Wanna do some pickle backs?

How does that sound to you? Sounds delightful to me! But sitting at a table at Whiskey Town with my brother, his wife, her sister and my cousin, all the reactions I got were total gross-out. Once I explained what the pickle back was and how great it is, the reactions staid the same. All but Jenny (sis-in-law’s-sis), she got it, she understood how awesome the whiskey-pickle juice one-two punch can be.

See, whiskey shots are fine and dandy, and usually the shot of choice in most crowds (unless you’re down on the Jersey Shore, then it’s the Jäger-bomb), but what isn’t find and dandy is the lingering whiskey burn in the back of your throat. Bleh. Hence, the pickle juice chaser. It washes down any remnants of Jameson in pickley goodness. Plus, I used to drink it out of the bottle as a kid anyways, so this duo shot really brings it back.

 

Now the pickle back is spreading! Get wasted on pickle juice at the below institutions:

Whiskey Town
29 East 3rd Street
Manhattan
(212) 505-7344

Bushwick Country Club
618 Grand Street
Brooklyn
(718) 388-2114
(The pickle back originator, yet it’s popular opinion WT offers a pickle juice of superior qual-i-tay)

Nancy Whiskey Pub
1 Lispenard St
Manhattan
(212) 226-9943

The Breslin (off the menu)
16 W 29th St
Manhattan
(212) 685-9600

Manhattan Restaurant Ennui

Screw you, Jay Leno. Really, I do not like you. I’m sick of your ego and your chin and I want my obscene, seven foot tall red head back. I don’t want to hope failure upon anyone – well I do, but I know that’s wrong so I have to show self-restraint and keep my karma on a semi-good balance – so I hope you get an incurable butt itch or something else severely uncomfortable for the rest of your days. I just had to say that and get it out of my system.

 

Anyways, what I was really here to ‘scuss was how I need to take a break from Manhattan. Well, not the city itself, but the restaurant scene. Well, not enjoying the restaurant scene, but working in the Manhattan restaurant scene. I tried to stick it through, and I think I did pretty well, but after five years of long commutes to and through Manhattan from Staten Island, I’m tired! In the time it takes me to get to work (about an hour and fifteen) I could take a flight to D.C.! Or the time it took me to get to school via bus-ferry-train-train (two and a half hours) I could have driven to Atlantic City! Or Woodstock! Or I could have flown to Detroit! Not that I find any reason to take a flight to Detroit… the point being, I love Manhattan with all my heart, but this long distance relationship is very trying.

 

Things were so much easier when I lived in Fort Greene. Manhattan and I would spend so many endless summer nights together, and it never mattered how late I was out because I had an unlimited metrocard, the Q ran every fifteen minutes aaaalll night long and I lived a fifteen minute train ride away. The commute, which took me over the Manhattan Bridge, treated me to a beautiful view of the harbor between Brooklyn and Manhattan and its sister bridges, nightly (how romantic!). Manhattan and I were inseparable. Until I went back home.

Maybe I should have taken a job somewhere where the food meant more than giving the b&t crowd what they want. Tacky dishes and oversized portions. It’s sickening! “Corn cappuccino” I think was what irked me the most. It was soup. No, broth.  It was a boring corn broth with some foam on top. If the rest of the menu doesn’t reflect a passion for hi-tech gastronomy, then why do it at all? That’s why the corn capp is a failure, its not honest, it’s show-boaty! So there’s the cappuccino, and the soy-ginger salmon, and the halibut with gnocchi, and the rib-eye, the hanger steak with chimichurri, and the soufflé. Have you caught on to what cuisine we’re actually supposed to be enjoying? Did you figure out from what part of the world we’re focusing our flavors from, or drawing inspiration? Neither did I. It must be an eclectic Japa-Hispan-Ita-French-erican land. What brilliance!

 

I need to step out, take a deep breath and find a place where I can be around some real, good, honest, love-filled cooking. Yet, what holds me back is the personal thing I have. Everyone has a thing and mine is “don’t work where you love.” I’m not saying don’t love where you work. I hope you love where you work; I want to love where I work! But if you already love a place, my personal example would be Bar Boulud, it would not be a good idea to become a behind-the-scenes member. It can and will ruin, or at least taint, your love for said establishment! You love it because of the ambiance, the ambiance from your outside point of view (and you can come and go as you please because you don’t work there!) You love it because of the delicious food, the delicious food you don’t see a hundred times a night, four nights a week. You also love the friendly staff, of which you don’t know personally and so niceties are required, and the management is just stellar, because you don’t work under them. See my point? I came very close to getting burned by the love fire when I interviewed with Boulud’s Dinex group. I was so honored and enthralled that they were interested in. I beefed up my resume and I put on my best smile for the first interview with HR at the Dinex headquarters. So there I sat, waiting in the conference room surrounded by personal photos on Daniel himself and all his awards. I’m talking James Beard awards, Michelin Stars, Wine Spectator awards, and on and on just lining the walls (oh man! Ooohhh man!). I sat and soaked in my surroundings in awe, just hoping the woman interviewing me would be preoccupied for just a little longer. She loved me (woohoo!) and referred me to Bar Boulud (omg omg omg).

 

From there things got tense, fast. The GM was one of the most intimidating Frenchmen I’ve met,  to date. Not that I’ve met a lot-a lot of Frenchmen, but I’ve met plenty of foreign men! Now, this man isn’t even my boss yet, if he even will be at all, but he goes on telling me how he is very particular about what his hostesses wear, how they stand, where they stand, punctuality, language, attitude, poise (poise?? Shit…all women in France have natural poise… crap crap crap), memorizing regulars and their likes and dislikes, yadda yadda and more yadda. Oh man, this is already crumbling the façade that keeps real Bar Boulud hidden from me. I don’t like this! So, I declined on the offer. Phew! That was close. Too close.

 

So if not the cheap and gaudy mega-restaurants, and if not the amazing fine dining restaurants from truly talented chefs, then where? Where will I be happy until I get a degree and a job and become a real person?

I’ve decided to venture. It would only be a personal venture, since I’m actually going to stay closer to home. There are two approaches I’m deciding between: sniff out hidden jewels in Staten Island, or work in well known, foodie-respected establishments in Brooklyn. So will it be Marlow & Sons or Dosi Café?  Juliette or Angelina’s? I have little to no opinion on both sides and the Brooklyn food scene is something that I am sadly unfamiliar with.

 

Like Anthony Bourdain, I’m afraid I missed the boat on the whole Brooklyn chefs movement. Of course, the next big “up and coming” NYC restaurant destination borough is Queens, so does this make Bk passé or a well established land of gastronomic giants? I think that’s up for discussion another time…