Manhattan

Revved for a good dinner but low on cash surprisingly led me to one of New York’s most delicious neighborhoods, the West Village, where I met two beautiful friends at Fatty Crab.  Fatty Crab is pretty much a New York City institution – for those who know about it – and the hands down best Malaysian-style crab outside of, um.. Malaysia? Not that I would actually know. But I do know quite a bit about Fatty Crab! So I’ve sifted through my wealth of New York City restaurant knowledge and pulled out three things you should know before you go.

1) It’s called Fatty Crab because you should order the crab.

2) They call it a “joint” as opposed to a restaurant.

3) Chef Zak Pelaccio’s been doin’ Asian since, well, I don’t really know when actually. But he def worked at the now defunct Chickenbone Cafe in the BK before working at 5 Ninth, which I almost all together ignore not because I can find anything wrong with their Cuban sandy but because I don’t so much do those Meatpacking places. But we heart him because he then opened Fatty Crab, which as since expanded to Fatty Crab UWS. Not that I’ll visit the latter locale any time soon. You know how I feel about dining above 23rd Street. (With Per Se and Tao as obvious exceptions. And stop snickering, Tao has the best desserts ever.)

      
Onto the food. My friend outright scolds Pelaccio for having thus far failed to bottle and sell the BBQesque sauce that smothers the crab. It is literally so good I can’t even find the words to describe it – tangy, thick but light and succulent. The sauce tastes delicious with the coconut rice. The beef/pork sliders surprisingly do not taste like your average slider and come with a pickle, lettuce and sweet yummy bun. The mango salad is spicy, peanuty shredded greatness, if a little standard. I also recommend the pork buns, which are moist with the perfect amount of pork/bun ratio. Our food bill came to around $80 total for three ladies, and we had more than enough food. If you are really watching your dollas, order PBR. Our alcohol total was $90 – more than our food!, but we had champagne because, like I said, we’re ladies.
The atmosphere is key. Everyone is lively, patient and there for the food. No reservations in the village location, so have a cocktail to start and then beer with your meal. They serve Rogue Fatty Crab Sidestepper Ale on draft, and it’s perfect with the crab.

The Fatty Crab  W. Village 634 Hudson between Horatio and Gansevoort  UWS 2170 Broadway between 72nd and 73rd  212.496.2722

Hell we can’t afford to eat out anymore, so we’re taking our happy hour to a new level. Seal level that is. Since 1989, Lightship #115 AKA Frying Pan has made her home at Chelsea’s Pier 66. Becoming a Manhattan hot spot is a storybook ending for this ship who sunk in the late 70’s and lived underwater for three years before being raised by saintly saviors, sold to her present owners and made into a vessel for NYC tours and entertainment.

Um, we were entertained, so entertained in fact that we’re skipping DBGB’s and heading west to the waterfront tiki bar, which serves cold beer, better-than-average burgers and delicious garlic fries. Not convinced? Let me clarify, the whole vessel is a nightlife smorgasbord from the front quarter’s effervescent DJ lounge to live acts in the ship’s belly. New York Magazine described the dated couches and “ratty make-out couches.” Hm, well there are an abnormal amount of make-out nooks. Although I thought the couches were meant to signify male ownership of the jack. A woman would never want to make-out on something described as “ratty.” If it’s nice though, skip (no pun intended) the lounge and plant yourself on one of the deck’s plastic chairs for gorgeous views of the Hudson and a quixotic sunset.

Saturday and Sunday afternoons on the Frying Pan are a great time to unleash your inner swashbuckler. With patrons singing and scary bathroom trips two floors down (go with a friend), a weekend at Frying Pan is one to remember. Or not…depending on how much you drink. Warning: patrons take the nod to seafaring a bit serious and after many Bucket-O-Beers can get rowdy. As far as we can tell, there are few regulations and accidents do happen. (Our friend slipped and sprained her wrist.) In other words, be careful!

Frying Pan Pier 66, North River  W. 26th Street & West Side Highway  212-989-6363

Wow have I been deprived of romantic wining and dining, and consequently wining about it to anyone in earshot. This economy has Romeo and I restrained to my cooking, although obviously delectable hence the food review gig, or pizza. Well I couldn’t bear another night of it and racked my brain for an affordable alternative. ‘Inoteca’s chattiness falls short of the quixotic atmosphere I yearned for (yes, yearned), but what it lacks in fantasy it makes up for with amour and of course, vino.

The comprehensive list of over 600 Italian wines bears something for every wallet size. If overwhelming length mutes the romance, skip the list and describe to your server the kind of wine you like. The waitstaff will gracefully steer you in an appropriate direction.  The Italian words tend to run together, so have your waiter write the wine you order. Had someone told us that, I could recommend our choice. Next time.

We started with the grilled calamari salad with fennel, capers, roma tomatoes and gremolata, followed by the creamy ricotta bruschette. I was jonesing for the polenta, and although said beau had reservations, he was pleased with the outcome. Crispy on the outside and a tad bit grainy, the polenta is currently served with a poached egg, pancetta, parmesan and charred ramps, which resemble elongated spinach crossed with chard.  This is my favorite dish. Our fish (halibut? bass?) served grilled with baby artichokes, new potatoes and tomatoes though very good was outshone by the polenta.

I swore off sweet things for the month of May but couldn’t resist a Nutella panini the server recommended to finish our vino. Around that time I think I said “I love you,” for the staff are ‘Inoteca. Sure they’re required to know the extensive wine list and Italian translation, but are they also required to be so freakin’ nice? When the bill came it was a mere 86 bones, 41 of which purchased the vino. Our dinner was just $45? Now that is what I like to call affordable romance.

98 Rivington @ Ludlow  Open Daily  212.614.0473

Last Saturday there was a queue 200 people long at the Shake Shack in Madison Square Park. Like the queue on their website, Saturday’s line snaked out of the park and down 23rd street on the park’s south end. Notorious for brutal lines, Shake Shack did add a “Shack Cam” to their website so you can view the horrendous line. The tag line reads “Save Time, Check the Line,” but I’m not really sure if that saves time or just deters people from going at all. Lucky for line haters, the wonderful Shake Shack expanded to Upper West Side.
Note: For those of you living underneath a rock, Shake Shack is Danny Meyer’s pet project, fast food stand that opened in Madison Square Park (right near his beloved Tabla and 11 Madison) in the steamy summer of 2003. Shake Shack salutes Meyer’s St. Louis heritage by using frozen custard rather than ice cream for their sundaes and shakes and grilling thin burgers that mimic places in St. Louis like Steak ‘n Shake and Carl’s Drive In. They also have portobello and chicken burgers, hotdogs and Pooch-Inis for you for your four legged friend.

For loyal Shackers, here’s some new news that you might already know. It might be quicker to take the subway to the Upper West Side and wait in their, always shorter, queue. In fact, it is. On Saturday afternoon when my brother and I saw the 200 person line, I hopped on the subway UWS bound to see if I could beat him. I ordered to take away and had a nice little chat with fellow patron Blake DiMarco about the whole Shake Shack expansion experience. She said, and I quote “With their pillow like potato bun and fresh ingredients, ShackBurgers do not disappoint.” Then she went on to say that the UWS staff are friendlier – probably because they don’t have to deal with sweaty, tired line-waiters. Upon her suggestion, I ended up also getting a caramel frozen custard concrete with almonds, brownie bites and other health food accessories. It was well worth the belly ache.

Then I hopped back on the subway to meet my brother, hoping our perfect timing would allow us to eat together. Um, not the case. He was still at least seven people from ordering. Moral of the food reviewer’s story: Shake Shack is so delicious that I took two subway rides to get my fix. So go on…shack up.
Note: Met’s fans can shack up at the new Shake Shack Citifield!