VittlesVamp

When Good Dinners Have Bad Neighbors

The birthday partying continued. Regrettably though, there was an unfortunate theme that infiltrated two excellent dinners -- bad dining neighbors.

First there was a festive dinner at Bar Breton with Laurel, where we planned to celebrate both our b-days in fabulous French brasserie-style. As evidenced by the exquisite appetizer of Tuna Tartare pictured above, the food was indeed fabulous. The meal also included the restaurant's much-lauded BB Burger, medium-rare and juicy, composed of house-ground brisket and short rib, as well as warm Nutella Crepes for dessert.

Sounds lovely, doesn't it?

Well, the food and service was lovely. The view -- of a canoodling couple -- was not.

I'm not a prude, but there are times you just want to shout "GET ROOM!" This was one of those times. Especially, since the couple in question hadn't asked for a secluded corner table and instead sat smack dab in the middle of the well-lit dining room. I could see that the man was clearly twice the age of his blonde companion, so perhaps he wanted to show off a bit, but c'mon. No need to be unappetizingly amorous in public.

Next up was Saul with my pal Sandra. As always, the food was masterful, starting with a Cauliflower Soup that amazed and delighted...

Moving onto Aged Rib Eye Steak with Slow-Cooked Beef Shortribs, Garlic-Scented Potato Puree and Bone Marrow Butter, followed by a triumphant Baked Alaska for dessert, it was a truly divine birthday dinner.

Divine except for the newly engaged couple seated to our left. Seated only half a foot to our left.

The "he" in the couple had popped the question and given the ring at the entrance to the small, low-key restaurant and then "she" proceeded to gush about the ring at the table ad nauseum with stops for the requisite PDAs throughout the meal.

This really would have been okay, had they not been plunked down within easy earshot of Sandra and I, a mere six-inches away from our table.

I realize that I probably sound like a curmudgeon with this posting. But, is it too much to ask that these overtly ardent couples find more private tables? Both establishments had enough room and table options to satisfy that sort of request. Yet, neither couple made a move. And, if it is way too much to ask, can they just keep it to hand holding and a game of footsie, until they home?

Yup. Guess I'm a curmudgeon after all. That's was you get for turning a year older!

And, maybe next time I'll simply ask for the secluded table.

B-Day Dinner In Billysburg

Corralled part of my posse for a Saturday night advance birthday bash at Williamsburg's own stylish saloon, Marlow & Sons, for a healthy helping of hipsterdom, oysters, cocktails and more. Tucked away in a corner table in the rustic dining room, we had a bit of trouble getting the waiter's attention, but once we did it was a damn fine dinner with the gals.

The East Coast oysters (pictured above) from the Virginia coast, were plump, briny and, splashed with a bit of mouth-puckering mignonette, slid down nice and easy. A bottle of vino went down nice and easy too.

Frankly, everything was whoop-worthy good. A bowl of house-crafted Pappardelle with a hearty Bolognese Sauce and slivers of sharp Pecorino drew oohs and aahs. The Chicken-Under-A-Brick elicited moans of pleasure and applause from a steak-fiend friend who usually shies away from the cluckers. And, the bird I ordered, a Pheasant with Potato Latkes (just in time for Chanukah!) was delectable...

Next to arrive was a slice of silky smooth Chocolate and Caramel Pie graced with a smattering of sea salt -- followed by a couple of other sweets for a full-on threesome. Of course the ladies at the table had dismissed the notion of having more than one dessert, but attacked the three beauties as if they'd been without food for a week.

That's what a great meal can do to good women: make us ravenous for more.

And, it goes without saying that after eating at Marlow & Sons, I'm most definitely hungry for more

Let The Birthday Culinary Cavalcade Begin!

It's that time of year again. The time when I get a year older, look a year younger and enjoy celebrations galore. The big day isn't until next week, but already the festivities have been underway with a series of pals and such.

From the Watermelon Margaritas and Guacamole with Leah and Shaun at Hell's Kitchen to the Salad Rolls and Pork Belly with Sir and Lady M at An Choi, it's been a great start to this annual month-long dining extravaganza.

But, the meal thus far that truly made me feel all sortsa special was at a place in Midtown called Isle of Capri (pictured above). This classic Italian-American dining haunt is a hop, skip and a jump away from Bloomingdale's and has been kickin' it old school since 1955.

The room was colorful, crammed and comfy, evoking a 1970's sensibility of Italiano trattoria elegance. The waitstaff -- although most definitely not Italian -- were well-equipped with the occasional"grazie" and "prego."

Sitting down with Missy K and her parents in from LA, it felt like we found a hidden, fading gem, as we opened the menu to descriptions of traditional fare like Pasta e Faglioli, Lasagna al Forno and Trippa alla Calabrese.

The foil-wrapped butter pats arrived, as did the the middling bread basket, saved only by sticks of crisp Grissini. Little Bruschetta landed on the table as well, deliciously garlicky, making up for the bread basket disappointments. Then we ordered.

The monumental platters arrived -- Potato Gnocchi in Bolognese, Manicotti slathered in red gravy, the aforementioned Lasagna al Forno, a platter of housemade Paglia e Fieno, and the king of old-fashioned Italian-American cookery - Veal Parmigana.

It was marvelous. It was like someone's Nonna from South Philly or Bensonhurst was cooking in the back. Missy K was delighted, as were her Italian-American parental units. Smiles all around the table - except for her Dad, Tony.

"Why didn't we get some of the lovely sausages from upfront on the antipasto table?!"

He eyed them lovingly as we started to exit, when a waiter approached, cut one off of the rope of coiled beauties and handed it to Tony as parting gift.

"Grazie"

"Prego"

A perfect ending for a perfect pre-birthday dinner.

Astoria's Culinary Tourist Trap Is Shuttered

Uncle George's has long been the Astoria "it" destination for Fodor's-lugging gyro and souvlaki loving tourists.

The food was greasy. The help was greasier. And, now it looks like all that grease from Greece - and goodness knows what else - has finally caught up with the joint. Signs on the darkened windows declare that the restaurant is under renovation, but it is the sign from the Department of Health that tells the true story. As of late last month, they took down Uncle George and any nieces or nephews that remained.

(Photo credit: Eating In Translation)

Pizza Pie -- Hold The Line

After some serious taste testing at the likes of Veloce, Sac's Place and Motorino in the search for pie perfection, I figured it was time to brave the blocks-long line of tourists at the Zagat-beloved, coal brick-oven, Brooklyn pizzeria Grimaldi's.

Actually, I decided to bypass the tourists. I'm a New Yorker. No time for standing on lines. So, instead of standing on Old Fulton for a hour or two to claim my 'za, I went on a Tuesday evening. Late evening. 15 minutes before the place closes.

The reward?

No line. Speedy service. And, most importantly, the beautiful, expertly-crafted specimen pictured above, topped with a zesty blanket of bright Tomato Sauce, a generous portion of oozing Mozzarella, slivers of sweet Roasted Red Peppers and leaves of fragrant, fresh Basil. Bellisima.

Still, I can't decide if I have a real fave though among all my recent pizza stops. When I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that I might just have to try them all again to make a judgment call. Moreover, I'll probably need to also stop by Lombardi's, Artichoke Basille's, Co. and travel to L&B Spumoni's for good measure, before a final verdict can be had from the Vamp.

Anyone want to join me?

The Motorino City

Before the Motornio hoopla hit about its new Manhattan branch, I had my eye on the Williamsburg pizzeria.

Now, it was time to hit it up. Viva la Brooklyn!

With my pal Jennifer and her red-headed two-year-old tot in tow, we nabbed an early dinner table and decided to be daring. No typical 'za here. Oh, no. We ordered up a pie topped with oozing, smoky Scarmoza cheese, meaty chunks of salty Pancetta bacon, slivers of slightly sweet Butternut Squash and fragrant, flash-fried Sage Leaves.

Jenn convinced her tyke that the squash was just like a melon and suddenly he was chowing down like the two of us.

For once, something that lives up to the hype. Viva la Motorino!

Rumor Alert: Hecho En Dumbo To Leave Brooklyn

There has already been buzz about the team behind Hecho en Dumbo securing a license for a new Mexican hot spot at 354 Bowery on the site of the former Marion's Continental. But now, it seems that the Hecho team is dumping DUMBO outright for its new location come November, throwing a a bye-bye bash to Brooklyn on October 31st before they go full tilt in Manhattan.

For Brooklynites, this Halloween party sure to feel more like a trick than a treat.

Tony Soprano's Favorite 'Za

How could I resist the chance to enjoy a pie from The Soprano's cast and crew's favorite Italian spot? I couldn't. So, when visiting Astoria the other day, I bypassed the traditional Greek meze joints and joined a pal at Sac's Place for a deeply satisfying coal-oven pizza that was lightly charred, crisp, thin and topped with a zesty tomato sauce, oozing mozzarella and a trio of toppings that included sweet roasted peppers, crumbled meatballs and slices of portobello mushroom cooked in garlic and white wine.

Unsurprisingly, the slice pictured above wasn't the only one I ate.

A Taco Tour of Sunset Park

I'd long wanted to explore everything that Sunset Park had to offer by way of grub. As loyal readers may know, I've already hit up one of its two international culinary enclaves -- King's County Chinatown. Nevertheless, dim sum and fresh lychees aside, I had been remiss in checking out Sunset Park's other cultural claim to fame -- "Brooklyn's Little Latin America," blending Mexico, the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico into a vibrant nabe all its own.

After years of Cal-Mex and Tex-Mex at Benny's Burritos and alike, I had a yearning for the real deal when it came to Latino fare. And, luckily, I finally found an intrepid foodie friend to join me in this adventure, a fine gent named Kyle, who came equipped with a handsome murse and -- more importantly -- comfortable shoes and taste-buds ready for anything.

Still, I had to wonder if the murse was a dead giveaway that we weren't "from these parts," as we stumbled into our first stop, the down-to-earth and hipster-free Tulcingo Deli VI. Entering the sparse, fluorescent lit dining room, we drew more than a few stares. But, thankfully, it soon subsided once we settled into a table, ordered a couple of Coronas and shared an Arabes Taco (pictured above), filled with lightly charred lamb, topped with chopped onion and bits of cilantro, and slathered with a tongue-tingling sauce.

Muy buen! But no matter how intriguing the rest of the menuor the Telenovela on the tube, we had to keep moving.

A few blocks down, we hit the more upscale Tacos Matamoros, where "grande" Chorizo and Pastor Tacos were ordered. The pair arrived, folded cone-style, hand-packed with buttery Guacamole to off-set the spicy sausage and marinated pork.

To compliment both, we raised glasses filled with Jarritos Toronja, offering bubbly relief from the tacos' peppery heat and a snappy, citrus kick of grapefruit to boot.

Our next destination was right across the street. There was no excuse not to keep forging ahead. So, la cuenta was paid and we journeyed to the other side of 5th Avenue to Tacos Xochimilco.

As soon as we walked into the restaurant, though, Kyle and I were taken aback.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong -- very, very wrong and located smack dab the center of all the dining room tables.

Cabeza Tacos? I WISH! No. Unfortunately, it was this...

Honestly, I didn't know if I could go through with taking a seat beside a vase of these sky-blue faux-blooms. But the waitress' warm welcome and the fact that actually DID have a Cabeza Taco on the menu convinced me otherwise.

My hope for exotic meat-parts notwithstanding, Kyle urged me against Cabeza and eventually we settled on a pairing of Carnitas and Lengua Tacos. The latter was luscious, moist and magnificent.

The former was fine too and the overall experience encouraged us to be a bit brave and try a "pequeno" Barbacoa Taco -- a.k.a. a tiny Goat Taco, which ended up being more than a bit too forceful in its sure-footed goatiness...

For a finale, we decided to aim for a "T" alternative to the Taco and venture to the 24-hour fave Bakery La Flor, a well-worn bakery and coffee shop that is known for its massive Mexican Torta sandwiches.

The Chorizo and Eggs version, graced with slices of Jalapeno Peppers, stewed Red Beans, slivers of Tomato, lettuce, onions and more, didn't disappoint on the size scale (below is a snapshot of HALF of one of these gargantuan beauties), but admittedly it didn't live up to the tasty Taco options of the evening.

So, to take the edge off of our sorrow -- cause we certainly didn't need an edge taken off of our appetites -- we ordered up a classic Latin American dessert, Flan.

Dense, golden, eggy and capped with honey-sweet carmel, it only took a few gorgeous, tender bites to make us realize that this tour had come to a close.

The "N" train was calling our names. That said, we would definitely return to the nabe for more Latino delights. Or at least I would. Because, one way or another, I do plan on trying a Cabeza Taco one of these days-- and the more I think about it, some blue flowers might prove to be the perfect compliment.

Elettaria Exits

Guess my pal's birthday dinner won't be held at Elettaria after all. Just got a call from their reservationist and tonight is their last night, so tomorrow's table for four is cancelled.

Should I blow out the candles earlier than expected?

Ouch!