Editor’s Note: In the following post, Boston-based personal chef William Ference proves true the first half of the old adage that all you need in life is a good butcher and bail bondsman. William appreciates Boston’s ever-expanding food culture, and is a member of the national Chef’s Collaborative, which advocates the practice of sustainable food purchasing and the use of organic ingredients. You can read more about his dishes and services at http://williamference.com/.

A while ago, I enjoyed a phenomenal meal at The Capital Grille in Boston.  When my ribeye steak arrived, I noticed that my eyes immediately focused on a particular area of the steak.   You know which part I mean – that exciting outer section that, simply put, looks and tastes better.  Come to think of it, I always eat ribeye steaks the same exact way.  I deliberately consume that outer section first, bite by mouthwatering bite, and then continue on to the less tasty, yet still delicious center.

As I ate the final bite of the outer flap, I felt a bit depressed and thought to myself, “Wouldn’t it be awesome if my entire steak was made out of that super-delicious part?”

This dream steak exists, and it’s incredible.

Starting with a whole rib roast, a skilled butcher can separate the outer flap of delicious meat from the main eye, resulting in a single huge steak called a “cap steak.”   Why have we never heard of this?  Well, few sane butchers are willing to remove the cap from a rib roast because it decreases the roast’s value.  Many butchers even refused my requests to do so.

Eating this steak is a revelation.  It is flavorful, tender, fatty, and will seriously “up” your standards and expectations for future meat-eating.  I recommend grilling the steak whole over red-hot natural charcoal, resting for 15 minutes, and then slicing and serving with a chimichurri sauce.  When it comes to actually getting your hands on the cap steak, the best thing to do is to order the cap steak and the resulting ribeye, cut into individual medallions.  The butcher will be more than happy to sell you the whole cut of meat instead of just the cap. As a result, the cap steak (being a secret luxury steak and all) will be expensive.  As a special occasion showstopper, though, it is well worth it.

In Boston, my go-to butcher for cap steak is Ricardo Bosich at Gordon & Alperin. When I’m cooking in New York, I always try to get my cuts from the Meat Hook, in Brooklyn.

William Ference is a high-end caterer and private chef in Boston, MA.  You can read more about his dishes and services at http://williamference.com/ or contact him directly at william@williamference.com.

Editor’s Note: The following post is the first is a two-part series on the Bronx’s Arthur Avenue, from guest blogger Brendan Smith. Brendan is a promising young NYC-based chef who enjoys cooking for people he cares about. As you will see in his forthcoming posts, he holds no barbs when it comes to classic things done poorly. He’s a native New Yorker, a fan of Jameson, port wine, foie gras, the New York Rangers, and Le Bernardin. He also despises bees.

Zero Otto Nove
2357 Arthur Ave.
Bronx, NY 10458

Ten years ago I spent two weeks in a house on a small island in the Bay of Naples, Italy. The island’s name is Ischia (iss-KEE-ah) and is one of three small islands in the shadow of Vesuvius. What I learned on Ischia defined my views on something that every born-and-bred New Yorker considers himself an authority—what real pizza is.

Firstly, allow me to briefly wax philosophical. In our wonderful country, pizza has been, for all intents and purposes, exploited, abused, diluted, and turned into a heinous casserole through some God-awful mid-western bastardization.  You can take deep-dish pizza and throw it in the Gowanus Canal with all the other trash. No thanks.

History lesson: pizza was invented and perfected in Naples, Italy. It is comprised traditionally of simple, thin dough, a sweet tomato component, and something salty (usually a cheese, but if you have any cojones, anchovies are a must), baked at an extremely high heat in a wood-burning, brick oven.  I’ve just dropped some crucial knowledge on you—it’s a wood burning, brick oven. Not coal. Not gas. Not convection. Not steel.  And heat doesn’t take a back seat. We are talking temperature at or over 900F˚. The result is a beautifully colored crust and a dressing that is guaranteed to remove the skin from the roof of your mouth.

This is traditional pizza, the way it has been made in the Old Country for hundreds of years. Please understand, I am not hating on Rubirosa, or Artichoke, or Lombardi’s, or Totonno’s. All of these are delicious products, well worth eating. What I am simply pointing out is that there is a version that is true, created a certain way, respecting origin, using certain tools and ingredients, and available through my most favorite of places in the entire metropolis: Arthur Avenue.

Please don’t be scared of the Bronx. Whatever satisfaction you may have from drowning  yourself in Poutine at 3AM in the East Village, I bet you dollars to Pomme-Frites that I can guide you toward a very unique place, for an experience that you will want to re-create with friends.

It is on Arthur Avenue that you can find la vera pizza Napolitana—real Neapolitan pizza. The restaurant is called Zero Otto Nove, and ‘Holy tomato sauce Batman!’ the telephone exchange for Naples is 0-8-9.

The restaurant itself escapes most of the hokey crap you find on Mulberry, below Spring St. Upon walking in, one may feel underwhelmed—the bar is small, and not very purposeful, but serves as a sort of ante-room for the dining room. After passing through a small, arched, grotto-esque hallway, you enter the main dining room and BAM, on your left is a massive, roaring forge that churns out a true-to-form pizza. Ignore the tacky wallpaper. Forget about the silly birthday song which I PROMISE will be played while you are there. Focus on the reason you came—the best, truest, most delicious pizza in New York City.

At first, I would suggest a pizza margherita. And I say first because if you’re there to eat pizza, you’ll have multiple pies. It takes less than thirty seconds in the crucible (wood stoked, of course) to turn the thin dough into a perfect vehicle for the sweet sauce and the FRESH mozzarella cheese.  That’s another thing—real pizza is made with real, fresh mozzarella (that’s pronounced, mutz-a-del.) As mentioned earlier, the roof of your mouth doesn’t stand a chance. You can select from a substantial offering of additional toppings, should you be feeling fancy, but starting with the basics is highly recommended.

The restaurant offers a very comprehensive selection of classic Italian dishes, and since it is surrounded by outstanding purveyors, everything is as fresh as can be. While I tend to be turned off by large menus, the dishes here are typically very satisfying. When I last ate there, I had delicious Striped Bass with fresh tomatoes and capers cooked in white wine. If you screw that up, you’re dead to me. They did a very decent job.

But, like I’ve been belaboring, go there for the pizza. It’s worth your while, your money, and the roof of your mouth.

Author’s note: Zero Otto Nove has a sister restaurant with the same name in the Flatiron District of Manhattan. This restaurant is not the original (although under the directorship of the same chef/owner), is massive, and does not offer the cultural immersion such as the location on Arthur Avenue. Make the trip to the Bronx. Trust me.

Coming soon in ARTHUR AVE PART II:
Cossenza’s Fish Market: Clams, Oysters, and the “Great Civil Compromise.”

Waffle and Wolf
413 Graham Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11211
www.WaffleandWolf.com

If you are in fact a Real New Yorker, then you should just now be recovering from the drinking marathon that is St. Patrick’s Day weekend. No shame there, that hangover is as much a badge of honor as the Jameson-shot-tally-marks on your forearm (which, if you used a sharpie, are still proudly on display). You survived, and more impressively, you made it to work on Monday.

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This kind of selfless dedication and effective use of Tylenol deserves something delicious, and in light of recent events, maybe something moderately healthy; or at least something with the option to be. May I suggest checking out Waffle And Wolf, a sandwich shop on Graham Avenue that serves it’s sandwiches on, yes, WAFFLES! You’ll have the option to order one of their 21 specialty waffles, or if you’re feeling ambitious, create your own concoction from their giant chalkboard of toppings.

Being slightly intimidated by the variety of fixins’ on the “build-your-own” chalkboard, I opted for their most popular Waff-witch, the #12. What I got was cheddar cheese, tomatoes, arugula, and avocado yogurt, all folded together like a taco in a freshly-made waffle with bacon cooked into the batter. I understand why it’s their most popular menu item, but if you want to try the #12 for yourself, you should make moves soon because the menu changes seasonally to take advantage of fresh ingredients. They’ve also partnered with the excellent Dallis Bros. Coffee, a New York company, adding to the local flair.

mmmmmmm...waffles

All in all it would appear they have a lot going for them: original concept, kick-ass food, healthy options (their buckwheat waffle is vegan and gluten free), a very healthy blog-buzz, and it’s on one of the coolest streets in Brooklyn. But even with of all this, they’ve still made a major effort to show customer appreciation through their “Wolf Card” distribution—a card that gives instant discounts to returning customers. The only thing more awesome than a restaurant with exceptional food and service, is a restaurant with exceptional food and service that values loyalty. It’s nice to be fed and appreciated.

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Jimmy’s Diner
577 Union Ave. (Btw. North 10th-11th Streets)
Williamsburg, Brooklyn

Do not, under any circumstances, go for brunch at Jimmy’s Diner.

I love Jimmy’s Diner, and I don’t want you to make it any harder for me to get a table than it already  is. However, if you should find yourself in Williamsburg with a terrible hangover—which is entirely possible—and in need of food, I will excuse you.

Should you want to cure your hangover with the hair of the dog, I recommend the mimosas or the bloody Marys. The mimosas ($7) come in milkshake glasses, so you should only need one to perk you back up.  I suggest you continue with the tater heaven ($8), which is comprised of hash browns, scrambled eggs, cheese, and guacamole—all layered together in a bowl. It is obscenely delicious. If you’re more of a carnivore, I would recommend the steak and eggs ($12). I don’t normally care much for red meat, but Jimmy’s knows about perfectly cooked steak.

The only thing on the menu that I really, really did not like was the chipotle chicken sandwich. ($12) Jimmy’s advertises itself as the best fried chicken in Williamsburg, so I thought they might know their way around grilled chicken as well. The chicken arrived almost totally unseasoned, absolutely dripping with mayonnaise. I have had better chicken sandwiches in fast food restaurants for less than half the price.

That aside, the real reason you will dream about Jimmy’ Diner is pictured below. Deep-fried deviled eggs with chipotle mayonnaise ($6). Get two orders. Really. Every time my girlfriend and I go together, we fight over the last one. They could not be more delicious. Order them. You will thank me.  I promise.

This was the only shot I could get of the deep-fried deviled eggs before my girlfriend started eating them.

In spite of the slightly hit and miss offerings, Jimmy’s is still head and shoulders above other diners I’ve tried in the neighborhood. The restaurant itself is small, so if you go—go early. And if I elbow you just a little bit to get to the front of the line—excuse me but I have some deviled eggs with my name on them!

When New York turned into a tropical metropolis this week, the ReALTO team decided to practice a variation of what we preach: to seek out good food, served outdoors. Part working-lunch, part blog-fodder, our trip to DuMont Burger on Tuesday came as a welcome respite from the brownbag tedium that is our usual midday meal.

With the temperature approaching the high 60s, we set out for a place that we knew had outdoor seating and a reputation for delicious burgers. It didn’t disappoint.

Although we actually never ventured inside, the storefront occupies an unassuming place on Bedford Ave. between South 1^st & 2^nd streets. There are a handful of small tables lining the sidewalk, which is ideal for a hot lunch with a side of people-watching. For drinks, we ordered your standard it’s-hot-outside-I-should-probably-get either-an-iced-tea-or-a-coke. Flashing its Williamsburg hipster credentials, DuMont serves Mexican Coca-Cola in the original glass bottle.

The hipster coke spectrum

For the main event, we didn’t venture too far off of the beaten path: 3 DuMont burgers, medium or medium-rare. The assortment of cheese on offer, however, made the decision-making process a little more interesting. I ultimately settled on Gruyère while my partners went for Monterey jack and blue cheese, each of which brought something different to the dish.

I know that some people complain about the size and price of the offerings at DuMont Burger, which is perhaps fair criticism. At $12.50 a burger, you’re definitely going to be spending around $20/person for lunch with a side, drink and tip. If you can get away with doing that on occasion, however, I’d say the product at DuMont Burger is definitely worth the expense. The burger comes on a delicious brioche roll, toasted to perfection. The meat was cooked exactly to the temperatures that we ordered, which is something that all burger places should be able to do easily but often fail to do so. The fries, which are generously portioned and come with the burger, had exactly the right consistency and crispness.

See all that Gruyère? Legit right?

In terms of plating, DuMont Burger goes the extra mile to present a colorful, enticing platter: from the bright green-yellow of the pickles to the dark red of the healthy, fresh tomatoes they put on the side, your eyes begin to eat the food before your mouth does.

All in all, the meal was definitely worth the extra few bucks over your average burger. While we won’t be going there every time we get a nice day here in the city, I suspect that the ReALTO team will be back in the not-too-distant future, if for nothing else than the Mexican Coke…

Greenpoint Gazette

Milkshakes, a Ms. Pacman table, PBR on tap, and deep fried hotdogs wrapped in bacon.

If there ever was a neighborhood better suited for an eclectically-dressed-wiener shop, I’ve never been there. Open late, the same as it’s predecessor in the LES, with an equally ridiculous menu fashioned for stoners, late night bingers, post-bar rompers, and menstruating women.
Not for the faint of heart, or everyday consumption. The surgeon general should tac a warning onto these bad boys, especially considering that 8 of the 16 Crif Dogs on the menu come wrapped in bacon or ham, and then covered with toppings like cheese, chili, jalapeño’s, fried eggs, sour cream, cole slaw… Getting the picture? It’s your one stop shop for a trans fat fix. And it’s worth every calorie.

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If North 7th and Driggs is still too far for your lazy ass, they will indulge you and deliver right to your door (within a reasonable proximity of course). Cheese covered- bacon wrapped- goodness delivered straight to you in the wee hours of the morning, now available in Williamsburg? Need I say more?

I’ve been wanting to try Mesa Coyoacán since I saw their chef/owner Iván García whip up some esquites the way God intended—with epazote, some chile de árbol, topped with an amalgam of cotija and chile piquín, swirled with Mexican mayo (and let’s face it—if all mayo is delicious, imagine Mexican mayo!).

I know, it sounds a little weird. Or gross. Whatever. But esquites are an essential staple of DF street food and when done correctly, can be the Mexican coleslaw of your dreams. Much like coleslaw, though, if done poorly, they can be watery, too mayo-ey, salty—pretty much everything that makes good food go bad. And Chef García had all the right moves in that video. So when it finally came time for me and the boyfriend to venture into Mesa Coyoacán, I knew two things: I was pumped and I wanted me some esquites.

Mesa is a beautiful place—great if you want to impress a date. Elegantly lit, with the right amount of classy virgencitas, and with a tequila collection that makes an alterlatina like me salivate. This is what Mexican fine dining looks like. And the menu is impressive—chilaquiles, tortas, queso fundido—a pretty varied and well-stocked little Mexican joint. So we ordered us a few things and we were ready to go to town.

I started with a Margarita made with agua de Jamaica. Agua de Jamaica is ah-mazing. It’s a refreshing, very low sugar hibiscus flower drink and it is what I think of when I think of dining south of the border. Now to marry this with tequila! Brilliant.

And it was! This Margarita was the BOMB. I mean it, y’all. There is no better summer Margarita. This one was perfect. It was refreshing, not too salty, not too sweet, totally natural and totally beautiful. So far so good, Mesa. We’re totally honeymooning. And then the beloved esquites came. And my dream ended.

Before I go all chola on them, I need to say that Mesa Coyoacan’s esquites were tasty. They were! And the corn was the right bit of al dente. And the epazote was right on, as was the amount of spice. But here’s the thing—I’ve made esquites plenty. And yes, like most Mexican delicacies, there’s a science to a good esquite, so when the kitchen is hella busy, I will forgive a couple of things. However these esquites committed two cardinal sins of a hurried kitchen: they were salty and they were watery.

The wateryness can be easily avoided. Just drain your damn esquites. And the salt? Man, you need to account for the cotija being salty. Just saying. That is one of those things that irks me, and honestly, it stopped me from appreciating the better things of the esquites, like the texture and the earthy sweetness of the epazote (think of epazote as the illegitimate child of tarragon and basil). I couldn’t believe that my internet hero was the man behind these esquites. I was heartbroken.

Then the tacos came. Per the waitress’s recommendation, I got the al pastor tacos. Let’s face it—when it comes to me, there ain’t a pork taco porky enough for me to reject. These came in this nice square plate with three perfectly placed tacos.

Before I go any further, be aware, reader, that Mesa does not let you mix tacos. If you go there, you better commit to three-of-a-kind. These al pastor tacos were pretty disappointing. All I could taste in these pork tacos (made of pork—the tastiest and most magical of all the animals) was the pineapple. The adobo was not seeped in and it needed a little salt. Also, these came in one tortilla rather than two. For shame.

The boyfriend got some chilaquiles, which I will not even waste your time by writing about—they were basically chips with salsa on them. And the beans that came with them were the blandest thing I have ever had. I seriously had better ones straight out of the Ducal can. Stay away from the salsa borracha, unless you are into dipping your chips in beer. So yes, as you can see, I was pretty heartbroken overall with Mesa Coyoacán.

But before I send all of you Coyacáners home crying, please remember this: I’m a snob when it comes to tacos. Like, an obnoxious one. If you like it, I promise this does not mean that your taste buds are broken—it just means that I should cook for you. It also means that if you order what I liked, you will leave 100% satisfied. So take it from me—go get those damn Margaritas! And try the carnitas, which is always a safe bet, get the guac which was the right taste and consistency, and steer clear of the esquites, at least when the kitchen is packed. But if what you crave is tasty al pastor? I would not recommend. Beware of restaurants with square plates.

Maison Premiere: 298 Bedford Avenue Brooklyn, NY 11211

maisonpremiere.com

New Orleans is one of my favorite places in the whole world, and it’s been a while since I’ve been there. So, when I went down to Maison Premiere, I hoped to get a taste of the city to tide me over for awhile.

First of all, the interior design is impeccable. You slip through the door into a dimly-lit room, and candles twinkle at you from every corner. The circular bar dominates the room, and between that and the absinthe drip it feels like you’ve stepped back into 1850. Even the labels on the liquor bottles look antique. The ambiance is excellent, and it’s perfect for a date.

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The boozehounds reading this will notice that I said “absinthe drip.” Yes, Maison Premiere has nearly thirty different kinds of absinthe available, in addition to a number of absinthe cocktails on the menu. I had the winter absinthe julep ($13), and the notes of orange and mint were a nice complement to the absinthe while not overpowering it.

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Even the non-absinthe cocktails are spectacular. I also tried a Maison Pimm’s Cobbler ($11). Between the Pimms in it and the cranberry syrup, it had the potential to be sickly sweet but the balance was absolutely perfect. My favorite drink, however, was Don’s Champagne Julep ($14): a champagne, vanilla, and allspice dram. Overall, the cocktails at maison premiere are smart, subtle, and sophisticated and I’m looking forward to coming back and continuing to drink through the cocktail menu.

The oyster bar is also exceptional. There is a huge selection that includes a fair number from British Columbia, rather than the usual Long Island oysters that we’re so used to here. The oysters range in price from about $2-$3 each, but if you come for happy hour the oysters are $1 each. There are also platters of seafood available, and ours came out perfectly prepared.

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The only thing I didn’t like about my experience was the service. The service I received was adequate, but the attitude was pretty unfriendly. Both the cocktail and oyster menus are complex, and the servers need to be a bit friendlier to make it more accessible to patrons.

Overall, I’d still recommend Maison Premiere. It’s a bit too pricey to be an every-day hangout, but it’s a great place to go when you’re looking for something with a touch of class.