The Week In: Food Adventures--Asian Class Struggle
While most nights, you’d probably find me on the couch watching TV and eating something from a box out of a pot precariously balanced on my lap, most know I’ll eat just about anything, especially if free. A week or two ago, I found myself delving into some Asian food. Not the most exciting, right? Let’s just say I’m a man of extremes and found myself at the two ends: a red carpet, celebrity-infested restaurant opening, and then three days later, standing in the rain with Styrofoam containers full of fried things.
In the shadow of the UN, encased on the ground floor of the Trump Towers, I tucked in my shirt and walked up to the red carpet at the grand opening of Megu. Already a success in Tribeca, the second New York outpost for this high class Japanese restaurant boasted East River views, champagne-infused Kobe beef, and two floors of I’m-paying-how-much-for-the-“atmosphere”?-Asian décor.
As expected at most glamorous openings, you witness the usual formula: fake-baked PR girls manning the oh-so-exclusive guest list (well, maybe not that exclusive), a security detail of several large, impeccably-dressed bouncers with earpieces and sunglasses, a red carpet, velvet rope and pack of photographers, and a line of local celebs looking for a free meal. And of course, I was there. And of course, I showed up way earlier than the likes of Tyson Beckford or Al Sharpton. But I did find myself standing behind the Donald as he posed with diplomats and other Asian-looking folks whom I’ll just assume are fairly important/wealthy people. Here’s the report:
Highlights: Free-flowing champagne from the 80s (the way Trump likes it, I reckon), immaculately plated appetizers of kobe beef tartare, hamachi sashimi, asparagus wrapped in bacon and some type of heavenly tempura batter, and shrimp dipped in spicy fusion sauce so good I made sure to flirt my way into getting first dibs at the next batch.
Turnoffs: Such a tease: no main course unless you were worth seven figures-plus, crowds of friends-of-friends-of the publicists, and wannabe food critics. Unlike my perfect vision of a restaurant opening, there was more fanfare than food. The bold and beautiful definitely showed they love the perks of being, well, wealthy and famous, but for anyone who wasn’t quietly ushered into the private dining room post-red carpet, meh. Maybe I should’ve worn a suit.
Food/drink grade: B
Ambience: A-
Likelihood of Returning: Only if someone pays for me
Overall Food Experience: I ate a really greasy burger afterwards.
Three days later, the annual Taste of Chinatown fell onto Cosmodrome’s schedule. Not the classiest event (read: tourists galore), but with dozens of restaurants participating and tasty portions for only a buck, who’s to resist? I was a little tired of mac and cheese anyway. Stupidly sans-umbrella, the ‘drome kids braved the crowds and strengthening drizzle in search of deliciousness and a couple choice restaurants. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, but determined to fill empty stomachs, we hit the streets, maps in hand. Industrious restaurateurs set up folding tables outside their front doors with tins and paper plates with piles of greasy noodles, rice, golden-fried unknowns, and your Chinese requisite: surprise-wrapped-in-bamboo leaf.
So like any good street-eaters, we angled our way through the crowds in search of more food with lo mein and fried tofu still to be slurped up. When we got too wet, we ducked into a restaurant, ordered some soup dumplings and smoothies, and called it a day.
Highlights: Lots and lots of great, greasy Chinese food for super cheap and the chance to try a bunch of restaurants that normally one might overlook because of the usual stench of garbage that hangs over Chinatown. The bamboo leaf surprise revealed juicy chicken and peanuts, and Chinese samosas were quite choice. And duh, soup dumplings make me want to weep with happiness.
Turnoffs: Rain, crowds, standing, wet Chinatown. Even after I managed to leverage my way past people as umbrella spokes jabbed me in the eye, I still could not get the server’s attention. I even tried to drop some Mandarin, explaining that I was really hungry and needed help. But no, fat American tourists with crisp, straight-from-ATM twenties apparently get precedence.
Food/drink grade: A
Ambience: D
Likelihood of Returning: Stomach is growling right now
Overall Food Experience: Formula for a food coma. Mmm, MSG and grease.
Maybe I’ll make some food now.
Let us know what the next food adventures should be.