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I haven’t updated in a while because I’ve been really busy with work and moving. Just to post something, here’s a particularly passionate Yelp review I wrote tonight.
LA SIRENE (558 Broome St., NYC)
This tiny little bistro tucked away on the West side (almost in Tribecca) was a completely unexpected treat. The Prix Fixe dinner for $25 was an enormous bargain, considering the amount of food we got. The portions were absurdly (and delightfully) generous for New York City French cuisine, and the atmosphere, though cramped, was fun and relaxed. Each reservation seating is given a luxurious two hours for its meal, so there’s plenty of time to luxuriate.
I had the French Onion soup, which was light and delicious, while my friend started off with a duck liver paté that was quite good. But my excitement didn’t really start until our plates of musssels came out. These were succulent and delicious, and soaking in a sauce/soup that was incredible. I had the wine sauce variation, but I regret not getting what my friend did: a light creamy apple curry sauce. After finishing the muscles we indulged in the soup and every speck of the flavorful ingredients that added to its flavor.
The waitress, despite manning the dining room herself, was incredibly attentive, constantly noticing our need for more bread to soak up the sauce. The chef and owner was regularly out and about the dining room, and when I asked the waitress what a particular desert was (its description, in slightly mangled English, wasn’t all that helpful) he nudged in excitedly to explain it himself. It turned out to be one of the most spectacular things I’ve ever eaten, the Sabayon Chaud aux fruits du moment. A hot assortment of liquor fruit compote topped with a frothy egg yoke top, then lightly grilled until the yolk becomes almost a thin layer of crepe. It was an absolutely moving experience that left me near tears.
I treasure places like La Sirene. It’s tiny, their hours are short, and they are missing amenities like a liquor license and a credit card machine, but they are happy to prove to those that give them a chance that these things are merely secondary, and will dazzle you with an attention to detail and a pure love for their art that is second to none. We are blessed for their very presence.
I’ve been listening to a lot of NPR lately, mostly in podcast form. (Thank you, Apple!) One of their podcasts is nothing but a compilation of all their food-related stories. Me like.
So the podcast came up on my iPhone this weekend and what followed was a 9-minute talk with a correspondent as she pretty much shat her pants over the wonder that is… FIGS.
Yes, figs. “They taste NOTHING like Fig Newtons!” she gushed. “They are the world’s most perfect food! They go with ANYTHING!” The woman was so enthusiastic it was as if she’d had the Fig Commission hire Tom Cruise to dip his balls in honey and tea bag her.
She was persuasive. I thought for a minute, and realized that I’d never tried figs either, though I’d seen them at the 24-hour produce stand near my apartment for many years on end. In fact, the only person I’d ever even seen consume figs was Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal during the last scene of the mostly crappy Silence of the Lambs sequel. And he was a serious foodie!
So I stopped at the produce stand today and bought a crate. They’re good, but nothing special. Hardly anything worth dampening one’s panties over. They do have a sweet, delicate flavor and a pleasant aroma… but the “perfect food”?? Methinks NPR’s cooking contributor needs a second hobby.
My friend Mayumi and I decided we were hankering for seafood, but wanted to try someone new. My usual seafood joint, Elias Corner, hasn’t been quite so hot in a while. All I can say is, thank God for the internet, because a quick search of my neighborhood revealed a treasure of a small restaurant that I can easily say is the best seafood experience I quite possibly have ever had.
The place is called Sabry’s, and it’s a little Egyptian place with a sidewalk café so far down Steinway you’re practically on the Triborough Bridge on ramp. I’d actually never been this far down Steinway before, and was unaware of the large Egyptian population just under my nose. (Mayumi insists that I must try real Egyptian hookah, as Indian hookah just doesn’t hold a candle to it.)
Sabry’s looks quite a bit different than it does in its New York Times write-up of 3 years ago. It’s now full of bronze and metals, reflecting an elegance that its simple menu wouldn’t: the prices are low (no item is over $20) and there’s not a drop of alcohol to be found. As Sabry is Muslim, there is strictly no drinking at his restaurant. Instead, there are fresh squeezed juices of a quality rarely seen. We ordered the lemonade, and was treated to a delicately sweetened version of fresh lemon juice. It was out of this world.
But what of the food? Well, we started with babaganush and salad, and couldn’t resist some mussels in red sauce. There were no mussels, but rather clams, and so we resigned ourselves to picking at these pathetic little rubbery things. When the plate came out, we were utterly shocked: these were the biggest, meatiest, most tender clams I’ve ever had. It redefined what I thought clam should taste like. Seasoned in a tomato reduction with onion, cilantro and whole coriander, all talking stopped until they were reduced to shells. Then we grabbed spoons and started lapping up the sauce. It was THAT GOOD. And the bread, oh, the bread! Fresh flatbread, seemingly baked just for us.
Then the main course came out: one was called tagine, a stew (with the same base for the sauce that the clams came in) with squid and grilled shrimp, both out of this world. And then the fish came out. We ordered whole, fried fish, a whiting and a larger one I couldn’t remember. Crispy skinned and lovely, we quickly reduced both to skeletons.
Afterwards Sabry himself came out to ask how everything was, and we told him. A very friendly man of large proportion (as a great chef should be, see: Ratatouille) he and Mayumi chatted about the delights of his hometown, a place she had recently visited. It was a glorious night.
Few restaurants have moved me like this place has. I immediately ran home and wrote a review on Yelp. Everyone must learn of Sabry’s. It’s a treasure.
It takes a lot to get me excited about food, but last night I had a meal that was truly exquisite. If you ever get a chance to try out Tierras Colombianas, the amazing Columbian restaurant in Astoria, Queens… by all means do so.
If you’ve seen the recent Tony Bourdain episode in Columbia, you’ve seen the country’s amazing culinary tradition, including the “traditional breakfast/lunch”: a heaping mound of rice and beans plus a big two-inch cube strip of bacon, a flank steak, half an avocado, and a fried egg. It’s enough to feed most people two or three times over. Well, they have that and that’s been my go-to dish for quite some time. But last night I was feeling adventurous and got the beef tongue.
Now, I’ve had beef tongue before, and I have to say it’s one of my favorite parts of the animal if it’s done right. Tender and succulent, it’s perfect when sliced and grilled over an open flame a la Korean barbeque. But this time was an absolutely new experience: stewed in salted tomatoes, it was so tender you could cut it with your fork, but with enough body to give you something to chew on. It had the texture of a VERY high quality steak done rare.
And the flavor? A rush of natural beef and stewed salty tomato. I was in heaven. Complimented by the sticky Columbian style rice and beans, it pretty much made my night.
Now, I’m told that their wines suck and occasionally you get bad service, but I’ve never had a problem, and frankly when eating third world food it feels much more natural to have a coke product. That IS what they do there, no?

