Immaculate Infatuation

In need of a light bite before a show at Williamsburg Waterfront, we hit Twitter to see what the people would recommend. Multiple familiar and now trusted handles suggested Zenkichi. Done. After walking right by the unmarked exterior twice, we finally figured out that the bamboo building on the corner was what we were looking for. Idiots.

Zenkichi is a trip. It prides itself on being an authentic Tokyo establishment. I’ve never been to Japan, but can only imagine that private booths with blackout curtains and a buzzer to call the wait staff are commonplace. You don’t find many of this type of Japanese restaurant around NYC, so this experience was definitely a fun change of pace – but for two dudes lookin’ to get a little buzz on before a Modest Mouse show, Zenkichi proved to be a little on the romantic side. It’s best utilized for Date Night or a First/Early In The Game Date spot. There could be fellatio being performed in the booth next to you and you wouldn’t have a clue.

The food is solid, but takes a back seat in terms of the whole experience. The $55, 8-course Omakase Tasting Menu is definitely the way to go as ordering a la carte can get expensive. Also, don’t sleep on the sake tasting. While I’m not making plans to go back next week, if you’re in the hood, Zenkichi is an excellent neighborhood option.

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Being David Chang’s wing-man apparently gets old pretty quickly. Despite having been a part of one of the most obsessed over and successful Manhattan food empires well, ever, Joaquin Baca decided to sell his Momofuku shares and open his own spot in Brooklyn. Can you blame him? It’s no fun when the other guy gets all the credit (and curses at you all day). Baca’s departure from Momo and his “return” to the Southern flavors he was brought up on has created a nice little food buzz across the dining community, so we decided to check it out.

We dropped by The Star before Hot Chip played Music Hall of Williamsburg a couple of weeks back. It’s an inviting spot, with a humble demeanor and a laid back, first come, first serve attitude. We were pleasantly surprised to grab a table without having to wait during prime time. While there certainly are some gems on the menu (we dug the cornbread, bacon wrapped trout and the country fried steak), some of the more traditional dishes left us scratching our heads. The Dr. Pepper ribs were just bad, which is ridiculous considering our waitress claimed they were everyone’s favorite. The braised pork shank was massive, but it was missing the magic. Unfortunately, The Star isn’t the home run we were expecting. More like a solid double in the gap. If you order right, you can have a successful face-stuffing feast – you get a ton of food for the price. Arrive hungry, leave full (and with leftovers), but don’t expect to be blown away.

Photo Credit: Robyn Lee/Serious Eats

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Our Billyburg peeps have been all up in our ear about this one for a while, so it saddens me to report that our experiences here have been less than stellar. I don’t know, maybe the food at DuMont tastes better in skinny jeans and dirty chucks. It’s definitely a dope hang, especially in the summer, when hipsters flock to the patio and treehouse section like it’s an American Apparel trunk sale. But aside from an excellent burger and the fan favorite mac-n-cheese, the dopeness ends there. The food coming out of DuMont’s kitchen definitely doesn’t meet expectations, especially with those prices. When entrees run $18-25, especially in Brooklyn, we expect culinary excellence, not sloppy plates of mediocrity. There also seems to be something just a little off with each dish. Like, why they gotta go kill the skate with a gallon of olives? Is it really necessary to cure a piece of cod in salt and then add a salt crust too? Questionable behavior.

If you’re looking to check “get dirty with a band dude” off your hookup list, this is your spot. If a quality meal in Williamsburg is what you’re after, skip DuMont and spend the extra couple bucks at Dressler. DuMont is like that indie band Pitchfork gets everyone to freak out over, but in reality only has a couple good songs.

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If you were to draft up a checklist of all the essentials for a hipster restaurant, Lodge in Williamsburg would look pretty damn-near perfect on paper. Deer antler chandeliers? Check. Cans of Genny Cream and Schmidt? Check. Bar made of reclaimed wood? Check. TV set from 1987? Check. I could go on…but you get the idea. Sure, hipsters are easy targets, and mocking them has become a cliché in its own right, but it’s too hard to resist here. The warm and cozy adirondack cabin thing at Lodge feels forced and contrived. And yes, we get the whole beards and flannel irony of a dude that goes fly fishing in Brooklyn. This place is unfortunately like Freemans’ apathetic little brother – trying hard to emulate, but falling short of the effortless cool of their older sibling.

When it comes to good food and service, that hipster ideal of just not giving a shit doesn’t fly. Our party of four came in on a slow weekday night and our waitress was disinterested from the start. We don’t ask for much, and all it takes is about thirty seconds of pretending like you actually care for us to feel loved. Come say hello once. Let us know you’re at least attempting to do your job. Also, try not to give us terrible reccomendations (see the whole grilled trout). Lodge’s menu looked good, and it’s pretty damn cheap, but it ultimately fell short on the follow through. We’ll pass on the Brooklyn hipster aesthetic and eat somewhere good instead.

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