Atlantic Chip Shop

“We’ll fry any packaged foods you bring in.” Those words are enough to bring a devilish grin to my face, conjure up ways to corrupt my diet, put fear in the eyes of physical trainers everywhere, and remove any good standing I have earned with my cardiologist. But fortunately, Mount Sinai Hospital wasn’t close enough for him to scold me.

Colossal amounts of traffic aren’t enough to deter me from trying a place, but it can certainly discourage a return visit. So after driving for nearly ninety minutes for a ride that should have taken twenty-five, my objectivity had been overshadowed by frustrations. Nevertheless, a total of five others agreed to tag along as we continue to become experienced gourmands.



The Atlantic Chip Shop has media and Zagat ratings to support its reputation. Time Out magazine ranked it the best “fish and chips” in New York. Located on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn, NY, this is the sister store to the flagship restaurant (named the Park Slope Chip Shop) on Fifth avenue (also in Brooklyn). Festooned with all things British, this pub was covered with seemingly unsurprising memorabilia. The Union Jack was found in countless spots and while I’ve never traveled across the pond, it seemed authentic. This establishment is definitely a departure from the banality of our standard United States bar, which often lacks American regalia.

The restaurant’s flare was not overshadowed by the expected menu fare. Predictably, UK staples such as bangers and mash, steak and kidney pie, ploughman’s lunch, Scottish eggs, Sheppard’s pie, and of course fish and chips, all attracted our attention.

For an appetizer, I ordered the deep fried pizza ($3.50). I never thought of frying that either, but since this is a food frying paradise, it was worth a shot. Two slices arrived and I was ecstatic. I looked around the table to apprehensive faces, ignored the screams of horror from my arteries and dug in. The cheese was oozy and melty. The crunch of the fry batter was fantastic. It wasn’t too greasy and you could taste all of the components of the pizza slices. We passed it around, and the trepidation soon turned to pleasant surprise. Everyone enjoyed it.


Dry Blackthorn Cider

The Chip Shop also offers numerous microbrews so I tried their Dry Blackthorn Cider ($6). That was very good, and comparable to any of the alcoholic ciders you may find. This British version of cider was light and sweet and it did hit the spot. Beer enthusiasts might hesitate to classify it as a “beer,” and I would agree. But for a seldom drinker like myself, it was satisfactory.



All of the adults ordered fish and chips. Three of us ordered the cod ($12.00), and I ordered the haddock ($12.75). From an aesthetic standpoint, they are indistinguishable once they are fried, but the tastes are different. The cod is lighter and flakier, where the haddock was thicker and heavier. However, both were excellent. The fry batter didn’t get soggy and adhered to the fish well. I would have preferred that they let it drain just slightly, but I have a feeling they wished to get it out to us piping hot. You could also tell that the fish were lightly seasoned once they were taken out of the fryer as well. A dash of malt vinegar before every few bites made each mouthful sing brightly.

Each of the chips (French fries) were good. They weren’t huge steak fries or curly fries you’ll find at a hot dog stand. They weren’t perfectly crisp nor were they soggy. The chips were simply crisp and moist; more importantly appetizing. They served well as the supporting cast member of the dish, so that the fish remained the star. It was a complement and I prefer it that way.



The kids all ordered macaroni and cheese ($6). Served with a side of peas, this was a large portion for a kid of any size and shape. While this dish is standard comfort food fare, I found it rather impressive. It may be difficult to differentiate this mac n cheese from the kind you would find at a barbeque, but there are subtleties. The chef wouldn’t reveal the secret blend of cheeses that was used, but I didn’t detect any sharp cheddar or pungent bleu cheeses. The broiler had created a light golden crust of cheese on the top which added depth to the flavor profile. Each bite made you want even more. While the adults absolutely raved, the kids were less passionate. “The cheese seemed as if it wasn’t all melted” and “the taste seemed weird” were common responses to the British interpretation.



Our dessert round was where I amplified my likelihood of having bypass surgery. One of the trademarks of Chip Shop is that they will fry one any packaged good. And expectedly, that range will cover the creative to the disgusting; wherever you imagination takes you. We stuck with the menu offerings: A fried Snickers bar, fried Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, apple/black berry crumble with custard and two rice puddings. We decided against fried Twinkies, fried Oreos or fried Twix.

Served in a small, white bowl, the apple/black berry crumble was tremendous. The presentation was clean and neat. Not overly sweet, the custard provided a smooth complement to the sweet and plump berries. I also liked this dessert because it fits what I would think belongs on this menu. It was classy, uncompromising and but also simple. I would recommend this to others.

Fried Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups (two of them), came with dusting of powdered sugar. It was enjoyable, but for some reason, I was expecting the peanut butter to have been softened due to the deep fryer. And while I did enjoy it, it was just ok. The chocolate did manage to melt and provide a divine texture.



The fried Snickers bar puts you on cloud nine. The heat of the deep fryer creates a creamy interior of caramel and nougat. Different textures of crunch are experienced when you bite through the fry batter and into peanuts. I like it when the desserts like this are offered because it seems like a departure from the type of fare you’d expect in a British pub. And while that may not always work for the clientele, it fits here. It was unbelievable and the most popular dessert at the table.



Our server was kind enough to remind us that the rice pudding was served warm, and therefore not the bowl of poorly executed gelatinous goop you might find in careless diner. Everyone enjoyed the rice pudding, but a sweet touch could have enhanced it for my tastes. The warmth of the dish brought it distinction and was unobjectionable. However, I would probably pass on it next time.

Service was very good. Our server, who may have been the proprietor, was personable and amusing. He was kind enough to tell us about the success and joked about the things he has been asked to fry.

Dante may have had it wrong. One of the Circles of Hell should certainly have been fried food. It’s the culinary quagmire I find myself in more times than I choose to admit. It’s what makes Paula Deen’s recipes so mindboggling, and keeps fitness clubs in business.

For seven people, the total bill was an extraordinarily reasonable $117 before tip. I would certainly go there again, but probably on an annual basis. I was impressed with the whole experience and recommend it to others. The adventure was accompanied with a $115 parking ticket, because apparently, bus stops extend the length of a half city block now.

The Spotted Pig

There are the places people will really want to try, places they wish to avoid and places they’ve never heard of. The Spotted Pig in the West Village of Manhattan stands as a place I have heard of but that’s where it ended.

The brainchild of owners Ken Friedman and chef April Bloomfield, The Spotted Pig fits the subcategory of “gastro-pub,” where it fuses English/Irish cuisine with Italian undertones. The result is noticeable appreciation for fresh ingredients on a menu that is not typical bar fare. The pick of many professional critics, the establishment is clearly an atypical dining experience. This wouldn’t be the place for the chowhound to carry out gluttonous behavior, but the portion sizes are considerably larger than your upscale eatery.

Joined by three others, we sat at the bar in the recently renovated second floor, which increases the capacity to 100 seats.

For our appetizers, we ordered deviled eggs ($3), pork cheeks, and Shibumi oysters ($36); I’ve never heard of them either.



The deviled eggs were excellent. The implausible price was explained when an order consists of only two. Covered in chives, the eggs were well seasoned, creamy and delicious.


Pork Cheek (gone before the camera made it out)

Served with dandelion greens, pork cheeks are the type of dish that rewards you for taking culinary risks. These divine jowls fell apart at the touch of the fork. The fattiness of the dish caused it to melt in your mouth. The dandelion greens kept bitterness and bite that flawlessly contrasted the meat. Split three ways, this completely unhealthy but utterly irresistible appetizer was magnificent.



We could have ordered six oysters for $18, but that’s just impractical. It was for two people. Perish the thought. The raw oysters were brought on the clichéd tray of ice with lemon juice and mignonette (shallot, cracked pepper and vinegar sauce) accompaniment. Each mollusk was perfectly shucked and cleaned. The sauce provided a depth of flavor to the smooth natural consistency while the minced shallots added a mild crunch to the dish. I was afraid of an acid redundancy with the lemon juice and vinegar from the mignonette, but was pleased when it did not. Without restraint, however, you could easily overpower it with too much of either. When my half was complete, I realized I could easily have slurped down a whole order.



For my entrée, I ordered the Cubano sandwich with mixed baby lettuces ($17). I am a huge fan of Cubans and have had many including making them myself. Classically, the sandwich has glazed ham, roasted pork, Swiss cheese, pickles and yellow mustard on Cuban bread. Some versions will mistakenly use mayonnaise. Chef April Bloomfield’s interpretation might upset traditionalists with the additions of chopped jalapenos and diced cornichons. While I can appreciate Bloomfield’s efforts to be unique, the jalapenos were excessive. The sandwich also utilized a gruyere cheese, a commonly used and emphatic upgrade to Swiss. It is nuttier and more savory. This added distinct intensity to the sandwich. Overall, the sandwich was very good. The side dish was not actually mixed baby lettuce but an arugula salad. It was extraordinarily fresh, but perhaps just slightly overdressed with its lemon juice and oil. The acid seemed overkill as an unconventional palate cleanser. Perhaps it would have not felt that way had I eaten some between bites of the Cubano.



My brother and friends all ordered the Chargrilled Burger with Roquefort Cheese and Shoestring potatoes ($17). One was rare, one was medium and the last was a sacrilegious medium well.

Two of the three burgers were topped with Roquefort. This French cheese is sharper but softer than its similar British counterpart Stilton. In terms of cooking comparisons, you could easily substitute it with American Maytag Blue and achieve the same flavor profile. I prefer much milder bleu cheeses than the pungency of the French one. The burgers were perfectly plump and cooked precisely to order. The buns had prominent grill marks, making ideal presentation. The meat was very good, but not over-the-top spectacular. The Roquefort is really what makes the burger, the burger.

Maybe shoestring fries make you feel less guilty about eating large quantities. They are light, crispy and fun to eat. Conversely, there are its downsides, which I suspect my friend dislikes about them. They get cold very quickly, and do not have much substance to them. It is also conceivable that they go much quicker.

The classic burger and fries combo works here as it does in most cases. The chef’s personality is evident here too. But again, without the cheese it is just good.



We sampled some of their beers too. Pork Slap Beer (a pale ale) was available in the can only. You could take it or leave it. On draught was Spotted Pig Bitter. After much finagling by the bartender, the beer taps worked and it was flowing. This was more enjoyable than the Pork Slap, but not write-home-about-it impressive.

I was incredibly surprised at the co-ed bathroom. I saw both sexes enter and exit at the same time. That certainly might throw some unsuspecting patrons for a loop. Don't know if it's trendy or what, but I don't think that's very popular.

All told, with drinks included, the bill was $171 before tip. The cost was steep, but taking into consideration the cost of alcohol in the city, it price isn't that far fetched. The Spotted Pig is a great hole-in-the-wall you would never expect has the reputation it does from the outside. But I was satisfied with the meal overall.

Katz's Deli

Behold the pantheon of Jewish delicatessens. Standing as THE standard for all blue-collar delis for over 120 years, Katz's Deli is untouchable in quality, service and legendary reputation. And much like the mongers at the Pike Place Fish market who toss fish, it is an experience you will not soon forget.

Name your "best of" TV show and Katz's very likely is in the top ten. All the positive press is deserved. There are FEW adjectives that can accurately describe this food. A favorite Seinfeld episode of mine is "The Soup Nazi". In the episode, one character describes a soup as being so good that she has to sit down to eat it. I feel the same way about this sandwich. My legs would surely have buckled If I were guilty of believing the foolish notion that I can stand and consume it.

Located in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, Katz's is also tourist attraction. Much like the Statue of Liberty (which is only 2 years older), you should expect long lines, probably complaints and characters of all shapes and sizes.

Make no mistake...this is exclusively a chowhound experience, and for good reason. The portions are large but manageable. This isn't like Harold's Deli (Edison, NJ) where one sandwich can serve a family of four or a pancake is the size of a small pizza. And while Harold's serves great food too, Katz's serving sizes don't glorify the ridiculous.

I made sure to eat a small, healthy and early breakfast, so by midday the hunger pangs are unbearable. Enough where I can sink my teeth into a sandwich. My sister (in-law) joined me for the excursion as did a close friend who works in the city. I was thrilled to have a copilot to navigate into the city and appreciative that a friend would take a late lunch in the interest of food journalism.

The place was absolutely packed. Throngs of people enveloped the dining room but I was still optimistic to find a table. My sister and I were given tickets and we proceeded to the sandwich line. We ordered three sandwiches: turkey on rye, lettuce, mayo (my friend); brisket on rye with light mustard (me); and corned beef on rye with mustard (sister). As we ordered each, the sandwich virtuoso (no, there isn't a better name) gave us a small sample of the meats for each. And before one erroneously equates this to the grocery store sample of crappy cheese sliced by the high school kid with his mesh hat, just stop it. This is on another level period. The food is taken from the oven at that moment and sliced in front of you. That's right. The briskets and whole turkey breasts last MINUTES before they need a new one. This tiny morsel titillated my taste buds and the agony to have the whole meal engrossed me. We moved on down the cafeteria-style line and ordered drinks and fries.

I didn't take any time to absorb the spectacle that is Katz's Deli and dug into my food. I paid little attention to the photograph covered walls and tiny bathroom doors. Simply, this food was completely unprecedented.


Brisket

My brisket sandwich was exquisite. The meat was juicy, piled high, bursting out of the sandwich and flavorful beyond belief. This is a: "melt in your mouth, can't put it down between bites, I've forgotten I'm on a diet," culinary delight. The meat stood out as the obvious star of the dish with an able supporting cast. The rye bread was soft, warm, and strong enough to absorb the juices but not take away from the focus on the beef. If I had breathed between bites, I would have surely felt the juices dripping down my chin. But I was unable to give it the chance.



Turkey

My friend's turkey sandwich was spectacular. He commented that the turkey was moist throughout which speaks volumes because turkey can very easily become dry. The rye bread, as with all of our sandwiches, was able to stand up to the turkey. He pointed out that the price is partly due to its status as a tourist attraction, but certainly worth it. I agree.


Corned Beef

My sister had her head on straight when she ordered their trademark dish. And for good reason. You could actually smell the succulence as the aromas wafted across the table. The thick slices allow you to actually taste the "bark" or "crust" that is created in a slow oven roast. The gigantic cuts of beef also set it apart from all others. It cures for thirty days and the pickling spices do a tremendous job. It creates an insatiable flavor profile. This was obvious as she had fallen silent when it was being eaten. The food had taken her breath away. My sister said that it was a "belly full of goodness." Indeed.

We were also given a plate full of pickles and a mountain of french fries. The half sour and mild/sweet pickles contributed a fresh but salty component to the meal. I enjoyed the half sour ones much more.

It's perplexing why neither my friend nor I ordered the pastrami. But that just encourages another visit. It will be soon.

When we finished, we proceeded to checkout. Each sandwich was $14.95. The drinks were about $2 each and the fries were $5.00. It brought our grand total (after taxes) to $62. Sure you might wait a few extra minutes on a long line, but a patron should must understand that patience is price for perfection. And yes, you are partly paying for the spectacle. But if you don't like it, go to Subway.

No review of Katz's would be complete without a reference to When Harry Met Sally and Meg Ryan's "inspired" reaction to the food. I don't feel like making any erotic analogies, (particularly after my Chart House experience), but I can certainly say that this food is stimulating to your taste buds. Inexplicably however, there was a cane laying across the table where the actors sat, I guess so some guy could sit there under the threat of assault.

Katz's is also renowned for it's slogan "send a salami to your boy in the army" (pronounced 'ah-mee' to make it rhyme), a program that began during World War 2 so that the owners could send food to their three sons fighting overseas. This program is still alive and well today. Any place that supports our armed forces earns points in my book.

I challenge you to find a better deli. Seriously. I'll go there. But save yourself the trouble and go to Katz's instead. Because I can guarantee that yours will be outclassed.