New York vs Cape Town Sushi.

Kyoto Garden Sushi serves the best sushi in Cape Town. At least I think so. I do think Willoughby & Co is up there, and I’m fond of Caveau’s raw bar, but Kyoto is my number one. So I was curious as to how it compared with what is generally rated the best sushi restaurant in New York, Sushi Yasuda.

Sushi Yasuda is in midtown, an area swamped with slick-haired suits talking loudly about big deals. This is what Wall Street was 20 years ago, home to the big-swinging-dicks who make billions and try outspend each other drinking vintage Burgundy over lunch. Despite this, or in reality because of this, there are very good restaurants in the area. Sushi Yasuda is one. It’s a small restaurant: there’s a sushi bar, which is the preferred eating area, then a few tables spread around a bamboo-covered room. Classic Japanese minimalism, just like at Kyoto here in Cape Town.

I’ve eaten some excellent sushi at Kyoto. Things like Red Roman, Toro, octopus and delicious eel, and it’s all been good. The sushi at Yasuda is surprisingly no better. All very soft, fresh and tasty, but not any better than at Kyoto. The menu at Yasuda is however, way more extensive, and this is where it sets itself apart. I ate fluke, tuna, salmon, eel, striped bass and mackerel. The striped bass was probably the most interesting. That and the actual chef. Head chef Naomichi Yasuda has been cutting fish for over twenty years in Tokyo and New York, and to watch his hands at work is incredible. He can slice the fish, shape the rice and add little touches with lightening speed, his hands darting over the board in a blur. If you tried tried to imitate him at home with the same sharp knife and speed of movement, your freshly sliced fingers would be laying on the board in front of you.

What a lot of people don’t realise with sushi is that freshest isn’t always best. Some fish aren’t best served as sushi right away, but should be aged a few days or longer. So a good chef keeps good track of how many days old each fish is and when it’s tasting best. At Yasuda, the chef then marks these off on the menu each day so customers always know what to order. Simple, but a step above most other restaurants where they’re pumping out salmon and tuna platters.

So on quality, Kyoto and Yasuda are on par. The fact is we’ve got some pretty amazing quality fish here in Cape Town. But we always knew that. You don’t need to go to New York to get great sushi, but if you want incredible variety, you just might.

www.sushiyasuda.com

San Loco. (NYC)

Ironically the most American of restaurants is probably a Mexican restaurant. Restaurant can be a loose word though. You get restaurants and then you get joints like San Loco. Essentially, it is a cheap-ass Mexican hole-in-the-wall on the Lower East Side of Manhattan pumping out tacos and margaritas like many in New York. However, the exception here is that while the place is a shitbox, the food is good, not just oily, cheesy garbage. This is probably the world’s finest restaurant to stuff your face at before you go on a massive boozer. Giant neon signs in the window, tiny chairs and tables on the sidewalk, a menu board offering tacos, burritos and other Mexican items, plus a drinks board with various margarita options. Always packed with a young crowd. And unpretentious, but then you can’t really be pretentious when you’re in a restaurant the size of your bathroom.

Now about the margarita. You get frozen margaritas, usually syrupy and made from nasty premix. Then you get the classic cocktail, shaken ans strained into a salt-rimmed margarita glass. Then you get the margarita, as drunk in NYC: shaken and strained into a small tumbler with ice. The way it should be. Every time I’ve asked for this in Cape Town or elsewhere, the barman/waitress look at me like I’m loony, but it’s the best way. Try it next time. It’s a winner.

Anyways, about the food. San Loco is pretty much Tex-Mex. Or Gringo-Mex as they call it. The menu is based around tacos, and variations thereof. Everything Tex-Mex is a variation on the taco. Soft taco or hard taco. Soft taco on its side sliced up? Quesadilla. Large soft taco wrapped around tons of meat and rice? Burrito. Hard taco broken into pieces? Nachos. Anyways, they also do chicken wings. I had the catfish Guaco-Taco, a hard taco filled with deep-fried catfish, lettuce, cheese, onion and tomato wrapped in a soft taco with a layer of guacamole in between. Ooh, you shouldn’t have. I also a had a chicken one, and there are beef, pork and bean options too. And they’re $4. Four dollars is about R30, my friends. Where else can you get dinner for that??!

Anyways, needless to say, when I was there last night it was Cinqo de Mayo. The place was humming. Tequila was doing Houdini acts at the bar and the volume inside was maximum. So we stuffed our faces, smashed some margaritas and proceeded down the road to a dodgy dive bar with a jukebox in the corner, an uneven pool table and a Blondie soundtrack to help us imbibe some cheap beers. Bliss.

www.sanloco.com

Brooklyn Night Out.

Ah, Brooklyn. Home of the hipster, dimly-lit bars and bowling alleys. Brooklyn is the cooler sister borough to Manhattan. Edgier. Darker. Dirtier. Full of character. And very cool. Brooklyn has cool areas inhabited by cool people that like to go drink at cool bars and eat at cool restaurants. So I found myself heading off to visit, Redhead, a friend living in Brooklyn. The plan: to explore some of these cool bars and restaurants. We basically just cruised up one street (Smith Street) stopping at the cool spots he knew. And a few more we found. And then some more. What a night. Carnage. Devastation. Massacre. But what fun!

We headed first to a spot called.. well, I don’t remember the name now, but they had this on tap:

We tasted a couple of them, thanks to the kind/bored bartender offering us tasting portions. The Left Hand Milk Stout was incredible. It tasted like dark chocolate in a glass. Hmmpf! The others were okay, but the Left Hand stood out. And thankfully, we’d come across more from them later. One pint down, we headed up the street feeling rather good. The Clover Club was next, a polished cocktail bar with a pretty hostess and a barman that makes cocktails so strong you could walk through walls after just one. I had an Improved Whiskey Cocktail, which is rye whiskey, maraschino, absinthe and bitters. And a block of ice almost as big as the tumbler; pretty neat. The thing was strong. Very strong.

(See that huge block of ice in there? Basically this was a martini-size drink.)

This was the Arnold Schwarzenegger of cocktails right here. So we had some oysters to help out. Virginia oysters, succulent and fresh, and small: about the size of a little thumb. They helped somewhat, but walking out the Clover Club after that one cocktail, I actually felt marginally spannered. So naturally, we went to a great beer bar to drink the muscular cocktail off. Bar Great Harry is the kind of bar that would make me an alcoholic if I lived near it. They serve amazing craft beers, and rotate the options regularly. How regularly? Well, they update their blog daily with what they’re pouring. Check it out, I’m serious.

And what do you know – when we were there, they had a Left Hand brewery promotion on the go. Redhead went for the Sawtooth Ale, sweet and buttery. I went for the Oak Aged Widdershins, which came in at a heavyweight 10% alcohol. Phew. Bold and big, this one. Similar to the Touro at &UNION, but not as delicate. Redhead went for the Juju Ginger after that, I had an Imperial Stout, another heavyweight at 10.4%. After that we did the St. Vrain Tripel, a 9% blonde knockout, with classic Belgian citrus notes.

And we had some more, but I can’t even remember which. Could’ve been the 400LB Monkey IPA. Or the Pork Slap Pale Ale. Or the Chainsaw. I’m not sure. Shit, there were just too many to remember, despite their great names. That sentence line sounds like a Warren Beatty line, doesn’t it?

Onwards we went. Our next port of call was Gowanus Yacht Club, a shabby chic open-air bar and grill with a great vibe that serves beer and wine in plastic cups. It also has a cool list of nonsense things you should or shouldn’t do listed on an old Pepsi-branded chalkboard behind the bar. Things like ‘no flimflammery.’ Or ‘Be witty and self-deprecating.’ Anyways, we knocked some more pints there and ordered a chili hot dog. Maybe it was because we were, er, over the limit by then, but it tasted incredible. Juicy beef wiener grilled and served on toasted bun with jalapeno chilies. Mmm, mmm, mmm.

(yes, that pic is out of focus, but then so were my eyes by then)

After that, we headed onwards, stopping for one pint at another bar, of which I can’t remember anything except that we sat outside on green metal chairs. And we probably were only there for fifteen minutes. After which we strolled further down the street, came across Prime Meats and decided that dinner would be a good idea. Or at least, I think we did. I have pictures that prove we did, so we did.

Prime Meats is a classic New York restaurant. They don’t do reservations. They only do cash. And they’re focused on getting local farm produce straight to the table with minimal interference. And they do it bloody well. Redhead and I devoured a steak tartare. Superb quality meat, served with a quail egg, of course.

Then morel mushrooms and toast, with poached eggs. Then a cured meat platter. We also tried a cocktail, or two, though I have no idea which ones. We finished with an espresso. Or I think we did. Then we staggered back to Redhead’s and I spent the night on the couch, where I woke up fully-clothed at 5.44am the next morning with a mean headache.

Brooklyn is also supposed to be cheaper than Manhattan, but that seems to have changed. Either that or someone mugged me and took the $100 that was in my wallet before I went out last night. Anyways, it was a great eating and drinking experience in Brooklyn, the cooler sister to Manhattan, but one that also packs a mean punch.

Blue Ribbon Bakery Market.

Mark this place off for you next trip to the Big Apple. I came here this morning for a coffee and a quick breakfast snack. The place is awesome. Part of the Blue Ribbon empire (they have about five kick-ass restaurants in New York), this place sells open sandwiches and other delicious treats. But they’re best known for their toast. What? Only in New York can a place be famous for their toast. But it really is brilliant. You can have toast with artisan Mexican honey. Wow. Tasty. They also stock great cheeses, marinades, sauces, etc. Oh, and you can pick up a copy of the Blue Ribbon book, now out. Did I mention the service might be the friendliest in the city? Or that my smoked salmon and caper sandwich was how do you say, killer! So fresh, so delicious. I might go back and get another one…

www.blueribbonrestaurants.com

The RUB Pulled Pork Sandwich. (NYC)

(Before.)

I’m in New York for a week and I want to apologize. I’m sorry. Sorry because I just ate barbecue and I can’t share it with you. You can’t replicate this stuff at home. Real barbecue requires a massive pit smoker and a 150kg black American dude with a nickname like ‘Bubba’ running it, and they’re just in short supply in South Africa. But they are necessary, as witnessed at RUB, which stands for Righteous Urban Barbecue, and happens to be the best barbecue joint in New York City. Yes, having a barbecue joint in New York is a bit like having a farmstall in Cape Town: it just doesn’t feel right. Barbecue joints should be in the countryside. They should be in the sweaty, muggy part of the US referred to as Down South – as you all know from watching Jamie Oliver’s US travels and reading John Grisham novels. Anyways, regardless of this, RUB is freaking amazing. Their pork is legendary, and the chef who’s responsible for it (of course he’s from Down South) has won effectively everything he could’ve. Over 400 awards or something like that. He’s the Steven Spielberg of the barbecue world.

(One minute later.)

Barbecue is a relatively simple thing, and should not be confused with the Aussie ‘barbie’ or our braai. Barbecue is lathering meat with a spicy rub (always a secret recipe) or marinade and slow-smoking it for hours, sometimes days. Occasionally you splash some more smokey, spicy marinade on it, until the point comes where it’s slightly charred on the outside, but juicy and soft on the inside, the meat usually reddish in colour from all the spicy marinade. And it’s not just for ribs. Pork butt and beef brisket are the real winners. Barbecue joints also do chicken, turkey, ham, duck – even baked beans. And it’s a slow, patient art, this barbecue thing. But it’s ‘dang tasty.’ Then again, if you rub something with tons of cajun spices and smoke it for 10 hours, most things are.

I needed lunch, and decided not to go all out, but to take home a simple pulled pork sandwich. Basically, they smoke a pig butt, then gouge the soft, tender pink meat off with a fork and onto a roll, served with some gherkin and BBQ sauce on the side. That sauce is something else. Smokey, spicy and tangy with more seasoning than you could wave a box of Maldon at. Anyways, needless to say, it didn’t last long.