Kyotofu

Months ago we discovered Tafu on 51st St. near Lex, which arguably has the best green tea in the city -- I'm a fan of the iced sencha, which has a wonderful clean grassy taste -- and its accompanying desserts, each with a green tea flavor. There are financiers (a fancy word for dense cookies, I've found), cheesecakes, cupcakes and even ice creams -- and not the blah green tea ice cream that often stands alone on the dessert menu and your neighborhood Asian restaurant -- these use the actual flavors of Matcha, Sencha and Genmaicha and somehow make them work well in a sweet dessert. I can't say I don't prefer a Mr. Softee cone to sweet toasted brown rice-flavored ice cream every day (Alisa can), but their desserts are original and always great. It took a bit of reminding over time, however, that the desserts at Tafu (which is tinier than our Manhattan apartment and has only four seats) are made at Kyotofu, a Hell's Kitchen nouveau Japanese restaurant where, we found after riding down there on our bikes Saturday, the savory entrees are just as good (if not better) than the sweets. We arrived while there were 3-4 other parties there, with a waiter and a waitress attending to everyone and a single chef in a tiny kitchen right up front, with glass windows looking in on her. The one-woman show may have been to blame for the relatively sluggish service, but no mind, we were hardly in a rush. We started with an order of cold green tea soba noodles that were fresh, tender and tasty, with a soy dipping sauce. Next, I opted for chicken and tofu tsukune burger with lotus root chips. It was delish, a very loosely packed patty brimming with a tangy teriyaki-like flavor on a soft brioche bun. The chips, with lots of holes in the middle, were crisply fried a golden brown. Alisa got the smoked salmon donburi -- tasty bits of loxlike salmon atop a puffy, almost crispy rice. Others sitting nearby got dishes we're eager to try next time, especially, for me, a artisanal cheese souffle and a kurobuta sausage puff. Each entree also came with a free cocktail as part of the brunch special. I got a Mimosa, Alisa got a Bellini (peach juice instead of OJ). For dessert, we got a chef's omikase (tasting) of five desserts: a mini chocolate cupcake and a sugary cookie, a berry tofu cheesecake (probably the best on the plate), a tofu version of flan, a dark chocolate cupcake with a gob of green tea icing on top and a panna cotta with soft apricot on top. Alisa was more of a fan than me of these, but I at least agree they were all worth trying. But for my money, the savories won out and will bring me back -- soon -- for more.

Dovetail

Hailed as one of the best new joints on the UWS, we scored a res. at Dovetail about a month before we were able to get in. It's easily missable, behind a glass door with the name artfully etched in beside routine apartment building entrances on 77th, caddy corner to the Natural History Museum. Decor was dark, sleek, clean and service was very attentive. We started off with a glass of wine (I got a Long Island sauvignon blanc that was OK, Alisa a Spanish white that was better) and they soon brought two individual loaves of white cheddar cornbread along with a trio of amuse bouche. The hot cornbread was yummy, although somehow the neandrathal American in me wanted it to be cheesier, looser inside, but still a nice starter. The amuse bouche were all good -- a radish on a toothpick with some grated cheese that tasted like parm, a teeny shrimp quesadilla on a fork and, the best of all, house-smoked salmon on a green, tofu-y cube. We started with chilled cauliflower soup with oysters in the middle, perched atop a little island of chopped apples, onions and pine nuts. Let me say here that I almost opted against the soup, in favor of some scallops with lime and caviar, but Alisa wanted the soup and, I have to say, I'm glad we got it. No cream or chunkiness, it was like a gazpacho, but more soothing and flavorful in the heat of summer and without the intense spice of its Spanish cousin. It would be one of the best things we ate there -- a statement that's not at all a dig at the joint, the soup was just really that good. Next we got gnocchi with blueberries, goat cheese and white truffle shavings. I think Alisa liked this one a bit more than me. While interesting, all the flavors never really came together for me. For our entrees, Alisa got a snapper with fava beans and a sea urchin broth. I got a cod with bacon, itty-bitty clams that were delish, polenta croutons and some leeks. Both of our fish were expertly cooked -- flaking apart into slices with just a bit of pressure from your fork. The problem was that while our sauces were tasty (as were the bacon bits and clams), the fish itself had nothing distinctive or particularly flavorful about them. They were just nicely cooked, quality pieces of fish...which just isn't enough. Dessert brought us back to the glory of the soup. We opted for a peanut butter tart with beer ice cream and pretzels. It was tasty, but not the highlight. Instead, that honor was reserved for one-third of our other dessert: an ice cream trio of lemon verbena, cinnamon and croissant. You guessed it: the croissant was mind-blowingly good -- like a sweet butter bomb in miniature scoop form. It was accented by what we first thought were bran flakes and then realized were croissant flakes (we think) at the bottom of the bowl. In all, a fine meal and a place we'll definitely return to, but perhaps in the fall or winter, when there's a whole new menu to try (a Bruni review from last winter suggested a totally different offering). But in short: cauliflower soup and croissant ice cream alone were worth the trip...the rest was fine, but not memorable.

Delta Grill

At the recommendation of my editor, a Mississippi native, who called it more or less the best southern food in NYC, we went with our friends Marlene and Steven to Delta Grill in Hell's kitchen. The Christmas lights and decor reminded me of Jacques-Imo's -- the New Orleans version, not the failed NY outpost. We ordered Abita on tap, a nice touch, and Alisa and I shared a crawfish pie ($9) appetizer, which was surprisingly good, not terribly far off from the mind-blowing shrimp and alligator sausage cheesecake at JI's (I actually got the recipe, which I'll post here if there's enough interest, from Jacques one night while he was totally hammered...which was pretty often). It wasn't really typical crawfish pie, however, since it arrived as a slice. I usually found crawfish pie to come in smaller, individual pies like the one at Tee Eva's back in N.O. It actually is amazing how many examples of BAD crawfish pie I had in N.O., however, especially the one at Franky & Johnny's. Alright, enough New Orleans name dropping for now (is it obvious that I miss it a bit?). Anyway, Marlene and Steven split an order of the fried green tomatoes ($9), which would have been great if the tomatoes were actually green! A sweet red ripe tomato just made the whole thing bizarre, since the key to the dish is a sour green tomato battered and fried. Not a good sign. Anyway. For entrees, Alisa and I each got an oyster po-boy $13), quickly realizing we could have split one. They were surprisingly good, although somewhat stingy with the corn-fried oysters (although ersters aren't near as cheap up here as they are plucked fresh from the Gulf down there). The bread worked fine, although it sure wasn't Leidenheimer French Bread, the loaves delivered in those trucks with the annoying Bunny Matthews cartoon on the side back in N.O. Steven got some jambalaya ($17) he seemed pleased with and Marlene opted for a mac and cheese ($6) side. I think we'd go back at some point.

A brief note on pastrami

After checking out the pastrami at Carnegie Deli, the reopened 2nd Ave. (albeit off 3rd), the Stage, Artie's, etc. I just have to go on record saying that every one of them stands second in line to Katz's. Given that pastrami's so damn bad for you, my new resolution, aimed at preserving my body, is to only eat pastrami from Katz's. The true record of just how f%*!ing good it is comes right when you order it and they slice a few scraps onto a tiny plate, slam it on the counter before you and let you eat it with your fingers while they make your sandwich. It's meat masking as butter. You've got to be pretty damn confident your pastrami is perfect to make a gesture like that. God bless Katz's. Reason #138 why I love this city.

BLT Market

After being introduced to BLT Fish last year by some friends and discovering BLT Burger on our own, we clued in to BLT Market (BLT, for the record stands for Bistro Laurent Tourondel, LT being the chef's initials...not lettuce tomato) and went with our friend Julie, who we're planning to visit in Bangkok later this summer. After bellying up to the bar solely to take advantage of a free nut sampler that included de-shelled pistachios (can I say that until you've had the pleasure of eating MORE than one pistachio at a time, you haven't really lived), we got our table and were greeted, for starters, with a hot dog amuse bouche (pictured just below). Specifically, a beef-and-pork hot dog, wrapped up in a homemade Gruyère-flecked pastry and topped with sauerkraut and mustard. He had me at the hot dog. We started with a "mache" salad, with greens I assumed were watercress until a Google search identified mache as "a little known salad green with a mild lettuce like flavor." But screw the green leafy veg. The best thing about it and the reason we ordered it was for the tiny deviled quail eggs that tasted like truffle. There were five in all in the salad and out of pure stupidity masked as chivalry, I gave the last two to Alisa and Julie. It will truly be one of the great regrets of this week. Anyway. We also got a spice-crusted yellowfin tuna app that was entirely forgettable. As we waited for entrees, they brought out a narrow bag with a hot baguette, cut down the middle and filled with what we thought was pesto but tasted like creamed spinach but was fantastic whatever it was. Awesome bread seems to be a staple at BLT restaurants...at BLT Fish they have the best cheddar biscuits ever. Anyway. We immediately asked for another and the waiter, perhaps not quite understanding what we wanted, arrived with more of those amazing hot dog things. Score! A minute after that he came with another loaf of the bread. I was loving this place beyond words by this point. For entrees, Alisa and I both opted for a brioche-crusted halibut with a lobster curry sauce, a special on the menu that night. The fish was perfectly cooked, but I have to confess it was just sort of bland, not arriving tucked inside the big doughy pastry I envisioned, just flecked with some some bread-y stuff on top. Alisa begged to differ. Not wanting it to arrive suffocating inside some thick, doughy mass, she liked the combination of subtle flavors. She also enjoyed the heavily braised cauliflower. Too me it just tasted like burned veggies. Julie opted for a veal chop with morel mushrooms that seemed like the better choice. I feel like there's more I should say about the entrees, but isn't it so common to be wowed by everything but the main course? Anyway. To finish, we got two kickass desserts: a Mango upside-down cake with jasmine green tea ice cream that was really good but quickly upstaged by what Julie said was the standout of the evening and I may have to agree: Popsicle Sorbet with warm Orange Blossom Madeleines. The sorbet, topped with what I think was a raspberry sauce, brought you back to the sidewalk beside the ice cream man during the summer before third grade as your Big Wheel awaited another roll down the street. All in all, a great experience.

La Kabbr

Taken by another Times piece, we ventured down to Hell's Kitchen -- the neighborhood, not the Gordon Ramsay restaurant from his annoying TV show of the same name (which, let's face it, is Top Chef for dipshits) -- to the only Iraqi restaurant in NYC. There's little to report. We started with La Kabbr Maza ($19.95), a sampler of hummus, baba ghannouj, tabouleh, etc. It was all good, with warm pita, but nothing memorable. We then ordered the spankopita ($12.95), which came with soup. The choices were chicken noodle or lentil. We chose lentil and tucked in, only to pull out short starchy noodles. "What does this taste like?" I asked. Alisa pondered the saltiness until it struck us. It was Lipton instant chicken noodle soup, the staple of any Gen X middle-class suburban childhood, apparently disguised by a top layer of lentil soup. Down went our spoons. Still went the soup. The spinach and feta under a layer of golden brown filo dough that arrived next was fine, but again unremarkable. So we can check visiting the only Iraqi joint in the city off our list. Once was enough.

Momofuku Noodle Bar

After walking by it frequently on our way to any number of the great places along First Avenue in the East Village, we finally made our way to Momofuku, turned on to it by the frequent gushings of Frank Bruni. Notwithstanding the desperately hip vibe, evident by The National song on the stereo and the dude reading Radical Chic beside us, we quickly found they were well deserved. We started off with the shiitake mushroom steamed buns ($9), which arrived as a pair of taco-style soft, thick white pancakes doubled over with tender sliced mushrooms tucked inside with a tasty asian brown sauce. Some cucumber slices inside gave a cool crunch, perfecting a dish that floored us both. Sometime I might have to try the pork. Next came the Cured Arctic Char ($14) - thin slices of what looked just like lox and made me wonder if it had come up from smoked fish mongers Russ & Daughters, just a few blocks south. It came accompanied with a panna cotta-shaped mound of dill-flavored tofu and four triangle-shaped puffs of rye flatbread. We cut holes in the crisp, flaky puffs and filled them with slices of the salty, perfect fish and lobbed gobs of the green tofu in the remaining empty spaces, topped off with some tiny strips of what looked like pickled taro root. Another hit. For the main course, we each went for ramen -- Alisa the Hatcho Miso Ramen ($14) with baby shiitake, tat soi (sort of an Asian mustard green, Wikipedia alleges) and radish. She loved it, digging up bits of barley from the bottom, occasionally drizzling it with some of the fiery deep orange hot sauce in tiny plastic bottles that we assumed was Sriracha. I went for the Momofuku Ramen ($16, pictured here), which arrived with noodles buoying a pile of tender shredded pork, two slices of thick, fatty pork, asian pickles, scallions and a poached egg in the middle. We both mixed the tender noodles (Alisa's flatter than mine but equally perfect) up with everything in our bowls and savored the perfect broth that tied all the flavors together. We can't wait to go back.