Ninja--Manhattan

(212) 274-8500

Holy shit!  I didn't think a place like this could exist in NYC, let alone hang on for the five year hump.  And believe me, it delivered.  Full disclosure: we pre-gamed substantially, which might skew my perspective a little, but ultimately the gist of this place is dinner by ninja, with the staff dressed as ninjas jumping out and screaming "Kiyah" when you're least expecting it.  And they're pretty damned effective.  The enclosed booths have sliding paper windows, so they would surreptitiously slide them open and Karate chop our necks.  Just as you pay attention to those, they jump out from the other side with swords!  Such stupid fun.  As we continued drinking--they had a ridiculous Saporo mini keg/ awful fruit-infused sakis package that also came with cheap plastic noise swords--we discovered that we could also utilize these doors to not just scare each other but also scare the staff running the food.  Hilarity unfolded.

Iconman, did you eat?  Yes.  But it's hard to remember.  I do remember that  the food wasn't half bad.  See my previous published theory about sushi so refer to earlier (much earlier) posts about my philosophy on Sushi.  They also had a sleigh-of-hand magician part way through, as we ordered every gimmick they had on the menu--which involved some half-baked incorporation of smoke, or fire, or magic (the ninja star dessert was particularly bad in its delivery).

As much as I hate to admit it, we had a total blast.  If you go in with the right attitude, and are sufficiently drunk, this is a cheap, fun night.

Kiyah!

Cosme--Manhattan

(212) 913-9659

Have been here a few times as we knew a manager.  Obviously, this place's claim to fame is that Obama ate there once, which is unfortunate because it's claim to fame should be "We serve ants."  Crunchy, spindly little ants.

I'm getting ahead of myself, went here to celebrate the 49th birthday of an old friend.  Not old in a pejorative sense, as some of my younger fans might consider 49 to be old, but rather I've known him a long time.

Any who, we sat at the bar, drank, and ordered a million thing as my second wife is apt to do.  So here's an Iconman list that tells you very little:

Guacamole.  Spot on as it should be at this place
Fluke.  No comment, which means it wasn't great or horrible.
Chair.  Spicy as shit
Tamale.  Weird but okay.
Tortilla herb do hickeys and fish and spicy mayo. Crunchy scales, not bad but not filling
Porkchop with ants.  I'm dubious.
Dessert--Angel Shit.  That's from the 2nd wife.  She really liked this dessert.  I'm not sure what exactly what it was.

So they're doing some interesting stuff here, but it's definitely not a walk-out-uncomfortable-from eating-too-much dining experience.  Oh, and Obama was a no show.

Halifax, Canda

So I know what you're thinking.  Iconman, where have you been?  Whelp, glorious 8, I've been busy.  And I decided to go to Halifax, Canada.  And now you're thinking why the fuck would you go to Halifax Canada?  It's a great question beloved 8 and it's simple when you think about it.  A free trip.  Weed is legal.  And Halifax has a vibrant FB scene with a ton of young trim running around.  Not to mention the fucking ax throwing, eh?

Bicycle Thief:  We went here on a hot day, with the circus in town.  It was a god-damned factory.  The service was abysmal, and the food was fine except it was served by a hoser masquerading as a waitress.  Seriously, service was brutal, eh.

Steve-o-reno's:  Uh, we had coffee and breakfast sandwiches.  A lot of character, but I didn't shit myself.  Well I did, but it's cause of the coffee.

Compass Distillers:  Pre Kismit, cocktails.  Good, a little over the top for me, but they took it very seriously.  Try the Aquavit.

Bar Kismit--Fucking lights out.  We ordered the entire menu, the open face grilled cheese with dijon, the ravioli, man it all was spectacular.  We probably drank too much, and we definitely closed the place, but if there's one place to go in Halifax, this is the place...

Black Sheep:  Rolled in here so fucking mawga that food sounded abysmal, but their menu was a hungover person's wet dream.  Their bacon sucked--due to its Candadienness.

HighwayMan:  Ended up here after our first choice had a two hour wait.  Basically ordered the entire menu again, and drinks, so repeated the Bar Kismit strategy except the food was about four floors down.  The ham was exceptional, on a big-ass leg in the back.  I wouldn't say it was bad so I'll call it a decent value.


Overall Halifax was a good weekend.  I can't imagine living there without going completely mental, but not a bad jaunt if you're looking for something close, international, and easy.

Frenchette--Manhattan

(212) 334-3883

Went here on a double date, not really knowing what to expect but given that we had a 5:30pm dinner reservation, I should have expected this was a tough ticket.  It's been a while when I've had to take the dining experience seriously.  There wasn't anything really new about this place and I think that's the point: serious dining, no gimmicks, no flash, just everything well executed (and expensive as hell).

I saddled up to the bar with the ol' wifey wife and we noticed that everyone in the place was either a younger or older version of our dinner guests.  Not so much a review of the place, unless, of course you are of the opinion that appearances do reflect specific personality types.  If that's the case, then it all makes perfect sense why our friends would pick this place as they're quite accomplished, nerdy types who prefer the finer things in life.

So Iconman, can we get to the food already? I drank a ton of alcohol, so I'll do my best see notes below:

egg omelet: with spanish tortilla, pretty awesome
Mortadella:  fucking a' good. Simple good.
Salt cod croquette:-yummy fish sticks
Leaks: Not my bag, but wife number two liked them
Brouillade: soft egg and escargot, yeah, well, french food
Green spaghetti: pretty sure this wasn't actually green spaghetti
Chicken and Mashed Potatoes:  Yeah, they're not fucking around with this one.  Excellent
Turbot Fish:  It was good, but at this point it started dawning on us we ordered too much food
Cardoon: Bone marrow, yeah, we ordered too much
French Donut:  Didn't shit myself on this one
Chocolate Molten Cake: I have it spelled chololarw moltem cake.  So yeah I think the wine was kicking in.

This place was a classy, delicious, dining experience.  It's not cheap, but worth it.  I drank too much, ate too much, and we ended up a few doors down coincidentally hanging out with an old friend who managed The room.  That's just what I needed, more to drink.  Nonetheless, this place is Iconmnan approved.

Zauo--Manhattan

646.905.2274

Holy shit! What a fucking place.  When I first saw the fact that you fish, actually fish for your dinner my inner cynic said 'gimmick.'  That is until the drum start banging and a bunch of Asians started yelling Japanese chants.  Then our  barely understandable server, dishes out fishing licenses and cool weird freeze-dried hand towels and boom, I'm wearing a poncho yelling Japanese chants and drinking $300 bottles of saki!  Now I'm beating on the drum myself, while my half-eaten freshly caught fist sits on my plate five feet away.

Iconman, calm down, how was the food?  Who fucking cares?  I just caught it.  It was alive like ten seconds ago.  Yeah, yeah, maybe says my inner cynic, or maybe there's a tank in the back and you're eating frozen fish shipped in.  Fuck you inner cynic!  What do you know, you fucking wet blanket?  They let me beat the drum and since I don't speak Japanese and they let me yell whatever I want, like "catch the fish, fishy fish, fish!"  And I still have the legally binding fishing license.  Cockhead.  So cool, so pessimistic.  They wouldn't let you beat the drum.

Worth a try, bring your wallet.