Refrigerator staples of the downtown twenty-something: a Brita pitcher, beer, string cheese, ketchup and a Crif Dog’s “Eat Me” weiner magnet featuring a babe in a bikini riding a hot dog. That’s some Infatuation friendly marketing right there. When I think about Crif Dogs, I’m brought back to the blackout of 2003. How amazing was that? NYC turned into one big block party. The night it all went down, Crif Dogs was the only place in the East Village that had power because they were smart enough to have a backup generator for exactly such occasion. So while everyone else was sweating it out while food spoiled, Crif’s happily cooked up dogs and topped off beers (on the house!) for the whole neighborhood. A classic NYC moment for sure, and a fond memory I’ll never forget.
There was a time back in the day (2003) when we thought Landmarc was about as good as dinner out could get. I can’t even remember why to be honest with you, I think it mostly comes from the fact that when we did go, it was before a show and we were with our music executive bosses and their corporate cards. To 23 year old Stang and Steinthal, a dinner at Landmarc was essentially one step closer to living like R. Kelly in the “Ignition” video. Cristal wasn’t exactly poppin’ in the stretch Navigator, but a steak that someone else paid for definitely made the dream feel a little closer to reality.
Fast forward seven or so years and our views on the place have changed quite a bit. Maybe the food has gone downhill, maybe our standards are higher, or maybe a few disastrous experiences at the Time Warner Center location have just soured us on the place, but Landmarc doesn’t feel as special any more. As a matter of fact, it feels very mediocre and very over priced. Yes, there are decent eats to be had – breakfast is generally good, the mussels above average, and the steaks are tasty – but you’ll spend more than you should, especially with so many better options in the area. At the end of the day, Landmarc just isn’t worth the money. Go spend your hard earned cash somewhere with food everywhere as if the party was catered.
Sorry. Couldn’t resist.
Looking for a unique spot to impress on a First/Early In The Game date? If she likes wine and raw fish, Desnuda is your jam. This dark, South American inspired wine and ceviche bar has just eighteen seats, all at the bar. It’s intimate and low key, and the fish is fresh and priced right. There is no kitchen, which means you’ll have a front row seat as your food is prepared by a man who will also double as your bartender. Hopefully audience participation is something you’re comfortable with, as you may be called on to help your chef/bartender as he practices his “ghetto molecular gastronomy”. Ever seen someone smoke an oyster with a gravity bong made from a Sprite bottle? Didn’t think so. We’ll bet your date hasn’t either. This block of 7th St. is home to a lot of hot spots (see Porchetta, Luke’s Lobster, Caracas, Pylos), so let’s agree to keep Desnuda as it is – slightly under the radar, and your new secret weapon date spot.
There was a time when this was the only restaurant anywhere near the Upper East side that we would make a trip for. J.G. Melon’s is one of the better burgers in New York City, and it had it’s 30th anniversary long before Shake Shack and Five Guys started opening up locations around town like Duane Reade. Nowadays there are a few more culinary bright spots in the area (namely Cascabel and Flex), but it seemed nessecary that we give J.G. Melon’s it’s due respect.
If you haven’t been, there are a few things you should know: it will inevitably be crowded, you need to drink beers by the bottle (not from the tap), and the service will not be friendly. But before you go running to Yelp to tell all your “friends” about how mean they were to you, consider this – it’s a New York institution that’s been serving burgers since TGI Friday’s was nothing more than a swinging singles bar down the street. Respect your elders and eat.
Photo Credit: Nick Solares/A Hamburger Today
While The Infatuation definitely feels more at home slumming it around the East Village, we do enjoy throwing down on classy meals every once in a while. We just can’t afford to do it that often (yet). It’s not like this was our first time to the dance. We’ve eaten – and enjoyed – plenty of white tablecloth, prix fixe menu situations before. This one just so happened to be a disaster. Is it possible that my East Village palate isn’t refined enough to properly critique Corton’s four star foam-happy French cuisine? Absolutely. I’ve spent a total of five days in Paris over the course of my life, can’t speak a word of the language and didn’t understand half of the ingredients on this menu. That doesn’t change the fact that my recent meal at Corton was one of the worst I’ve had all year, second only to the infamous Shang.
Giveaway: Dinner On Us
