Crif Dogs & Please Don’t Tell

 

The faux speakeasy cocktail bar is the most prominent development in the Manhattan drinking scene over the last five years.

Historically, of course, speakeasies were establishments that sold alcohol illegally. The modern speakeasy is legit, but usually concealed—as if it had something to hide. There is often a hidden or unlabeled door, and many of these places won’t admit you unless there is an open seat. There is generally a host at the door, as opposed to the usual bar, where you just saunter in and fend for yourself.

Last week, I went on an East Village “pub crawl” of three speakeasy-style cocktail bars that I had long wanted to try: Please Don’t Tell, Angel’s Share, and Death & Co. (The latter two are covered in subsequent posts.) That’s probably not the best way to experience them, assuming a normal alcohol tolerance, but I wasn’t sure when I’d find another opportunity.

It’s hard to imagine two more incongruous establishments operating under one roof, and having common ownership, than Crif Dogs and Please Don’t Tell. From the outside, all you see is the sign for “Crif Dogs,” with a giant hot dog bearing its insoucient catch phrase, “eat me.”

Inside, Crif Dogs is as divey-looking as you can imagine. Dimly lit, with a low ceiling and plain aluminum tables, it is an indoor hotdog stand. The name, by the way, is an inside joke. One of the owners (Brian Shebairo) once tried to say the name of his business partner, Chris Anista, while he had a hot dog in his mouth. It came out “Crif”.

Despite the Spartan surroundings, the owners aspire to serve the city’s best hot dog, and they just might have managed it. They deep-fry the wieners in fat, locking in flavor and giving the skin a satifying crunch.

The menu (click on the image, above left, for a larger version) offers seventeen varieties of hot dogs ($2.50–5.00), along with numerous optional toppings and side dishes. Beers ($3 or less) are the only alcoholic beverages.

You can make up your own hot dog with à la carte toppings, but I decided to order the server’s recommendation, the Tsunami, a bacon-wrapped hot dog with teriyaki, pineapple, and green onions.

Such odd combinations are typical of the menu, but if the rest of their zany creations are as good as this, then consider me hooked. I didn’t taste much teriyaki, but I loved the pineapple-bacon contrast, as well as the hot dog’s crunchy casing.

Please Don’t Tell (PDT), the adjoining cocktail lounge, does not open until 6:00 p.m. I had arrived at 5:45, which was about all the time it took to order and consume my hot dog.

In the meantime, the people-watching made a fascinating study. If you didn’t know about PDT, you’d wonder about the people walking in, looking just a bit lost, dressed as if they were going to a three-star restaurant. (The PDT website doesn’t even supply an address.)

The entrance is behind a “false” unlabeled antique phone booth in a corner of Crif Dogs. Open the door, and you feel a bit foolish. There is a white phone inside. It was out of order when I visited, but when it’s working you pick up, and a hostess answers. If there is space for you, a steel door opens in the back of the booth, and you’re admitted.

Reservations at the tables notoriously sell out by mid-afternoon (they are taken same-day only), but the bar is first-come, first-served. As I was there early, I was seated immediately. Later on (or so I hear), you cool your heels with a hot dog while you wait for someone to leave, as standees aren’t admitted.

A more pronounced contrast to Crif Dogs could not be imagined. The bar is a gorgeous space. The booths and bar stools are plush and comfortable. The bartenders are solicitous, smartly dressed, and work with surgical precision. Cocktails are served with ice cubes the size of a fist—keeping the booze cold, without diluting it.

The menu lists a couple of dozen specialty cocktails, though you can also go off-book. But as this was my first visit, I stuck with the printed list.

The two cocktails I had are typical. A Benton’s Old Fashioned (bacon-infused bourbon, maple syrup, angostura bitters) had a deep smokey flavor. The Mariner (scotch whiskey, pineapple, citrus, and smoked cardamom syrup) offered a nice balance of citrus sweetness and the bitterness of the scotch.

The restroom has a long list of etiquette rules posted, which perhaps shows how hard it is to run a Serious Cocktail Bar in the East Village. For instance, “No PDA at PDT: hands on table, tongue inside your mouth.” Another warns customers not to try to hit on other patrons’ dates. I don’t recall any other bar that found it necessary to point these things out.

They serve food here too—mostly hot dogs, though different recipes than those offered on the Crif Dogs menu. One is named for David Chang (wrapped in bacon and smothered in a kimchee puree); another for WD~50 chef Wylie Dufresne. There’s also a cheeseburger, and what appeared to be the most popular offering, tater tots.

These offerings come from the Crif Dogs kitchen. When the food is ready, a low buzzer rings, and the bartender opens a small metal door, with a pass-through direct to the Crif Dogs side of the house.

In some ways, this minimal menu doesn’t seem equal to the surroundings , but I admit my curiosity to try any hot dog named after Wylie Dufresne. However, I’d already had one next door, so that will have to await another visit.

This is a relaxing place. Had I not been alone, I would probably have stayed longer. Since hitting on other guys’ dates is a no-no, I’ll have to bring my own next time.

Crif Dogs & Please Don’t Tell (113 St. Marks Place between First Avenue & Avenue A, East Village)

The Smith

The Smith never made it to the top of my must-visit list when it opened in 2007. The restaurant, as Frank Bruni noted, “didn’t make all that loud and persuasive a case for attention among all the other clamorers.”

But on Friday evening, when I was looking for a restaurant not too far from east Chelsea, where the food would suit my 15-year-old son, the Smith fit the bill perfectly. Better yet, the Smith is on OpenTable. These days, I hardly go anywhere unfamiliar if it is not on OpenTable. It’s simply not worth a trip, only to face an unknown wait.

The Smith actually didn’t have to be on OpenTable. On a Friday evening, it was packed—mostly with NYU students, or so it seemed to us. We appreciated that our reservation was honored fifteen minutes late, never a sure thing at a place so crowded. Fortunately, we got a corner table, which meant that the unsufferable din assaulted us on two sides, instead of all four. The Smith is as loud a restaurant as we’ve visited in quite some time.

The menu offers American brasserie food at recession-resistant prices, with starters and snacks, $10 or less, sandwiches, pastas and entrées $19 or less (except steaks, which are in the $20s). The by-the-glass wine list (most $10 or less) is longer than it has to be, and selections are also offered by the caraffe or the “big caraffe.” House cocktails are mostly $11, beers $6–8.

The kitchen did a respectable job with Caesar Salad ($9; above left). The pork chop ($19; above right) was decent, but the accompanying “sweet potato hash” (apples, bacon, cider glaze) tasted like it had simmered too long.

My son loved the lobster roll ($23; above left)—a special served only on Fridays. The burger ($15; above right) was respectable, but not as good as the one we had at Choptank a few weeks ago, at the same price.

I wouldn’t mind returning to the Smith if the dining room weren’t so loud. As it is…well, this is the East Village, an area not exactly starved for restaurants. I’d drop in again (outside of prime time) if I were, oh, within a three-block radius.

The Smith (55 Third Avenue south of 11th Street, East Village)

Rating: ★

Choptank

Note: Choptank closed in December 2010 after suffering water damage from a massive leak above the dining room. The owner divided the space in half, and re-opened part of it as Caffe Muzio, a casual Italian restaurant.

*

Choptank opened recently in the space abandoned by Anito Lo’s misguided Asian barbecue shop, Bar Q.

I have to give the mangement this much credit: they didn’t stint on the build-out. No sign of the Bar Q décor has survived—not that you mourn it. It’s a significant investment for a casual place serving entrées under $25, but so far it seems to be working. They have a lot of seats to fill, and full they were on a Friday evening.

The emphasis is on seafood, but the burger is terrific, and another reviewer loved the chicken. Blissfully, the menu fits on one page and features what the kitchen does well. So far, we think they have it right.

Clam chowder ($12; above left) was slightly (but I must emphasize, only slightly) less hot than we’d like, but otherwise very good. Polish sausage with sauerkraut and a house-made pretzel ($7; above right) comes from a section labeled “nibbles,” but in fact it’s a full-size appetizer, and a very good one at that.

The burger ($15; above left) was first-rate, one of the best we’ve tasted in a while. Nor could I find any fault with the Oyster Po’ Boy ($15; above right), with crisp oysters and a toasted bun. Chef Matthew Schaefer likes the deep fryer, and he seems to have mastered it.

The space is large, as an outdoor patio with thermopane windows is usable year-round. We were seated there on a winter evening, and didn’t feel cold at all. Our server was attentive, and the kitchen kept things moving.

The bar area is unfortunately under-sized, and it is popular. I arrived early and needed to stand a while before I got one of the few stools available. The house cocktails are mostly $12 or less, and the two I tried were excellent.

Choptank isn’t a “stop everything, you must go here” kind of restaurant, but it’s one of the better casual restaurants we’ve tried in the West Village. A number of recent places nearby have the fine dining route, and wound up with a more expensive menu than the neighborhood would bear. Choptank gets it exactly right.

Choptank (308–310 Bleecker Street between Grove & Barrow Streets, West Village)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: *
Overall: *

Macbar

In New York, just about any food urge can be satiated somewhere. But it’s hard to think of a place with a more laserlike focus on one—and only one—thing than Macbar, where Macaroni & Cheese is all you can get. The theme extends even to the décor, which is decked out in macaroni yellow. Look a bit harder, and you’ll see that the room is even shaped like a piece of macaroni.

If there was great public demand for such a place, I must not have heard about it, but the tiny slip of a storefront next to Delicatessen was available, so the owners grabbed it. I can’t imagine where they got the idea, but I salute the notion of doing one thing well, which Macbar does.

You could eat here a few times and not get bored, as they offer twelve varieties of mac & cheese. Many are obvious: the classic, four cheese, primavera, carbonara. Others are mash-ups with familiar dishes: mac reuben, mac stroganoff, cesseburger mc. Then there’s mac ’shroom, mac lobsta, mac quack (duck). You get the drift.

Each of these is available in small ($5.99–8.99), medium ($7.99–12.99) or large ($12.99–17.99). My son and I both ordered mediums, a size that made for a good-sized entrée.

You can also take your M&C elsewhere and combine it with something else, which wouldn’t be a bad idea. A lot of the business here is take-out. The are only a few tables; they’re small and not especially comfortable, but they suffice for a quick meal. Naturally, they’re yellow.

We ordered the mac quack ($11.99; above left) and the mac reuben ($10.99; above right). Both were terrific, but they make for a one-note dinner. They come in cute yellow containers shaped like—well, you probably guessed by now.

I don’t know if I would have gone without a 14-year-old, but if you’re in the area and have a craving for mac & cheese, macbar is your restaurant.

Macbar (54 Prince Street, east of Lafayette Street, Soho)

Tipsy Parson

 

Tipsy Parson is the encore restaurant from the same team that scored such a big hit at Little Giant on the Lower East Side. It hews to the earlier restaurant’s comfort-food roots, but a bigger kitchen allows a more substantial menu. Where the Little Giant is limited to just half-a-dozen apps and just as many entrées, the menu here offers a wider variety of starters, salads, oysters, charcuterie, entrées, side dishes, and bar snacks.

The space is nearly double the size of the Little Giant, which made me worry whether the owners would be able to scale up to the challenge. Those worries are borne out by the inconsistency of the food, but if they can clear that up, this is a cuisine we would happily eat any day of the week.

I arrived early and ordered a snack—figs stuffed with chestnuts and topped with bacon (left). This is perfect bar food, but for some reason the chef served three of them, an odd choice for a dish that will be frequently shared. In all fairness, many chefs have made that error, as if there is a mystical perfection in the number three, no matter what the customer may require.

Cocktails were not such a happy experiment: both of those that I tried were too sweet, including a champagne sidecar that seemed to be nearly all champagne.

The industry has changed since Little Giant opened in 2004. Back then, places were showing how cool they were by not taking reservations. Some restauranteurs would even have the chutzpah to claim this was what the customer wanted: it meant one could always drop in and be sure of getting a table, provided one was willing to wait long enough. In reality, this was pure selfishness on the owners’ part: it meant they didn’t have to bother keeping track of who was coming, and they didn’t have to deal with no-shows.

A few hugely successful places have clung to this model (Boqueria, Momofuku, Spotted Pig), mainly because they could, but many of these no-resy places wound up taking them later on, including Little Giant. Tipsy Parson was on OpenTable from Day One. They could no doubt survived a while on walk-in business alone, given the inevitable curiosity that attends any new restaurant. Instead, they sensibly decided to court reliable repeat business instead, and recognized that many diners want the assurance that they can eat at a time certain.

I know we wouldn’t have been there without a reservation. The restaurant kindly accommodated us, even though my friend was a half-hour late.

 

We suspected that the entrées would be large, so we shared a salad of warm spinach, which was wonderful, as were the house-made Parker House rolls.

 

Both entrées suffered from execution failures. A pork shank was enormous, but over-cooked. Duck was perfectly cooked, but the portion was (by comparison) on the small side, and the vegetables accompanying it were too bitter.

 

A side of Brussels sprouts was terrific. Macaroni & cheese was just fine, but didn’t erase the memory of the even better version of it served at Little Giant.

Early on, the service seemed just a bit anxious, as if they were eager to get our table back. Later on, the server disappeared for long intervals. Just about all of the restaurant’s 75 seats were full when we left, and it appeared there weren’t quite enough staff to handle the rush.

The décor tries to capture the homespun rustic chic that so many restaurants aim for these days, but at least they got it right. The noise level wasn’t bad, but as we were seated at a corner table with no one nearby, that might have been atypical.

Tipsy Parson doesn’t quite have its act together yet, but the menu is extremely appealing, and when the kinks are ironed out this should be a fun place to visit.

Tipsy Parson (156 Ninth Avenue between 19th & 20th Streets, Chelsea)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: *
Overall: *

The Burger at Gansevoort 69

Note: Gansevoort 69 closed in August 2010. (As often happens, a “temporary closure” for renovations turned out to be permanent.) The owners told the Times that “the diner thing has to go,” apparently oblivious to the fact that the previous restaurant in the space, Florent, had a long and successful run as a diner and would still be in business, but for an economically unsustainable rent hike.

*

Gansevoort 69 would be utterly unremarkable, if not for the reputation of the establishment it replaced, the sainted Florent, which closed last year.

The new place seeks to fill the gap left by Florent’s demise—essentially, a cafeteria to sop up the alcohol after a long night of boozing. It’s open to 6:00 a.m. Thursdays to Saturdays, midnight the rest of the week.

I never dined at Florent, which perhaps says more about my drinking habits than anything else. From all I can tell, Florent was basically a diner serving French and American bistro standards, but it had a cult following. The cult was none too please when the chef, Florent Morellet, was forced out by a rent hike.

The décor has been smartly updated, while retaining the feel of a diner. The old “R & L” signage remains outside—a reminder of what the place was four tenants ago. Reservations are taken on OpenTable, but I’d be surprised if they get much traffic that way. The whole point of Florent was that you could just drop in if you happened to be nearby.

The menu, described as American comfort food, has appetizers and soups ($6–10), salads ($7–16), sandwiches ($12–15), entrées ($8–26), and side dishes ($3–5). In the true diner spirit, breakfast is served anytime. So are cocktails.

There’s an amuse-bouche of tater tots (above right), served with three dipping sauces, to munch on while you wait for your food.

My son and I both had the burger ($12 plus $2 for cheese). I liked the thickness and juiciness, medium rare as we had requested. The beef had a slightly metallic tang, which will keep it out of the pantheon. The fries were just fine.

Gansevoort 69 (69 Gansevoort Street btwn. Greenwich & Washington Streets, Meatpacking District)

Nolita House

Note: Nolita House closed in May 2012.

*

Nolita House is a comfortable pub-food place at the northern edge of Little Italy. We probably wouldn’t have thought to go, but it turned up on an OpenTable search for casual restaurants in close proximity to the Angelika Film Center.

The cuisine here is a half-step above pub food. Everything is below $20 except the strip steak, which is $22. The menu on the website is dated October 2009, which suggests it is updated more often than most pubs.

There are four versions of Macaroni & Cheese, each available in mini ($7–9) or main ($11–14). If you’re having an entrée, a mini is enough for two or three to share. We loved the Original ($7), made with four cheeses and panko breadcrumbs. There’s also the Lobster Bake, the Popeye (add spinach and bacon), and the “Mac N Cheesburger” (an upscale Hamburger Helper).

We weren’t as pleased when we moved to the mains. A Bacon Burger ($14) didn’t have much flavor, and fries were too dry. Shrimp Tacos ($16) were too dainty and didn’t have much shrimp. A pasta called Penne of Mulberry ($15) was probably the best try, a hearty portion with Italian sausage, broccoli, garlic, and parmesan broth.

Service was fine, and the selection of beers is good.

Nolita House (47 E. Houston Street between Mott & Mulberry Streets, NoLIta)

Bruce's Cheese Emporium and Café

Bruce’s Cheese Emporium and Café is the ideal beginning of your day on the eastern North Fork of Long Island. It’s a cheese and baked goods store, with a café that serves breakfast and lunch.

They also make a damned good omelette. The specimen shown is soft and fluffy, with goat cheese and sun-dried tomatoes.

Bruce’s Cheese Emporium and Café (208 Main Street, Greenport, New York)

Greenwich Steak & Burger Co.

[Bottomless Dish]

Note: Greenwich Steak & Burger Co. closed in December 2008.

*

It’s always nice to see a respectable casual dining option in TriBeCa, a neighborhood with more upscale restaurants than most. Greenwich Steak & Burger Co. opened in late February at the corner of Greenwich & Franklin Streets, where the TriBeCa Studio Deli had been.

It’s a much more attractive space than a such a casual restaurant would need to be, with tables generously spaced, high ceilings to dissipate the noise, and large windows looking out on Greenwich Street.

Although “steak” and “burger” are in the name, the menu is dominated by other things. Appetizers ($7–12) span a wide variety of cuisines, such as Tempura Mussels ($8), Lobster Quesadillas ($10), Smoked Salmon Pizza ($10), and Crab Wontons ($8).

There’s an assortment of soups ($6), salads ($9–12) and pastas ($12–15). Ten different burgers ($9–10, except for a Kobe Beef Burger, $18) offer not just beef, but also crab, tuna, salmon, turkey, and lamb, with seven sauces to choose from. Among eight entrées ($17–25), only three are steaks, the others being chicken, seafood and duck. Side dishes are $6.

The most expensive steak, New York Strip, is $24, and it comes with mashed potatoes. I would guess that a steak this cheap won’t be a meat-lover’s dream.

 
Warm Chips with Truffle Oil; Tuna Tartare

I ordered two appetizers. While I waited, the server dropped off a sleeve of warm chips coated in truffle oil. They are hard to resist, and if you’re not careful they could easily spoil your appetite.

It seems that almost every restaurant has a Tuna Tartare these days, so I was a bit skeptical when the server recommended it here. But this version was as enjoyable as any in town. Equally refreshing was the price: just $10. Yet another helping of warm truffle fries on the side didn’t add much.

 
Kobe Beef Sliders; Sweet Potato Fries

Kobe Beef Sliders were a bit over-cooked and under-seasoned. They came with a batch of Sweet Potato Fries, but by this time I was far too carbed out to enjoy them. Once again, though, one can hardly complain about the price: $12.

Greenwich Steak & Burger offers a more ambitious menu than its humble name would suggest. There’s probably an equal measure of hits and misses, but at low enough prices that one is happy to come back and try more.

Greenwich Steak & Burger Co. (369 Greenwich Street at Franklin Street, TriBeCa)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: *
Overall: *

Vince and Eddie's

Note: Vince and Eddie’s closed in March 2011. Even an investment from Lady Gaga couldn’t save it.

*

My mother, girlfriend and I had a quiet weeknight dinner at Vince and Eddie’s about a month ago. My mom described it as “the typical restaurant you imagine in New York.” She meant that it’s one of the many places that’s on the ground floor of a townhouse, and about eight times deeper than it is wide.

In a one-star review over seventeen years ago, Marian Burros admirably summarized the place: “The cooking at Vince and Eddie’s is being compared to Grandma’s, or Mother’s, depending on your last birthday. No matter. The comparison conjures up feel-good adjectives like hearty, simple, warm, comforting.” Burros also found a good deal of unevenness back then, a problem not evident to us, though I’ll admit our sample was small and unscientific.

My mom and I tried some of the tenderest calf’s liver we’ve had anywhere (above). But that’s not good enough for Vince and Eddie’s, which piles on the onion rings, baked apples, bacon, and gravy. I’ve forgotten my girlfriend’s entrée, but I recall that it too was a mountain of rich, uncomplicated food, enjoyably prepared.

The restaurant was not crowded, and I suspect that it seldom is. But it has done well enough to survive as a solid neighborhood place and occasional pre-Lincoln Center standby. The world needs more like it.

Vince and Eddie’s (70 W. 68th Street between Columbus Avenue & Central Park West, Upper West Side)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: *
Overall: *