Park Slope Reader

Andrew Napolitano

Art You Can Eat: The Nuaa Table’s Stunning Thai Creation

By Filed Under: Eat Local, Featured Story

There’s something magical about wandering into a restaurant on a chilly Sunday evening, expecting good food, only to find your expectations wildly exceeded. That’s exactly what happened to my wife and I when we sauntered into The Nuaa Table on a chilly Sunday evening, and found ourselves surrounded by edible works of art.

From the outside, The Nuaa Table is fairly understated, its modern facade blending seamlessly with the restaurant laden streets of Prospect Heights. But inside, the dining room is serene, a warm, modern-brass lined canvas meant to showcase the vibrant masterpieces arriving from the kitchen. The restaurant’s ethos is rooted in the Slow Food Movement, placing emphasis on quality, freshness, and the care that goes into each dish. But there’s more than just nourishment at play here—this is about beauty, about the art inherent in food.

I’ve always believed that food (at its best) should look as good as it tastes. There’s a certain poetry in eating something visually stunning, a childlike glee in devouring art. And at The Nuaa Table, each plate is a meticulously crafted piece of culinary poetry.

Take, for instance, the Chor Moung, a purple blossom dumpling that stole the show before it even reached my mouth. Deep indigo petals, sculpted with delicate precision, dusted in gold flakes—these weren’t just dumplings; they were jewels on a plate. The butterfly pea flower dough gave them a stunning hue, while the savory filling of minced chicken, peanut, and preserved radish offered a perfect contrast to the sweet floral aroma. I almost felt guilty eating them, like I was ruining something too beautiful to touch. Almost.

Then came the E-San Crispy Rice, a textural symphony of crispy Thai sticky rice and creamy trout caviar custard. It was a single, perfect bite that crunched, melted, and danced on my palate. Anchovy Jaew Bong added a salty kick, while pumpkin seeds and citrus kept it playful. This was more than just flavor—it was an experience, an introduction to the whimsical side of Thai cuisine.

I knew we were in trouble when I made eye contact with my wife across the table. Her eyes said, “We need to order more of this,” and when our waiter came back to the table, that is exactly what we did. 

For our main course that evening, we ordered the rice cracker crusted branzino, a fillet so tender and sweet, it practically fell apart at the touch of my fork. It was paired with Pickled Cauliflower and a Sweet Corn Salad, creating a perfectly balanced bite every time. The Chili-Lime Nam Yam added just enough heat to remind you this was Thai cuisine, after all, but never so much that it overpowered the delicate fish. It was decadent, moist, and utterly perfect.

We rounded out our evening with the Northeast Green Papaya Salad, a dish so bright and crispy it woke up my senses from the first bite. The sun-dried shrunken shrimp and peanuts brought a savory crunch, but it was the fermented fish sauce that made it sing. It was hot—no, I mean, hot—but in all the right ways. The kind of heat that warms you from the inside out, perfect for a cold Brooklyn night.

We left The Nuaa Table that evening feeling a warm sense of affection for the place. I have to admit that I did not go to Nuaa Tabe expecting to write about them in this paper, but by the time we were paying the check, I was certain that was what I had to do. I couldn’t stop thinking about those purple blossom dumplings, about the way each dish had been presented with such thought and care. It’s rare to find a place where the food isn’t just delicious but beautiful, where you feel a pang of guilt for disturbing the art on your plate. And yet, disturb it we did.

Maybe that’s the magic of The Nuaa Table—food meant to be admired and then devoured, a fleeting masterpiece that only exists until the last bite. And I already know we’ll be back soon, ready to admire and devour all over again.

Chilly Wind from the East

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life, The Reader On Food

And a Duel between Dumplings

Take a break from the brisk winter air and fill your plate with warm, savory dishes inspired by old Chinatown tea houses at East Wind Snack Shop. It only took one visit to capture this author’s heart (and stomach) and become an instant favorite. You may even see him during your next visit, and you too can join the debate of which dumpling reigns supreme. 

East Wind Snack Shop’s charming Park Slope location brings some of the best dumplings in the city to our very own backyard.  

My love affair with East Wind Snack Shop began on a cold blustery Saturday afternoon at the end of October. After a long and stressful month with disappointingly few fall-weather days, we finally had our first really chilly day, and that occasion called for dumplings!

I had only just learned about East Wind the week prior, where a good buddy of mine had gushed about his experience with their deluxe wonton soup.

I probably shouldn’t be telling you this as a food writer, but I have a personal bias toward Chinese comfort food. The most sacred room in my culinary mind-palace is not reserved for a 7-course tasting menu, or a dish garnished in Michelin stars. Nope. That room contains a small formica table and a plate of steamed spare ribs from none other than Chinatowns own Nom-Wah Tea Parlor.

Now that I have disclosed my prejudice, I can openly express how excited I was to learn of this charming little tea parlor in our very own neighborhood. As soon as we arrived, it was love at first sight. 

The storefront, decorated in cherry-red, has the warm and inviting vibe of an old school Chinatown cafe. Upon entering, the interior of East Wind opens to a high tin-finished ceiling, painted landlord-special white, with a wraparound wainscotting caked in a primary red paint. There is countertop seating, as well as a few tables and chairs, and the back of the establishment opens fully to the kitchen, where a few wooden privacy screens denote the line between those eating the dumplings, and those preparing them for consumption. 

As we sat down, I turned to the bright red wall to my right, where the paint had rendered an electrical outlet perfectly unusable. I turned to my left, where a woman and her daughter sat quietly engaged at the countertop, slurping on soup and noodles. Above their heads, a large television played YouTube videos of Chinese street food being prepared. I turned my head back to my wife, already deep in thought and concentrating on the elegant little paper menus and I exclaimed “I love it here.”

We had not even tried the food yet, but I was experiencing a feeling similar to the very first time I had dim sum in Chinatown. The feeling was pure comfort, a simple sensation of “welcome.” We dove right in, ordering the aged beef potstickers (a dish they are particularly well known for), as well as the “Incredible Har Gow” shrimp dumplings. 

But how could we just stop there. We ordered a side of the Shanghai Noodles to share, and two of the “Gwaco” pork belly bao buns. I washed it all down with a Ramune soda for good measure.

When it all arrived at our table in spartan cardboard bowls, I thought we had ordered too much food, but if we had, it didn’t matter. We ate every last bite, and those were (to date) THE best dumplings I have ever had. We couldn’t even decide which we loved more between the beef and the shrimp. In fact we were so torn, that we had to come back the following weekend and order it all again.

On our second trip out East, we substituted Shanghai Noodles, for the Spicy Crispy option which I liked even better; This time I decided that the dry aged beef dumplings were my favorite, but my wife disagreed, marginally favoring the crystal shrimp dumplings, with their sweet and savory abalone sauce. It was still a very close race between the two.

Of course, we still hadn’t had the wonton soup. My friend who initially turned me on to East Wind said it was his favorite, so we had a good excuse to come back the very next day with him and his wife. For those keeping track, from Sunday to Sunday I had already patronized East Wind Snack shop three times. 

It wasn’t even a question as to what I would be writing about for the winter edition. 

I had not fallen so head-over-heels in love with a spot since Nom Wah Tea Parlor, and now I didn’t even need to go to Manhattan. The dumplings were better here anyway (sorry Nom Wah, your steamed spare ribs will always have my heart).

The following weekend was the New York City Marathon, and the only reason we didn’t get there for lunch was because we were busy cheering on friends. But the weekend after that, we had five friends visiting us from Boston, and you will never guess where we took them to eat.

On our fourth visit, (another particularly chilly day) we were given cups of hot water, as opposed to the usual chilled tap. This custom I learned is quite popular in some Asian countries, where the warm liquid is thought to be better for digestion in colder weather. I am decidedly a fan and I got a kick out of seeing all my Boston friends gingerly sip at their piping hot tea water. Of course, this time around I had reversed course, and decided that the shrimp dumplings were in fact my favorite, but as I sit here writing about them, I’m already thinking there may just need to be another round between the two of them this week.

Four consecutive trips in half as many weeks is about as ringing an endorsement as I could give, and I do not plan on slowing my cadence any time soon. So, this winter, when the holidays are behind us, and the icy grip of New York City’s wind chill tightens around our scarves and hats, I hope you will join me with a hot cup of tea (or water) and two paper trays of dueling dumplings.

Locations:

417 7th Avenue, Park Slope

253 Smith Street, Carroll Gardens

Life on Cafe Mars

By Filed Under: Eat Local, Park Slope Eater

 I smirk at my wife across the table, as our waitress presents us with a tray containing an eclectic collection of colorful vintage drinking glasses. They asked us each to choose one for our complimentary welcome toast. I like a little bit of interactive theatre with my meal, as long as it doesn’t come at the expense of the food on the table; and so far this is striking just the right balance for us.

I lift a cheerful lime green goblet from the tray and inspect it in the ambient fluorescence of the dining parlor. A few moments later, our mix-matched glasses are full of tiny airy prosecco bubbles.

I stare into the now-full green-glass, and watch the way the suspended beads of carbon dioxide warp and spike behind the ornate curves of the cut crystal, and I feel a little bit like Percival Lowell looking at Mars through a telescope for the first time.

Lowell thought that he saw canals on Mars. We know now, what he saw then was an illusion caused by limitations of the optical glass in his telescopes; but in Percival’s day the theory was that an advanced alien race must have geoengineered their arid planet to funnel polar meltwater down to the Martian midlands, where they must have built magnificent civilizations atop their alien waterways. It’s a nice thought at least.  That an alien race could overcome their planets natural disadvantages and exercise a clean and sustainable mastery over their environment.

Those imaginary Martians would be awfully disappointed in the state of the Gowanus canal.

I pause on that thought. Maybe the prosecco is already getting to my head; and it occurs to me that I don’t even really know why they call this place ‘Café Mars’. I know the food is supposed to be creative, and that’s why I am really here after all. 

Our waitress arrives again just in time to stop me from sharing my insane inner monologue with my wife, and she presents us with a white plate holding 4 jiggling cubes of blood-red Jello, each containing its own dark green planetary body. 

“These are our Jell-olives. Most of our guests prefer to start the meal with them. The Jello is a citrus Negroni, and the olives are Castelvetrano. I suggest eating them before they start to melt.”

 I have to pause the narration at this point and say the staff at Café Mars have been exceptional from the moment we walked in. The host who greeted us was enthusiastic, bright, with a quick and cheerful whit; and our waitress is very well versed on the menu, and more than willing to make recommendations to heighten our experience here.

The menu at Café Mars is certainly adventurous, and undeniably Italian inspired, with plates meant to be ordered several at-a-time, and shared family style. As our waitress walks us through each section of the menu, and generously helps us put together a strategy for the evening, I interrupt briefly to ask her “What’s the inspiration for this place?” I gaze around and gesture at the colorful zig-zagging furniture, the rounded curves of the bar on our right.

“Italian!” She says brightly and with confidence.

I cannot tell if she is being ‘tongue-in-cheek’. Yes, the food is distinctly Italian-inspired, but is that really why I’m asking?

I pause on her answer for a moment and smile, letting the sincerity in her reply sink in. 

I think of the four or five dozen Italian Restaurants I have been to in New York City over my lifetime, and Café Mars doesn’t resemble a one of them.

We finish putting in our orders, and I return to conversation with my wife. “I feel like if aliens wanted to open a “human eating establishment”, and they researched the history of the neighborhood, this would be the end result.”  At this point I confess to her that I didn’t know exactly what to expect coming here. I read a few other reviews for this place and heard them reference something called the ‘Memphis Milano Design movement’, but rather than simply regurgitating the factoid back at my reader, I’d like to put the aesthetic into a more personal frame of reference that folks in the 28-45 age range will instantly understand:

Sitting here in the moment Café Mars looks like a spaceship tv set designed for an early 90s Nickelodeon sitcom, a surreal and uncanny experience of Nostalgia I had not up to this point, experienced up close and in person.

Back to those Jell-Olives. I held one up to the light, admiring the spherical globe behind the red-hue crystalline lens of biter citrus, and once again found myself daydreaming about controversial astronomy lessons from the late 19th century. And speaking of controversy, these were indeed ‘divisive’ at first bite.

We both bit into the first set, and while the flavors were lovely, the textural experience of introducing masticated olive to Jello was a little hard for my wife to appreciate. On second attempt, we found that letting the Jell-olives melt in our mouths produced something much closer to the Negroni experience, and that is probably how I would recommend eating them.

We finished the plate and I found myself with an unexpected craving for more. I had after all, come here for the creativity, and I had not been disappointed.

Next we tried the Eggs Paradiso; an unparalleled take on the deviled egg, with a sweet corn hazelnut filling, and a drizzle of balsamic vinegar. Nothing controversial about these. We both loved them, and the plate was gone almost as soon as it had arrived.

As our confident navigator arrived back to the table with the first of our main plates, I tried prodding for a little more information about the genius behind the curtains. They let slip that the owners and co-chefs are no novices to high gastronomic art. Co Chefs Paul D’Avino, Jorge Olarte, along with general manager Jordan Gwiazdowski opened Café Mars in May of 2023 with a resume behind them that would make any Cosmopolitan blush; Aska, Olmsted, Momofuko Ssam and more.

Now it’s starting to make more sense. This place isn’t trying to fit any molds. The Chefs all know what they’re doing, the bartenders know what they’re doing, and they know they’re doing it well; so why not color outside of the lines after all.

As our mains arrive, my wife and I make the executive decision to order two colorful cocktails. I’m used to thoughtfully considering food and drink pairings, carefully balanced flavor profiles, but I’m starting to get with the program now. 

Café Mars is about having fun with your food. 

By the time the Cucamelon smoked trout platter comes out, we are both halfway through our light blue and yellow chamomile infused cocktails, and thinking about what wild combination to order for the next dish.

 Sweet orange, grappa and pistachio over ice, with a little blue umbrella, more reminiscent of a Tiki drink, than an Italian classic; “What better to go with our Pork-Tart!” I say to my wife, now sufficiently giddy. But after a bite of the braised pork-cheek tart my lighthearted sarcasm gives way to an impression of genuine awe. The cocktail-food combination actually worked. The orange-fennel in the tart pairs nicely with the fruity concoction, and I find myself once again experiencing something new and novel at the table.

We polish off the dayboat scallops, delicious, succulent (as expected by now), and arrive at our last savory dish of the evening; the baked stuffed artichoke Raviolo. And this isn’t your mothers stemmy, tough steamed artichoke either. The delicate leaves are cooked young enough to be eaten in their entirety, and it is served in a beautiful piece of earthenware, brushed expertly in some kind of dark leaf green edible paint. When it arrived at our table, it took us a moment to realize what was what, but once we had wrapped our collective heads around the illusion, we spent a delighted ten minutes running our spoons over the delicate vegetal brush strokes.

As the savory courses wrapped, the host who had initially greeted us came over and presented us with a sweet dark digestif, reminiscent of Jager, and asked us what we thought of the food so far.

The food is great, very adventurous, some (like the Jell-olives) even a little divisive… if that were not the case, I would have been disappointed. I came to be challenged, and I was challenged. I came to try something new, and I had gotten more than I bargained for and then some.

They asked if we wanted dessert and I responded that “I would like to try the Olive Oil Cake’. They both looked at me a little puzzled. “olive oil cake? OH you mean the olive AND oil cake.”

I paused and held the menu back up to my eyes; as the canals on its surface shifted and writhed, I could now see it did indeed read “Olive and oil cake.” I shrugged and relented. “I guess we need to try the olive and oil cake!”

 As we sipped on our dessert drinks, and mused over the pleasantly bizarre nature of this unusual Italian restaurant we speculated over how olives would go over in a dessert dish. 

Before long, a slice of crumbly black and white marbled cake arrived, modestly prepared with a dollop of whipped cream, a drizzle of olive oil, and a generous serving of blueberries atop it. I didn’t see any olives, but when I took a bite, I recognized the flavor baked into the dark black swirls of cake and before I had a chance to flinch, I felt the salty savory flavor blend effortlessly with the light sweetness of the cake and fruit, and instantly fell in love. Who would have thought that a dark olive note would work with whipped cream? Not me. But the highly advanced life-forms working at Café Mars had intuition otherwise, and they had been correct.

As we finished dessert, they brought out a colorful antique bowl full of hard candies and our bill came in at pop-up thank you card. A nice send off for our trip back to earth.

As we paid the bill my wife and I were speculating about when we could get back here, who we needed to bring with us, what we might like to try next time we came. For those curious, we booked our next visit for right after the fall article is published. 

I still don’t know why they call it Café Mars. There’s no running water on Mars after all, and therefore I would imagine there’s not much of a market for cafés over there. But in any case, I am very glad they opened up this weird little spot next to our canal. I for one welcome our new interplanetary gastronomic overlords, and feel that they may have much to teach us.

Dog Day Afternoon

By Filed Under: The Reader On Food

Although the menu features a contentious rivalry of hot dog styles, Dog Day Afternoon offers a selection to satisfy even the vegan in the bunch. The restaurant’s decor and atmosphere welcomes film buffs, gamers, and hot dog fanatics alike to enjoy the classic hand-held meal together under the same roof.

Hide out from that Sirius summer heat, with some of the best franks in Brooklyn. What is a dog day afternoon exactly? We have all heard the expression, and most of the people reading this article will be familiar with the critically acclaimed 1975 film starring Al Pacino. Anybody who has lived through a summer in New York City has experience coping with the ‘dog days’ of summer, but where do we get the expression?  

Well it might surprise readers to learn that the expression originates in ancient Greece and Rome, where it was believed that in late July, Sirius’ rise in the sky alongside our sun contributed to the blistering temperatures seen in the northern hemisphere. Sirius being the astrological dog star, this period from Late July through mid August became known as the “dog days of summer’, a time for humans and canines alike to favor stillness and lethargy in merciful shade, far away from the ire of Sirius and our own beaming sun.

 And what memories do those sweltering city summer afternoons conjure up? Perhaps images of open fire hydrants, whose white jets of cool water quench the cast-iron heat of our neighborhood asphalt. Or the scent of a thousand charcoal grills wafting through the lush and shaded paths of Prospect Parks. For this writer, nothing pairs better with memories of hose water and the heat-advisory than an all-american hot dog and a cold beer.

And so for my article this summer, we move away from the formality of full service sit-down French bistros, and embrace a Brooklyn institution perhaps older than most of this Boroughs restaurants, the humble and ever versatile hot dog, and what I believe to be our neighborhoods latest and greatest purveyor: Dog Day Afternoon.

Situated between Prospect Ave and 17th Street, right off Prospect Park West, the small-yet-mighty storefront has been serving a variety of top-notch dogs to the residents of Park Slope and Windsor terrace since they opened in August of 2021.

I was first turned on to this spot last summer by a good friend of mine who had recently fallen in love with their Chicago dogs, and insisted on bringing me along to pick a few up for a movie night. Since then, my friend and I have been eating at Dog Day Afternoon with enthusiastic regularity.

 The storefront is small, but I would stop short of calling it ‘unassuming.’ On the contrary, the place is dripping with a unique and eclectic style that almost contradicts its size and spartan construction, inviting pick-up customers to linger and take in the vibes. And that vibe is good.

The walls of the shop are adorned with all kinds of NYC cinema classics; Dog Day Afternoon is there of course, right alongside another Brooklyn-classic, Do the Right thing. Ghostbusters, Rosemarys Baby, and a healthy dose of comic-book-chic transport patrons to a particular time and place.

 As a matter of fact, the first time I walked into Dog Day afternoon on a warm late summer evening, I felt the unique sensation that I had just stepped back in time, to a place and time in the city’s history not long before I was born. Despite having existed here for only three short years, there is an undeniable air of authenticity to the shop that makes one feel as if it has existed here for decades, and that it may well exist for decades to come.

On my most recent visit, I caught Jay of the owners, and I asked him about the inspiration for their establishment. The answer he gave me was equally authentic, unpretentious, and proudly matter-of-fact. “We decided we wanted to open up a hot dog shop, and I wanted it to have free games and just a good vibe.” That’s it. No grandiose marketing-heavy soliloquies common in the culinary business world. Just a good old fashioned vision, well-executed and expertly operated.

Jay and his partner Joe both worked together in the food service industry for a number of years, and when COVID-19 hit, they saw how badly restaurants and food industry workers were affected by the economic uncertainty. The experience left an understandable impression on them, and inspired them to take destiny into their own hands.

Their vision was to build something small and dynamic, with a lean-run operation and a focus on culinary specialization. Joe, who is from Chicago originally, had grown disappointed in New York’s lack of options for those partial to the Chicago Style dog, and so their idea for a dedicated neighborhood Hot Dog Shop was born.

For those New Yorkers unfamiliar with the Chicago style, a Chicago dog features an all-beef frank (Vienna Beef in the case of Dog Day Afternoon), on a poppy seed bun topped with mustard, pickle relish, diced white onion, tomato slices, dill pickle, pickled peppers and celery salt. The presentation is lavish, by hot-dog standards, a feast for the eyes as much as for the senses. 

As a proud New York-style food fan, I have to admit the Chicago dog is quite delicious, and a very welcome addition to our proud neighborhood (even IF I still narrowly prefer their New york style dog myself).

Bean Sprouts, Basil, and a Bounty of Broths

By Filed Under: The Reader On Food

For the Spring edition of the paper, I am featuring the bright, crisp, sweet and tangy flavors of Vietnam, and my favorite neighborhood Pho spot, Ha Noi.

Nestled on the bustling southeast corner of 7th Avenue and 9th Street in central Park Slope, Ha Noi’s humble and understated facade on the ground floor of a townhouse, conceals a gem of authentic Vietnamese cooking.

Upon entering Ha Noi, guests are treated to a beautiful interior of dark exposed brick, and east asian wood decor. The ceiling, framed by sturdy wood and thick knotted rope evokes  nautical theme, as if one has just found themself entering the captain’s cabin of some 18th century galley ship. The vibe is cozy and inviting, and on most nights, patrons will find Ha Noi filled with locals, families, friends and couples on dates, quietly and cheerfully chatting over their steaming bowls of Pho and fried dumplings.

The scent of those rich soup stocks saturate the air, and the aromas married with the scent of plum sauce and fresh basil set the mood and stimulate the appetite immediately.

I first stumbled into Ha Noi on an unseasonably cool late spring evening in 2017. My wife and I had only just moved to the neighborhood a few months earlier, and in early May I had caught an absolutely terrible cold. I have thankfullynot experienced the like since, as it left me feeling like death for two straight weeks. 

At the end of my second week of this super-cold, I was so stir crazy and miserable that I decided I needed to overcome my fatigue and go for a walk with my wife. Half way up 9th street, we were bombarded by the aroma of warm meaty soup broth, and decided to poke our heads inside to find the source of the smell. So yes, ignorant of social-distancing courtesies, we sat down at a small table in the back of Ha Noi and ordered 2 bowls of the chicken curry pho.

The phrase “Chicken soup for the soul” comes to mind, but that falls short of describing the experience that that first bowl of Pho was for me at such a low point in my well-being. Each spoonful of creamy, unctuous, spicy curry broth gave me hope. I found myself staring down into the bowl, dazzled by the way the oils danced with the rice noodles and the tender chunks of white meat chicken. That bowl of soup, whether by coincidence, or by some deeper older kind of medicine, healed me that day. Two weeks of misery, fatigue, fever and chills abated that very night, and I will forever remember Han Noi for that perfectly timed bowl of soup. 

The phrase “Chicken soup for the soul” comes to mind, but that falls short of describing the experience that that first bowl of Pho was for me at such a low point in my well-being. Each spoonful of creamy, unctuous, spicy curry broth gave me hope. I found myself staring down into the bowl, dazzled by the way the oils danced with the rice noodles and the tender chunks of white meat chicken. That bowl of soup, whether by coincidence, or by some deeper older kind of medicine, healed me that day. Two weeks of misery, fatigue, fever and chills abated that very night, and I will forever remember Han Noi for that perfectly timed bowl of soup. 

And thus, like many of you reading this article, we came to love Ha Noi as our go-to place for Pho in the neighborhood.

But that’s enough about my personal experience with one magican bowl of soup. What else does Ha Noi do well? My wife’s personal favorite is the Pho Combination Special, featuring vermicelli noodles in a beef broth, beef balls, brisket, rare steak, tendons and tripe, served with a generous bundle of basil leaves, sliced jalapeno, bean sprouts, lime wedge, and hoisin sauce. 

For starters you can never go wrong with their fried pork dumplings, served with a crispy laced bottom, also known as a dumpling skirt, which is achieved by adding a thin salt-flour batter to the bottom of the pan as they fry. If you have a slightly more adventurous taste I would strongly recommend the frog legs. They are served alongside sweet onion slices, sauteed with lettuce in french butter. These tender morsels are fried to perfection and the meat is succulent, more tender than chicken wings, with a subtle sweetness.

Finally, if you are looking for a noteworthy entree you will not regret trying the Grilled Pork Banh Hoi. This is a self-serve style wrap dish featuring woven bundles of vermicelli, tender strips of sweet braised pork, peanuts, shallots, pickled carrots and daikon. These can be wrapped in lettuce leaves to form individual wraps and dipped in a sweet and salty nuoc cham sauce. The result is a bright and crispy sort-of summer roll, with a sweet and tender, garlicky pork center.

Beyond the charm of its cuisine, it is Ha Noi’s impeccable service that sets it apart. For the seven years my wife and I have been going there to dine in, or to pick up, Ha Noi’s staff have always been professional, attentive, and kind without a single exception, and that service only adds to the hearth-and-home ambiance of the establishment.

As winter’s cold chill gradually and stubbornly eases its grip on the city, and the warm bloom of spring turns a corner, I invite my neighbors to celebrate the season with the eternal vibrancy of good authentic home cooking, at Ha Noi Vietnamese Kitchen.

Retour au Début: A long overdue review of Olivier Bistro

By Filed Under: The Reader On Food

There is a bias in food writing toward featuring the new, the novel, and the trendy. It is important to draw attention to established places where chefs are trying out new things, or striving to elevate and reimagine cuisine.

I could argue that this place was the first neighborhood spot that made me realize how great this borough’s culinary offerings could aspire to be. And the ONLY reason I haven’t featured them in my writing yet, is because I have been distracted by what was new around the corner instead of appreciating what was great right next door.

n featuring the new, we often neglect the consistent, the classic, the local gems that grew with the neighborhood, and maintained their commitment to quality for their long-time patrons; those places that have found success long enough and maintained it, to become “staples” of their respective neighborhoods. 

I want to feature one such neighborhood gem that really deserves our appreciation.

Olivier Bistro has been serving the neighborhood of South Slope for over a decade now (August was their 10 year Anniversary). In a city with no shortage of French “brunch spots”, Olivier stands out for its truly authentic French menu options, its comprehensive listing of European liqueurs, and its rustic old-world ambiance.

When you visit, there’s a very good chance you will find Olivier Verdier, the passionate proprietor of Olivier Bistro, walking the floor of his establishment with purpose and professionalism. He is a local and a hands-on restaurateur, who appears most at ease dining at his own table. His journey traces back to his roots in Pezenas, France, where his love affair with the culinary arts ignited at the tender age of 11. He honed his cooking skills alongside his grandmother, Rose Marie, and that familial connection to the traditions of French cooking formed the bedrock upon which Olivier built his culinary dreams.

Fuelled by a storied tapestry of flavors and techniques, passed down from his family matriarchs, Olivier ventured into culinary school, refining his craft, moved to the US, and in 2013 founded his bistro.

Reflecting on his culinary pilgrimage, Olivier reminisces, “It was an accomplishment and a dream 

of many years… I opened my bistro because I wanted to give the people of Park Slope a French experience like my grandmothers used to cook!”

And Olivier’s dedication to his country’s heritage reflects in his offerings. While the Sunday brunch can contend with the best among them, where Olivier Bistro really shines is on its dinner menu, where you will find such delicacies as Foie Gras Torchon Maison with brioche toast points and a velvety apple puree, or  Escargots de Bourgogne, served in the traditional caquelon dish, each snail luxuriating in a rich emulsification of garlic butter and its own sweet liqueur.

While most French establishments content themselves to offer the American palate the classic brunch fare (and rest assured, Oliviers does), this unassuming haunt offers its more passionate patrons some of the finest French dishes, as casually and as confidently as a local diner might serve up eggs and bacon.

I am embarrassed it has taken me so long to write about this place. This review is well-earned and long overdue. I met my (now) mother-in-law for the first time at Olivier’s back in 2015. My (now) wife and I moved in together for the first time in 2017, two doors down from their fashionable, French Flag adorned storefront.

I can recall wandering downstairs on a quiet weekday afternoon, and discovering their charcuterie menu- a tightly curated assemblage of rare cow’s milk cheeses, aged salami, sweet spiced sausage varieties, and distinguished hams. 

I have enjoyed countless meals with friends and family in their establishment. In 2019 when my wife was laid off from her first job, we cushioned the blow with a visit to Olivier, and enjoyed some of the best red snapper we have ever had to date. Three months later we celebrated her new job with another meal there featuring their Moules Frites, a harmonious marriage of plump mussels steeped in white wine, shallots, and garlic.

The first time my parents visited Brooklyn, we took them to Olivier to show off what our newfound home had to offer. 

This winter, when the bitter winds blow, and the chill sets in, I look forward to the warmth that comes from returning to where my passions first began. Sitting down to eat in that establishment that first kindled my love for the food here. I want to revisit the bar where I tasted Grand Marinier, and Ricard Aperitif for the first time. I want to make friendly conversation with Olivier, his bartenders, and those professional, knowledgeable waiters; to indulge in a rare Hanger Steak, served with pommes frites and peppercorn bearnaise. And most importantly I want to share that joy that comes from appreciating the storied classics with friends new and old.

I want my share in Olivier’s dream, to have a taste of provinciale France here in New York, and to bask in the privilege that we all have living in this city where restaurants like Olivier exist. 

I invite my neighbors and my fellow readers to join me this winter, come celebrate one of the restaurants that first kicked off our neighborhood’s ascent into culinary excellence.

A Burger for the Ages

By Filed Under: The Reader On Food

In Red Hook, there is no shortage of seafood and beer in the neighborhood, and one could write an article dedicated to the various perfect ways to spend an afternoon in the dockside enclave. However, today I am not here to talk about the dives, or the crabs, or the breweries. Today I am here to talk about a burger and the tavern that makes it.

First some history:

Along Brooklyns western coast, Red Hook emerges just south of Brooklyn Bridge Park, as a storied neighborhood steeped in maritime heritage and urban transformation. Originally settled by the Dutch in the 17th century, it evolved into a bustling port, welcoming immigrants and fostering a diverse community. The 19th century marked an era of industrial growth, with shipping, manufacturing, and warehousing driving the local economy. The industrial and merchant interests that first built Red Hook, brought with them a steady supply of salty maritime men, and with them, came the demand for dockside bars and taverns. Today, Red Hook, like its parent borough, has embraced an economic resurgence, while retaining its distinctively nautical and charmingly divey character.

There is no shortage of seafood, and beer in the neighborhood, and one could write an article dedicated to the various “perfect” ways to spend an afternoon in the dockside enclave. However, today I am not here to talk about the dives, or the crabs, or the breweries. Today I am here to talk about a burger, and the tavern that makes it.

Extraordinary claims:

A few months ago, a good friend of mine from the neighborhood made a very bold claim in our local group chat. “Yesterday, I had the best burger of my entire life. Maybe the top culinary experience of my entire life.” He told us about his trip to the Red Hook Tavern and about how he was caught completely off guard by how ‘next-level’ their unassumingly named burger was.

I was skeptical. Very skeptical to be frank. As much as I love good food, I generally don’t rank hamburgers that high on my list for fine dining consideration. Burgers are great, classic, delicious, crowd pleasers for sure. But their tastes are maximalist, often topped with competing condiments and loud overwhelming flavors. And more to the point, most tavern burgers taste more or less the same to me. So the idea that this burger was maybe the best meal of my friend’s life, was shocking to me. 

Another friend of ours, who does consider himself to be a hamburger connoisseur and a casual expert on the matter, was equally intrigued, and perhaps a bit more open minded than myself. “When can we get there? Lets all try it out.”

We set a date, and planned for a lunchtime excursion into Red Hook on a temperate late summer sunday afternoon.

Now I’m going to break the fourth wall here a little bit: When I was thinking of a spot to write about for the fall issue of this fine local paper, a burger joint was not high on my list. Our editor even told me it probably was not worth going outside the bounds of the neighborhood to review a burger place. And I generally agreed with him. But given the claim my friend was making we decided that if indeed the burger won me over, we could make an exception. Deep down, I did not think the burger would win me over.

Extraordinary evidence:

Leading up to the reservation I decided to read up on the Red Hook Taverns staple tavern burger, and what I read very quickly began to change my perception of what a burger could be. The burger had been reviewed by the likes of Pete Wells, food critic for the New York TImes, There were articles featuring it in Eater, and Resy. There’s even a youtube video featuring the burger with Action Bronson. I quickly began to realize that this burger did not need my review to elevate it. All the more reason not to write about it. And yet, here I am writing about it. So what happened?

Well, not to bury the lead, I had the best hamburger of my entire life at Red Hook tavern. And I want to tell you all about it.

At the heart of this masterpiece is the dry aged beef, an art that transforms meat at the molecular level. There are only a handful of steakhouses in all of New York City that offer dry aged beef. As steak is left to age in a carefully controlled setting, enzymes within the meat gently break it down, tenderizing it internally. The flavor of the meat takes on notes of nuttyness, bleu cheese, mushroom funk. The meaty flavor is elevated, sweetness and savory umami intensify greatly the longer the beef is allowed to age. The process is expensive, time consuming, even a little wasteful, as it leaves the outer layer of the meat desiccated and inedible. But culinary enthusiasts everywhere know that dry aging a steak is among the best ways to elevate its flavor potential.

Extraordinary:

We arrived as a party of eight, and were seated in the covered outside seating area, although we would each get a chance to glimpse the charmingly decorated interior, featuring turn of the century wallpaper, converted gas light fixtures, and a gorgeous mirrored cocktail bar. Everyone in the party had agreed to order the Tavern Burger as recommended. The burgers arrive perfectly medium rare, served upon a butter-toasted bun, crowned with American cheese, a slice of crisp white onion, strategically served beneath the patty to keep the lower bun dry. The plate also comes with crinkle-cut medallion fries, and a pickle on the side. In a small cup, ketchup awaits, though this burger stands alone, its fragrant meaty, just pink interior requires no condiment. So save the ketchup for the fries.

The consensus was instant and universal. I let out a chuckle. “It is. It is absolutely the best burger I have ever had.” By now I had already known it would be. I knew the second I smelled them cooking it. That unmistakable aroma of aged beef, I had only ever smelled it before in Peter Lugers Steak House. Here it was, in Red Hook, The thick mouth-watering scent pouring out into the street. My friend, the burger-expert, spoke next: “OH, no doubt. This is the best burger I’ve ever had. I’ve never had anything like it before.” We try to temper our enthusiasm if only for posterity’s sake:

“I mean I’m sure there are other burgers that can claim to be the best, but I’ve never had one as good as this.”

I joked to my friend who first turned us onto the spot: “I won’t go as far as saying it was the best culinary experience of my life. But these guys… they have made the hamburger as great as it can possibly be, and it’s right up there with the best of culinary experiences. No doubt about it.”

Our attempts to temper our enthusiasm falter as another of our guests interjects “It’s a PERFECT burger.”

“I like that they went with american cheese. A classic. It lets the meat do the talking.”

I exclaim almost drunk with newfound appreciation for the humble burger: “I can’t find ANY other place in the immediate neighborhood that does aged beef, and this place is using it as hamburger meat!”

I’m halfway finished with the burger as I speak, and I find myself already starting to miss it.

We finish up our meals, and spend the rest of the afternoon in contented bliss, listening to a live bluegrass jam band play in the backyard of Red Hook’s famous Sunny’s Bar. The burgers made our day.

A week later I’m looking for excuses to go back. I schedule another trip to the Tavern for early fall, so I can gauge my parents’ reactions to the perfect hamburger.

Even as I write this article, I am looking forward to returning in cooler weather, with more friends, perhaps to spend more time admiring the tavern’s impeccable interior. Like a converted religious zealot, I want to bring more fine-dining converts to worship at the altar of this humble burger.

As I wrap up, putting the finishing touches on the piece, my friend texts me a link to an instagram post by legendary comedian and established gourmand Eric Warheim. It’s a big photo of a perfect cross section of the Red Hook Tavern burger. The caption is profanity laced bliss. Another convert.

In the heart of Red Hook, where the past collides with the present, the Red Hook Tavern and its Dry Aged Burger are a culinary pilgrimage that transcends the ordinary. This burger is more than just a dish; it’s a love letter to meat lovers, a narrowly focused kind of perfection, and a testament to the endless pursuit of gastronomic excellence in all things.

He Who Controls the Spices

By Filed Under: Eat Local

There are two prevailing theories on the best way to handle the Summer heat, and while some if us are gearing up for an expensive summer besides our window-AC unites, many are keen ti embrace the heat. Our review of Park Slope’s latest culinary triumph, Masalawala & Sons.

With Summer right around the corner, and our Spring cleaning (hopefully) behind us, we are all dusting off our air conditioners, and trying to guess when the weather will rise consistently into the 80’s and 90’s. Of Course there are two prevailing theories on the best way to handle the Summer heat, and while some of us are gearing up for an expensive summer besides our window-AC units, many are keen to embrace the heat. For those Summer-sun-seekers, Masalawala and Sons invites you on a culinary journey that not only tantalizes your taste buds but also harmonizes with the physiological cravings of the season. As those temperatures rise, I invite the adventure seekers among you to seek out those sunkissed flavors that spark the senses and ignite the palate.

Located on Park Slope’s 5th Ave, between Ginger’s Bar and Logan’s Run, Masalawala and Sons is a vivid and inviting culinary nest that takes diners on a nostalgic journey through the gastronomic elements of Kolkata, India. This prized eatery, the vision of restaurateur Roni Mazumdar and Chintan Pandya, pays homage to Roni’s father, a 75-year-old immigrant from Kolkata, by recreating his favorite food memories with authenticity and passion.

Upon entering Masalawala and Sons, you are enveloped in a friendly and welcoming atmosphere which warmly sets the stage for the rest of the dining experience. The restaurant featured an intimate and colorful dining room, bathed in the familiar aromas of coriander, and cardamom. 

When we visited Masalawala and Sons, we chose to take advantage of the late spring weather, booking a table in their backyard. When we arrived we were escorted through the dining room, past the kitchen, and down a set of wooden stairs, where we were treated to an equally inviting covered backyard space, nestled between the secret yards of Park Slope’s ivy clad brownstone townhouses. 

Our server took our drink orders promptly, and advised us on the layout of the menu and the size of each dish.

We began our meal by indulging in the Dahi Vada, a delightful dish consisting of fermented lentil dumplings topped with sweet and savory yogurt, and spicy chili. The presentation is a pleasant surprise, resembling a deep dish cake with its layers of yogurt, cumin, and vibrant green chili sauce. The texture is more akin to a cake, than a dumpling, with a moist, fluffy, and crumbly texture almost akin to carrot cake. The flavors are notably rich, balancing the sweet and savory yogurt with the gentle and inviting heat of the chilis, they quickly marry with the cakelike dumpling, and make an excellent introduction to the flavor storm that Masalawal and Sons has in store.

Next we ordered the Macher Dim, another small plate featuring seasonal Bengali fish roe, kalajeera rice, egg yolk, ghee (clarified Butter). Served in a deep silver dish, we are surprised yet again by an unexpected presentation. The complex and layered morsel is a vivid bright yellow, almost custard-like at first appearance. Upon Cutting into it, we note a dense cornbread-like texture. There is a mild fishy flavor, not at all overpowering, but well balanced, offering a deep and wholesome oat-like finish. The subtle heat from the green chilies adds a delightful touch to the complexity of the dish.

At the same time that we were enjoying the Macher Dim, the Ripon Street Majja was brought to us with some ceremony. This is a dish that will leave a lasting impression. A generous presentation in a large deep silver bowl, it showcases bone marrow, paya, smoked chili, shaved egg, and a side of Pao buns. As the server spoons the marrow out of the bone, it sinks into the simmering deep red chili sauce, creating a tantalizing stew. The dish is undeniably spicy, and the heat builds as you eat, yet the flavors and spices remain discernible, providing a captivating experience that might just leave the hairs on your neck standing up.

When it comes to main courses, the Daab Chingri steals the spotlight. Presented in a young coconut shell, sealed with a bit of dough, this dish is truly a showstopper. As our server regails us on the origins of the dish, she opens the coconut, and stirs a hot and vivid yellow stew, scraping the young coconut meat off the sides of the vessel, and incorporating them into the prawn stew. Next, our server instructs us to utilize the tender meat in the prawn heads. This turns out to be fantastic advice, as while the prawn heads are a bit intimidating to disassemble, the succulent, soft and sweetly flavored meat in their heads turns out to be the best part of the whole meal. This dish is a must-try and a testament to the culinary prowess of Masalawala and Sons.

For those seeking an exquisite addition to their meal, the Macher Pulao is a perfect choice. Featuring seasonal Bengali fish paired with aged basmati rice and bhaja masala, the dish showcases the sublime flavors of the fish. Though bone-laden, the delicate fish meat is light, sweet, only slightly salty, more akin to shellfish in flavor, than to a white fish. It was something to be savored and enjoyed with patience, and it was the perfect way to gently close out our dining experience.

When the meal had concluded, my fellow diners and I were left to conclude that the quality and unique nature of the food at Masalawala and Sons is worthy of the hype, and the wait for a reservation.The truth of the matter is, I could go back there, order five completely different dishes, and probably write another article on that experience independent of the first. They have created something truly unique and in doing so, have invited their patrons to elevate their pallets, and to experience a deeper dimension of Indian cuisine and culture. 

This summer, if you are looking to embrace the heat of the season, and if you are fortunate enough to snag a coveted reservation, we hope you will let Masalawala and Sons treat you to their vision for Kolkata’s greatest culinary innovations. 

High Tea in the Heights: A Review of Brooklyn High Low

By Filed Under: Eat Local

As the weather warms here in Brooklyn, there is no better way to enjoy the beauty of the season than by indulging in the delightful and timeless experience of afternoon tea.

Spring in Brooklyn is a time of renewal and growth. The budding flowers and blooming trees paint the city in a breathtaking palette of colors, reminiscent of old-world cities like London and Paris. As the weather warms here in Brooklyn, there is no better way to enjoy the beauty of the season than by indulging in the delightful and timeless experience of afternoon tea. 

The English afternoon tea is a beloved tradition that has its roots in the early 19th century. During this time, Anna, the seventh Duchess of Bedford, would ask for a light meal in the late afternoon to stave off hunger until dinner. This practice quickly caught on and became a staple of English society, a sophisticated and elegant way to spend an afternoon with friends and loved ones.

Brooklyn High Low tea room, located in the charming neighborhood of Prospect Heights, along Vanderbilt Ave, is sure to delight any tea lover. They offer a carefully curated, and high quality tea ceremony experience well worth the reservation.

Recently, my wife and I, along with two friends, visited Brooklyn High Low Tea Room and had the opportunity to indulge in their Grand Vanderbilt tea service for four. From start to finish, we were impressed with the level of service and attention to detail. 

Upon entering their establishment, we were greeted by a friendly and professional hostess, and invited to sit in this intimate space among four other dining parties. The tea room embraces a charming parlor-style interior, featuring an eclectic collection of tables and french salon chairs, and boasting a beautiful assortment of china and silverware showcasing tea ceremony aesthetics from all over the world. 

The menu options at Brooklyn High Low offer something for everyone. The Classic tea service is a 75-minute experience that includes a bottomless pot of the house black tea with your choice of milk, sugar, lemon, or honey, as well as a triple-plate tea tier filled with finger sandwiches, scones, and a plate of sweets. 

The Grand Vanderbilt tea service (our choice) offers guests a bottomless pot of one of 25 different teas. It is the perfect accompaniment to the triple plate tea tier which included:

Freshly baked scones, strawberry jam, lemon curd and clotted cream, a crumpet with herb butter, and eight flavors of tea sandwiches. 

We particularly loved the cucumber and Dill tea sandwiches. Another interesting and perhaps unexpected standout was the Branston Pickle & Cheddar finger sandwich, which one of our guests remarked, filled him with nostalgia as its sweet and tangy flavor profile reminded him of an elevated Mcdonalds Single with cheese. Trust us, we really do mean that as a compliment. On a plate full of decadent and traditional standards, the Branston pickle and cheese finger sandwich was a simple yet remarkable addition.

We tasted and compared eachothers teas, but for me the standout tea was the Vanilla Black, which had a subtle sweetness that married perfectly with the deep notes of Madagascar vanilla. The sugar bowl, filled with gummy butterflies and candied orange wedges, added a playful touch to the elegant setting.

The confections served during the afternoon tea were a feast for both the eyes and the taste buds. Each treat was a work of art, carefully crafted to delight the senses. A highlight of the sweets were the chocolate-covered strawberries, which were plump, juicy, and coated in a rich, dark chocolate. The delicate macarons were all a beautiful orange color, and were flavored with cinnamon spice and pumpkin. The cherry custard tarts were bite-sized, with flaky crusts and a sweet, creamy filling. The chocolate mousse was served in delicate tea cups, topped with a dollop of whipped cream, sprinkles, and a whimsical wafer butterfly.

The Tea Room’s knowledgeable staff were always on hand to help guide us through the experience, offering recommendations and information about both the tea’s and the assorted culinary treats set before us. The attentiveness and professionalism of the staff was noteworthy, and it really added to the sense of esteem that Brooklyn High Low intends to cultivate towards its guests. 

Our tea room experience perfectly mirrored the peaceful and elegant essence of the season, offering a moment of serenity amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. The ritual of tea-drinking, with its attention to detail, paired with the beauty of spring, made for an uplifting and even slightly magical experience. 

With its refined atmosphere, expertly crafted menu, and attentive staff, Brooklyn High Low delivers a one-of-a-kind and authentically sophisticated afternoon tea. It is a true escape from the busy world outside. So why not treat yourselves to a little luxury. Whether you’re a seasoned tea drinker or a curious beginner, this intimate Tea Room is sure to delight and it is the perfect way to celebrate the arrival of spring in Brooklyn.

A Note: Brooklyn High Low has opened a second location! The new tea room is located at 69 7th Avenue in Park Slope.

Food, Fire & Friendship: Lore

By Filed Under: Park Slope Eater

Park Slope’s Lore celebrates the universal appeal of dining together, and it is the perfect sanctuary from the cold this winter.

What does it mean to live well? Philosophers have been dashing themselves against metaphorical stones for millenia trying to answer this question. Their appeals have been passed down by their disciples, often through word of mouth. The noiseless cacophony of long dead sophists form universal themes and motifs that become woven into the fabric of civilization. That ancient lore, drapes and adorns the bedrock of empires, and those themes help to shape the collective zeitgeist of each successive age.

The oldest verified archaeological site currently being studied is Gobeckli Tepe in Southeastern Anatolia. Dated to around 9000 BCE, It consists of magnificent T shaped columns, and a series of concentric stone walls, forming an oblong circular foundation in the sandstone. We don’t know for certain what the beliefs and practices of those who inhabited the ruins were, but we imagine that the site may have served some religious significance to the people who built and maintained it.

There is an older site, though officially unverified, the example is simple enough to make for an uncontroversial metaphor and lead into this story.

Inside Theopetra’s Cave near Kalambaka, Thessaly in Greece, there exists a stone wall, dated back to 21,000 BCE. If the wall was indeed made by modern humans, that would make it more than twice as old as any other structure still in existence today, and unlike Gobeckli Tepe, its purpose is easily inferred. It was built simply to keep the cave’s inhabitants warm, and sheltered from the icy winds of winter. 

What does it mean to live well? For those people, it meant staying warm.

The ancient Stoics had an answer to the question “what does it mean to live well?”. To them the Ideal life was one spent in harmony with nature, and an attitude of calm indifference toward external stimuli. We can be charitable to the Greek Stoics for they lived in an age before man-made climate change, and atomic weapons, but perhaps their advice can still apply to nature’s adversities. 

Here in Brooklyn, Summer’s youthful kiss has diminished, Fall in her aged dignity has come to her cold and withered end, and we all must now face the biting and barren cold of another city winter. There are of course those (like this writer) who love the cold air in their nostrils, and the brisk silence that many consecutive winter mornings will bring; the austere stillness of each first snowfall. But In fairness I must acknowledge that for many of us, the winter is a time to hunker down, and to cozy up close in warm, safe man-made structures.

Whether you are among those for whom WInter is a yearly test of mental health, or you are a cold blooded child of the ice and snow, we should all agree that a flickering yellow light peeking out from a window is inviting contrast to the darkness and cold of the exposed winter night. This image is a romantic and primordial appeal to our innermost comfort. And in our chilly neighborhood this season there is perhaps no more romantic and inviting example of such a place, than Lore.

On the southeast corner of fifteenth street and seventh avenue, and framed on both sides of its corner entry by a black painted crown molded stone edifice, Lore evokes a moody kind of elegance perfectly suited for intimate gastronomic gatherings. We will certainly be getting to the food soon enough, but before we do we need to spend some time discussing Lore’s atmosphere. When you first enter beneath Lore’s dark awning, and crescent moon Signage, you enter a warm interior furnished in the best of taste. 

The space is small, with perhaps only a dozen tables, and enough bar seating for eight to ten more patrons. But for those fortunate patrons, the space delights the senses. The exposed brick wall on the far side of the dining room, adorned with a single high-spanned wooden shelf and a collection of blue glass bottles, evokes a rustic comfort we are perhaps used to in Brooklyn these days. But Lore is not just trying to be another neighborhood rustic chic boutique, instead choosing to embrace the eclectic. The emblematic tin lined ceilings support elegant pendant lamps, and a glorious mid century modern chandelier adorned with ten warm circular lights, ties the look of the dining room together.

The space was designed with care in mind, and certainly with the intention to evoke a vibe, perhaps even a theme. That vibe, I imagine will be a little different to each guest that finds themselves wandering in from the cold night air, but to this writer, I would describe it simply as “romantic and moody”, perfect for the time of year.

Much like Lore’s thoughtful interior design, its food also embraces collaboration and fusion, and much like its atmosphere, they pull off that exercise spectacularly. Chef Jay Kumar is very talented and seems to have embraced the role of chief food pioneer. By focusing not on one particular kind of cuisine, but instead on what is possible when we embrace variety, Chef Jay hopes to make Lore an embodiment of Brooklyn itself.

To quote directly from their website “Brooklyn is truly a confluence of cultures, kept vital by storytellers and community leaders, many of whom hail from far-flung places around the globe. So many of these diverse traditions are both preserved and born around a dinner table with friends and neighbors.” Simple, unpretentious, two sentences summarizing tens of thousands of years of human history and distilling it into a mission statement that says to me ‘look at what great living is made possible when we embrace diversity, and marry cultures and traditions together with care’.

The result of that culinary boldness is the perfect place to take your date on a cold winter night, to experience for a few brief hours, something warm and altogether unique. Lore’s cuisine marries a multitude of cultures, and its menu changes seasonally, but some of the defining elements are strongly rooted in Indian, Middle Eastern, perhaps east asian as well. It is truly impossible to concisely define (and perhaps that’s the point), but it is certainly ALL very good food.

This author has had the pleasure of dining at Lore on several occasions, and has had the opportunity to try out a number of their menus. The first time dining there we had the pleasure of tasting warm home made naan accompanied with spiced honey, fresh thinly sliced radishes, and uncultured butter. We also sampled a delicately smoked trout, and a particularly flavorful Sea Bream. I think my biggest takeaway from that first visit was how their homemade Dessert stole the show.

It deserves its own little paragraph. Lore makes a SPECTACULAR cashew baklava, which they paired on this occasion with a delicate rosewater ice cream. I am not in particular a dessert person, and it is rarely the most notable part of the meal for me, but this occasion was an exception.

On a more recent visit I was delighted by a perfectly spiced fermented dosa, and a crispy, deeply savory Hen-of-the-woods Uttapam dish. For the uninitiated, Hen-of-the-woods is a meaty and tender kind of mushroom, and Uttapam is a crispy sort of pancake.

My guests on this more recent occasion wanted to splurge on Lore’s wide spectrum of gastronomic variety, which included both a perfectly cooked specimen of Steak Bavette, and a perfectly classic fish and chips that would have made the grade across the pond.

I think my favorite part of Lore’s eclectic menu, aside from its perfect execution, might just be how easy it is to please everyone at your table. Despite having a relatively narrow seasonal menu, it always seems precisely engineered to impress every pallet in a different way; whether that be through a cultural marriage of tastes, a showstopper dessert dish, or a perfect embrace of classic European dishes.

And maybe that is what good living really is, just the art of being happy and of making other people happy in your company. Throughout the many biting plutonian winters nights we have ahead of us, I hope my fellow Slopers will deign to visit Lore’s mysterious inviting facade, and each embrace that great historical tradition; the primordial gathering of people, from out of the cold, and into the warmth of enriched company.