Despaña

My daughters and I may have found the perfect spot for a wintertime snack. Not that this tiny Spanish delicacies/sandwich/tapas shop on the eastern edge of Soho is anything new... in fact Despaña has been slicing serrano and such for almost two years now. But after our first visit last week, there's no way we're waiting that long to stop in again.

First up? Tons of free samples of things we really like to eat: several hams, lots of olives, four different kinds of balsamic vinegar, y muchos quesos ricos. Anyway, when we finally made it to the cramped cafe area in back, we went straight for the bocadillos, Spanish-style heros served on crusty, chewy ciabatta. Any one of the ten or so choices sounded good, but we decided to split the Gallego, pressed and served warm, the serrano ham, chorizón and melted arúa ulloa cheese delivering an intensely flavored, perfectly balanced sandwich experience.

For dessert we opted for a double order of churros and hot chocolate, the doughnutty sticks moist and covered in sugar; the sweet cocoa beverage refreshingly liquid, rather than the trendy (though admittedly delicious) sludge most places seem to be serving these days. All in all, this was a totally satisfying snacking adventure.

Despaña is located on Broome Street between Lafayette and Centre. It was pretty empty when we were there, around 3:00 on a Friday afternoon, but I can imagine on weekends having to wait for one of the six stools in the back. The counter workers are all extremely helpful and friendly.

Rheon Cafe

A new quick-bites place—tasty food, counter (as opposed to waiter) service, lunch or a seriously fortifying snack for under $10— is always welcome in any part of town... but in a walking-around neighborhood like Soho, it can mean the difference between grumpy pretend-shopping and a fun, goofing-around sort of day.

All of which is why I was so eager to try Rheon Cafe, with its (somewhat tenuous) Morimoto connection... and so disappointed when Debbie and I showed up at 3:45 last (opening weekend) Saturday and were told that they had already shut down the kitchen. I mean, c'mon guys! The only thing on your menu is cold sandwiches! Anyway, we suffered through a couple of croissants—my chocolate-drizzled pastry looked inviting, but was plasticky and stale; Debbie's regular was, as she put it, "horrible"—marveled at the totally-blew-it, cheesy design, and left thinking, well, that's that.

Two days later, however, I found myself solo and starving in the same nabe, and thought, heck, maybe they're actually serving food this afternoon. And they were. And, I must say, it was pretty good. Totally over-sauced, true, but definitely good. There's only five sandwiches available now (the owner promises 30 varieties, coming soon, so maybe they'll actually use the brick-oven fire that now roars pointlessly at counter's end), and they were out of one, so in one visit I sampled a full 50% of the menu.

First up: half a Roasted Duck sandwich, topped with crispy romaine, cucumber and miso sauce. The meat was tender and juicy, so there's definite potential here, but the whole thing was completely overwhelmed by what seemed like a whole bottle of the sweet, sweet miso. Ask them to please go light on the stuff, or give it to you on the side, and you may have a winner. Next I tried and thoroughly enjoyed the Beet Soup, which was thick and creamy and warm and completely about the beets. Finally I had half of a Grilled Portobello sandwich, which came with many of those canned roasted red peppers, and a ton of chipotle sauce, which I happen to really like, so although this was a total mess—the fillings slipping all around and out of the hardish bread—it was a deliciously satisfying mess. All the sandwiches, by the way, are served on a decent flatbread, which their PR claims is baked on-site, but at least for now that is not true, as Debbie and I watched them unload several crates of frozen loaves on Saturday. Heated up on-site, perhaps they meant?

Rheon Cafe is located on Spring Street between Sullivan and Thompson. They seem to be open only until 4:00, or perhaps 5:00. Closed Sundays.

Cafe Colonial

Hard to believe that Cafe Colonial has been around for 12 years, but there you have it: you really have aged that much since you first spotted the "jungle mural" and bright blue awning on that bustling Nolita corner. Anyway, after all these years, a couple of weeks ago I took my laggard daughters for their first ever meal at this casual Brazilian place before a movie at the Sunshine.... and while the reviews around our table were mixed, there was a least one dish that they they liked so much that I don't think not returning is an option.

I'm speaking, of course, of the Pao de Queijo, or cheese rolls. Now that the great Puff and Pao is closed, we need to get our fix of these gummy, chewy, cheesy, puffy breadstuffs from somewhere... and though Cafe Colonial doesn't offer them in any other variety except regular, these are nice and big and certainly amazing enough to be an absolute requirement with any meal you may have there, whether lunch, brunch or dinner.

We did eat some other things, too. I liked my Steak Salad just fine: the greens were bright and bitter, the meat reasonably juicy, the fries mostly crisp, the balsamic dressing adding just enough sweetness and tang to make it feel a little special. Bo was also happy, munching away at her Santa Fe Salad, a well-handled version (fresh ingredients, nicely balanced) of what I imagine they serve at any number of those family chains as a "taco salad": corn, cheese, lettuce, cabbage and tomato all piled onto a tortilla that's been spread with refried beans and guacamole.

Co, on the other hand, was dealt a disappointment with her Cowboy Rice, an appealing-sounding dish of beef, rice, fried eggs and black beans, but in reality the meat was chewy, the beans bland, and the rice oddly and overly seasoned (not sure what is was, but it wasn't pleasant). For dessert we wolfed a serviceably sweet Chocolate Croissant Bread Pudding and a Brazilian Flan, supposedly "grandma's recipe" and definitely very good indeed... but also definitely not as good as the version they serve a few blocks away at Móle.

Cafe Colonial is located on the corner of Houston and Elizabeth Streets. Your fellow patrons will likely be thin and beautiful.

Plus: Bonus moody photo, courtesy of Co!

Jim Isermann at Deitch Projects

A few years back I asked a friend of mine if she could please recommend a few things to do in Soho to entertain some out-of-town visitors. Her thorough and thoughtful list included this bit of advice: "Deitch usually has cool shows..." Simple enough, but I'm always reminded of (and usually take action on) her almost-throwaway line when I'm wandering Southern Soho—mostly because she was, as usual, totally right.

Even when the art itself doesn't completely engage me, the generally playful Deitch sensibility, the large open space, and, in the summer, the blast of air conditioning, all always make it worth a look. Like last week, for instance, when I stopped in to see Jim Isermann's Vinyl Smash-Up, 1999 - 2007, for which the artist had covered the huge gallery walls floor-to-ceiling with six different decal pieces, all running into one another.

Now, I was less than blown away by these designs, perhaps especially now, in the age of bliks. Isermann's primary palette isn't exactly my favorite, either. But still, there is something powerful about the overall effect of such a big room, vinyled up so bright. For scale, that's my messenger bag on the floor in the picture below.

And if there's not something cool going on inside Deitch Projects, there usually is across the street. On this day, for example, these two papered-on crushed cones...



And this three-dimensional Stickman piece...

Jim Isermann: Vinyl Smash-Up, 1999-2007, will be on exhibit through August 4. Deitch Projects is located on Wooster Street, just south of Grand. There is also a Deitch gallery around the corner, on Grand Street, just east of Wooster.

Harry Potter Place on Mercer Street

Obviously there were launch parties for The Deathly Hallows all over Manhattan (and the country... and the world...), but Co and I decided to hit Harry Potter ground zero: Scholastic headquarters in Soho, at which J.K. Rowling's U.S. publisher shut down Mercer Street and fans by the thousands flocked to be a part of what most were calling, in all sincerity, an historic event. Including us.

Co and I arrived at Harry Potter Place at 7:30, and inadvertantly snuck in through the back way on Spring Street, thereby avoiding a block-long line just to get in to the festivities. After goofing around for a bit with the Whomping Willow and the Muggle Board and such, we were still plenty early enough to got a beautiful spot on the actual book-buying line, just around the corner of Spring on Broadway, right in front of Lucky Jeans and its wide windowsill/bench (see below). This was around 8:30, three-and-a-half hours to go. Thank god for that bench.

Honestly, though, time flew by, with gelato breaks and Boggle competitions and happy chit chat with my line mates and Co and her friends being interviewed by the Times. At 11:30 I did a line check: all the way up Broadway to Houston, around the corner and over again to Mercer. Two short blocks-, two long blocks-long. And then it happened. The final chapter of the ten-year Harry Potter story became a 759-page reality, and the explosive giddiness, the shrieks of joy, the huge smiles (much of all this from adults, mind you) made for a truly memorable moment. Here are some more pictures of our night...

The Whomping Willow really whomped!


Dobby was on line!


The Pensieve: signed first editions of all seven volumes.


The face painting—"Aparecium!"—was ridiculously popular, with six artists working eight hours covering a new face every three minutes or so. And, really, they did an amazing job: there were some freaky-looking folks walking around.


Co putting her message up on the Muggle Board...

...and what it looked like in the end. No one, it seemed, could pass up the chance to say "I [heart] Harry!" or somesuch.


The Knight Bus, used as a video studio for fan messages earlier in the day, returned to the party after dark.


The final countdown...


...to total bedlam!

Savoring the sweet reward. Maybe the cutest part of the night was the subway ride home, because at every stop people got on clutching their prize, looked around the car, smiled to see so many other Potter-ites, and then began reading.


Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows will be available everywhere forever.

Móle

I don't eat much Mexican anymore—this stomach of mine isn't getting any younger—but every once in a while the craving hits, as it did last week, in this case on east Houston Street, fortuitously nearby the newish Móle. Run by the same folks who brought Taco Taco to the Upper East Side, Móle is a small, 30-seat place with a large menu of South-of-the-Border standards as well as slightly more ambitious fare. Dining alone, I decided to try something at both ends of the spectrum. True, as my server/the restaurant's owner said after I ordered, "That's a lot of food" (to which I cleverly retorted, "I know..."), but it gave me a good idea of the kitchen's capabilities. Which are, for the most part, more than satisfactory.

I started with a couple of tacos, prepared the now-ubiquitous traditional way with the fillings piled upon a double bed of soft flour tortillas: one, a Carne Asada, the beef nicely charred and tender, the marinade a little sour, perhaps, but nonetheless a satisfying version of the taco-stand staple; the other—and definitely the better of the pair—a Taco Taco, consisting of sliced pork marinated with smoked jalapenos and then sauteed with cabbage, the whole mess a terrific combination of heat and sweet. This really hit the spot.

For my entree I tried a special, the Guava-Glazed Pork Chops, and, unfortunately, was treated to a textbook example of why I usually steer clear of this sort of thing when eating out. Although I enjoyed some good juicy bites around the fatty edges and near the bones—and the glaze had a nice tang to it—I also had to contend with vast swaths of hopelessly dry, chewy meat, much of which, in fact, I left uneaten. The dish wasn't a total loss, however, as it came with a creamy green mound of excellent mashed potatoes with roasted poblano peppers.

But if my dinner had its ups and downs, dessert was an unqualified, spectacular success, a huge serving of what may well be the best flan I've ever eaten: the consistency firm; the eggs, the caramel, the secret-ingredient condensed milk, all in perfect balance; the thick whipped cream an unexpectedly delightful companion. If you're a flan fan, and you're strolling through the neighborhood, I urge you stop in, sit at the bar, and treat yourself to this sweet cylinder of total custard heaven.

Móle is located on the west side of Allen Street, just south of Houston. The decor is tiles and kitch, the service friendly and able. As of two days ago, the liquor license was pending.

Ed's Lobster Bar

Killing time last Saturday evening and needing an early, solo, Soho supper, I headed over to Ed's Lobster Bar to see if his Lobster Roll is as good as everyone's been saying. Heck, it's summer, right? Might as well enjoy it with a little crustacean....

Ed's is a narrow, New Englandish place with one long bar (which makes it good for dining alone) and a few tables in the back. I imagine it gets mobbed in prime time, but I had no problem getting a seat at around 5:45. They have a raw bar, bowls of chowder, some cooked fish dishes, a salad or two... and, the main (Maine?) attraction, Lobster Roll. Which I loved even more than I expected.

Basically what you have here is a mound of perfectly-cooked lobster meat—tail and claw—mixed with just a teeny bit of mayo and piled into a buttery, lightly toasted hot dog roll. The french fries were hot, salty and spuddy... maybe cooked a little less than I like, but next time I'll order them well-done. The pickles were incredibly intense and vinegary, offering a nice counterpoint to the sweet sandwich. All in all, an excellent plate of food, served up fast and friendly-like.

Ed's Lobster Bar is located on Lafayette Street just north of Spring. The Lobster Roll is listed as "market price", which on this day was $23, and was plenty of food to make a satisfying meal.

Aurora Soho

Reliably good, reasonably-priced restaurants are a welcome addition to any neighborhood, but when the apparently much-loved Aurora of Williamsburg opened an outpost in western Soho recently, the anticipation machine cranked up a notch or two. Debbie and I went on Saturday night to sample the molto-appealing rustic Italian menu and see what the excitement was about. In the end, we weren't totally convinced, but there were enough truly tasty moments to give the place another shot once the kitchen gets settled in a bit.

As an antipasti Debbie ordered the I Carciofi, a crispy artichoke and white bean salad with fresh mint and shaved pecorino, all of which was too chewy, too dry, mostly flavorless. There are much, much better versions of this dish all over town... at Otto, for instance, and most especially at Col Legno on East 9th Street, which Debbie turned me on to a couple of years ago. Meanwhile my La Quaglia was more successful, a rich and succulent roasted quail stuffed with kale, foie gras (yes, you were right, gorgeous), leeks and apple puree. This had excellent balance, lots of flavor and a fun crunch.

We both opted for le paste as our mains, and, again, I chose the clear winner of the two: Le Pappardelle, for which the wide pasta was infused with black pepper and tossed with tender braised veal cheeks and pieces of crisp asparagus. Although perhaps better suited for winter—it definitely had that comforting "brown" flavor of well-made hearty stews, which also perhaps confused the asparagus a bit—I was hungry, and this totally satisfied. Debbie's Gli Gnocchi was perfectly pillowy, and the tomato sauce fresh and bright, but the crab-meat topping seemed not to really go with anything else, making the whole dish feel a little off.

Then, dessert, which was delicious: a milky, intense fennel pollen Pannacotta with delightfully sour, caramelized rhubarb and sweet chocolate sauce. Not Debbie's thing, true, but it actually may have been my favorite part of the meal.

Aurora Soho is located on Broome Street between West Broadway and Thompson. We made reservations for 7:00, which maybe wasn't necessary, but the place was pretty full the whole time we were there. Also noteworthy: the generous, interesting breadbasket.

Caffe Falai

Debbie and I first tried to eat at the bright new Caffe Falai about a month ago, showing up at around 7:15 on a Sunday night, only to be told that the kitchen was closed. It was their opening weekend, they said. They had been really busy, they were tired, they were shutting down early. I didn't realize at the time that the kitchen stops taking orders at 8:00 even when they're not tired, but still... I don't think I've ever heard of a New York City restaurant turning away people because the chefs wanted to go home.

Be that as it may, we tried again on a recent Sunday evening (it's in an excellent post-Angelika location, on Lafayette, just south of Prince), got in just under the wire, and totally enjoyed a tasty, relatively inexpensive meal. First came the bread, which was excellent and plentiful: two different kinds of rolls, plus several warm, freshly pressed thick slices. Next up was a delicious Ricotta Flan with roasted cherry tomatoes and arugula drizzled with balsamic vinegar. The ricotta was somehow both creamy and airy, and, no surprise, went well with the sweet tomatoes and bitter greens.

We both had a pasta for our main dish. Debbie's Papardelle with Cauliflower and Mushrooms in an almondy, buttery sauce was delicious: full-flavored, well-balanced, rich and creamy. The only downside was that the noodles weren't hot, or even warm... as if they had been cooked some time ago, and the kitchen figured that dousing the dish with a hot sauce would suffice. It did not. Meanwhile, I was tucking in to my Potato Tortelloni with Bolognese, and loving every bite. The sweet, meaty sauce made for a nice counterpoint to the soft spuds tucked inside the chewy pockets of pasta.

I've read that Caffe Falai is really more of a breakfast and lunch place, and that may be so... but I doubt the waitress hands you a goodie bag filled with two free loaves of bread during the day, as they did to us when we left at around 8:45 at night.