The first time I went to SOY, it was raining hard and the restaurant was the only one open in Suffolk street ( Lower East Side). Suddenly, this tiny, cozy , charming place looked like paradise and I ask for the miso soup of the day, with pumpkin and cabbage.
I had a revelatory moment , like the food critic in Ratatouille. That miso soup remind me of a home I never had, since I wasn’t born in Japan. But every sip, I felt more and more at home . The toys and the books and the drawings scattered around the place give you also that homey feeling. The last time I was in Soy was right before of an appaling snow winter storm. But inside Soy, eating the crunchy gyozas, the pork with ginger, the tofu dishes and the great green tea cheese cake, watching the snow dancing in the wind, I felt very close to the nirvana you’re in , after a sunny morning in an onsen nearby
As my friend Julia said, the brunch is the best american foodie invention after the spaghetti with meatballs. Now the Food section in the New York Times has declared brunch officially dead , I decided I will never stop inviting my friends for brunch every Sunday.
Why waste your time badmouthing brunch when you have a million worse things you can trash????
Salmon, ricotta, mascarpone, bagels, quinoa salad, roast-beef with honey/curry/mustard, tomatos and mozzarella with truffle oil, cheese cake, chocolate mousse, ginger ice cream and so on.
To drink I mix a kind of italian sangría with Prosecco, orange juice and pieces of watermelon, grapefruit and tangerine.
As a playlist, a combination of Matt Lonnegan, Richard Hawley, Sia, Etta James, Mina , Patti Bravo and Lola Flores.
Fight the Sunday blues, have brunch.
I was wrong about the cortados: the very best in NYC is the one in Cafe Regular du Nord in Park Slope.
A sip of the cortado here, makes me feel awake, alert , refreshed and alive. Perfect proportion espresso/ thick steamed milk.
The place is tiny, charming and warm. They have excellent croissants, real orange juice amazing pain au chocolat and boiled eggs. Great atmosphère. Very Nice people behind the counter. L’enfer c’est les autres? After having my daily cortado here, I’m not so sure.
Song: “Que reste-il de nos amours?” Charles Trenet
I don’t know if this is the best onion soup of my life.
But last night ( 5 degrees below zero) it felt like it was.
I enjoy every single steamy morsel of onion, cheese, bread and broth. I felt like a character in Oliver Twist , almost on the verge of stand up and sing: food, food, glorious food!
That soup made me feel human again .
( at “Le Gamin”in Vanderbilt Av, Brooklyn ( just next door from “Chuko ” where sometimes you have to wait two hours for a ramen bowl)
My first visit to Spai Kru was a disaster. Not because of the food, because I had the most stupid conversation about politics ever. I still regret the waste of great food that day.
So On my second visit I decided to bring someone intelligent and fun and we truly enjoy the injection of sea freshness this wonderful place offers. Raw clams , razor clams, shrimps ( in “leche de tigre”), scallops, tuna in different ways, everything here is absolutely amazing , extremely fresh and very wisely dressed . It goes to your brain like a wave of seaweed and oxygen. And don’t forget the beautiful pineapple dessert at the end of the meal . I want to live in that pineapple like Sponge Bob Square Pants!!!
Spai Kru is one of these places where you leave more energised and euphoric than when you came in. How many restaurants can claim the same?
My only advice ( not just for this place, for ANY restaurant) don’t talk about catalan politics . Or just don’t talk, as Right Said Fred said.
(And they have the best champagne menu in Barcelona!!)
Song: “Don’t talk, just kiss” Right Said Fred.
In “12 chairs” ( Soho, NYC) they’ll serve the best israeli breakfast outside Tel-Aviv. And one of the best breakfasts in NYC: eggs, tapenade, goat cheese creme, chopped tomato with coriander , avocado, orange and pita bread.
Song: “Levàntate” Antonio Gonzalez “el Pescailla”
We can’t stop the world’s insanity.
But we can stop the insanity in our mouths.
RAMENCHURROS. YES, RAMENCHURROS.
By the people who bring you the RAMENBURGUER ( spotted at the Smorgasburg in the Brooklyn winter flea market)
Leave the poor ramen alone, please.
Song: “Stop in the name of love” Diana Ross