‘New York City’
$25. In the real world that can get you a lot of things. You know, like 25 items from the McDonald’s Dollar Menu or a tank of gas (Prius FTW). But at The Spotted Pig in New York’s West Village it will get you a single burger (with fries though!) And that is the sole reason I set off for The Spotted Pig. As a meat blogger and burger connoisseur, I had been eying the burger for years, waiting for the chance to strike.
LA’s Koreatown is a place of legend, filled with all-you-can-eat BBQ, karaoke spots, and seedy places you’ll never know about unless you know about them. It also covers the area seemingly as big as Manhattan. New York’s Koreatown, on the other hand, covers just more than a city block and is built vertically like much of the rest of Manhattan. It is there that I went to dinner at Jongro BBQ.
When you’re in New York, it’s probably not the best idea to decide where you are eating based on the proximity to your hotel. Yet, when I walked by Black Iron Burger, right around the corner from my hotel in Chelsea I was immediately drawn in. The place claimed to have been voted as one of the best burgers in New York, and I was in no position to disagree.
Sometimes when you’re traveling you just have to eat in. When you do, you should hope you’re staying somewhere like Le Parker Meridien in Midtown New York. Because if you do, you’ll be lucky enough to have Burger Joint downstairs. Burger Joint isn’t just some typical hotel restaurant, it’s a no-frills spot with a small menu consisting of only burgers, fries, and a pickle with prices that are pretty typical for New York.
The Park in Chelsea is quite literally a beautiful place to eat. It isn’t an actual park, but the marginally glassed-in courtyard area is so full of growing green things that a bird took an actual crap on my mother-in-law before we had the opportunity to order our food. No joke. But this was brunch, so we laughed it off, took down some Bloody Mary’ses and pressed on.
After a long evening of drinking in New York City, the only reasonable thing to do is grab at least one slice of pizza. Such is what I did in the East Village when I essentially stumbled into Baker’s Pizza. As fate would have it, I ran into my drunk friend on his way out (he had left the bar five minutes before), which convinced me that I was in the right place. Just like all pizza by the slice places in New York, there was a display case showcasing the available pies and my eyes wandered to the one topped with meatballs and ricotta.
At some point, the world decided that the best bagels in the world are in New York. As with the pizza, the claim is that it has something to do with the water. I, however, think this does not do justice to the quality of cooking that goes into the production of these things. Obviously not all bagels and pizza in New York are good, so there is much more going on than meets the eye. In my own search for a tasty bagel, I was sent to Murray’s Bagels in Chelsea.
You know that feeling when a musician you “discovered” finally gets some radio playing time? In the food world, the equivalent is finding out that one of your favorite restaurants was featured on an awesome Travel Channel or Food Network show. I’d like to say this has happened to me before, but certainly it happened to my brother-in-law in New York. While I was visiting in Brooklyn, he took me to his favorite local BBQ place, which had just been featured on Drivers, Drive-Ins and Dives. It’s called The Smoke Joint, and as soon as I entered I felt at home.
While Artichoke represents the new trendy side of New York pizza, it wasn’t really quite New York style pizza. You know, the kind you have to fold a bit to eat and everyone says tastes better because of the water. Yeah, Artichoke wasn’t that type of place, but Lombardi’s sure was. Apparently Lombardi’s is a pretty big deal and they claim to be the first American pizzeria. It is quite a boast, and apparently it does a good job of filling the seats, but we got there around 3:00 (on the way to Uniqlo of course) and only had to wait about 10 minuted for a table to open up.
On stop two of our late-night food binge (after Pommes Frites), we headed to a little pizza shop called Artichoke. Here they specialized in, wait for it, artichoke pizza. Apparently therseI felt uncomfortable just being there, but I was told that this was some of the best pizza in New York. That it quite a claim, and after a stern talking-to, I was convinced to try some of the artichoke pizza, even against my better unvegan instincts.