer, has closed. The other places mentioned at the Zagat link, namely Bouche Bar, and Sea Salt, were also familiar spots. I will attempt to indicate on my blog which of the places I’ve reviewed that have subsequently closed.

Update 02/08: Bodeguita Cubana has closed
The cluster milling outside this tiny neighborhood cafe every time I stroll by fairly shouts buzz-worthy snacking, so I knew Time Out or New York Magazine had already through. But tonight I braved the tiny crowded dining space for takeout and was pleasantly surprised.

First of all, the ambience–dark, intimate, yet unpretentious, with Cuban music drifting out the wide-open windows. The prices–hot pressed sandwiches for $6.50, entrees hovering around $9, and appetizers for $4. And finally, the food–or I should say specifically the sandwiches since I haven’t dipped into the entrees. I tried the pulled pork with homemade BBQ sauce and onions on Cuban bread and the panino chorizo with roasted peppers and fresh mozzarella, both served with a side of herbed fries. The chorizo was tasty although the bread didn’t hold up well during the trip home. The pulled pork fared better, and was incredibly tender with a delicious BBQ sauce. I can’t wait to stop back for a traditional cubano, avocado salad, and arroz con leche. Bodeguita Cubano is BYOB so stop off at a deli for a couple beers before heading over. Go early to snag a table, take a couple sandwiches to the park, or check out their delivery menu.

Bodeguita Cubana 271 E. 10th St. at Ave. A
10 am - 11 pm

Tonight, when I called Caracas Arepa Bar for takeout, there was no hello. Instead the receiver hovered within hearing-range of vague, delighted sounds–people enjoying buttery, cheesey arepas and beers. The second and third times: busy signal. This was not the first time this had happened.

And this is how I know I’m in deep with a snack obsession, because instead of pulling out another dog-eared menu, I threw on pants and ran out with shower hair, slinking past all the pretty people spilling out from bars. Because I need arepas dammit and Caracas can’t ignore me if I’m standing there in the flesh, demanding them.

My strategy is usually as follows: for maximum tastiness, skip the filling coconut shakes, serviceable salads, and deep-fried empanadas, and try as many arepas as you can. A Venezuelan specialty, the arepa is a flat, grilled-crisp, corn cake, about the size of a McMuffin and stuffed with a variety of fillings. My personal favorites are De Guasacaca–Venezuelan guacamole with crumbly mild paisa cheese ($5.50), and La del Gato–melty guayanes cheese, avocado, and fried sweet plantains ($5.75).

Expect a wait long enough that you smell like arepa when you emerge with your stapled brown bags of deliciousness. This tiny takeout joint is regularly packed, as three guys hustle to hand-prepare corn cakes behind the counter. If you have company, there’s a larger dining room for eating in, two doors down.

Caracas To Go 91 E 7th St. at First Ave.
Mon-Sat 12:00pm-10:45pm, Sun 12:00pm-9:45pm