Reynard--Brooklyn

718.460.8000

A little odd for me beloved nine, as this is the first review on an Andrew Tarlow restaurant in quite some time.  I lifted my self imposed exile and decided to grow up, that and I stopped drinking cheap bourbon at five in the afternoon.  Fast forward five years, sheesh, make it eight years, and there's a new place in town getting all of the newbie Williamsburgers a twitter.  The Wythe hotel, the crown jewel of the Brooklyn Brand, standing like a beacon of all that is natural, organic, locally sourced, and covered in tattoos.

Firstly, something to be said about the insane amounts of tail running around in this place.  The patrons, the staff, I mean everyone seems to be effortlessly good looking, myself included of course.  I digress, it's an excellent point of departure as the patronage matches the decor perfectly.  This place is effortlessly beautiful.  Functional and raw yet elegant and refined.  The dichotomy being that what was once a typical no-frills apartment building that housed famed director Paul Black --American Brown-- is now a chic hotel complete with reverse bridge and tunnel roof bar.  Yes, Williamsburg has arrived, and this place is the port of call.

The food is everything you would expect from the Diner pedigree.  Delicate, complex, interesting, well prepared and overwhelmingly pleasing.  I've taken to having the guests dining with me grade their courses:

Deviled Eggs: Cumin was a nice touch. A
Soup: B+
Rabbit: A
Beet Salad: B
Pork Chop: A
Duck: B
Trout: B
Salad: (Diner goatcheese was in my notes though I don't think it was--sorry, been a while) A
Tar tar: B.
Hotties: Yes please.  (Seriously, that's in my notes).

Truth be told, I'm not a foodie.  I'm a drunk.  So the most impressive aspect of this restaurant, and one that I'm pleased to report after years and years of slander on the overall service motif of greater North Brooklyn, was the exceptional service.  I do not use this word lightly.  The service was exceptional.  The timing, the drink service, the sparkling tap water, the folding of the napkins, the delivery of my espresso before dessert was served, this all came together in a masterful display of understanding of hospitality. Reynard is the culmination of 12 years of homogenous gentrification, and it was worth the wait.

Montreal

It's been a while since I've done a post about an entire city.  I feel as though I might have posted about Barcelona, but not quite sure.  It doesn't matter, Barcelona has too much going on to try an encapsulate in a single post, but at the same time is not a city of more than three days.

Much could be said about Montreal, though, I was only there for three so it worked out perfectly.  It's been a bit since the trip so I'm going to have to rely on my scribbles.

Darling Foundry:

(514) 759-9815

Some sort of art bar weirdness run by Quebecois Ecuadorians.  Seriously.  Not a lick of English, fortunately for me I speak equally bad Spanglish and French.  This will explain why I ordered a cheese sandwich and ended up with a peice of cheese and some beer.  Cool place, however, with a nice laid back coffee shop vibe.   There are no places like this in NYC--that's a quote from my scribbles.

Bily Ku

I have no idea.  Here are my notes:  Ostrich Head.  Bad Math.  Hmmmm.

L'Express:

(514) 845-5333

This place I remember vividly as it was a three hour marathon of French cuisine.  One word: Cornichons.  Just about every place in Montreal delivers mustard and tiny yet delicious little pickles to your table.  This place, a well established French bistro, must have started the trend.  A little touristy, but those pickles quickly squashed that.  As we were four we sampled a pretty decent selection of the menu: caviar, muscles, fish, and the tar tar.  In fact two of us ordered the tar tar, which means we had roughly fifty ounces of raw ground beef.  The food was good. The service, a little too used to fleecing tourists, but not bad.  The tar tar; constipating.

Whisky Cafe

(514) 278-2646

Being drunk on straight vodka, Beaujolais, and raw meat., we decided to find a place to buy and smoke Cuban cigars.  Unfortunately, Montreal is like the rest of the world in that there is no place to smoke them inside.  Eventually, we found Whiskey Cafe a cigar bar that also happened to have a zillion single malts you've never heard of.  We bought our cigars, but wife one and wife two were not about to chill in the smoking lounge, so instead we knocked back a whiskey.  I decided it would be a fine idea to go dancing which led us to....

The Waverly:

My notes: Local Bar.  Alright if you're a Quebecois douche.

Le Contemporain:
514 847-6900


After a long walk and a brutal raw beef and vodka hangover, we conceded to eat lunch at the cafe right next door to the contemporary art museum.  It's on St Catherine and traffic is constantly whizzing by, but when that first pint of beer came the traffic dulled to a hum and we got down to business.  Fries, fried cheese, and more of those little pickles.  It wasn't too expensive, and to be honest, a relief just to sit down after power walking up and then down a mountain.  


Lawrence:

(514) 503-1070

Dinner number two were were weary from a long walk on the Mount, Real, and the hangover from the previous night.  I'd still had yet to pass the loaf of tar tar in my large intestine.  Lawrence was actually quite pleasant. Here's our letter grading system (patent pending):

Apetizers:

Linguine B

Macheral A++

Charchuterie (like pickles and mustard on just about every menu you saw) No Grade

Sausage: B+

Sturgeon: A++

Chicken Special: A

Trout: A

Soup B+

The desserts all sucked.  They had a baked alaska that simply did not deliver.  But as for the rest of the dinner, if those were my grades I probably wouldn't be an unheralded blogger.  Pretty nerdy grades.

St. Viateur Bagels

(514) 276-8044

This place has legendary bagels, as we were told to go by multitudes of locals transplanted to NYC.  We were psyched to get them to go on our way back to the city, but you know what?  They don't own a toaster.  It's a divey bagel conveyor belt and a bunch of leery eyed hasids.  You buy these things by the dozen and walk back to your home to eat them at your lesiure.  Since this was Sunday, we were totally fucked for an early breakfast.  And had to eat chewy bagels with little cream cheese to go containers on our drive back.  Thanks all-knowing insiders.