Wild Duck Chase, Part I: False advertising is not OK

I'm a sworn believer in Peking Duck (Why have turducken for Thanksgiving, when you can just have the duck?) for almost all occasions, but I'm also a sworn believer that, when it comes to Chinese food, there's always a viable cheap option out there. Sure, the Peking Duck House turns out a reliable bird, but it's hard to justify paying close to $45 to feed two hungry diners, when you could get twice as much belly-soothing goodies at just about any other joint in the neighborhood.

Thus began my quest for the Peking duck alternative. My mission: find a duck that's just as good, for something closer to $25.

Plenty of places serve up a pretty good attempt--even the bigger neighborhood places like (*shudder*) the various incarnations of Empire Szechuan. But something was always slightly amiss in those reasonably-priced alternatives. Either the mushu was too doughy, or the skin too soggy. The meat was strangely dry, or the fat not properly rendered. These places came close (some thankfully even let you take the carcass home--great for making dishes named after Marx Brothers movies), but I knew I could do better.

My first candidate was OK 218 on Grand Street, which had always intrigued me with its lovely display of bronzed hanging birds. From the outside, it looks like a takeout joint, but there's a small adjacent dining room that always seems pretty busy. I took that as a good sign, but I was a bit concerned when I noticed that none of the Chinese diners were eating anything remotely resembling duck, or even roast meat. Despite what the window suggested, seafood seemed to be the way to go here.

Our duck (about $26) turned out to prove our fears correct. Although I was happy to see that pieces of the mahogany skin were cut and served to us separately, I was disappointed to see that they all came with a layer of fat almost an eighth of an inch thick--by the end, we had to scrape it off with our spoons. Worse, the duck meat was hacked up Cantonese-style (bones included), instead of sliced, making it rather impractical to eat inside a mushu wrapper. In the end, this potential deal turned out to be a big bust--little more than regular roast duck hiding in a souped-up Peking facade.

OK 218 Restaurant (map)
218 Grand St. b/n Elizabeth and Mott St.

A sleepy Chinatown?

Anyone who's tried to walk for more than two blocks along Canal Street knows just how packed Chinatown can get. But 20 minutes away, in Sunset Park, you can get a lot of the same delicious food and vibrant street life without the elbow-bruising bustle of lower Manhattan. As a bonus, you'll also find some of the best Vietnamese food in the City, and a tiny Polish enclave that's perfect for when yet another iteration of bland Tsing Tao lager is not going to cut it anymore.

I recently enjoyed a late (almost 3 p.m.) dim sum brunch at a bright-if-slightly-gaudy new Sunset Park spot, Pacificana (55th St. off 8th Ave.), which looks like a cross between a trendy SoHo lounge (you'll see it when you head to the bathroom or the private banquet room) and, well, a Home Depot display on steroids--I've never seen so many layers of molding on one ceiling. All that aside, I'm willing to pit Pacificana against some of the best dim sum I've had in Manhattan.

I made the pleasant mistake of putting our entire order in the hands of my Chinese companion (only a few carts were going around anymore, so we had to put in an order), who then proceeded to get us two types of tripe (honeycomb and, um ... well, it looked a little like white slivers of ribbed or dimpled prophylactics), chicken feet, shrimp dumplings, and shrimp cheong fun (you know, those little shrimp balls that are wrapped in a tri-fold sheet of rice pasta, then dressed with a sweet soy-ish sauce). It all came in at just under $16 for everything,* including pots of jasmine tea.

The ribbed tripe, wading in a small bath of light, savory broth, was a happy discovery--it had the snap of, say, jellyfish (or, for the uninitiated, a springier, slightly rubbery pasta?) and was gently steamed with scallion, ginger, and the tiniest slices of hot peppers. The honeycomb tripe was a bit too intense even for me, and I've never been a huge fan of chicken feet (although the dish here was much less gummier than the ones I've had before). The wrapping on the cheong fun had just the right hint of sweetness, and more than made up for the mediocre quality of the shrimp itself (although, to be fair, the vast majority of shrimp out there is farmed and bland, even at fancy restaurants). Maybe it was because everything else was so unusual, but the shrimp dumplings were neither good nor bad--the only really standard thing there.

If you can, try to give yourself an extra few hours to stroll down 8th Avenue for the wonderful Chinatown (which, incidentally, sells even cheaper groceries than the joints over on Grand Street) and 7th Avenue for some Vietnamese coffee.

* I've been told that, for dim sum, you can just tip a few dollars--does anyone understand it differently?

Pacificana (map)
813 55th Street (Eighth Avenue), second floor
N to 8th Avenue; the building also has parking
Sunset Park, Brooklyn
(718) 871-2880.

Mojo falling?

It seems I can't go a whole month without eating some kind of fried chicken, and this month is no exception. Health concerns aside, fried chicken could be the perfect food--you can eat it with any array of condiments, or none at all; it's just as good cold (in some cases, even better) as it is hot; it's surprisingly portable; just about every culture has its own take on it; and you can eat it with waffles. Can you beat that, really?

One of my perennial go-to places uptown has been New Caporal (Broadway and 157th St.), a venerable Cuban-style takeout hole in the wall (there's probably some sort of snappy comment to be made here about how there can't be any holes inside, because the counter is shielded with bullet-proof Plexiglass*) that's been a neighborhood favorite for years. It's telling to see large batches of freshly fried chicken coming out every few minutes, and I doubt that the pieces stay under the heat lamps for very long.

Even on a cold day, my three-piece special (which actually included four pieces and came in at just under $4 with a side of rather forgetable fries) was steaming hot as I snacked on it in nearby Trinity Cemetery (it's not nearly as creepy as it sounds, trust me). Even the white meat pieces held their own, although they do tend to dry out a bit faster. But what makes (or made) New Caporal so good is the heavily spiced, extra-crunchy crust--laden with pungent dried garlic and bits of cumin (I'm told the bird itself is marinated in a garlic/citrus mojo sauce, too, but it's hard to tell). It was unfortunate, then, that the crust has been tasting a little dry and--I daresay--a touch tough as of late. The bird itself is still tender and juicy, but the skin somehow manages to feel like it had been done hours ago, and left to desiccate. Naturally, I’m sorry to see this development, and hope I was just in on some off days (in their defense, I will say that I showed up around 3 p.m., which is hardly peak turnover time).

New Caporal Fried Chicken (map)
3772 Broadway at 157th St.

* Don't let the decor and the, um, volunteer doorman fool you. Even if there ever was a need for Glock-stopping plastic panels there, those days are long gone.

Lucky Seven?

It's always bittersweet for me to go anywhere past Astoria in Queens, because the variety of great, cheap food is almost bewildering--I always wish I had room in m stomach for three more restaurants. This weekend, though, I decided to eat the smallest breakfast possible, then work my way back to Manhattan from the end of the 7 line.

My first stop was the newly opened Corner 28 Restaurant and Caterers (Main Street between 40th Rd. and 41st Ave.), which had a brisk business selling bite-sized Peking duck pieces through an outdoor takeout window, for the very agreeable price of 75 cents each. Even in the middle of the afternoon, in slushy, miserable weather, the line was always teeming with about a dozen people.

Each piece consisted about a duck slice about the size of two matchbooks, a few strips of scallion and cucumber, and a (too) generous dab of plum sauce. The wrappers were the soft, steamy Cantonese variety (bao) about the size of a small saucer--it reminded me a bit of White Castle--and the duck was a touch on the fatty side. It may not be the greatest duck in the city, but made for a very nice snack for two of us, and the high turnover ensured that the duck was still moist and steaming when it came out.

A few blocks further down Main St. was the food court at the hidden-away J&L Mall. It's my kind of "mall"--there's just a food court, nothing else. Depending on your perspective, this place is either charmingly run-down, or just downright shabby. What it does promise, however, is an intriguing bastion of no-frills authenticity within its narrow, L-shaped corridor. Unfortunately, I was ill-prepared for its offerings, having brought no Chinese dictionary or Mandarin-speaking friends with me (all the menus were written in Chinese characters). I did manage to try a lovely leek dumpling about the size of a grapefruit (a whopping 75 cents) stuffed with a generous helping of diced garlic, a scrambled egg binder, and some small bits of glass noodles. A smaller lamb dumpling (45 cents) was fairly bland, and certainly not worth such a long trip. We also saw stands selling fresh noodles, bing (which resemble crepes), and (perhaps?) a few Sichuan stalls. One of them, near the back and off the main corridor, had a tray full of pork-belly strips that looked tossed in garlic and hot pepper flakes. However, when I haltingly asked the proprietor for a small serving, she simply looked at me and said, "No."* I'm disappointed that I didn't prepare well enough for this visit, but I do intend to give this place another look.

In the mood for some refreshment, we took the train back to Woodside, to sample the hamburgers ($7.50) at Donovan's Pub. A few magazines and newspapers have hopped on the Donovan's bandwagon, calling it the best in the City. I'm afraid I disagree.

To be fair, Donovan's makes a very good burger. They use a very high-quality beef that, despite being very juicy, doesn't seem to have the fat that a lot of other patties ooze out. To their credit, they also nailed the cooking, with a nicely charred outside and a perfectly medium-rare inside. The grilled buns were a nice bonus. However, my personal preference is for a lower meat-to-bun ratio, and the burgers at Donovan's were pushing a 1/2 pound. Given the attention they paid to the beef, I was also disappointed that the lettuce was iceberg, not Boston, and that the tomato slice was rather wan and sickly. They do, however, pull a very nice pint (a real pint, too) of Guinness ($6).


* I think she thought I was asking for a free sample, but it was hard to tell, because of the communication difficulties.

Corner 28 Restaurant
40-28 Main St. b/n 40th Rd. and 41st Ave., Queens (map)

J&L Mall
41-82 Main St., Queens (map)
(For a less bewildering option, try the deli counter at the A&N supermarket across the street, and pick up as much of the ridiculously tasty vacuum-sealed Havista fresh ramen noodles as you can carry.)

Donovan's Pub
57-24 Roosevelt Ave, Queens. (map)

Taco Hop Part II: Toro, toro, toro

The second installment of my multi-neighborhood taco hop was supposed to cover the many deli/taco grills in the little stretch of Broadway and Amsterdam Avenue that lies between West Harlem and Washington Heights--the one that, depending on which real estate agent you ask, has a new name every other month. But a small, happy complication arose: El Toro Partido. It's because of this place that I foresee at least three more trips to the neighborhood in the coming days.

El Toro Partido is a small storefront with room for about a dozen diners--and a rocking jukebox of Latin hits. There's a fairly standard menu of Mexico City-type offerings, and (to my surprise) a small Ecuadorian menu that I will have to go back for. But, for the moment, I had a different mission in mind.

The tacos at El Toro Partido are nothing particularly exotic--no pig ears here--although the menu did include beef tongue, cesina (salted beef), suadero (the lovely beef belly), and longaniza (a spicy pork sausage). I'm sorry to say that I did not try the pit the longaniza against the chorizo, as I would have loved to have learned a little more about the difference between the two, other than shape. (I've heard conflicting stories as to what makes the two different.) Indeed, I ended up having nothing but the tacos al suadero again, because--well, because they were that good.

To my great pleasure, the $2 taco was stuffed to the brim with juicy, well-grilled beef chunks (seriously, this could be the poor man's wagyu steak), beautifully pearly bits of diced onions, and a healthy sprinkle of fresh cilantro. Every leaf was in great shape, sporting just the right shade of green. It was served with a delicious green chile sauce that even featured a few avocado chunks. After just two tacos, I was already stuffed.

El Toro Partido (map)
3431 Broadway