Let's Eat the Stupid Soup and Then Go Drink

Soondubu Jjigae Soup -- Cho Dang Gol

Cho Dang Gol

"I'm concerned about the drink options at this place."

This, ladies and gentlemen is the perpetual story of our lives.

Our Booze Choices Always Remain Our Number One Concern

We are on our way to Cho Dang Gol to consume something we don't know how to pronounce (soondubu jjigae soup), which Judy Joo featured on the AS GOOD AS MOM'S episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate, and we are preemptively hostile.  Generally speaking, Asian restaurants are the homes of some things we love (namely noodles) and other things we hate (a terrible cocktail menu, if such a menu exists at all).

Upon arriving at the restaurant, Ginger texts Vodka a picture of Cho Dang Gol's drink menu, featuring such gems as "plum wine," and even worse, the highly dreaded "rice wine."

Well, THIS Will Never Do

"Let's eat the stupid soup and then go drink," is all Vodka texts back, and minutes later, when she is lost in Koreatown, she is heartened to find an Irish Pub located just down the street, a place that she is certain will ply us with gin, or at the very least, normal wine.

When she finally manages to stumble into the correct restaurant, Vodka finds a solitary figure in the corner, drinking stoically out of a large wine glass.

"They have red," Ginger says by way of greeting.  "It's just labeled as 'red.'  But it serves the purpose."

If Nothing Else, We Appreciate the Relatively Large Pour

We quickly become overwhelmed by the menu, and set our sights on words we understand ("dumplings" and "noodles").  

They Spend A Lot of Time "Distressing" The Menus at This Place....

There is some confusion about the soup we're supposed to be consuming, as it is called by a different name on the menu, but we are assured that it is the soft tofu stew we are after (and we order the seafood variety, because, why not?).  

In Truth, This Decision Was Made Like This: "Fish?" "Sure."

We also choose the dumpling appetizer and the jap chae (again, merely because it has the word "noodles" in it).  

Look, We Know What We Like

All of our food arrives within minutes (we know this only because our wine is barely gone), and it is all hot.  Not just spicy hot (although it is that, too), but HOT.  So hot that the soup is actually boiling.  Never one for patience, however, we dive in.

And are promptly spitting out our food onto our plates while fanning our tongues.

Sorry, We Forgot to Mention, Cho Dang Gol, That We Like Our Food COOLED OFF

First things first, the tofu stew is, besides being scalding, quite spicy.  "Unbearable," in the words of Ginger, until we decide to stop eating it as a soup at all, and begin ladling it on top of white rice as if it is General Tso's Chicken.  

We Make Korea So Proud

With the rice cutting down both the temperature and the spice level, we find the flavors of the stew itself rather pleasing -- the tofu itself, which neither of us is a particular fan of, is especially appealing.  Soft and mushy in texture, it has succeeded in taking on every taste inherent in the soup.  

In Truth, This Is Just About the Only Tofu Vodka Has Ever Enjoyed

The seafood in this cauldron is a bit of an afterthought, and when we are halfway through the serving, Vodka asks Ginger what she would rank it.

"4 stars?"

"We didn't even eat it like a soup."

"But it tasted good with rice."

"I would never order this again."

"Right, me neither."

"3 stars."

Sorry, Cho Dang Gol, but we really prefer our food "tepid" to "lukewarm."

Excellent Rice Though. Truly Superb

The dumplings, which are among the largest varieties we have ever seen, are good if unremarkable (and come with barely a thimble-full of accompanying sauce.  Look, people, we only eat for the condiments -- you're going to have to serve up more than that).

How Exactly Are We Supposed to Fit THESE...

...in THAT?!

The jap chae is by far our favorite item on the table, featuring a large pile of glass noodles sprinkled with assorted vegetables and beef.  

In General, Stuff Noodles In Our Mouths, and We'll Stop Complaining

Our entrees also come with an array of assorted side dishes, which the waitstaff does not bother to explain to us (they're obviously quite aware that all such descriptions would be lost on two fools whose main concern in this place is how high their wine glasses are filled).

So Many Sides, So Little Idea What We're Eating

When our table is cleared, we are presented with two (paltry servings of) ginger tea, which may just be our favorite thing on the menu, meaning it is a shame that there is so little of it.  

One Swallow's Worth of Tea

By the time we each make our way to the walk-through-the-kitchen bathroom (note: not the best restroom set-up we've ever seen, being that we are almost run over by various trays of boiling stew), the place is a flurry of activity with each and every table full, and a few guests lingering at the door.

Maybe We Could Ask Some of THEM to Explain the Side Dishes to Us

And at this point, Cho Dang Gol has clearly decided it is time for us to go.  As Ginger spends all of thirty seconds tapping at her phone in order to determine where her train is, we are accosted by a host mumbling something about "needing the table."

"Yeah, yeah, we're going," Ginger dismisses him, still poking at her phone, and we make not-so-pleasant faces at the waitstaff as we mosey out on our own terms.

"I believe we were just kicked out," Vodka says to Ginger when we hit the sidewalk, and for this reason alone, we have no plans to make a return trip to Cho Dang Gol any time soon.  Instead, we'll frequent the places that will serve us gin, blow on our soup, and allow us to linger at our bar stools for however long we please.

Cho Dang Gol's Soondubu Jjigae Soup: 3 stars

Doesn't 'Suenos' Mean Tired?!

Chile Mecco Relleno -- Suenos
Suenos

As a testament to her great Spanish language skills, Vodka has been mulling one thing over for the majority of her trek to Suenos: why would anyone name their restaurant "Tired"?!

Upon Ginger's arrival, Vodka poses her question. Ginger (who usually suffers from similar Spanish-induced confusion), tells her that the word actually means "Dreams."  So much for six years worth of Spanish instruction.

Hola, Me Llamo Estupida

We have managed to wrangle our Booze Before Books club members to Suenos despite the noise/taste fail of our last Best Thing I Ever Ate outing at Barbuto.  As our one dear friend kindly reminds us,  "Well, last time you took us to that dumb chicken place."  We're sure Jonathan Waxman would be appropriately horrified by both us and the company we keep.

And We'd Really Like to Know the Last Time Mr. Waxman's Establishment Has Been Called "That Dumb Chicken Place"

To Suenos's credit, it is significantly quieter than Barbuto, meaning we would have been able to discuss our book club choice (Mindy Kaling's memoir) had we ever actually used our "meetings" for such literary purposes.  The decor of this place is remarkably odd, featuring a gigantic diorama of a desert, seemingly straight out of the Museum of Natural History.  It appears to us to be both random and a giant waste of space.

A Bar Expansion Would Have Been a More Suitable Architectural Choice

While we are here to consume Aaron Sanchez's Best Thing I Ever Ate AS GOOD AS MOM'S dish, the chile mecco relleno, we are first in dire need of chips and salsa and a round of margaritas, immediately if not sooner. The two of us order the Real Deal margaritas (a name that is cause for "Who's on First?"-level confusion throughout the evening), while our friends go with red sangria (clearly, they're trying to distance themselves from us).  The margaritas start out fine yet are completely watery by the bottom of the glasses (perhaps we are slow drinkers, or perhaps the margaritas are not quite strong enough), and frankly, Bethenny's Skinnygirl versions are ten times better.

Plus, this Glassware Is Boring. Just Sayin'

As we dive ravenously into our basket of chips (an amount that Ginger mocks when they first arrive, until we devour them all within minutes), our waiter, who we have taken to calling "Danny Zuko" based on his pompadour hairstyle, comes by to take our orders.

"We'll ask Danny Zuko which salsa is the least spicy for the enchiladas," Ginger whispers to Vodka.

"How did you learn his last name?!" our friend interjects, completely incredulous.  We stare at her blankly.

"Danny Zuko?" we repeat.

"Yeah, how do you already know his name?!"

"IT'S FROM GREASE."  By this point, Danny himself is hovering over us, so we shut up about our friend's lack of "Greased Lightning" knowledge.

And to His Credit, Danny Zuko Does Not Comment About How Our Chips Have Gone from This...

...to This in Five Minutes Flat

Vodka and Ginger decide to split the chile mecco relleno, along with the organic children enchiladas with salsa verde (which Danny Zuko confirms is the least hot of the three salsa choices).  As we wait for our food, the sudden inability to understand snarkiness begins spreading around the table, as our friend states that someone has "completely disappeared and joined the CIA."

"How do you just up and join the CIA?!  It's not a club!" Ginger retorts.

"He did not literally join the CIA," our friend explains gently.  Apparently, all of the comic memoirs we're reading for book club are doing nothing for our ability to understand sarcasm tonight.

The Chips Must Be Impacting the Cynical Sides of Our Brains

Danny Zuko eventually escorts our dinners to the table, which include a trio of enchiladas (our salsa verde version, plus one salsa ranchero and one mole).  A great display of confusion ensues when Vodka is insistent on photographing the three plates together mid-service, leaving Danny Zuko and the busboys shaking their heads in despair.

One Little, Two Little, Three Little Enchiladas

Vodka and Ginger dive into the the chile mecco relleno, which consists of pork, black currants, pine nuts, and almonds.  Shaped like corn dogs, they do not appear to be fried, as the only crunchy texture comes from the nuts inside of the chile.

From This Angle, They Have the Decided Look of Overgrown Chicken Nuggets

The meat itself tastes decidedly like short ribs and has a mildly smokey flavor with a hint of sweetness from the currants.  The plate features a sparse garnish of white sauce, pickled onions, and greens, but the pork itself is rather dry.

Please, Sir, We'd Like Some More Sauce

Whatever chile this chile relleno began with is unidentifiable both in taste and texture and is completely overwhelmed by the pork filling.  Within two bites, Vodka takes one look at Ginger and says, "Three?"

"Three," Ginger confirms our star rating, and we plow through the rest of the dish with neither enthusiasm nor disgust.

Instead, We Resort to Our Normal Attitude: Apathy

As we had initially feared the choice would be scalding hot based on Aaron Sanchez's tastes (and the word "chile" in its name), we thankfully find only the linger of spice at the end of each bite.  Overall, the dish is completely innocuous if unremarkable, and since neither of our mothers is one to whip up chile mecco rellenos in our childhood kitchens, we have no basis of comparison for Aaron's AS GOOD AS MOM'S verdict.

Now If This Had Been a Pierogie, We'd Have Another Story on Our Hands

Moving on to our enchiladas, they are, in a word, cold -- spicy, but cold (perhaps Danny Zuko misunderstood our question about the least "hot" salsa).  They taste like they have been sitting out for a long period of time before service.

Hey Suenos, Ever Hear of Cooking Things to Order?

The shredded chicken is rather flavorless, wrapped up all alone in a frigid white tortilla with barely a smattering of cheese.  Our other friends with enchiladas are similarly underwhelmed, and none of us finish our plates.

Thus Rendering the Triplet Enchilada Picture Useless

Our non-Grease-loving friend's cheese quesadillas prove to be the best choice of the night, along with the complimentary plate of black beans and corn bread triangles (which Ginger is insistent on mopping up with her fork once the corn bread has dissipated).

That's an Appealingly Shaped Avocado You've Got There....

Never a Good Sign When the Free Dish is The Best Offering

In the end, Suenos is just not the stuff of Booze Before Books's dreams; perhaps the owners should have stuck with Vodka's original translation and just named the place "Cansada."

Suenos's Chile Mecco Relleno: 3 stars

Rabe Us the Wrong Way

Cavatelli with Sausage and Broccoli Rabe -- Roc
Roc

The reason we have come all the way to Roc to sip clandestine tastes of egg nog out of our handbags is so that we can also try Rocco DiSpirito's chosen Best Thing I Ever Ate AS GOOD AS MOM's dish, the cavatelli with sausage and broccoli rabe.  We have relatively high expectations for this dish, if only because we have found Rocco's past Best Thing I Ever Ate choices to be delicious (and plus, we have never met a plate of pasta we couldn't finish).

Unfortunately in all cases, Roc's cavatelli dish breaks a few of our usual patterns.

It's Not Easy Being Green... Pasta

When we arrive at the establishment, Ginger initially questions whether Rocco himself owns the place, finding it seemingly unfathomable that more than one person would have the letters "Roc" in his name.  In truth, we wonder what Rocco's informal connection is to this restaurant, as by the end of our meal, we would like to send him to Scarpetta in order to witness what a truly extraordinary pasta dish and bread basket tastes like.

Well, Now, Doesn't This Reek of "Unimpressive"?

In contrast to Scarpetta's prized stromboli, Roc provides a cup of hard bread sticks on each table.  Crunching into the first one, Ginger comments, "Am I supposed to be eating this?  I assume it's not a centerpiece."

Though the Sticks Could Crack Your Teeth as Easily as a Flower Vase

The bread sticks taste of adequacy, as do the components of the bread basket itself (save for a small loaf of olive oil-soaked slices, which tip to the side of the extraordinary).

Along with the cavatelli, we decide to order the spaghetti pomodoro, if only to compare it to Ted Allen's delectable spaghetti choice at Scarpetta.

Someone Get Us a Bib, Stat

Along with our pastas and our forbidden egg nog, we are also contending with our half bottle of Frog's Leap sauvignon blanc, a choice we made because a) we liked the name and b) it was the cheapest one on the menu.  When our plates of food arrive, we become almost instantly aware that the cavatelli was a poor choice on Rocco's part.

We'll Take Some Broccoli Rabe with a Side of Cavatelli, Please

Smothered in gallons of broccoli rabe, it looks decidedly like a health food (and let's be real - if any pasta dish is ever compared to something sold an GNC stores, there is a problem).  Though the busboy coats the pile of noodles in enough parmesan cheese to sink Venice once and for all, it is not nearly enough to conquer the bitter taste of the rabe itself.  Ginger compares the sensation to kale, while Vodka, who makes it a habit to never eat "superfoods," looks on blankly.

Vodka Compares the Rabe More to the Taste of "Just Plain Awful"

Indeed, while the broccoli rabe is the most overpowering component on the plate, the sausage is also cut into overly thick, mildly spicy pieces that pick up wherever the rabe lets off.

Lopsided Cheese Sprinkling Like Whoa

In fact, the cavatelli themselves seem almost an afterthought in this whole mixture, as they are left to drown in the ever-increasing sauce produced by the combination of the rabe and the sausage.

To say nothing for the fact that, in our estimation, the cavatelli is overcooked and mildly mushy.

But Other Than All of Those Complaints, It was GREAT...

In contrast, the spaghetti is extremely al dente -- a virtue which we enjoy, and therefore do not mind when the pasta remains just short of being "crunchy."

Cap'n Crunch, Spaghetti-Style

In some ways, we might even enjoy the spaghetti more than the one served at Scarpetta, if only for how undercooked the noodles are.

And Also for How Wonderfully Those Noodles Photograph

But the rest of the Roc experience does not hold a waxy piece of a molten candle to the delicacies which Scott Conant has created on 14th Street. 

Apparently, We Have Become Messy Eaters in our Old Age

As we emerge from our final joint-eating experience of 2011, we are almost reassured that we have ended with a 3 star dish.  For if our eighty-five posts so far have taught us anything, sometimes Best Thing I Ever Ate is right, sometimes it is dreadfully wrong, and more often than we would like, it is just not all that we had hoped it would be.

Roc's Cavatelli with Sausage and Broccoli Rabe: 3 stars

Here's To the Ladies Who Brunch

Blueberry Blintzes -- B&H Dairy
B&H Dairy

"I have no concept of time," Ginger says, breezing into B&H Dairy five minutes late.  This five minutes would not be remotely notable, except B&H Dairy is not so much a hop, skip, and jump away from Ginger's residence as it is just a hop.  In contrast, it is located a solid four miles from Vodka's abode, from where she had decided to walk so as to combat some of the imminent brunch calories, and has, of course, arrived with time to spare.

We're On the Walk-Four-Miles-Then-Eat-A-Blintz Diet

We are here to consume Duff Goldman's chosen AS GOOD AS MOM'S dish from Best Thing I Ever Ate, the blueberry blintzes.  Neither of us quite know our way around a blintz, but we like anything that comes with a side of sour cream, so we are not too concerned.

Gotta Love a Condiment

As we wait to place our order, we grow increasingly intrigued by the classy B&H Dairy structure and decor.

They Take Their Window Signage Seriously In These Parts

To call this place a diner would be generous; it is more akin to a storage closet with a smattering of bar stools and tea party-sized tables.  However, when Ginger spots fresh ginger being chopped up in the corner window, she feels instantly at home.

There's No Place Like Home, There's No Place Like Home

We are seated, naturally, along the bar, yet for once in our lives, there is nary a cocktail in sight.  Ginger is growing increasingly distracted by our blintz-specific mission by the tempting sight of the cake placed in front of her stool, and she can be heard murmuring to herself "I want that whole cake" throughout our meal.

The Object of Ginger's Desire

Meanwhile, Vodka has acquired a strange craving for mashed potatoes, which we eventually blame on the notice pasted at the back of the counter concerning their recent availability.

We Now Serve Mashed Potatoes: The Most Pertinent News Bulletin of the Day

Eventually, we place our order for blueberry and cheese blintzes, at which time Vodka launches into another one of her Shady Pines Nursing Home-like tales of her social life with "When I was at the Elaine Stritch concert last night -- "

Ginger cuts her off.  "What kind of people go to an Elaine Stritch concert?"

"A very distinct microcosm of New York," Vodka answers.

"I'm assuming that means an 80-year-old microcosm."  Touche, Ginger.  Before Vodka can continue her story of the inimitable elderly diva (who just happens to be the source of Vodka's pseudonym - "another Vodka Stinger," indeed), our blintzes arrive.

Blintz Blitz

At first, we have trouble discerning which plate is the cheese and which is the blueberry, until Ginger, with the pride of a preschooler recognizing their colors for the first time, announces, "This one is blue."

Mister Rogers Would Be So Proud

We each take one of the blintzes onto our plates and saw through the center (when Vodka rearranges Ginger's handy-work for picture-taking purposes, she apologizes, "Sorry, I just handled your blintz").  The blueberry blintz begins oozing immediately, the Grover-blue sauce pouring out of the stiff brown shell.  Biting in, we are somewhat satisfied: the blueberry sauce is plentiful and sweet, and with enough dollops of sour cream, we can almost counteract the blandness of the dough itself (which seems fried within an inch of its life).

The Day the Blue Goo Attacked Brunch

As we continue, however, we grow increasingly underwhelmed.  The blueberry filling tastes fake and processed, like the alleged blueberries that rest inside of the sauce are actually balls of tapioca, and all the sour cream in the world isn't enough to completely mask the bleak nature of the spring roll-like wrapping.

Moving onto the cheese blintzes, we don't find much of an improvement.  Stuffed with ricotta cheese, they are much too sweet for our tastes, as we had naively expected something more quesadilla-like in nature.

Not So Much a "Dollop" of Sour Cream as a "Mound"

Half of our blintzes remain on our plates as we pack up to leave, and in a bit of Spanglish confusion, our server charges Ginger for our full order of blintzes and then Vodka for half.  Being forced to resettle the bill ourselves, we decide that the blintzes at B&H Dairy are barely worth their $7.50 price tag.

But the "Lazania" that they advertise outside?  That could be priceless.

You Spell Lazania, We Spell Lasagna, Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

B&H Dairy's Blueberry Blintzes: 2 stars