If you get hungry, not to worry. Tuck Shop meat pies are available, or even better, run next door to Zaragoza for some tacos ($2.50-$3.00), and bring them back to the bar to fuel another round. These are not gourmet foodstuffs–Zaragoza is a hole-in-the-wall Mexican grocery with a microwave and few hot trays, and it can be hit or miss depending on what’s available that day. The other night, the amount of hot sauce on my spicy pork taco hurt my face, while a tamale ($2.00) was rather enjoyable. But $6 for a taco and a pint of Sweet Action, plus some free entertainment? Sure, I’ll be right over.

Drop Off Service
211 Ave. A between 13th St. and 14th St.
Mon-Fri 3pm-4am, Sat-Sun 1pm-4am

Zaragoza
215 Avenue A between 13th St. and 14th St.
Mon-Thu 9:30am-12am, Fri-Sat 9:30am-4am, Sun 10:30pm-12am

The chefs set up tables around the perimeter of Almond Restaurant and guests freely wandered from station to station, eating and imbibing as much as they saw fit. We attempted small bites first: a celery root and apple terrine accompanied by an Orange Blossom (orange bitters, St. Germain, sparkling wine) was our first stop. Coming from Gramercy Tavern, it was a bit of a letdown. Moving right along, Ilili’s smoked venison carpaccio with hummus, apple, and cinnamon chile oil served with a Sidon Rose (vodka, green apple, rose syrup) was my first taste of venison, and a pleasant one. The next dish, Resto’s fennel and juniper lamb bacon with beet and caramelized yogurt, was my favorite of the small bites (although I went easy on the gin, green chartreuse, lemon, and peach Lambic concoction served with it, since gin is my nemesis).

The next two dishes were the highlights of the evening. First we braved the long line for a roasted sweet corn tamale topped with two succulent white shrimp, chipotle butter and avocado pico de gallo, paired with a powerfully tart and boozy La Sombrilla Roja (mezcal, campari, lemon, lime and grapefruit). Rocking Horse Cafe contributed this pairing, and I’m eager to try the restaurant based on it. This was followed by Il Buco’s persimmon, hazlenut and fennel salad, served with the il Buco sour (bourbon, persimmon, lemon, thyme, and Sagrentino Passito). I’d never eaten a persimmon before, which really upped the ante on a disarmingly simple salad. Il Buco is also now high on my list of restaurants to try. My favorite cocktail of the evening came next, the J.M. Ginger (rum, pear puree, ginger syrup, red wine sorbet, and a ginger-sugar rim). This was served with a crepinette of lamb neck, with celery root puree and kumquat-basil marmalade, from Almond.

After seconds of the tamales and J.M. Gingers, we sampled a tray of Roni-Sue chocolates but my stamina was fading by the time we passed the coffee and brandy pairing. After scooping up some free Edible magazines, we swung by the Heartland Brewery table to sample a hopped-up and super-malty Mr. Atlas Pale Ale and a chocolatey, pitch-black Sumatra Porter. This to my mind makes a better dessert than a wedge of pie, but perhaps it was fortunate that we were near the door, because it occurred to us to roll out of there before we could do too much more damage to ourselves. My guess is that the amount I ate and drank would have cost at least three times the price of the ticket in a restaurant, so all-in-all it was a bargain, despite a dearth of seating. I am never, ever mixing that many liquors together again, but I’m totally checking out the next Edible event.

Edible Manhattan
Good Spirits at Almond pairings
Almond Restaurant
12 East 22nd St. between Broadway and Park Ave.

Poutine is pretty rare in the States but there are a few places in New York City that serve it. On Saturday, I checked out TPoutine on Ludlow Street, a relatively-new burgers-and-fries shop advantageously located in the booze-soaked Lower East Side. A classic poutine ran a steep $7.25, and came served in an appealing iron skillet, the curds just beginning to melt in their gravy bath. The cheese curds tasted authentic, and were generously-sized, although this possibly prevented them from completely melting. The fries, to their credit, maintained a fair amount of crispness, but the gravy didn’t taste much more than hot. A friend’s plate arrived with entirely too much gravy, which soon made the fries soggy, so it may be to your advantage to tell them to go light. All-in-all, this did a fair job satiating my poutine craving, but I’m told it’s not as tasty as the stuff you’d find in Montreal. TPoutine is open til 5am on weekends, so I could foresee a making late-night pit stop, but I’d probably keep looking for the really good stuff–my next destinations will likely be Mile End or Sheep Station in Brooklyn. There’s also decent and cheaper version available at Pommes Frites in the East Village.

TPoutine
168 Ludlow St between Stanton St & Houston St.
Tue-Wed 12pm-2am, Thu-Sat 12pm-5am, Sun 12pm-2am

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

Looking for a decent soft pretzel in New York City is a little like being thirsty in the middle ocean. There are pretzels everywhere, sold from ubiquitous street carts, but they’re completely inedible. Occaisionally one stumbles across handmade pretzels at a German bar like Loreley or Zum Scheider, but these places lack the get-it-and-go convenience of a cart. Sigmund Pretzel Shop, which opened last month, finally gives the Bavarian snack its due. A cafe and bakery headed by a former Bouley pastry chef, Sigmund sells fresh pretzels made on-site in small batches. Flavors include jalapeño cheddar, gruyere and paprika, garlic and parsley, salt, sesame, poppy, whole wheat, caramel, and cinnamon raisin ($3.00-$3.50). A choice of dip–whipped butter, herbed goat cheese, cream cheese, whole-grain mustard, honey mustard, or horseradish mayo–is included.  Pretzel sandwiches and donuts are also available.

The jalapeno-cheddar pretzel was by far my favorite. It was doughy and still-warm, with the cheese forming slightly-crunchy crust. Its lack of spice was forgiven since the whole-grain mustard dip added the needed kick. Although best eaten warm, it also travels extremely well. The cinnamon raisin pretzel with butter walked a fine line between savory and sweet, without being overly sugary or greasy. The passionfruit coconut donut was basically a thin doughy shell surrounding an intriguingly sweet-and-tart custard, but on the whole, I found it a little too sweet for a snack.

Seating is available, and with the smell of fresh-baked bread wafting from the kitchen and a row of windows overlooking Avenue B, this is a mellow place to stop for a quick bite. Try to go earlier to grab a fresh pretzel–they start selling out near closing time.

Sigmund Pretzel Shop
29 Avenue B between 2nd and 3rd St.
Tues-Sun 10am-10pm or until sold out. Closed Mon.

There are plenty of people who enjoy listening to the same tired Christmas songs year after year. I’m not one of them. If you’ve ever spent a few holiday seasons working in retail, you know what I’m talking about. Clearing trashed fitting rooms and dealing with stressed-out customers are both temporarily worse than listening to a saccharine Christmas mix. But I can attest after you’ve heard Christina Aguilera belt out The Christmas Song four hundred times on store speakers, the song triggers a gag reflex ever after.  For this list of Christmas songs that don’t suck, I primarily looked for songs that specifically mention Christmas and aren’t entirely overplayed. I also appreciate songs that reflect the dark as well as the light side of the holidays, or tell a good story.

The entire playlist is above, except for #9, #13, and #16 which weren’t available on Youtube, so those song links are below and #9 is replaced with runner-up “Christmas Ghosts” in the playlist.

1. The Sonics - Santa Clause
Who doesn’t want a cute honey and a lot of money for Christmas?

2. The Kinks - Father Christmas
Because Christmas shouldn’t be just for little rich boys.

3. The Beach Boys - Little Saint Nick
This song’s kinda famous, but I can’t resist the incongruity of a beachy Christmas.

4. Marvin Gaye - Purple Snowflakes
A super-cozy song, with a slightly mournful feel.

5. The Damned - There Ain’t No Sanity Clause
Remember finding out there was no Santa?

6. Run DMC - Christmas in Hollis
Going on the Christmas party mix.

7. Billy Taylor - Bright Star in the East
Would be on the Christmas party mix, if I had the LP.

8. James Brown - Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto
And tell them James Brown sent you!

9. The Raveonettes - The Christmas Song
Have you ever wished you could be snowed in with someone so you didn’t have to go home?

10. The Knife - Reindeer
Because no one ever thinks about the poor reindeer that have to haul around fat-ass Santa and that heavy sleigh.

11. Bjork - Jolasveinar (Icelandic Christmas Carol)
I have no idea what she’s singing about, but something tells me the elves are up to no good.

12. Harvey Danger - Sometimes You Have to Work on Christmas
Christmas isn’t all about joy and presents. Some people actually have to work.

13. The Magnetic Fields - Mister Mistletoe
Oh Mr. Mistletoe/wither and die/you useless weed/for no one have I.

14. Sufjan Stevens - That Was the Worst Christmas Ever!
A pretty song about a shitty Christmas.

15. Tom Waits - Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis
Gather round with your flasks of bourbon kids, Mr. Waits is gonna tell us a tale.

16. Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band - There Ain’t No Santa Claus on the Evenin’ Stage
If the one above didn’t make you feel tipsy this will.

Also: If like me you have an embarrassing fondness for “Last Christmas” by Wham! you’ll want to bookmark Last-Christmas.com.

Also: If you really just wish Christmas music rocked more check out this punk rock advent calendar (one punk Christmas song download each day in December): Punk-Christmas.com.

Also: I personally can’t stand the Pogues’ “Fairytale of New York” but it’s a pretty standard non-standard holiday tune.

You don’t want to go near Vatan unless you have fasted for an entire day and have some hardcore willpower to pace yourself through a meal. This Curry Hill spot offers a $31 prix fixe all-you-can eat gujarati Indian dinner consisting of about a dozen small vegetarian plates with accompanying rice and sauces, plus dessert. That’s right, you can ask for more of anything and nothing gets added to your tab. But even if you don’t have room for seconds, the price, while not an incredible deal, isn’t bad for what you get.

Dinner is reservation-only, but reserving a table for the same evening on a Saturday night was no problem. We were lead through the neon blue-flooded dining room, which was pure Bollywood kitsch. A baby-elephant-sized statue of Ganesh overlooked an imitation temple courtyard, complete with thatched-roof booths and fake trees. Our host finally seated us in what must have been the temple basement, a cave-like downstairs area, which while cozy, felt like a punishment for calling an hour ahead, since there were empty tables upstairs. The menu, our waiter informed us, was purely for informational purposes since the dinner comes with everything listed.

The first course consisted of six appetizers arranged on a silver serving platter, with a second platter holding five sauces ranging from spicy to sweet. Stand-outs included the samosas, battered triangles of spicy potatoes and peas, and chana masala, garbanzo beans with chutney and coriander. After eating a few deep-fried peppers a low heat began filling my mouth, and I found myself gulping water and sev puri, cooling, yogurt-filled bread. When the waiter asked how spicy I’d like my dinner, I requested mild.

Dinner was served similarly, but the dishes came accompanied by two kinds of rice, as well as kadhi, a yogurt and chickpea soup meant to be ladled in the middle of your dish. The puri–fried, puffed whole-wheat bread–nicely complemented the toor dal (spiced boiled lentils), and bhaji (sauteed spinach). The bataanu sak–potatoes in “mild” red gravy–caused another minor sweat attack, which I countered with more water and rice pudding. Dessert was a light course consisting of chai tea and mango ice cream–thank god, because the rest of my carb-and-salt loaded dinner was rapidly expanding in my tummy. Everything had been pretty tasty, but even though I didn’t finish my meal, I walked out feeling like I was steering a giant stomach on spindly legs, sweat drying on my brow like I’d seriously exerted myself. This is a good place to test the limits of your appetite with your vegetarian buddies, but due to price and the fullness factor I’ll be strictly limiting repeat visits.

Vatan
409 Third Avenue between 28th and 29th St.
Sun, Tue-Thu 5:30pm-10pm. Fri-Sat, 5:30pm-10:30pm. Closed Mon.
Call for reservations (212) 689-5666

I usually exit Bloomingdale’s Soho through the back door, while toying with taking drastic measures. Like leaving the city for good so I’ll stop blowing money on pretty things I don’t need. A right on Crosby street and a left on Broome puts me within reasonable distance of Chinatown, where I can atone for my purchase my finding something cheap for dinner. It’s no accident that enthusiasm for bahn mi spiked as the economy tanked–these hearty Vietnamese sandwiches are famously wallet-friendly. But you can skip the $5 versions at Baogette and Nicky’s. There’s better stuff downtown.

Bahn Mi Saigon Bakery on Mott street masquerades as a jewelry store but I have never seen anyone buy the candy-colored plastic beads in its window. A single long bench along the wall stretches toward the sandwich counter in the back, and a dry erase board hanging from the ceiling functions as the menu. The different sandwiches include  pork, chicken, sardine, pate, meat ball, and buddhist (mushrooms and tofu); there’s also papaya shrimp salad and summer rolls. Everything is four or five bucks, and the classic bahn mi, with pork, is $3.75. When asked “spicy or no spicy” I usually split the difference and request medium.

The pork bahn mi is served on a served on a crunchy baguette scraped with mayo and piled with fresh shreds of cold pickled carrots, radish, cucumber, and peppers. Topping it off are crunchy bits of sweet pork, a slice of lunchmeat-like pork roll, cilantro, and of course, hot sauce. This is a sandwich of great textures and well-married flavors, one that definitely has a smelly aura if you’re toting it around with you, but is utterly satisfying upon eating. In fact, half of this sandwich is enough for me, and a full one is a little overwhelming. Another plus, it doesn’t come doused in fish sauce, something I’ve encountered with other bahn mi shops.

For the full Saigon Bakery experience grab a bottle of the mysterious “Soy Drink” from the refrigerator. It’s actually just soy milk, but shit, it’s only 75 cents! Dinner under $5? Done.

Bahn Mi Saigon Bakery
138 Mott Street between Grand Street and Hester Street
Tue-Sun 10am-7pm. Closed Monday
Gets busy during lunch hour, go later if you don’t want to wait.

If the sight of dogs dressed up in clothes makes you shake your head in disgust at the preciousness people inflict on their pets, better visit Snackish another day. Because it’s been a whole year since I’ve witnessed the spectacle of the Tompkins Square Dog Halloween Parade and I’m about to embark on a long post all about adorable dogs in costumes. Are you with me?

The Tompkins Square Dog Halloween parade and costume contest is, according to Wikipedia, the largest dog Halloween party in the US. Think of it as Comicon, or South by Southwest for folks who like to dress up their pets. Usually held the Saturday before Halloween, the parade was once again rescheduled for Sunday due to rain. Fortunately Sunday was about as warm and bright as October can deliver.

Onto the costumes. I’ve narrowed my favorites of the day down to a few categories.

The professionals

Snoopy, Woodstock, and Plane, by Daniel Moyer Design and Fabrication - Clearly, a professional’s hand is at work here. Constructing a puppy-sized WWI biplane isn’t exactly something a friend and I could do in a weekend with some scissors and a sixpack for inspiration. But I gotta give props to the timeless subject matter–I picked up a copy of Snoopy and the Red Baron at a yardsale as a kid, and the ony thing that could’ve impressed me more was if they had built Snoopy’s bullet-ridden doghouse instead of a plane.  The passed-out poodles on the wing (that’s Meteor as Snoopy) and in the cockpit (Fifigigi as Woodstock) completely won me over, though. Unlike many other more jittery subjects, they were the perfect models.

The perennials

Thriller video - Every year there are a few contestants who don’t stop at just creating a costume, but construct an entire mobile backdrop for their pets’ character. I’m thinking this looks a lot like Bandit the Chihuahua, who rolled up last year in a tableaux of one of the Dogs Playing Poker paintings. This year it was a Michael Jackson’s Thriller diaroma complete with little zombies and a flat screen monitor playing the video. The only way to really pull this off is to have a tiny dog who’s a huge ham.

Right dog, right costume

It’s good to be king - Some dogs were clearly uncomfortable wearing costumes and being photographed, but not this cocker spaniel. In every shot his nose was in the air, just as proud and cool as can be. I thought for sure he might break character when he went to sprawl in a sunbeam to rest. But just when I thought he couldn’t get more regal, he took it to a whole other level.

Dragonfly - It never would’ve occurred to me that greyhound is the dog breed that looks most like an insect but can you imagine those wings on a pug or a beagle? Ridiculous.

The Incredible Hulk - I’m not sure what kind of dog this is, but I was impressed those jean shorts stayed on the whole time. Amazing what you can do with a little green dye and some denim.

Owners get in on the act

Rappers - Some owners, particularly those with smaller dogs, tend to steal the spotlight from their pets. This rapper’s entourage totally played the part, warding off photogs while he strolled through the crowd. This pup’s badass scowl and larger-than-life bling proved he was really the star though.

There’s more photos of the event on my Flickr. I did notice that while most of the pets were sweet-natured and the owners were open to the attention, the onlookers seemed to be a little more pushy in trying to get pictures this year. True, pictures of costumed dogs are pretty exciting but I’m not about to elbow someone out of my way to get one. One woman even tried to physically block me from taking a picture of a contestant (in a public park) telling me this was her project and I need to set up my own shot. I guess now we have to deal with people trying to make a buck off of the dog Halloween parade, in addition to everyone else who’s desperate to feed their blogs and Twitter accounts. I hope this remains a fun event for those of us who are there to enjoy the day, and with any luck, get some good photos.

2009 Dog Halloween parade photos
2008 Dog Halloween parade photos
2007 Dog Halloween parade photos
2006 Dog Halloween parade photos

The Dog Halloween parade is usually held the Saturday before Halloween from noon to 3pm (Rain date Sunday) at the Tompkins Square Park dog run.

Papabubble, a downtown candy lab specializing in flavorful hand-made hard candies, smells like the inside of a sugar bowl. Jars of crayon-colored treats line the walls, alongside oversized spiralling lollipops and jewel-hued ring pops. There’s usually a couple of candymakers at work behind the counter, in what amounts to a free show. Today they’re busy chopping up long glossy sticks of spun sugar into bite-sized discs. “Is that a ghost?” I ask, pointing to the tiny freakish face imprinted on each one, and I’m told it’s actually a special Hannibal Lecter Halloween candy. I’m handed a sample, which dissolves into bright mango on my tongue.

Watching candy being made is a strangely mesmerizing experience (see ropes of candy being pulled by hand in this CoolHunting video) and since Papabubble makes custom candies and sugar sculptures on request, there’s usually some new part of the process to watch, or a different flavor to sample, each time you visit. The prices for pre-packaged candies are not cheap–2oz bags run $5, 7oz small jars are $14.50, and a one-of-a-kind ring pop is $20—but the candies come in beautiful bespoke designs each one packs a lot of flavor.

Varieties include pink grapefruit, raspberry, anise, bergamot, pear, fizzy cola, red chili, ginger lemon, and several others. My favorite so far is watermelon with salt and chili (spicy, sweet, salty–just like the watermelon sugar cocktail from Mayahuel in candy form). This time around I did not spot the watermelon candies but I was sorely tempted by the black and white “Halloween mix” and ended up purchasing a big cherry-flavored black heart lollipop ($7). Highly recommended stop for sampling, browsing, or picking out a cute gift.

Papabubble
380 Broome St. between Mott St. and Mulberry St.
Tue.-Sat. 12pm-9pm, Sun 12pm-6pm
Other locations in Amersterdam, Barcelona, and Tokyo