Crown Shy--Manhattan

212.517.1932

It's in the lobby of this crazy art Deco building somewhere in the canyons of lower Manhattan.  When we walked in I must say that I felt it was right out of a Bond film.  Both host and hostess cad in black, stunning, and ready to roll.  I felt like I had to say some password just to be let in.   The waiter was also air-tight, professional but not cold, affable but not goofy.  We waited for our better halves as I drank Sancerre and the ol' wifey wife hit the white lightning.

It's a Michelin star restaurant, so assume the food was good.   The wine list, however, was ridiculous.  Simply overwhelmingly huge.  So much so the little digital scan reading on your iPhone protocol was not practical at all.  Nonetheless, we figured it out and drank too much wine. The food was interesting and well prepared.  Due to the wine consumption my notes were abbreviated.  I'll quote them directly:

Date cake:  Bam

Like the octopus

Pork chop is so good it's my little bitch and doesn't stand a chance

Long ass walk to the bathroom

Sleek nipples

This place is definitely deserving of a Michelin star, and given it's location there is something particularly NY about it; walking out, four bottles of wine later, onto a narrow street with skyscrapers all around gave a vibe I haven't experienced in years.  Of course, the same could be said for just dining out with old friends.

Stirling Hotel--Stirling NJ

(908) 647-6919

The best Mozzarella sticks on the planet.  No joking here.  Having eaten mozzarella sticks my ENTIRE LIFE, I've never come across better deep fried cheese than the ones served up at Stirling Hotel, and it's not even close.

How was everything else?  Who cares?  When you come across a staple like Mozz sticks, at a bar, in the middle of nowhere, that are better than anything you've had you give zero fucks about what was going on.  My life has been changed.  I cannot think about other mozzarella sticks ever again.  It's as though I've flown first class, or watch professional sports in a suite, or had a threesome with two gifted sex-workers, you simply cannot go back to the status quo after eating these delectable little suckers.

They're so good in fact, that I cannot stop thinking about them.  In the shower, on the train, when I'm walking the dog.  The delectable sticks pop into my head just to torment me.  So perhaps this should serve as a warning.  Do not eat these mozzarella sticks unless you're prepared to have your life turned upside down.

Claro--Brooklyn

(347) 721-3126

Okay, this was an outdoor pandemic meal.  We picked this place as they outfitted their garden pretty well, versus eating in a wood lean-to on the street.  So I've got to give them a grain of salt, as they were working with what they had.  And not to nit pick, but we were the only kiosk without heat, which may have influenced my overall experience.  On top of that, taking Covid protocols seriously is important and I have mad respect for them doing so, but at a certain point their protocols broke down to nonsense, as they were completely unenforceable.  If we're expect to have our masks on when the server arrives, then the server should wear a bell-collar so we know when she's coming.  If you're going to put your menu on-line, then your WiFi shouldn't have a password.  Small things, but they add up.  We're inconvenienced too, you know?

Stepping down off of that soap box, I should mention the food.  The menu was a four course tasting, I'm not sure if that's a Covid thing or not but between the five of us I'm pretty sure we covered just about everything.  The food was exceptional, as long as you got what you liked.  Given the nature of the web based menu, combined with the distant waitress, we were left taking educated guesses.  And if something didn't taste good, it wasn't because it was ill-prepared, but rather becuase you ordered something that you didn't like--like my octopus and bacon tostada.  That and you'd better like Mezcal.  That's all there is to drink outside of beer and wine.

I will mention again that it was cold as balls outside.

Okay that's all. 

Kitty O'Shea's Orlando

(407) 238-9769

Jeez.  Orlando.  Right before the pandemic decided to show up.  So, firstly, I got tested and similar to the days before the ol' wifey wife it was a relief not to have to call all of my loved ones and tell them I was infected with some disease due to my irresponsibility.  And secondly, I had to go.  It was a difficult choice, but at the time Florida was relatively safe and NYC was on the downswing so why not?

Okay, with that said, I was going to do an Orlando super post similar to Berlin and Portland, etc...  Except Orlando is so steeped in chain restaurant homogeny that there wasn't much to write about.  I didn't dig deep, and I wasn't with company that wanted something risky or trendy.  Steakhouses and Hooters would suffice.  And I must say, hooters is a great place to sit and drink beer.  Nonetheless, as my random luck would have it at one of our multiple afternoon happy-hour Hooters excursions we met Ray, the owner of Kitty O'Shea.

A .little about Ray.  He is from Buffalo.  He was the first winner of the annual wing competition.  He moved to Florida and opened this bar.  It is a traditional Irish Pub, which is saying something in the strip-mall,  chain-restaurant mecca that is Orlando.  More so, Ray took me (as a fellow purveyor in the industry) on a full tour of Kitties; walk in box, bathroom renovation, structural problems, etc... followed by him sampling John Powers Irish whiskey--an Irish spirit he admitted he'd never tried.  Several beers ensued.  I only had drinks so cannot comment on the wings.  But I will say that this dude checks out and so does his bar.

Le Crocodile--Brooklyn

718.460.8004

RIP Reynards,

Andrew Marlow out, a new Quebecois-themed place in.  Fortunately they didn't touch the beauty of the restaurant other than prohibiting access to the bathrooms from the restaurant directly.  It was very much a similar experience in terms of service and style, and since they served daiquiris, the same could be said of my antics.

The food?  Very french.  The steak au poivre was spot on.  Damned good I say.  Then the ol' other wifey wife and I had a rillette, some leaks, and a shrimp cocktail, all also top notch.  The eggs were a touch weird, but fine if you're in to that sort of thing.

The big to do was that another, lesser know reviewer from the Times was there.  His name rhymes with feet swells. Everyone was in a twitter about it, though I feel the staff's apprehension was due to my presence.  No way to say for sure.  Though in my opinion it is obviously that my reputation is so great other critics must ride my coattails into the greatness. 

Worth a try, this place.

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.