Olmsted

I'm not sure where time goes in this city. Days turn into weeks turn into months. Hence the lack of love this blog gets, and the time it took us to finally eat at Olmsted.

Pete Wells gave this farm-to-table style restaurant in Prospect Heights two of his sought-after golden stars almost a year ago. Since then, there's been a webcam on the restaurant's site so you can see how long the queue is. This, as you can understand, is partly why it took us so long to dare to try to eat there.

B's birthday was finally the time to tackle the line. We got there early. The wait? An hour. It may sound like a while, but it was only 6pm, so really it worked out in our favor. We wandered over to the Bearded Lady for a drink, and came back to take the two vacant seats at the bar.

Two glasses of bubbly were ordered. We spent the next five minutes admiring the beautiful details of the space. From the colorful water glasses, to the menu folded like a letter, to the beautiful light streaming in through the windows.

When you have such high expectations from a place, both as a result of the critics' reviews, the popularity, and friends' recommendations, it can often end up being underwhelming. But Olmsted honestly did live up to the hype. The food was bright, delicate, original, and oh so pretty.

Snap pea sushi used snap peas instead of rice, with thinly sliced fish placed on top, adorned with a slither of lemon, and splattered with a zingy, refreshing dressing.

Fried pickles was a bowl filled with lightly-battered, warm, crunchy, tangy fiddlehead ferns.

If I could have the B.L.T. bowl for lunch every day, I would. Delicate salad leaves, baby tomatoes, and squares of pork belly hid underneath a salty, shattering parmesan frico hat.

Then came the dishes of many parts. First the English Pea Falafel: a pile of falafel balls on pea shoots, fluffy peata bread, bright cardamom labneh, and fresh mint. Perfect early summertime flavors.

The pastrami tray was a stark contrast to the other dishes. Everything was still pretty and delicate, but the flavors took a dramatic change of course with mustard coated pastrami, sweet cornbread, creamy potato salad, and crisp slaw. Who'd have thought that serving American barbecue in adorable portions on a pretty plate would actually work out? There's some sort of magic going on in the Olmsted kitchen.

Be sure to ask if you can have dessert outside. The backyard is a gardener's haven, and home to the most adorable pet quails. On this hot summer's evening, this is perhaps the most romantic place in Brooklyn: fireflies dart through the fairylight-strewn space, couples sip on tea, eat soft-serve cherry ice cream and lavender honey froyo, and hope the night will never end.

Olmsted, 659 Vanderbilt Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11238

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Calaca

With so many wonderful restaurants to choose from in this city, it’s rare to return somewhere multiple times. Rucola is top of our re-visit list (being only one block from our front door obviously helps!), but Calaca is quickly catching up. Seafood-focused Mexican food in Bed-Stuy may not sound like the description of a number 1 NYC restaurant, but I promise it is. And everyone who we've dragged there will attest to this.

We always try to arrive before 7pm. And no, this isn't because we've moved onto American dining times. Firstly, we need to get a seat. There's only space for about 20 people, and Calaca is, unsurprisingly, super popular with the Bed-Stuy locals. Secondly, the $5 happy hour margaritas should not be missed.

The margaritas are potent but refreshing. Made with small-batch Mexican tequila and fresh lime juice, you’ll be struggling to resist a third and fourth round. If you’re feeling fancy, try the Mezcalita, which is smoky and slightly spiced: the smoked paprika in the salted rim is genius.

The fresh fish-centric menu is based on the food of the Mexican state Sinaloa. The tuna tostada just might be the single best dish I’ve eaten in this city: a made-to-order flour tortilla is toasted and topped with chipotle mayo, finely sliced avocado, lightly marinated tuna, and a sprinkle of sesame seeds. The grilled elotes, cheesy quesadillas, and shrimp ceviche are all also magical. Everything is colorful and zingy. Even if it's a Monday night, you’ll end up ordering many more rounds of tacos and margaritas than you had planned for. It's okay: we do the same. Every time.

Calaca, 139 Putnam Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11238.

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Ba Xuyên

Ever since I visited Vietnam, and then worked round the corner from London's Kêu, I have been obsessed with bánh mì.  Something about that crunchy on the outside, soft in the middle baguette, the rich, roasted meat, the tangy, lightly-pickled veggies, and the hot, hot chili has me oooh-ing and aaaah-ing after every bite.

New York Sunday afternoons are best spent exploring a far-flung neighborhood, hunting out a niche meal. We've done this with baklava, whiskey, fried chicken, barbecue, and, of course, dumplings, to name a few. Bánh mì was next on the list.

A sunny day on the top of Sunset Park has the most magnificent views of Manhattan. Once you've climbed to the top, soaked up the blue skies, the seemingly endless sprawling city, and given your legs a break, it's high time for lunch. Stroll down the other side of the hill, into the residential streets of Sunset Park, and keep winding until you arrive at Ba Xuyên.

Pick a bánh mì from the pictures at the front, and in anywhere between five and 20 minutes you'll have a giant sandwich in your hands. Crisp, crumbling baguette crust spills all over your lap when you bite into it. It gives way to the soft white bread, and underneath that, you'll find roughly chopped, deeply flavored meat, sweet, lightly pickled julienned veggies, bunches of fresh cilantro, and the occasional spicy chili pepper. It's rich, satisfying, and immensely craveable. The combination ingredients, and crazy affordable price, makes it well worth trekking to Sunset Park for your Sunday lunch.

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Lucali

Naming the best pizza in New York will lead to an argument. It's inevitable. I think even I have named at least three pizza restaurants the best in the city, and now I'm back to add a fourth to that list.

Lucali is famous for its wait, the occasional visits from Beyoncé, the fact that the owner and chef had never actually been to Italy when he opened this place, and, of course, its pizza.

Deep in Carroll Gardens, this restaurant is packed full of locals, Manhattanites who've journeyed here for the (maybe) best pizza in NYC, and a couple of in-the-know tourists, every night of the week. Get there early, and be prepared to disappear for a while to wait. On our first visit the wait was around four hours (I'm not exaggerating). The second, it was closer to two. So make sure you have a pre-dinner drinks option planned before you go. We're fans of August Laura, which is only a couple of blocks away.

You could also use this time to go and select your wine to drink with dinner. Lucali is entirely BYO. If you forget, you'll be having Pepsi. So don't do that.

When you do get inside, it's obvious why everyone is happy to spend so long waiting to walk over the guarded threshold. Tables are spaced out through the front half of the room. The back half is taken up by an expansive kitchen space. The lights are dimmed to that perfect this-is-romantic-but-I-can-still-see-you level, wood furniture adds a hint of traditional Italian trattoria, and everyone is talking, whispering, laughing, sipping, and eating slice after slice of pizza.

There's not really a menu. Someone will recite the toppings to you as they open your wine, and the rest is up to you. Select the toppings and the size of pizza. As a general rule, one large pizza between two fairly hungry people is ideal. I'll let you pick your own toppings. Our favorite has to be simply as it comes, topped with all the basil and garlic the kitchen has on hand.

Start pouring the wine, and sip away until your crisp, thin, sizzling pizza arrives on its pedestal. Fold each slice and eat. I guarantee you'll declare this to be the best pizza you've ever had in the city. It's probably true.

Lucali, 575 Henry Street, Brooklyn, NY 11231.

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Freek's Mill

Freek's Mill isn't the kind of restaurant you stumble across on a Friday evening. While an evening stroll through Gowanus may not have been top of my parents to-do list on their most recent visit, eating at Freek's Mill with them was top of mine.

Pass the disused cars, parking lots, and empty warehouses, and you'll find a glowing haven, with a beautiful logo painted on the side, sitting on the corner of this cobbled Brooklyn road. Inside, tables line the walls, a counter wraps round the front windows, a bar glimmers, and the sounds of an open kitchen travel through from the next room.

This restaurant isn't for the selfish. The menu of sharing plates has to be split amongst you all: the rich, deep flavors of each dish make a few mouthfuls of each perfect, but eating the entire serving of it alone would be a challenge. An umami-party like this one requires good friends, plenty of funky wine, and a couple of hours to really take in the wide range of dishes presented to you.

Tuscan kale with honey crisp apples, Marcona almonds, and Beechers cheddar. Yet another competitor for top kale salad. How are there quite so many spectacular kale salads in this city? It's amazing.

Charred radicchio with straciatella and candied walnuts. Sweet enough to absorb the leaves' bitter flavor, with the creamy fresh cheese bringing rich comfort.

Montauk scallop crudo with pickled persimmon, cilantro, and crème fraîche. Refreshing, zingy, sweet, creamy: balancing magic.

Roasted beets with chickpeas, speck, and soft boiled egg. The prettiest comfort food.

Octopus with peewee potatoes and chorizo vinaigrette. No chewiness on this giant octopus tentacle. Smoky potatoes and paprika-heavy vinaigrette bought a hint of Spain to the table. And alongside that we devoured Brussels sprouts with apple-maple butter and bacon. All sprouts should be eaten like this forever and ever.

Pappardelle with rabbit ragu, guanciale, and wild nettles felt a little strange sitting amongst the other heavily flavored dishes, but in itself was an example of perfect pasta. If you needed proof that the Freek's Mill team can cook, this is is.

We were warned when we ordered roasted pork jowl with smashed cucumbers, cashews, and cilantro, that the joy of this dish was in the fat. This fatty meat was tender, and, drenched in Szechuan-inspired flavors, it was beautifully more-ish. But yes, the joy was in the fat.

We found dessert round the corner at Ample Hills (because you can't be that close to ice cream heaven and not visit). The perfect food-filled Friday night. In Gowanus. Sometimes Brooklyn really does seem magical.

Freek's Mill, 285 Nevins Street, Brooklyn, NY 11217.

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