I washed up at Joe’s Pizza for the first time four years ago, after I’d been suckered into going to Misshapes. (As we pushed into the party and I saw a barely-twenty-year-old girl with Weimar-era makeup and a sculptural Isabella Blow-ish hat/mask covering half her face I understood why the doorman had looked at our outfits and pronounced us tragic). The thing about feeling ridiculously old and unfashionable at 25 is that you still have the stamina to drink and dance all night, or at least until you feel start feeling pretty damn good. Still, certain worries edge this pleasant little mood you’ve blundered into–it’s so late, I’m so hungry, everything is closed, I’m so hungry, where the hell am I going to eat?

Joe’s Pizza at 4 am glows like a molten cheese bubble in the strange afterhours dark of the closed-down city. A glittering, laughing, sweating, exhausted cross-section of nightlife clings to this oasis, and spills onto the waiting sidewalk, held upright by booze and the smell of baking pizza. Unlike pizzeria of the moment, Artichoke, whose counter people serve with a slowness that seems lackadaisical or sadistic, depending on how hungry you are, the service at Joe’s is brisk. Orders are asked with a glance as a fresh pie is spun into slices that are scooped, drooping onto paper plates exchanged for cash–fast, fast, fast. If you’re lucky enough to snag a fresh mozzarella slice right from the oven ($2.75), go for it. The regular slice ($2.50) is good too, with sweet tomato sauce, the right balance of cheese and a thin, chewy crust that’s got a teeny bit of burnt crispness. The crust, however does not hold up for long, so the slices are best eaten HOT and immediately–and if you happen in at a slower time, it’s worth the wait for a fresh pie. There’s little to no seating to be had, but there’s benches in Father Demo Park across the street.

Since that evening Joe’s has been my go-to spot when I’m in the area at some unseemly hour, looking for a little comfort at the tail-end of a long night.

Joe’s Pizza 7 Carmine Street Open every day 9 am - 5 am

When I heard about street vendors selling waffles in Belgium, I was admittedly a little confused. I’d made the dry, puffy squares before, and eaten them at pancake houses, usually sopped with syrup and melted butter collecting in grid-pools; this didn’t strike me as ideal takeout fare. As it turns out, the breakfast waffles commonly found in the US are known as Brussels waffles–Belgian street waffles are another story.

The Liege waffle is smaller, flatter and irregular in shape; with a distinctly different texture. Instead of batter, Liege waffles are made with dough mixed with pearl sugar. The dough lends the waffles a chewy texture, while the sugar kernels caramelize on the crust; forming a sweet, crunchy outer layer.

Just-opened Le Petit Belge, a tiny storefront near Union Square, serves the street-style waffles, made-to-order (as opposed to the packaged variety you’ll find at Whole Foods). While street waffles are generally eaten plain on the go, Le Petit Belge offers a load of tempting toppings, including berries, caramel, frozen yogurt, and chocolate ganache.

I got my waffle ($3.50) with strawberries and whipped cream (.75/topping) but I wish I’d gotten it plain. The crunch and extra-sweetness of the liege waffles made the toppings seem superfluous. Plus, my tiny order came packaged in a bright-red barn of a box that looked like it was built to take thirty Dunkin Donuts munchkins into the wilderness. The waffle itself, however, travelled extremely well, and was delicious.

Le Petit Belge sells other Belgian goodies, such as chocolates, macarons (sweet merengue-like cookies), and poffies (mini crepes), as well as Tavalon teas (this used to be a Tavalon shop). There’s no seating, but go on a nice day and you can snack in Union Square Park. With Le Petit Belge, in addition to the Wafels & Dinges truck parked just down 14th Street at Third Avenue, it looks like there may be a wave of waffle-appreciation afoot.

Le Petit Belge 22 E. 14th St., New York, NY
Mon-Fri 8am-11pm; Sat 9am-11pm; Sun 10am-10pm

Update 6/23/08: Dessert Truck has moved to Third Avenue and St. Mark’s Place

Maybe Dessert Truck is the future for the entrepreneur. Worried about high rent? Slow business? Get yourself a truck and keep your options open. The real stroke of genius, though, is that the truck appears at roughly 6pm, right about when most bakeries close and cravings for gourmet sweets kick in.

Novel “mobile food concept” aside, a dessert truck is only as good as its confections. And there’s some relatively high-quality ones to be had here, all packed in tin foil cups, with spoons for street-eating, and costing $5. There’s also a few unexpected touches–rotating specials, and oddballs like goat-cheesecake, and chocolate bread pudding with bacon creme anglaise.

In fact I was pretty pumped for the bread pudding, a favorite dessert of mine, but one that’s hard to evangelize because so many places do it badly. The version from Dessert Truck was surprising–instead of having a chunky, bready texture, it had the even consistency of a half-baked chocolate cake, with an anglaise that tasted only of cream. It was chocolatey all right, but didn’t really hit the bread pudding mark, as far as I’m concerned. The chocolate mousse was redeemed by its creamy peanut butter center and caramel corn topping (a nice, junky touch), but the chocolate layer was curiously tasteless. However, the slow-baked apples with cranberries, puff pastry, and whipped cream was like a light, cinnamony pie in a cup; and they do a very classic creme brulee–nicely caramelized, crackable crust over smooth custard dotted with vanilla beans.

Despite a few criticisms, I did scrape ALL of my foil cups clean. I may even smell a franchise opportunity here (Dessert Truck is the result of a mind-meld between a pastry chef and an MBA). What NY neighborhood couldn’t use their very own grown-up Mr. Softee?

A review of all six Dessert Truck desserts on Serious Eats

Dessert Truck, the corner of Third Avenue and St. Mark’s Place
6pm-12am every day
Note: Dessert Truck is usually closed when it’s raining. Check their web site if in doubt.

A few months ago wormwood absinthe was legalized for sale in the US. Now instead of hiding away in the Czech Republic, Baudelaire groupies and “The Perfect Drug” fans could openly sip the green fairy in a few reputable New York City lounges. Employees Only (fear not the psychic in the window–walk on by and through the velvet drapes) has the kind of high-class, speakeasy-inspired vibe ideal for quaffing vaguely-illicit substances. But Art Deco touches and Jazz Age tunes aside, the artistically mixed and presented cocktails are the big draw there.

My bartender charmingly answered all my questions about absinthe, despite teasingly asking if I was a cop. At Employees Only, instead of merely diluting the absinthe by dripping water over a sugar cube, they light the sugar on fire, which adds a carmelized flavor as well as a dramatic flair to the drink. He thought that the absinthe sold in the US still lacked a few ingredients one can find in their foreign counterparts, and although it is strong (about 120-140 proof), its hallucinogenic effects are much exaggerated. The “real stuff”–his eyes darted to a glass liquor cabinet–cannot be “sold,” he said carefully.

I wanted to try straight absinthe, but being a bourbon fan I opted for the billionaire cocktail–Baker’s Bourbon shaken with lemon juice, grenadine and absinthe bitters. The bitters are made in-house and stored in a glowing green stoppered bottle with “absinthe” etched on the side–how I coveted that bottle. My drink was strong and delicious, the bourbon tempered by grenadine, and the bitters adding a slight licorice kick. This probably ranks equally with the 19th Street Special at Death & Co. as my favorite bourbon drink.

The cocktails, at $15 bucks a pop, are expensive, and there’s only one bathroom in the joint, so my stay was a short one. But I’ll definitely be back next year for another buzz-inducing happy birthday beverage, (or possibly much sooner).

Employees Only 510 Hudson St. behind the psychic

In a town known for its pizza, it can be pretty damn difficult to find a good, cheap slice. There’s a dozen places where you can order up superb whole pies, but try ordering a slice at some old-school joint and you’ll be laughed out of there.

I didn’t expect a lot from Brick Oven 33. A hole-in-the-wall chain that’s camped out on the North and South sides of 23rd Street like an interstate Burger King, and unconvincingly slaps “Gourmet” on its signage, Brick Oven happens to have a decent margherita slice ($3.25). Don’t be tricked by the three-dollar-mark into ordering the merely above-average regular slice ($2.25). The margherita really shows off their tangy tomato sauce, which is topped with a bit of melted fresh mozzarella, instead of buried under processed cheese. My slices came with a subtle top-layer of grease, and the thin crust is easily folded in half. My only gripes would be that a little more char on the crust would serve this slice well, and the seating, of course, is limited. But then standing around and eating pizza is an essential NY skill.

If you’re anywhere near the West Fourth subway, definitely still head to Joe’s, but Brick Oven’s a good standby further uptown. They’ve just opened a spotless, heavily windowed location at the people-watching extravaganza that is the corner of 14th St. and 6th Avenue, so I’m guessing we’ll be seeing a few more blue Brick Oven awnings popping up around town.

Brick Oven 33 - 527 6th Ave at 14th St., 268 W 23rd St. at 8th Ave, 171 W 23rd St. at 7th Ave, and 489 3rd Ave. at 33rd St.