Wien

Probably for the first time since February we finally had the whole gang together once again. We had agreed to do a new Shuls N Shpayz visit the first Friday of June, however we had not many any headway by Thursday as for where to pray nor where to eat. All I knew was that it would be terrible weather and raining so this would factor into my decision. On Thursday night, I did some research and aggregated some old ideas into an email and sent the choices to the group. Still we were undecided by the middle of the day Friday except that my suggestion of Cafe Katja in the Lower East Side was acceptable. I proposed the Carlebach Shul on the Upper West Side due to its reputation for spirituality and the singing of the entire liturgy, in the style of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach.  Since most of the synagogues I still want to go to (Park East, Fifth Avenue, Bialystoker) are Orthodox there is often the contentious topic of the mechitzah, which does not exist in egalitarian minyanim, and the latter situation of which our group is familiar with growing up in Conservative communities. So when one who shall remain nameless reminded us of his disdain for the mechitzah, I then scrambled to find an egalitarian minyan and because of the weather which I did not want to battle too much I decided to find a service within walking distance of my office. Enter the Actors Temple, appropriately situated in the Theater District, though long since populated by actors (at least those of much acclaim). Borrowing from its Wikipedia entry, it dates back to the roaring 20s when the entertainment business was largely based in New York City, and when a lot of vaudeville, theater, TV, and nightclub performers went there, among the likes of Sophie Tucker, Jack Benny, and The Three Stooges. With the entertainment industry moving to California in the 30s and 40s, the synagogue went downhill though somehow has managed to stay afloat all these years. How, I do not know. Currently, they lease space to dance groups and double as a theater when there are no services happening, but this has all occurred within the last 10 years. When I walked inside, unlike many other synagogues in the city, there was no doorman. As soon as you walk in, there are stairs going up. I looked around for a coat room but did not see one. I left my umbrella on the stairs and continued into the sanctuary. It was an odd scene, a very long and narrow room with walls covered in wood paneling that reminded me of the family room in my house growing up, probably circa 1970s and large circular industrial light fixtures emanating an eerie glow from above. The vast majority of the seats were empty although it was less than 10 minutes before the Friday night service was scheduled to begin. I found the 3 of them in a row off to the right towards the front and sat on the aisle, put my jacket on the back of the chair and took off my galoshes which are lifesavers in this monsoon NYC weather. I then headed to the back to grab a siddur and returned to the seat. I opened it up and it was Sim Shalom just the same as the one I had grown up with, English on the left Hebrew on the right. Before the service began, the rabbi (who would also turn out to double as the cantor) came up to us and asked where we grew up and from what background we came, we all answered Conservative, our answer to which she appeared satisfied. There was a feeling of loss at the Actors Temple (officially Congregation Ezrath Israel), and people were scattered all over the room with seats upon rows just empty. Apparently when they transformed to a part-time theater they ripped out the old pews and put in removable cloth chairs and there is a mirror along the side wall for rehearsals that is covered by a curtain during services. The bimah is essentially a stage as there are curtains and lights and everything (not active during Shabbos of course). When we began, I was disappointed when she skipped right over Yedid Nefesh normally my favorite prayer to start Erev Shabbat. In fact, several prayers were skipped and in L'kha Dodi we ended up doing only verses 1, 2, 5, and 9. After almost every prayer, the rabbi/cantor would stop and add some thoughts. This service was not going to be a quick one. On multiple instances she also mentioned the expectation of a speaker who was late. Who this person was and what she would be speaking about I had no idea. When this speaker finally arrived, she was announced and the rabbi/cantor asked her if they could get through most of the prayers before having her speak. At this point, Neal nudged me to inform me that we would be leaving prior to this speaker since I had made a reservation at 9pm downtown and Alisa was going to meet us there. While we will likely not return to the Actors Temple, it was very cool to see the stained glass memorials to stars of the past and think of the history that once occurred in the space. There are 2 redeeming factors about a prayer experience at the Actors Temple: the atmosphere is very peaceful and somewhat spiritual and it's a good bet that anyone leading a prayer has a good voice, since it is after all the Actors Temple. Right before the president was to deliver announcements we made our escape, grabbing our umbrellas back out into the downpours on West 47th Street. To get to Cafe Katja in the heart of the LES on Orchard Street, we walked to the Times Square 42nd St station and hopped on the A downtown to West 4th Street. Meryl was elated when she realized what station we were, as she thinks of it as the quintessential Greenwich Village station and because she used to go to NYU for grad classes. From there we went to the BDFM platform hoping to catch a D train to Grand Street. Instead a D never came and we counted 2 F trains and 1 M before we decided to opt for the F to Delancey and walk west to Orchard. At Delancey, Meryl and Neal took the escalator and ended up on the way other wrong side of the street so Julia and I had to wait for them. Finally we headed west on Delancey and got to Orchard where I thought we had to make a right so we went up the street which was mostly dark and desolate until I noticed the house numbers were going up so we had to reroute back the other direction and cross over Delancey to head towards Broome. Naturally as we crossed Delancey the trade winds picked up immensely and umbrellas rendered useless. Finally down Orchard and across Broome, Cafe Katja was in sight with its wrought iron sign blowing back and forth. Upon entering, I was surprised to find out how spacious it was. Having read online that it was only 25 seats and the hostess telling me it was small when I made the reservation, there are 2 distinct sections, one with a great island bar and some tables and chairs from there to  the windows and then past a half-walled section in what must have once been a narrow store space through which they broke the wall. When we got in, it seemed as though the host was going to seat us at a wall table 5 across. Then we were given the choice of a table in the center or another one soon to be vacated in the back. For sake of less wait, we took the center table. It is a neat place with the appearance of sitting at a kitchen table, not pretentious, paper napkins rather than cloth. First we ordered drinks and then I briefed everyone about what I had read had been ordered here before that was good: the cheese stuffed sausage, the beef goulash and the mac-and-cheese-like spatzle, and sides of cucumber potato salad and roasted carrots. As an Austrian restaurant, Katja is also home to an impressive selection of Central European beers, they can be ordered in 3 sizes including 1/3 liter and half liter. I decided to do a bit of sampling so I got the smaller the 1/3 liter, the Austrian Stiegl lager to begin. They also carry a few Hofbrau Haus brews like the Dunkel which Neal had. When it came to the food, we ordered a few pretzels with spread to start off with which included a couple dips, one of which turned out to be pure creamy butter and the other, liptauer (a spicy cheese spread made with sheep milk cheese, goat's milk cheese, quark cheese, or cottage cheese) that was absolutely amazing. And of course Alisa had them bring the traditional spicy mustard. Pretzels made such an impression on me that night that the next day while we were exploring Roosevelt Island, I stopped at Starbucks and got one of their mustard-stuffed pretzels which was good but not as great as Katja pretzels. When we were ordering the main courses, I told everyone I planned get the roasted carrots and the cucumber potato salad as sides to share but my suggestions were rebuked in favor of the expected large portion size of the main dishes. Looking back, this was the right call and when I return to Cafe Katja I will make sure to order these side dishes (it turned out that didn't even have the roasted carrots available that night so no sleep was lost). Along with Neal and Meryl, I ordered the beef goulash. I was a bit skeptical at first considering I associate goulash with Hungarian cuisine but given the proximity of the countries and the history as the Austro-Hungarian empire, there was no skepticism to be had. Whereas Hungarian goulash is much more of stew/soup with chunks of meat, this Austrian goulash (which turned out to be the only thing on the menu not from pork) exactly succulent, emphasis on the tender. No knife was required to dice the meat on my dish, it broke down from standard contact of the fork. I was also excited to have the spatzle alongside it which is soft egg noodles and a type of creamy cheese over it. It occurred to me there were no spoons on the table and I was missing out on the awesome goulash broth so I voiced this concern out loud and thankfully Neal came to the rescue with a suggestion to mix the spatzle with the goulash in order to absorb the broth: pure genius. The portion was just perfect and the taste of the dish was like none I'd had in a while and hardly comparable to Hungarian goulash. Austrian goulash which I had no idea existed, is in a world of its own (though I was disappointed that the wienerschnitzel was pork-based even though I specifically remember only having beef schnitzel in Vienna). Julia had the "seared hickory smoked salmon/kale/mashed potato" while Alisa ordered the "Emmentaler sausage/savoy cabbage/quark dumplings". I tried a quark dumpling and fell in love with it. Having never heard of quark previously, we asked and were told it is sort of similar to cottage cheese or ricotta, but has no salt added. Wikipedia says "it is made by warming soured milk until the desired degree of denaturation of milk proteins is met, and then strained". It was delicious. Alisa said she was not impressed by the sausage which was stuffed with Emmentaler cheese. Before the end of the meal, I ordered a second 1/3-liter beer, this time a Radeberger pilsner, which I have seen before at some bars throughout the city. Overall, it was a forgettable Shabbat experience with an  excellent meal, hugely distinct from the heaviness of German dishes at Heidelberg. We will return to Cafe Katja.

 The Actors Temple on West 47th Street

 Actors Temple inside view of bima

Actors Temple looking out from bima with women's gallery above

Cafe Katja, 79 Orchard Street

 Pretzel yum, with butter and liptauer dips

the roasted carrots I wanted to get

Emmentaler sausage with quark dumplings

 seared hickory smoked salmon with kale and mashed potatoes

Austrian beef goulash with spatzle

Belge ou/of Belgisch?

It's about time we get some Shuls back in this with the Shpayz. For too long, the lack of daylight savings time  during the winter prevented shul shopping because so many of the Friday services, especially the Orthodox ones were much too early to make on a Friday evening. Now that it's the summer almost, some of them are even so late that it makes you question whether to have dinner before at 6 or after at 10. We discussed this predicament briefly this past weekend and decided it's better to eat after. So finally after a packed May, birthday, Boston, and Pittsburgh, the Friday before Memorial Day weekend proved to be free, as did most of the weekend during which I did not have any predetermined plans for the first time in a few years. Since a bunch of people were headed out of the city for the weekend, and I wanted to go to Kabbalat Shabbat service, it seemed as though it would be difficult to procure a shul mate. Though I was ready to go to a service on my own, fortunately Mike came through. Thinking of possible places to go to, or perhaps those I could knock off without having much resistance from others, I chose the Spanish & Portuguese Synagogue on the Upper West Side which  as an organized congregation is the oldest in the United States (founded in 1654) though its current building only dates to 1897 (the oldest synagogue in continuous use is the Touro Synagogue in Newport, RI from 1763). I wanted to go to Spanish & Portuguese also because it is unique as it is one of the few Sephardic congregations in the city, especially within Manhattan (not counting any Bukharian in Queens or Syrian in Brooklyn). Since there really is no denomination separations within Sephardic Judaism like there is in Ashkenazi (Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, etc), it is simply Traditional and probably closest to Orthodox practice. When Mike and I walked inside, it was eerily quiet and the usher at the door who had appeared to be asleep suddenly awoke and told us the service would be upstairs all the way to the back and that the coat room was downstairs and all the way to the left, of course as we were looking around for the door he noticed this and bellowed down the stairs to look to the left: at last. The coat room had no coats in it, as it was raining and chilly out I thought this odd but it really was a result of the fact that no one else was there. We went upstairs to where we had been instructed and walked into a small chapel, with a lectern stood in the middle facing the ark with wooden benches running alongside along with a few freestanding chairs. In this room was no one except a man sitting in front of the lectern in a black robe and what could be described as a biretta (I looked it up later and apparently it is the Sephardic prayer leader's hat known as a mitznefet, which is like a turban that was once worn by the high priests). Behind the Hazzan was a small section separated by a rope you would expect to see designating the line for the tellers in a bank. This is the "women's section" rather informal and clearly just for symbolic purposes. The Hazzan greeted us but seemed to be engrossed in preparing for the service. He livened up a bit as other people shuffled their way in after 6:45. It was mostly an older crowd and there were a few women seated in the back area. Not sure what to expect, I noticed the siddur had most the same prayers that I was familiar with so I just tried to keep along as much as possible to avoid losing place. Probably the main thing I took away from the service is how much is communal. The prayers aren't going by like a sprint and some slurs and occasional sounds of life as in Ashkenazi services with 50% of the service done personally in silence. In this service the Hazzan had very intricate melodies and the congregation joined in for the good majority; I thoroughly enjoyed this public connection and wish that more Ashkenazi services could be as pleasant. Though much of the Minhah, Kabbalat, and "Arbit" (the Sephardic pronunciation of Hebrew is different than Ashkenazi pronunciation with Yiddish inflections: "ey" or "s" instead of "t"), was chanted together, it still finished in under an hour. After a few hearty Shabbat Shaloms, one congregant took a small group of us as apparently we were not the only visitors that evening and explained some of the history of the synagogue. The room we were in they just started doing Friday night services in that week as they change locale for the summer out of the large sanctuary with usually features a choir as well, he invited us to return for Saturday morning to see the choir (when I found out that it starts at 8:15am, I thought maybe another time). The Little Chapel has several relics from the congregation's past synagogue buildings, including some of the bench pews. The main attraction however is the main sanctuary which is supposed to modeled after the Portuguese Synagogue in Amsterdam, from where many of the original Sephardic Jews in America came. Having been there myself, I could attest to the similarities. Our impromptu tour guide seemed steadfast in letting us know that the stained glass windows were from none other than Tiffany. What I found most interesting was the difference in terms applied to synagogue architecture in the Sephardic community compared to those I knew growing up in Ashkenazi synagogue. For example, the platform on which the Torah is read or the service is lead is often known as the "bimah". In the Spanish & Portuguese Synagogue, it is known as the "tebah". Also, the ark, or aron kodesh, is known as the "heikhal" meaning palace or high place in Hebrew. After admiring the surroundings for a bit, we were ready to go, and surprisingly almost everyone had cleared out by the time we returned to the hall. As it was almost 8:00 I had to go back to my office to get my bag so we headed back down towards Times Square. I hadn't really thought about anywhere to eat so I thought about the Carnegie Deli since I'd never been there. Unfortunately, I missed going to the Stage Deli as it has been closed for a little while now. Though, Mike said he had been to the Carnegie and thought it was overpriced and that if you've been to Harold's in New Jersey, you're not missing anything.  So when all else fails, use the opportunity to eat international food. I knew that BXL Cafe is nearby on 43rd Street. Given the last time I had tried to suggest it to no avail, I figured it would be a good chance to knock it off the list. I did not realize it until afterwards, but the Benelux inspirations of BXL Cafe (and its sister locations BXL East and BXL Zoute) are related to the Sephardic Shabbat service from where we had just come. After the Inquisition, many Sephardim went north, to the Netherlands and Belgium, and some eventually made their way to America. The Hazzan at the Spanish & Portuguese Synagogue for 40 years Abraham Lopes Cardozo was originally from Amsterdam. Unfortunately for us however this region of the world is not particularly known for its culinary masterpieces. With not a single Dutch restaurant (what is that?) in the New York City area and just BXL Cafe and a few others to represent Belgium (or Benelux), you basically have beer and chocolate and french fries and the love of mayonnaise as a dip as the prized elements (there is apparently a good pomme frites place in the East Village). So we get to BXL Cafe with a scooter parked out front and are promptly greeted by a French-accented hostess/waitress who is definitely from Belgium. The place is very dimly lit and we get seated; it's about 8:30pm and the place is not crowded, especially not for a Times Square area establishment. Yet another cuisine where my dietary restrictions limit my choices because Belgium is also somewhat well-known for their moules frites, or fried mussels. One of the better redeeming factors about BXL Cafe is that by representing Belgium (and the Netherlands to a lesser extent) the beer selection is rather impeccable. One of my favorites that I came to know while living in Rotterdam, particular at Locus Publicus on Oostzeedijk is Kwak which is ceremoniously served in a branded glass with a distinctive shape and held upright in a wooden stand. It is said that because while drinking from the glass the bulb at the bottom will remain filled for a long time as soon as air reaches it, the bulb with a large amount of beer will gush towards the drinker and be accompanied by a sound like "kwak". Anyway, I've been able to find Kwak in NYC but much to my dismay at Peculier Pub in the Village they did not have the wooden stand and instead served it in a regular chalice.  When it came to food, I had read that Carbonnade Flamande is considered a national dish of Belgium, which is a stew of beef cooked in beer or as their menu describes: "sirloin tips stewed in brown ale served with fries". Another dish I thought sounded good was the Onglet Aux Echalottes, of which I'm not entirely sure the translation other than Echalottes is Shallots. It is "sliced hangar steak with red wine shallot sauce". In the end, I ordered the Boulettes De Viande Sauce Tomate (or Dumplings/Balls Of Meat Tomato Sauce): "Belgian-style meat balls with fries." And Mike ordered the Pain De Veau (or Veat Meatloaf): "Belgian-style Meatloaf with mashed potatoes." Overall, the prices aren't too bad at BXL Cafe especially being in the vicinity of Times Square, as the ribeye steak is the only item on the menu which is more than $20. Somewhere I heard or read that Belgian food is basically French food served in German portions. At BXL Cafe, I can attest to this! Our dishes were huge and most notably absolutely drenched in sauce. Not surprisingly, the fries were the best part, they know how to make them nice and crispy. The meatballs were just OK, they were absolutely swimming in tomato sauce though. Nothing to write home about. Mike liked his meatloaf, but again it was so heavy in sauce and potatoes. Since he didn't finish it, he was going to leave it but I had to persuade him to get it wrapped up; after all, to have it for lunch or dinner the next day certainly makes it better.

 Congregation Shearith Israel: Spanish & Portuguese Synagogue

Main sanctuary of Spanish & Portuguese Synagogue

BXL Cafe of W 43rd St

Inside of BXL Cafe

Kwak!

"Belgian-style" meatballs with fries and MAYO!

Along The Silk Road

With entries about Algerian, Scandinavian, and Ethiopian out of the way, we journey further east both geographically and culinarily and surprisingly to the first Kosher food experience in this journey. As a resident of Queens, which is often perceived by others as a foreign land, and it may as well be given the great diversity within the borders, there are boundless eating opportunities. In my little section along Roosevelt Avenue, there is one that will twitch people's ears, everyone's favorite Thai restaurant with the encyclopedic menu, Sri Pra Phai. Other than that there is solidly reliable Stop Inn at which I just stopped in on Sunday for a great brunch of Challah French Toast and turkey bacon (yes, they actually advertise on their menu that they have both turkey bacon and turkey sausage. FTW!) Now back to the main attraction. The third weekend of May was my sister's college graduation so I went out there with my family and then decided to stay the night in New Jersey after we got back on Sunday night. I took the bus into Manhattan to work and my mom said she would drive in later with my bag and some food because it is virtually impossible for me to leave New Jersey without bringing some type of comestibles back to NYC. I got back to my apartment around 7:30 that Monday to find my mom chilling with my 2 roommates, all cool. After getting my stuff out of the car, the discussion turned to dinner and while they seem hesitant to go out, I take advantage of the situation and try to think of a restaurant to go to which I could chronicle here on Shuls & Shpayz though there are none within reasonable walking distance. The Thai place despite its endless menu is not as exciting anymore, the other Thai place is only so-so. We were going to go to the Mexican/Ecuadorian hybrid place next to the LIRR until I suggested the Jackson Diner in Jackson Heights. Since it is down on 74th Street, we would take the 7 line but my mom insisted we drive. Considering this area is basically Little India I wasn't sure exactly where we'd park but figured to give it a shot anyway. After sitting in traffic on 74th Street for about 10 minutes with my mom in awe of the sights and the people I mentioned that everywhere in Queens is some international colony. This area of Jackson Heights is Little India while Jews have the Queens Blvd corridor of Forest Hills, Rego Park, and Kew Gardens. At this thought, I remembered the several Bukhari restaurants that dot the area and after discussing it for a few seconds and the hopeless parking situation in Jackson Heights, rerouted and headed deeper into Queens on the way to have KOSHER Central Asian food. This part of Queens, sometimes referred to as Queensistan is not so much populated by Pakistanis as one may think but rather by Mizrahi Jews collectively known as Bukhari after a city in Uzbekistan called Bukhara. As a former Soviet state, there is an odd Russian imprint left. However, there is a significant difference from the Russian Jews of Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, who are mostly of Ashkenazi extraction. A very traditional population, the Bukharim brought with them a cuisine as reflective of the region through which the Silk Road passed as Queens is today. There are probably around a half-dozen restaurants in the Rego Park vicinity which specialize in Bukharan food, all of which, of course, are certified kosher. Through one way or another, I settled on Cheburechnaya on 63rd Drive as the place to go. Cruising down Queens Boulevard, the scene shifts slightly from Argentine and Uruguayan steakhouses to a the strange circular Macy's at the Queens mall. Making a right off the main road, going a few blocks and parking across the street from a church and a diner. The menu on Cheburechnaya reflects its origins, there are staple Russian comfort foods including herring, borscht, and sour cabbage, Israeli and Middle Eastern delicacies like baba ghanoush, hummus, and dolma (stuffed grape leaves), and of course the hearty meat-based fare of the Central Asian steppes. When you walk in, it is a very open layout, large and horizontal, well-lit, very casual, with old wooden paneling on the walls, and a imposing deli case which lines the better part of the dining area. A young and thin waitress/hostess comes and tells us we can sit wherever. I pick a table in the middle along the half-wall separating the seating area from the main entrance. She brings the menus and although I've already remarked a few times, it is still like nothing I'd seen, especially knowing that all the food is kosher (lamb testicles, anyone?!?). My mom and I each order a soup to start, I the Lagman ("pasta with beef, mixed vegetables, and assorted spices) and her the Pelmeni ("boiled bite size dumplings with ground beef"). Eventually I come to realize that the great majority of this food consisted of various types of dumplings, sort of (like it is geographically) a cross between pierogis and kreplach with the type you'd expect to find in Chinese restaurants. The Lagman soup seemed to have so much going on, it was very good, but there were so many tastes! I had also heard about a particular style of bread which is unique to Bukhari cuisine. I looked for lepeshka on the menu to no avail. I asked the waitress if they have it, and she responds "oh you mean bread, yes, it's on the appetizers, do you want small or large?" Later I turn to the appetizers section of the menu and sure enough there is an item just called "bread." The lepeshka (described as "a short, round, crusty loaf of bread baked in a clay oven") I thought was supposed to be soft and warm but ended up being like sourdough bread, quite hard and room temperature. I used it mainly to scoop out the remnants of my soup, which was good because of all the noodles, both thick and thin along with the meat and veggies scattered around. As I wanted to sample and not be bound by one dish, I continued my orders of small dishes. After the soup and bread came the manty, which are giant, thin-dough dumplings, said to be like Russian pelmeni or more delicate than pierogies. The filling consisted of ground meat, either lamb or beef or both, with onion, and a bit of pepper, then steamed which result in slippery deliciousness with meat juices soaked within. These manty are so hearty that of the original 4 we ordered, 2 of them came home with me and became part of my dinner the next night. Though shish kebab can seem generic, as it is found all over the Middle East and Central Asia, it is commonly eaten here as well. Kebabs can be ordered a shish at a time so we ordered 2 boneless chicken and 2 vegetable. They came on large knives almost sword-like and were grilled to perfection. To drink, my mom had green tea, which is popular and traditional, as it is throughout Asia. Throughout the meal, my mom kept asking me if I thought the waitress was Jewish so when she came to bring our food my mom tried to engage her in conversation to find that she has been in the US for only 4 months and speaks only enough English to take food orders and she also speaks Uzbek and Russian. I asked my mom if she wanted to me to ask in Russian if she is Jewish (yevrey = Jew, yevreyskaya = Jewish) but she said no so we were left with the mystery. Before we left, a multi-generational family arrived in shifts, first a mother and her young children including a baby accompanied by an older woman donning a babushka. Later a man and a woman in business attire came as well and joined the table, 8 strong with 3 kids and 5 adults. We tried to figure out what language they were speaking; I assumed it was Uzbek or Bukhori. The business dressed woman came over when my mom inquired and spoke to us in accented English that it is her family, the kids are her grandchildren, and the first woman is her daughter. She motioned that the lady in the babushka does not speak English and also did not pay her much attention so she was probably a nanny. The woman said they are Jews and we said we are as well  and my mom mentioned that we can speak Spanish (although not really) and the woman seemed amazed at this. She asked if we speak Hebrew to which I replied "kitzat" (a little). The language they were speaking was actually Russian but the family had lived in Israel for a number of years so that explained why it sounded different because it was accented by Hebrew. She seemed like she was going to continue telling us more when her husband gave her a look so we said goodbye and left the restaurant. My mom's main observation about Cheburechnaya (and Bukhari food in general) was that the food we ate was unlike any kosher food she'd ever had, it didn't seem kosher like kosher food so often does.


New York Magazine's review of Cheburechnaya:

"This one-off spot draws Soviet expats and motivated chowhounds seeking outer-borough exotica. Post-Shabbat on Saturday nights, Cheburechnaya’s cafeteria-like room percolates with groups of guys in open-necked shirts, gal-pals gossiping in Russian, multigenerational Uzbeki clans complete with racing preschoolers, and a hipster or two on a mission. Like its patient, English-competent waitresses, Cheburechnaya’s vast appetizer-strong, photo-laden menu aims to please. The kosher chow, served per piece, is priced remarkably low, so diners can assemble meze-style meals for relatively few rubles. There’s Ukranian comfort food like borscht, stuffed cabbage, and piroshki dumplings called manty, along with a smattering of Middle Eastern familiars, like hummus (decent) and baklava (dry). But Cheburechnaya’s menu extols the rugged, meaty Bukharan fare of Tashkent and Samarkand, in Uzbekistan, where windswept steppes meet Marco Polo’s spice route. The house specialty is chebureki, empanada-like fried tarts stuffed with the likes of fennel-sparked cabbage or rich, gamy mutton. Shish kebabs of ground or sliced mutton or beef and various organs (don’t think too much about which) are deftly flamed on swashbuckling skewers. Cheburechnaya may extend familiar comfort to Uzbek diners, but for born-here, done-that New Yorkers, it’s a MetroCard adventure down the Great Silk Road." — Karen Tina Harrison

Cheburechnaya menu

 Cheburechnaya (Kosher)

Cheburechnaya inside

More Cheburechnaya!

 Green Tea  with real sugar cubes

Lepeshka!

Lagman soup!

 Pelmeni Soup!

Pelmeni Soup up close

Manty!

Boneless chicken kebab and vegetable kebab!

A Royal Feast For My Birthday

After a pleasant birthday which included lunch in Bryant Park and surprise bitesize Baked By Melissa cupcakes from coworkers, the topper was dinner with friends. Given my choice of destination, with Alisa in tow, I settled on Ethiopian, and as it would be new to me, I thought it good to have an experienced patron alongside me. I had heard that there are no utensils, that you eat with your hands, so of course this piqued my curiosity. Jon had sworn on Ethiopian food as one of the best kinds he's ever had so every once in a while, I would suggest it but other people in our group usually were not so enthusiastic on the prospect. So, it would be, on my quarter century anniversary, that I would dine on Ethiopian food with my good friends Alisa, Meryl, and Julia. Having done a bit of intel work in advance, I determined Queen Of Sheba to be the best bet for a first taste. Despite the connection to King Solomon and the association with the Jewish Bible that the restaurant name has and the growing visibility of Ethiopian Jews today, mostly in Israel (especially as Miss Israel 2013 is originally from Ethiopia), this restaurant is not run by Beta Israel and is not kosher. So the 4 of us agreed to meet at the restaurant around 7pm, which is over on 10th Avenue at 46th Street. Though it was great weather outside and I would have liked to sit near the open windows, we were stuck in the back which was quite dark considering the light outside. What I had not realized about Queen Of Sheba is that there is a section of seating featuring small chairs and some sort of traditional basket table which everyone gathers around once the food is presented. This is a conducive layout considering the more popular dishes tend to be sampling platters for multiple people. Because I was running late, of course, I did not have the opportunity to choose this unique seating arrangement and thus the girls chose to be boring by sitting at standard wooden tables and chairs.  Meryl and I each ordered a glass of honey wine (tej), which proved to be delicious. In order to write these posts, I usually consult the restaurants' menus on their websites to capture the description of what was ordered however the menu of Queen Of Sheba's website seems utterly different than the one I recall reading at the restaurant so much so that I did not see the appetizer we ordered and the sampling platter lists each component by its Amharic name rather than the English descriptions I remembered on the menu at the table. In any case, the medium for consumption with Ethiopian cuisine is their native bread, known as injera, which is like a sticky and spongy pita. NY Magazine describes it as "made with the prolific, sturdy grain, tef, which is ground, fermented, and cooked; bubbles splattering up through the batter pock-mark the bread and give it texture." It continues: "In little piles on the bread are intricately spiced and braised meat and vegetable dishes. The way to get at the food is to tear off swatches of injera and use them to scoop up the food. " And by the end it says your hands are the color and tang of berbere; this is the part I did not like so much that I went to the bathroom multiple times to wash my hands. The stickiness of the injera would leave my hands feeling powdery, dry, and sticky. The appetizer we ordered definitely contained some tomatoes and peppers and came served in the form of a pilaf. As described before, it came atop a spread sheet of injera from which you could tear the injera and pick up the food in it. This is also something which requires some learning, especially how much can be handled inside a scrunched up piece of injera without it falling all over your lap. Another thing I recall is that there were no plates so I felt compelled to eat over the large platter; it was definitely not a smooth experience. In order to get a wide array of tastes, we decided to go for the Taste of Sheba under the Sheba Combination Sample Dishes. According to the menu of the Queen Of Sheba website, it basically consists of an assortment of most of the beef and lamb dishes, which once they come on the platter, somewhat resemble curries and are not easy to distinguish from one another. We took turns eating each selection and naming which were sub-par and which we liked, and essentially just aiming to clean off the platter. The highlight was probably picking up the remnants with the injera as at this point several tastes blended together. Overall, I was disappointed with my first Ethiopian food experience, and probably even a bit more disappointed because I had high hopes going in. That said, I would definitely try it again, though perhaps at a different restaurant (or maybe it is necessary to have the magic of sitting around the traditional basket table). For a more succinct description of visiting Queen Of Sheba on the West Side of Manhattan: I've included the review from my other consulting blog Eating The World In New York City, keeping mind the review is from nearly 2 years and prices have since changed...

"'Ive been known to complain about Ethiopian food before, claiming all its little piles of colors end up tasting the same in the end, using many similar spices throughout the palate of meat and vegetable dishes. At Queen of Sheba, the city's finest example, my gripes bear little resemblance to the reality.

At first glance, the restaurant is similar to others in town, darkly lit with homages to the home country and a quiet atmosphere. Sheba has a full bar and even a couple Ethiopian beers if the mood strikes you. If you have a group and the chance to sit in the back left of the restaurant, jump at the opportunity. The seating might not be comfortable, per se, but everyone gathered around the traditional basket and eating from the center feels very good. This is not a cuisine to be reserved about eating, so everyone just needs to dig in and get their hands dirty.

The basic component of an Ethiopian meal is the bread, injera, a large flat sourdough. Injera is not for everyone's taste, but I have always enjoyed it even when the rest of the meal has left me wanting. The bread here (below) is of top quality, light and soft, almost feeling like a warm blanket you could pull over yourself.

The trick here is eating with the bread to grab mouthfuls, figuring out what size bread and what quantity of food make a safe scoop. There is a science to making sure none of it falls or gets all over your face and hands, but that is part of the fun.

I have never been to an Ethiopian restaurant and not ordered some kind of sample platter. This meal was no exception, and the dark illegible photo you see below is a combination of both the Taste of Sheba combination sampler ($19.95) and Sheba vegetarian sampler ($15). Four of us split this and were plenty full, as the food lasts as far as you want it with an unlimited supply of injera.

I noticed on the menu that the place also has $10.50-$12 lunch specials, which would be a great option for anyone nearby in Hell's Kitchen."

 Queen Of Sheba, 650 10th Avenue

Dimly lit interior (we sat at the table in the left foreground as the angle is looking towards the street)

The cool looking sitting area with the basket tables in the center where we should have sat

 Honey wine and neatly folded injera

Injera close-up

 The appetizer, served on none other than injera

Attempting to eat said appetizer with injera pouch

The Grand Behemoth: Taste Of Sheba. We split this among the 4 of us.

A Different North Africa

Over the winter, we went to a handful of trivia nights around Manhattan, in the Upper East Side, the Lower East Side, and once in Greenwich Village around NYU. This particular night a group of us were to meet up at Amity Hall where we had even reserved a table. As a Wednesday night, when Julia/Meryl/Alisa were traditionally getting dinner, so I viewed this is as a great opportunity to continue my culinary conquests. Having taken people to places which were not so well-received by others, there is a certain hesitation when I suggest a place to eat now. So sometimes this limits my ability to suggest based on who is the company. Unfortunately, the East Village has a significant concentration of restaurants which would be deemed no-no by the boring palate police, namely Indian and Sri Lankan. There is a Lebanese place on 1st Ave we've been up to that was just sub-par, a  couple quick places that are not suitable for a sit-down dinner, Japanese (but our group eats sushi too often), and the infamous alterna-Thai: Zabb Elee which was a low point for everyone because of the spicy surprises. There is also a Ukrainian place as well as a Serbian place all the way over on Avenue C but no one wanted to go there because of a combination of being far away and having a menu heavy on pork. Thankfully (I thought at the time) I was able to convince people to go to Nomad, the "North African" place on 2nd Avenue since I wanted something a bit exotic (telling people it was like Moroccan was good enough justification). Nomad is not related to the NoMad hotel nor the synonymous neighborhood "NOrth of MADison square park". What I was going here for was its Algerian identity or at least that of its owners. Nomad is one of those restaurants in this city that hides behind a shroud of being referred to a regional: "Mediterrarean" or "North African". While it is most recognizably related to Moroccan, it is the first result in Google when you type in "Algerian food NYC". I'll tell you here I really wanted to like this place and when we ate the food was very good, perhaps even a bit heavier than Moroccan food I've had elsewhere (the chef is apparently Moroccan-born). So we got there with our reservation that turned out to be unnecessary on a Wednesday evening and started off with an appetizer of Nomad Trio Dip: crispy pita served with a choice of 3 dips: "hummus, cucumber yogurt, dry fava bean, muhamara, zaalouk, and babaghanoush and artichoke" from which we chose the hummus, cucumber yogurt, and muhamara, which is a dip made out of red peppers, so yes spicy. The pita was warm and soft and the dips thick and fresh as would be expected. For my main course, I was drawn to the lamb tajine ("braised lamb with prunes, caramelized onions and almonds, served with side of couscous") but obviously that wasn't enough, I had to go with the Couscous Royal (a big conglomeration: "lamb, chicken, merguez, and vegetables in a meat broth"). The tang that was with this broth and then soaked up by the couscous was excellent. And with the chickpeas and the lamb merguez was interesting, obviously a lot different than the veal sausages they make uptown at Heidelberg. Like I said, I wanted to like this place, especially since the inside is beautifully decorated, I was seriously contemplating it as a possible date spot in the future, quiet, intimate, not too crowded. But my opinion of Nomad would regrettably later be tarnished when I woke up the next day feeling worse than I could possibly ever remember. I'll spare most of the details, but I was affected for the entire day, with chills, vertigo, among other things, I napped during the day, and even tried to go to sleep earlier than usual to escape the dreadful day. By the middle of the next morning I was mostly fine again. I'm still not sure exactly what was the cause. I had no problems while out the rest of the night at the bar for trivia and none of the girls experienced any issues after their meals. All I know is that I am steering far clear of Nomad for the duration of my life. Out of 225 reviews on Yelp, only 1 makes mention of feeling sick afterwards. Not recommended, but if you desire Algerian food, do so at your own risk! Also, there is apparently another Algerian place in Astoria called Harissa Cafe though it seems like it is either closed or in the process of moving.

 Nomad at night

Nomad in day

Nomad inside, all the time

 Nomad Trio Dip appetizer

Couscous Royal with lamb, chicken, and merguez (which is also lamb)

The girls' Merguez Sandwiches "on baguette with chakchuka salad and harissa, served with French fries"

Un Petit Voyage En France

I have got to say this place would have a lot more reviews on Yelp if it were located somewhere like the Lower East Side or Williamsburg (<100 reviews as of Memorial Day 2013). Probably one of the best secrets of Queens and probably the best secret of my under the radar neighborhood of Woodside. Another place visited with the precedential guidance of Alisa. It's always there 2 blocks away, near the Stop Inn, the Duane Reade, the supermarket, and Subway as well as sitting below the actual subway 7 train. It's one of the few hipster-looking places around with a bright lavender paint job with fun little lettering that says "fresca la crepe since 2010". And I've always wanted to go. So why not save it for a special occasion. Dan was in town from California the weekend before Passover and that Saturday night we all went to Manhattan to someone's birthday at a new beer bar. The next day after everyone crashed on our floor we started off with brunch at Saints & Sinners. This is one of a number of similar Irish bars in the once Irish-centric neighborhood and like most in the area offers a Sunday brunch consisting of various egg and pork-based meat dishes. My favorite in the area is undoubtedly Donovans which offers great soda bread with its brunch dishes. And the catch in the area is that it's usually just about $10.00. Anyway, unfortunately while Saints & Sinners is a pretty good bar with pretty good bar food it just doesn't cut it for breakfast/brunch. The place doesn't have hash browns or home fries. I ordered an omelette and they gave me French fries!  In fact, everyone got French fries, from the chicken sandwich ordered to the "Irish breakfast" with bacon and sausage ordered. Now maybe this was a hint of what would come later on in the day but I just don't associate French fries with my morning meal. Afterwards, 4 of us decided to walk all the way to Astoria to check out the Museum Of The Moving Image, at Dan's suggestion. I was glad everyone was down to walk there because it was nice out, one of those few days in early Spring that is somewhat warm, about 1.5 miles each way. So after the museum we were trying to figure out what to do and I suggested we try the crepe place so we called Alisa and she found out they close at 4:00 on Sundays. The museum was great and I particularly enjoyed the retro video games they had on exhibit, including my beloved Sega Genesis. So we left the museum around 3:00 and made it to the crepe place around 3:30, and glad we did so. It ended up on my international cuisines destination map for France because French restaurants can be so hit-or-miss and how is a crepe not a staple of Paris street food, if excessively consumed by tourists. Fresca La Crepe has no website and its NYMag.com restaurant listing page lists out-of-date hours, but it seems strong as ever. The place is very tiny with a takeout window that I think acts more like a ventilation since the crepes are cooked in the front by the window. If someone is ordering at the counter, it is hard to get by them in or out of the door. In the back you'd expect there to be seats and there are a few but they are not set up in a way which is conducive to eating with a group and it somewhat appears to be an extension of the kitchen itself so you know off the bat it's a takeaway place. The menu is also very small and simple, but one of the best parts is that there is a sort of secret menu, a handful of specialty crepes while always available are unlisted. After sifting through some reviews on my phone while my friends ordered theirs off the menu (either Sweet or Savory) Nutella Banana, S'mores, I went ahead and ordered "The Bomb": Nutella, white chocolate, bananas, strawberries, toasted almonds, and mascarpone. We brought these back home and nom nom nom. I woofed mine down and like others have probably said in the past it was THE BOMB.  The story goes that the chef, who I believe is Chinese, was inspired during a trip to Paris some years ago and upon returning to New York City, decided to open up a crepe shop in Woodside in Queens and if you believe the awning outside, it's been there now for 3 years and the one-woman operation looks to be doing well. This is the kind of place that is just waiting to be discovered, lauded, and perhaps expanded. Examples in the area I can think of include Zabb Elee, down Roosevelt a bit near 72nd Street which opened up an East Village location within the last year and Sri Pra Phai a Thai powerhouse that has gained celebrity status after being featured in the NY Times a couple years ago.

Fresca La Crepe! 61st Street snug between Roosevelt Ave and Woodside Ave in Woodside, Queens

the whole menu (of course there are more unlisted items)

the tiny inside

 Chef Chu at work

almost done...

Truly The Bomb: the masterpiece

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm