Claret: Helping you to see the Sunny Side of life since December 2008

According to Wikipedia (a most, uh, reliable source), Claret is a name primarily used in British English for red wine from the Bordeaux region. Claret is also a winebar in Sunnyside, Queens on Skillman. Perched on a cute tree-lined corner, Claret offers outdoor seating in the nicer weather and odd interior seating year-round. I say odd because there's a lot more standing space than seating, which is odd considering it totes itself as a wine bar, not a bar-bar.

Now, while I felt their Cote de Rhone was a little overpriced ($10 for a class), the tempranillo that I consumed was delectable and, as stated on the menu, paired beautifully with the prosciutto, ricotta, fig and hazelnut open sandwich I ordered. However, based on what I tasted, the best thing on the menu was the black truffle macaroni and cheese. Oh man, not too much truffle oil, just enough, and the "cheese" part was gruyere, which is one of my absolute favorites. The hummus was okay, a little too oily and the pita served with it tasted a little too "packaged." Average NYC prices for wine and a pretty decent selection, a strong beer list (especially for a "wine" bar) for those who don't enjoy a glass of white, red, or pink, and excellent food with an option of a tapas for 2 as well as cheese platters (in various sizes, which is nice), and an uber sweet dessert menu. (How romantic.) A good date place--share the food, don't share the wine, or a good place to chillax with some friends and catch up. Can get a little loud though, especially with the music which my friends and I felt was a little much. I really liked the artwork on the walls. I'd go back, especially because I'd like to check out the rest of Skillman--seems pretty hopping, even in the rain!

www.claretwinebar.com

John's Pizza: A Religious Experience? Or Carved Pews?

Strangely enough, I ended up at John's pizza for the first time ever on Monday. And then, within that same week, I ended up there again. Both times by chance, not by planning.

Monday night I attended the famous Window's on the World Wine tasting class. A bit middle-school esque, I left with no real complaints since the wines themselves were mostly delicious. Though, I will still argue that the dilemma with the Italian wines was not "aging" as the world-renowned instructor articulated, but rather the fact that the wines were bottled in 2004 from Tuscany. I happened to be living in Tuscany at the time and was told on many, many occasions that I should not drink wine from 2004 as it was a poor year for the soil. Moving along...

After the wine class, my roommate Dawson and I were feeling rather famished, so we headed to John's. The uptown version is owned by a different owner than the downtown establishment, and is considered to be more fancy (there are actually two uptown, both owned by the same owner). The one by the neon Square is inside an old cathedral, so it's shocking when you enter. From the outside, it seems as though it is any typical NYC hole-in-the-wall pizza joint, except for the rather large sign that states, "No slices." (Something they seem to be quite proud of.) Once you step inside, it's as though you're truly stepping into a different world--huge space, monstrous ceilings, all walks of life for clientele. Now, John's is known for their pizza, but we were both fiending for pasta, so that's what we ordered. My arrabiata was spicy, but the sauce was lacking. The pasta itself was obviously boxed and nothing special. We had a half carafe of chianti that, after our Italian and Spanish wine class, was rather "turned." Not great, but really cool atmosphere.

Then, I had the downtown experience. Walking around on a rainy day, this seemed a good place to warm up and enjoy some pizza and brew. Brad and I ordered the 14 inch meatball pizza, and I ordered a coke--not too much ice, so I was pleased. Brad ordered water. The pizza arrived swiftly, not giving us enough time to enjoy the carvings on the pew-like benches that we were perched on. I say perched because they were insanely uncomfortable, the backs were too straight and the seat was too narrow. The ceilings had the old tin roofs, popular for that neighborhood (Bleeker street, around West Village). On the wall was a mural of the grotto in Capri, known for the blue lights. The meatballs were delectable, sliced thin, offering just enough flavor without overpowering the rest of the pizza. Crust was thin and oven-burned. Neat fact, the oven inside this establishment is the same oven as when the joint opened in 1929. It's still working wonderfully, in my opinion. The cheese was perfectly proportioned, and the sauce was sweet and tangy and an amazing accomplice to the cheese, meatball, and crust. Made me completely forget that I was sitting on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench. We devoured the pizza in about five minutes (well, Brad in two), and felt satiated, but not too full.

Verdict: ORDER THE PIZZA. Downtown is a lot more chill and definitely more my style. (This place was used as a dining experience in the movie "Manhattan"). If they had added fresh basil (which you could order for about two dollars more), this may have been as good as Grimaldi's in Brooklyn (my favorite pizza place). Definitely a close second and something worth checking out, especially if you want something affordable in a crazily priced metropolis.

Lavagna. Like Lasagna with a V

Brad and I went to Lavagna last night. Possibly my favorite tucked-away restaurant in Manhattan for bang for buck. And it's Italian, which is surprising for me, because I'm not necessarily a proponent of Italian restaurants. We drove into Alphabet City (the restaurant is on 5th Street between Ave. A and Ave. B, which usually is fine but turned out to be a mistake, for the parking outlook was quite abysmal. After driving around for at least twenty minutes, we finally parked and walked over. Slightly annoyed with the parking experience, we then were seated at a table touching elbows on either side right next to the kitchen. It was as close as you can get to a German beer hall without a stein. Brad couldn't really hear me from across the table, but both of us could here the first date conversation taking place next to us. Yippeeeee.

However, waiters and waitresses were very attentive with the water, which is good, because Brad is a very dehydrated young fellow. We ordered: homemade pappardelle with rabbit and a glass of my favorite Malbec (Altos Las Hormigas). Brad ordered the same thing, as per usual. Well, when the food came, I forgot that I was cramped between a strange first date and a man in a long sleeved jean shirt. The rabbit was sweet and tender, the pasta was soft and smooth, and the wine was delectable. Man, oh, man. I ate as slowly as possibly, savoring the subtle taste of tyme and salt, and Brad commented that he could have eaten the entire portion in three bites: 1) because it was small, and 2) because it was delicious. He then continued that he wished he could have an entire plate of it. Ditto.

Arthur Bryant's: The best food for the hood of your car

So it's 8:45 PM and Brad and I have been driving for approximately ten hours, mostly through the state of Kansas. I'm not sure if I can recommend driving through Kansas. I can't say it's bland... I can say it's rather, uh, Biblical. Let's just say that we were psyched to be leaving and entering Missouri (pronounced Miss or a). And our first stop was Kansas City. So Kansas City here we come.

I had read that Arthur Bryant's is the most famous BBQ restaurant in the world. Now, being a product of Bessingers in Charleston, South Carolina, I had, and I mean HAD to go to Arthur Bryant's. Now, Kansas City BBQ is known for being tangy, while other BBQs are known to be sweet. So we exit off the highway, starving and pumped, and realize that we're in a pretty lousy neighborhood. Now, all through Kansas we had seen tumbleweed flying across the highway. In this area of Kansas City, it was also deserted, but more Grand Theft Auto style than expansive farmland. But goodness knows this would never take us away from our mission. So we pull into the parking lot, taking care to notice the security car located outside the establishment.

Inside was pretty dismal. People were cleaning up, some people were just finishing their meals. We strolled up to the counter and stared at the people on the other side of the (bullet proof?) glass window. Nobody looked up. Hmmm. Brad, being from outside Philly, felt that this was a Pat's challenge. If he didn't order correctly, perhaps we would get a "mis-steak." So, what to do? Well, I left Brad to his own devices and headed to the restroom. Once I returned, I couldn't help but notice the look on Brad's face. Focused Confusion. I startled him a bit when I smiled and asked what he was looking at so intently. He said, "Just watch." Ok.

Roll out a large piece of maroon package paper. Throw two innocent slabs of white bread on it. Slap a massive amount of pulled pork on top of that. Roll out some waxed paper and throw that on top. Then about 1,000 pickles were thrown on top of that. (even though we both despise pickles--we couldn't say anything. We didn't know if we were being pranked or what and we didn't want to make it worse). Next came a fryer full of french fries. Finally, the man behind the counter rolled it all up, slapped a sticker on it and pushed it under the ledge. Ok...

So we get back in the car since the restaurant is closing and head east (we're returning home. Sigh). But what do we do? We can't unroll this. We have no clue how to eat this. So we pull into a gas station across from where the KC Chiefs and the KC Royals play and proceeded to eat these "sandwiches" on the hood of Brad's car in the romantic gas station lighting.

Tangy, delicious, and enough for a large family. I haven't tried the rest, so it's hard to say it's the best, but I would recommend braving the elements for a venture to Arthur Bryant's. If for nothing else than the looks on people's faces when they order a sandwich for the first time and watch it all go down.

The Gun Barrel, Steak, and Game House

So Brad and I recently drove west. Really far west. I mean, past Pennsylvania. To those states that we East Coast people know exist but can't really draw a map of, if you get my gist. Our first destination was Wyoming, and I made Brad promise that when we got to Jackson Hole, we got to eat something other than his delectable traveling picnic (no sarcasm there, the boy knows how to make a sandwich!). So after waving at Bob Feller, eating turkey, swiss, spinach, and mayo (a great combo), we finally made it to Jackson Hole. (Technically, we made it to Wyoming in about 24 hours... non-stop driving, but we made a pit stop in Cheyenne to, well, sleep, and to go to the ER--see first post...)

So, I'm in Wyoming. What do I want to eat? Something that was just shot outside. So.... I choose the buffalo prime rib, medium rare. Brad gets the same thing (obvi!). We then proceed to eat a ton of bread because we're starving. It's not easy holding a steering wheel strong enough to prevent wind from blowing a jeep off a Wyoming road. So, the meal comes pretty quickly, giving us barely enough time to take in the dead bears, elk, moose, and other "wild" beasts adorning the walls. While the walls were stereotypical, the crowd was incredible. ESPN had just hosted the snowmobiling hill climb (apparently a huge event, enough to make a Motel 6 more than triple in price), and so there were all these snowmobilers in cowboy hats. I spent most of my time trying to understand how that worked.

Anyway, the food comes and it looks awesome. Massive prime rib, a lovely shade of pink, juice dripping everywhere. The string beans were mesquite-esque and delicious. The dipping juice was sort of bland, but rather superfluous anyway. The sweet potato with maple butter was a little off... I liked the sweet potato but was surprisingly disappointed by the overly sweet maple butter. Almost made me miss Vermont, but then I remembered I was about to board Jackson Hole and I just grinned. The prime rib was slightly chewy (possibly because it was buffalo, not East Coast prime rib animal), but delicious. Such a large portion that I couldn't finish. They were sold out of most of the beverages (it was a Sunday night--I guess that's hopping in Jackson, Wyoming) but the two we ordered were available. Overall, an interesting experience. I'd probably try another restaurant out there if I'm fortunate enough to go back (loved the mountain!!!!) but I'm glad I gave guns and game a chance.