I Could Die Dreaming All Day

Pete met GG at the old-school Westside Coffee Shop (WSC) on Church just below Canal--aka, the epicenter of bootleg goods in Manhattan; nothing but Caribbean guys and Chinese ladies selling knock-off purses and watches out of Hefty bags, and Indian men pitching perfumes and colognes--for some Hispanic eating. WSC's cubano is slightly non-traditional; it's got big chunks of pulled pork, thin slices of ham, and melted swiss cheese, but it lacks the pickles and garlic mayo, and the bread is more like a pressed hero roll than the traditional Cuban bread which it's usually served on--it's still delicious though, and their fries are cooked in pork oil, making them super flavorful. The black beans and yellow rice, especially once a heavy dose of hot sauce is added, are also muy bien. Washed down la comida con the thinking Puerto Rican's drink of choice, Malta India--the taste was a bit too overpowering for Pete, he grew up on Waldbaum's generic root beer after all, but it reminded GG of malzbier--and the highlight of the meal: the morir sonando (translation: to die dreaming). It's a heavenly mix of orange juice, milk, and cane sugar, and it's served chilled--it's probably the most popular thing in the DR outside of the merengue and baseball. Pete thinks it tastes like a melted orange creamsicle or a less sweet version of Stewart's Orange 'n Cream. Hit La Colombe for coffee afterwards and then floated on back to the space station. LaCock's Lunch-O-Meter: A solid six inches.

The Pizza and the Puff

Pete wanted a lunch as classic as soup and a sandwich, a burger and fries, or fish and chips, so headed to Carmine and Sixth for pizza and cream puffs from Joe's Pizza and Beard Papa. Joe's has been around--albeit in a different location originally--since around the time Pete uttered "Me, too." for the first of many times to come; however, their slices still maintain the four classical pizza elements: crispy crust (you hear a slight "crack" when you fold the slice); tomatoey tasting sauce (not sugary sweet); the right amount of cheese (like pornography, you know it when you taste it); good price ($2.50 for a regular slice). For dessert, Pete went next door to Beard Papa for super friendly service (Pete: "Thank you." Them: "Thank you." Pete: "Thank you." Them: "Thank you."), strong coffee, and this week's cream puff of the week: Cookie Crunch. It was basically the original vanilla cream puff with a coating of something resembling crushed up Cookie Crisp cereal. Pete finds it interesting that Beard Papa maintains such a big beard--well, other than the obvious fact that his name is Beard Papa--because if he is anything like Pete, whenever he eats a cream puff (and I imagine he eats a lot) he walks with custard smeared all over his beard the rest of the day. A solid six on the LaCock Lunch-O-Meter.

One Tenor, Two Sandwich Spots

If anyone actually read Pete's blog, Pete would stop bravo-ing the sandwiches at Puffy's Tavern out of fear that it would become as hectic as Alidoro (see previous post and picture for further explanation). Readership being what it is, Pete has no qualms highly recommending the sandwiches and laid-back atmosphere. Pete had the Pavarotti--thinly sliced salami, smoked mozzarella, artichoke hearts, and sweet peppers on a cut-the-roof-of-your-mouth crusty stirato. It is a sandwich that the Maestro himself would be proud to eat three or four of in one sitting between meals--if he wasn't dead.

The King, and the Egg Custard King

Pete met up with GG in Chinatown at the King of cheap-eat spots, Vanessa's Dumpling House, to fight the below-freezing temperatures with crispy, juicy pork and cabbage/chive dumplings (8), a fluffy sesame pancake with egg, tasty pork buns (3), and so-so miso soup. The best part: All of this costs about the same as one ride on the Cyclone; Pete, however, strongly cautions against doing one before the other. Next, Pete and GG headed down and around to the Egg Custard King Cafe on the corner of Grand and Forsyth. The plan was a doughnut and coffees, but GG's curiosity got the better of GG. (Note: Do not touch the food items unless you plan on purchasing them--even if they are wrapped in cellophane. Note II: The answer to "What's in that?" is "It's good." followed by one of the items being put on your tray.) One sesame ball (strangely tasty for something so slimy); one sugar doughnut filled with black bean paste (really good but not recommended by four out of five), one giant yellow sponge cake (would be the only dessert left standing after the apocalypse), two thick noodles wrapped around pork and green onions (bakery and cafe might be a more appropriate name), and two coffees later... we owed them... less than five dollars and we were steeled for the cold walk back to our respective underground fortresses. Pete doesn't think all the sweets are necessarily treats, but Pete loves saying, "Egg Custard King Cafe."

The LaCock's Creed

Neither rain nor snow... nor gloom... shall stay Pete from his appointed lunch rounds. The beauty of the snowy-white morning had already turned into the annoyance of the slushy-sidewalk afternoon--from pretty to shitty in Manhattan time--but Pete and Spaceman were craving a wintry mix of soup and tamales so they sloshed off to Rice on Elizabeth Street. Spaceman had the Mexican chicken soup--avocado, tomato, corn, rice, and cilantro--as well as the chicken mole and chicken tomatillo tamales; Pete had the tamales, too, but he opted out of the all-fowl lunch and instead had the caldo verde: a Portuguese spinach soup with potato and chorizo. The soup was good, especially after Pete doused it in hot sauce, and Pete's often disappointed in tamales--too dry, too much stringy mystery meat--but not this time. Rice's are moist, the meat doesn't taste like muppet, and they're served with a smooth, peppery sauce--the chicken mole tamale is Pete's clear favorite. Pete ended the meal with a cup of Jack's coffee and a chocolate cake donut from Balthazar Bakery. On the newly established LaCock Lunch-O-Meter, today's colorful meal gets seven and a half inches.

The Wandering Gentile

Verily I say unto you. There will be some standing in line here, which shall not taste of the deep-fried schnitzel or bread crumb-covered hot dogs stuffed into baguettes and sauced up, till they see it has the blessing of Rabbi Yisroel P. Gornish. (Matthew 16:28) Pete and Mackey Sasser trekked off to Midwood--meandering around multiple Flatbush neighborhoods on the pilgrammage--to experience the manna that is the schnitzel sandwich at Schnitzi on Coney Island Avenue. Pete did not waddle away disappointed either, the sinful gut-bomb goodness of the Schnitzi would make even Baby Jesus cry; Mackey found his Italian a bit too seasoned though. Pete even fashioned a bib out of a plastic bag so that the chimichurri sauce wouldn't drip all over his one remaining clean shirt. Schnitzi's is closed Fridays and on Holocaust Remembrance Day--which prompted Superstar and Pete to wonder out loud after walking up there one day last May: Now who's getting screwed? Also of note: As far as I can tell, the tip jar is merely a prop--maybe because the Torah forbids you from making your brother pay interest on victuals? (Deuteronomy 23: 20-21) Weary from his 13-mile exile, Pete picked up a chocolate croissant from Blue Sky Bakery and a cup of coffee from Blue Marble to celebrate his prodigal son-like return to Cobble Hill.

Bam! No Cummerspeck for Me, Please

After another come-from-behind one-point win, Pete headed over to Toby's Public House to celebrate the football victory. Started with an endive salad that had caramel, almonds, pecorino cheese, and apples, and then split a polenta with gorgonzola and truffle oil topped with crimini, and the speck pizza. (In German, Cummerspeck means "bacon worry", i.e. overeating due to emotional stress.) The speck is thinkly sliced and there are hints of juniper to it, and it goes well the with mozzarella, mascarpone, and arugula. Toby's has a sort of fratty, sports bar feel but the food is excellent. Pete also took a bag of Bam's root beer beef jerky, which is surprisingly spicy, home with him. Pete has previously had the Dr. Pepper flavor as well--it tasted like Dr. Pepper! Bam himself was behind the bar serving Pete his Toby's Cheap Beer beers; Pete thinks that Bam could do for jerky what Iggy did for drugs--make you wonder why repeatedly doing something that is supposedly bad for you--eating beef jerky, mainlining heroin--gives you the physique of a Greek statue.