Takahachi, we wish you delivered. On second thought, it’s better that you don’t, otherwise I might never leave my apartment. This little sushi joint trumps others of its kind in the East Village. Anyone thinking of hitting The Sushi Lounge – you know, the yellow spot on the corner of 7th St. and Ave. A that is constantly having ’sales’ on sushi – don’t. That place is disgusting. Walk the couple extra blocks to Takahachi. Trust me, you’ll thank me later. Just be prepared for a quick but worthwhile wait, because as with most quality places in this city, everyone wants a piece. Bonus points to Takahachi for having one waiter whose sole duty is to refill your water glass, providing a nice fresh glass after almost every sip – respect. The food is well rounded, be we suggest to stick with the basics. The fancy rolls don’t come off too well, and we prefer the no frills options.
Before we get into this, let me preface this review by saying that we liked Rye quite a bit. It’s a solid restaurant with good food and nice people. But answer us this one question: how far will this old timey New York restaurant thing go? Rye is a Williamsburg clone of Prime Meats, another restaurant meant to evoke a time when they put bitters and witch hazel in cocktails to fight off the polio. You know when we’re really going to be impressed? When someone opens a joint in Fort Greene with no running water or electricity. I want to have dinner in a restaurant with no bathroom, just a chamber pot next to each table. That’s fucking old school.
Cranky observations aside, Rye is pretty great. The concept is definitely getting played out, but they did a good job with the place, and almost everything we ate was tasty and satisfying – particularly the sandwiches on the menu. The meatloaf sandwich is quickly becoming what the restaurant is known for, and the pork belly on a soft roll is like a big Americanized pork bun – fatter and cockier than it’s little Japanese cousin, and it loves freedom. Our only complaint is that the entrees can seem anti-climactic after the excellent starters and salads. Then again we probably shouldn’t have been eating sandwiches as starters in the first place.
Local produce is hot right now, Padma hot. Last week’s Top Chef revolved around the local produce of Napa Valley (and Padma of course) and I feel like every restaurant I go to now is making a big fuss about it. Bandwagon initiated. Hop on board, drink some Blue Point and eat some pigs that grew up in Dix Hills.
This brings us to East Village newcomer Northern Spy Food Co. which recently popped up around the corner from Infatuation HQ and prides itself on serving – yes you guessed it – local produce. Interest was piqued when Eater posted Chef Nate Appleman’s tweet saying he had his “best meal of 2009″ here. It’s a chill spot, and they succeed in establishing the country vibe. It’s set up as both a sit-down restaurant and a take-out market. Think of it as Westville light with a smaller menu (that changes every week) and hotter waitresses. Northern Spy is a solid local hang with a very reasonable price point. It’s not necessarily a destination restaurant, but if you live in the hood, it needs to get into the rotation, if only to grab a beer poured from the taps protruding out of the wood paneled wall. We feel that.
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.
Ask any New York City female what her favorite Chronic Brunch spots are, and I guarantee Prune is on the list. Chicks freakin’ LOVE this place. They can’t get enough of the predominantly gay wait staff in their tight pink t-shirts, and are willing to to wait obscene amounts of time for Prune’s killer bloody marys and infamous triple decker Monte Cristo. The place is tiny – the mob scene out front on any given Sunday is worse than the first day of a Steven Alan sample sale. But while we all know the brunch is solid, what you may not realize is that they also have an adventurous and quite tasty dinner menu. It’s a cozy little restaurant, and combine that with a quality drink list and aphrodisiacs like oysters and mussels on the menu and you get a good sleeper spot for a First/Early In The Game Date. Good luck.
Feature: Infatuation TV: P.O.S.
