Category: Reviews

Sugar Sweet Sunshine is better known as a cupcake heaven, with flavors ranging from red velvet to pumpkin to pineapple with cream cheese icing. This morning however, I stopped in and tried the Raspberry Cream Cheese Breakfast Bun, a cloned offering which I originally sampled at Magnolia Bakery. It's a tender, airy flat-topped muffin painted with a lacy, crisp net of hard-candied raspberry preserves and a light-handed sprinkling of powdered sugar. With a steaming cup of peridot-colored sencha, it was the perfect pre-brunch breakfast for a Saturday morning.

Sugar Sweet Sunshine 126 Rivington between Essex and Norfolk, Lower East Side. 212-995-1960

Went to Ceci-Cela today for a light lunch before a job interview. I went to the charming little back room and ordered the croque monsieur. What I got were two slices of soft brioche that somebody had waved over the radiator for a few seconds; hiding between those was a skimpy pink paper slice of country ham. The sandwich had a rubbery ivory helmet, the top melted layer just barely clothing a rather huge lump of ice-cold shredded gruyere. This pathetic excuse for a croque monsieur sat shivering on its little plate, being mocked by the lacy paper doily it was sitting on as I wasted away, $5 later, still hungry.

Little Bean is a bubble tea joint by my house in La Puente that I've been frequenting for years. I'm a little obsessed. They make the best tapioca tea ever. The sweet-potato based starch ball is perfectly cooked -- gooey, soft and mucilaginous with a little bit of resistance in the center of the pearl, perfectly sweetened and, I think this is the key, SERVED WARM. While lesser tapioca tea joints shake their teas and incorporate the tapioca into the frothy mess, Little Bean lets the blobs sit in the bottom of the cup, adding ice and room temperature milky tea on top of the slop which allows the tapioca to maintain its textural perfection. Besides offering green tea, red tea, and coffee in any permutation (with and without sugar, with and without milk), Little Bean also serves their tapioca with fruit smoothies, various flavored milks, teas, and juices, and with their popular shaved iced dessert. I have tried to prepare the bubbles at home but without much success. Email me if you have any tips.

Recently, my friend Julie took me to EN Japanese Brasserie as a birthday gift. We arrived unfashionably early at 6:00 in order to have time to catch an 8:30 movie. EN is housed in what can only be called a cavernous space in the neighb between Tribeca and the Meatpacking District (I hereby coin the name "Tri-tip" to describe that area. Pass it on!). Since we were eating at such a godforsaken hour, there were only 4 or 5 people in a space that could house a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade float. We stepped up to the maitre d' podium and said, "We're two." The hostess asked, "Do you have a reservation?" and the cavernous space echoed, "reservation...reservation...reservation..." We said, "No." Hostess then checked her log to make sure there would be enough space in their Canada sized restaurant for two small people. Then another host (for there were about four of them holding court at the podium) whispered, "Well, there's always room at the pspssspsssspp." So they seated us at the corner of a large square bar-seating area. Because we didn't deserve a table. And we didn't have a reservation. By the time we left, there were maybe 10 people in the place total. Very annoying.

(In case you were wondering about the food, it was expensive but good. I enjoyed the pork belly, the grilled chu-toro, and the warm tofu, but one serving is only good for one person. I can never have enough tofu.)

*Short stack -- a quick note on something that didn't inspire a full-length post

Yesterday I had my first, and probably last, Cold Stone Creamery experience.  For those of you who don't eagerly await the proliferation of chain restaurants in Manhattan, providing comfort and uniformity for all homesick suburban refugees, Cold Stone Creamery is like a DIY Ben & Jerry's.  A primer: you choose an ice cream and some toppings -- like banana ice cream with chocolate sauce and graham cracker crust.  They take your ice cream and toppings and mash it all up on a frozen stone (hence the name).  There are a couple of Cold Stone Creameries in NYC -- one on the upper east side, one set to open today at Astor Place, and one in Times Square.  I figured it would be an interesting experience to walk through Times Square and gawk at all the bulletproof vests and snipers guarding those defenseless Republican delegates for the convention.

I walked in and a disgustingly cheery worker beamed, "Welcome to Cold Stone Creamery!  Have you been here before?!  Well, just walk along the left wall to reach the end of the line!  Here's a menu!"  So I found my way to the back of one of two long lines, perusing a laminated menu suggesting I try mixes with cutesy names like "At The Cocoa Banana Cabana TM" and "Cookie Doughn't You Want Some TM."

As I tried to put together a topping ice cream combo that would be unique and so deliciously clever that the slinger would raise her eyebrows in surprise and congratulate me on my taste, I was jarred back into reality by what might be called singing coming from the worker's pen.  Actually, it was more like half-hearted pitchless chanting disguised as a vaguely familiar, well-mangled melody.  Okay, I didn't care what they were singing. But obviously they didn't either.  Apparently, the poor kids have to sing for when they get tipped, and they're as enthusiastic as the organ-grinder's monkey.

So as I was waiting in line, some chick with the sad Cameron Diaz circa 2002 flipped-out hair (obviously a Republican delegate), tried to cut ahead of me and another girl in line. I said, "Uh, this is the back of the line. You think we're just going to sit back and let you walk all over us? You think just because we let you have your little convention in our town that you can appropriate 9/11 and exploit it for your own purposes? Get in the back of the line, buster, you're in our town now." Well, I said part of it and thought the rest of it anyway.

By the time I figured out what I wanted, I got up to the front of the line. "Sweet cream ice cream with strawberries and cake please." Sweet, simple, classy, right? So I watched as the girl scooped some ice cream with two very cold looking metal paddles onto the very cold looking stone.  She added three syrupy strawberries and a little block of cake and mashed away. I had wanted more of an ice cream cake feel, with the cake maintaining its textural integrity, but I wanted to experience the Cold Stone Creamery way.  I'm willing to be schooled by a restaurant chain.  The softened ice cream mixture was then scooped into a little foam bowl and off I went to the cash register.

"What are you having?" surly New Yorker cashier asked me.

"Sweet cream ice cream with cake and strawberries."  Doesn't that sound deliciously clever?

"$5.08."

WHAT?!  $5.08 for a dinky serving of DIY Ben & Jerry's?  I mean, this is NYC but come on! I can get a pint of Ben & Jerry's Primary Berry Graham in a Soho deli for $3.50!  Surely they can't be charging that in the suburbs!  Who are these people?  They must be following the Starbucks business model of overcharging suckers for mediocre product.

So already, I was grumbling about having to pay $5.08 for ice cream. But the proof is in the pudding, right?  I took my first bite.  Okay, it wasn't totally mediocre. It was creamy and sweet and cold...but it was just ice cream.  The cake was of course smashed into oblivion. The berries were about the same as McDonald's sundae strawberries. So what's the BFD?  Perhaps if I had tried something a little more daring, one of their creations with a sexy name like "Breathless Boston Cream Pie TM" or "Nights in White Chocolate TM" then I would understand what the big fuss is all about.  Give me a short swirl Rice Pudding flavor Tasti D Lite in a sugar cone over CSC anyday.  Who needs the caloric and financial guilt?

In most publications, the stalwart food editor must visit a restaurant several times to make sure their great meal wasn't a fluke, or their horrible meal wasn't the result of the chef's bad day. In my book, you get one chance at greatness, and if you suck, I ain't coming back. That's the way it is with everybody anyway.

That said, I went to Jewel Bako Makimono last night with two friends. Here's the rundown:

THE SPACE:
Well, it looks like a cement block on the outside, and it's a bit cozier on the inside. The bathroom situation does leave something to be desired. There are two cubbies, and you really have to shoehorn yourself into the back area to get in them. It's like my old Chinatown apartment -- you can go to the bathroom and wash your hands at the same time. The tables were ample, and the chairs pretty comfy. They could have stood to turn the air conditioning down a bit -- it was so cold that it was making the sushi rice hard.

THE SERVICE:
Personal space, people, personal space. The folks at JBM hover. I guess there's not much room there, and with three people doing the serving for, like, 6 tables, I guess they have no choice but to hover. But waitron, please, don't unwrap my chopsticks and set them up for me, and for the love of God, don't open up my napkin and attempt to place it in my lap. It makes me feel dirty, and I'm sure it makes you feel dirty. And they filled our little bowls with soy but whisked the mini pitcher away to make sure we didn't refill on our own. If I want that kind of passive-aggressive "cosseting" I'll go eat at my mother's house, thank you very much.

THE FOOD:
I balk at having to spend $3 on a tiny tetsubin of green tea when I go to sushi. My friend's $9 less-than-half-full glass of wine was woefully chic. The broiled yellowtail collar was nice, although the green-flecked miso was a bit over the top. The edamame had some good chunky sea salt on it, but let's be real, it's boiled peas, not rocket science. The white miso soup was made interesting with the addition of a meltaway pillow of fish flavored with yuzu. Delicious!

The sushi: My $8 piece of chu-toro was delicious. And it should have been. At $8. At Takahachi, I can get 4 big, super fresh pieces of toro with a nice mound of grated daikon for $11 . The negitoro makimono roll was beautiful -- a pressed rice cake with yellow takuwan and green shiso chiffonade in the middle, topped with the thinnest, stingiest layer of rosy toro i have ever seen. With strong flavors like takuwan and shiso, and waaaaaay more rice than necessary, the flavor and texture of the fish was totally obscured. They should have called it a takuwan shiso rice roll with toro. The salmon roll with shiso furikake and bonito flakes was undistinguished. The fish seemed pretty fresh, but there was nothing exciting about it really.
We each wound up paying about $45. And last time I checked, $45 is a lot more than $25. And we only had that one third glass of wine.

THE VERDICT: Not bad, not great, especially for the price. I won't be going back. I'd much rather eat at the aforementioned Takahachi, where the specials are as fresh as anything you'd get at JBM and portions are a little more realistic, or splurge and go to Sushi of Gari for the omakase. Omakase for two at Gari can be as little as $100 including hot dishes from the kitchen, and the sushi is really fresh, inventive and stimulating. And they don't charge you for tea at either place...