‘Wich Hunting: Episode 3

Primanti Brothers – Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Double stuffed, mile high sandwiches made with love for the last 79 years. Get there.

About ‘Wich Hunting: Anthony and I have travelled the world eating everything from Balut in the Philippines to blood sausage in Argentina. In every destination there has always been a sandwich shop. Some were good and some were bad but they all had their unique take on this ubiquitous meal. The origin of the sandwich is highly debated and we’ll dive into that on our journey as we discover, taste and debate the best sandwiches in the world.

Matter over Mind

View NYC Food Tour 1 in a larger map

This blog has proven that I have a disposition to over indulge. It’s a problem and a constant battle between my brain and my waistline. I rationalize my decisions to stuff myself with the idea that the opportunity at hand is unique and once in a lifetime. This is rarely the truth but often the perceived reality. Regardless of the motivation, this post trumps all the others in ridiculousness.

I had just flown back in town from Chicago and two friends from San Francisco when a txt message popped up on my phone. Two buddies from San Francisco were in town and wanted to go run-a-muk stuffing our faces all over town. Truth be told, Ben, Chef of SPICE Supper Club, had been riding me for weeks about the “eating tour” and now he was ready to roll. Irrationally deciding I had to…

Cured in Seattle

I never expected to find great salami in Seattle. But, I am a big Batali fan and I figured he had to learn from somewhere. Salumi is an Italian cured meat shop in the heart of Seattle’s Pioneer Square run by Armandino Batali, Mario’s father. Armandino had a full career at Boeing as a process control engineer but after he retired…

San Sebastian via 9th Ave.

I have had latin fever lately. I am not sure why, but I like it. Seems that given the choice my go to is a new taco join or tapas spot. Coverage of this current food fetish starts with Txikito Cocina Vasca. I originally discovered this spot because of it’s ranking on NY Mag’s Best Burger list, which I have yet to have. Despite the allure of a double burger named after the devil, I stuck with Basque classics. The atmosphere is not quite as bar-ish as I remember San Sebastian. But, after the first bite of plate numero uno, I was transported back to a Tuesday in June 2005 when I stood in a small tapas joint struggling to order amidst the locals as the clock struck midnight and the nightly eating frenzy went full swing. The ARRAULTZA (sofrito, palacios chorizo and a fried quail egg) was…

Bathing and Eating

That headline may leave some of you a bit grossed out. Let me clear this up quickly. These two activities were not done simultaneously. Last Friday night started out with my first trip to the Russian and Turkish baths in the east village. It seems ridiculous that I had not visited this ancient neighborhood hot spot for the for six years I lived just four blocks away. Never-the-less, I was being taken by a veteran so I had little worry other than; “How hungry do you get during this ritual?

I will forgo the full description of what took place in the bowels of this dank, decrepit, building and get straight to the food. For those who have never gone, let’s just say it is an attraction. Communal steam baths, ice plunge pools and really tiny towels make for a sweaty, medieval, journey into a masochistic, voyeuristic and narcissistic land of multi, age, shade and gender new yorkers. The point here is when you are done bathing you are really hungry. Like, eat a horse hungry. We didn’t do that but we did…

Full of Moonstruck

Ant and I went for a quick hit last night at one of our staple spots in the city. The apt on 30th and 3rd has been in the family now for 12 years. In that time there has been a swinging door of friends, family and randoms occupying the bedrooms (and sometimes the living room…ehhhem, Tim).

Through all those changes there has been one staple on the opposite corner of the block. Moonstruck Diner, now with multiple locations, has been the anchor for everything from 4am post party snacks to 11am hangover breakfasts to 7pm homecoming dinners. Yes, it’s just a diner but, this is our diner. If you are a New Yorker you surely can relate to this. It falls into the same category as “your laundromat” and “your bodega” (look for a post on the BEST bodega in NYC soon)

There are 100 things on the menu that we could have chosen last night. The video above highlights two of the ultimate choices for taste and health. Well, somewhat health. Ohh yeah, and that defcon rating I mention. I’ll explain that in a future post as well. For now, just know that means I am really, really hungry.

Pig by the Pound

Last week was a doozy. Yesterday was no exception. Lots of eatin’. I ended the work week on a high note that took my belt back a notch. I don’t think there is much more to say that the video can’t explain. But, if for some reason you do have a question, drop it in the comments and I will be sure to answer. I will say, if you are looking for a mess of smoked pork piled onto butcher paper and thrown on a cafeteria tray, Hill Country might be the best game in town. The theatrics alone are 5 star. Quick warning, never go to this spot with me. I will make you leave in pain. Have you ever passed a 3″ pork chop around the table with your hands? I didn’t think so.

Hill Country
30 West 26th Street
New York, NY 10010
(212) 255-4544
hillcountryny.com

Biriyani Redemption

There has been something bothering me for a long time now. Months to be exact. I have been around the world eating. I have ate in the dirtiest, weirdest, darkest, hottest, slowest, fastest, spiciest, freshest, coldest, strangest places I could find. I have ate on the street everywhere. Everywhere except, India. India frightened me. To be more accurate my friends, the locals and the restaurant proprietors all warned me of the horrible sickness I would suffer with just a nibble of the street food I so desperately craved.

I left India having NOT touched one morsel from a cart, stall or street peddler. The defeat sat dormant in me for a month after returning home. I thought I had forgotten about my disappointment when one day that defeat roared back to life. I felt it suddenly coursing through my body the same way I was told the gastro-intestinal hell raising bacteria would if I did not heed the words of the, presumably, smarter. It grew stronger, itchier and madder each day. It attacked my brain, my nervous system and my appetite, flooding my body with tasty thoughts of goodness reaped only from a hot street cart down a dusty ally.

I couldn’t take it any more. I had to do something. I was not heading back to India anytime soon so, I did the next best thing for a shot of redemption. The above video was my shot to stifle and kill this now uncontrollable feeling inside me that I MISSED something wonderful.

Want to make this yourself? Make the jump to see the a How-To-Video and recipe.

Lunch with Cluny and Elliott

There is nothing better than a late lunch in a tiny West Village restaurant with a buddy. Even better when that buddy is also a business colleague and the lunch is productive, creative and expens-ible.

I have been wanting to visit Cafe Cluny for a while and this recent summer day it finally worked out. I arrived first and sat at a table for two to wait for Elliott. While waiting I…

Peachy Keen

Peaches are in season. They are everywhere. I was passing through the green market last Friday, as I do almost everyday on the way to work, and i couldn’t resist picking up some of the delicious, juicy fruits. I also picked up some field grown tomatoes. Both smelled amazing. Back home that evening, I whipped together this simple salad that I had modified from a Food Network Magazine recipe. Bold flavors hit the spot and made me and the stomach do the recently made public “happy food dance”.