Ugly Baby

Two visits to the same restaurant in a matter of months for us two who don't eat out all that often, means it must be worth sharing with you. So today you get my chili-filled ramblings about a new favorite: Ugly Baby. 

This tiny restaurant's about the same size as our very small living room. The walls are covered in bright, warm paint, a line of tables is squeezed down one side, and a minuscule open kitchen is squished in the back. Combined with the waiters' colorful—often fruit-themed shirts—and upbeat music, it's clear that Ugly Baby is here to entertain you. And you soon learn you'll be doing that in the sweatiest, noisiest way (Did you know certain chilis make you temporarily lose your hearing?). 

Between two people you'll get through about three dishes from the neon menu (we tried to order more on our first visit and left with enough food to keep us going for a couple more days). The waitress will talk to you about how much spice you think you can manage, and what you should order based on that. Don't try to impress her with your heat-tolerance: she won't believe you, and you'll regret it. That dish which begins with "stay-away spicy" really is stay-away spicy. 

Tue Ka Ko (little coconut milk cakes)

Our two favorite dishes which are still on the menu are the sweet, definitely not super spicy, Tue Ka Ko (little coconut milk cakes with black bean and taro), and Kao Tod Nam Klook (curried rice, pork skin, peanut and ginger) served with a mountain of fresh leaves, herbs, and raw veg, to make the most magical lettuce wraps (pictured up top!). The green chicken curry was the spiciest thing I've ever had. I couldn't hear. My eyes were watering. Wine didn't help. Water didn't help. Thankfully, the remaining coconut milk cake did. But it was fantastic and worth every burning mouthful.

Rice vermicelli & spicy green chicken curry.

Try to go early: those tables fill up fast. Listen to the waitress: she wants to help you. But be prepared for pice: you're not going to walk out of there without a hint of heat tingling on your lips.

Ugly Baby, 407 Smith Street, Brooklyn, NY 10002

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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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5ive Spice

A restaurant with a number in its name, which serves a fusion of Vietnamese and Mexican food, should be a disaster. Somehow, 5ive Spice has achieved an impossible feat, and defies all expectations its name and concept provide.

We honored our suspicious instinct on our first few visits, and ordered the truly Vietnamese options i.e. the pho. The broth is elegantly spiced, meaty but not fatty, and so fragrant. When you take a spoonful, you feel its healing and comforting powers. Slurp up the noodles, chew the extremely generous portions of meat, and sprinkle on as much cilantro, basil, lime, and chiles as your tastebuds desire. Every bowl is huge, but you'll finish every last drop. That broth is too good to leave behind.

When you do trust this place enough to venture further afield on the menu, you'll have a revelation that these two cuisines can indeed be successfully combined. Tacos filled with lightly pickled veg and lemongrass grilled chicken are terrifyingly addictive; and grilled corn, it turns out, makes a great accompaniment to a bright rice vermicelli salad (pictured above).

No alcohol is served, and the prices are incredibly reasonable. You'll be heading back for another bowl of healing pho as soon as the next rainy day arrives.

5ive Spice, 52 5th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11217.

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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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Padella

Since we left London last August, we've been keeping tabs on all the new food-related openings, which restaurants have rave reviews, which ones have lines round the block, and which have apparently been a disappointment. With just 3 short days in London town on our first trip back, there was a lot of eating which needed to happen: Discovering the new, and returning to our old favorites. After a breakfast of pancakes at Pavilion Café, a walk from Islington down to Borough, and a coffee stop at Monmouth, we joined the surprisingly short queue (based on the horror stories we'd heard previously) outside Padella.

A brief ten minutes later, we were seated at a table outside. The staff, in typical Italian fashion, rather brusquely threw down menus, poured us some water, and left us arguing over whether we should have pappardelle or ravioli. 

We started with a crunchy salad of radicchio, watercress, and rocket, which was perfectly dressed with a citrus-y vinaigrette and dotted with fresh mint leaves to help balance out those bitter red leaves. We needed some vegetables to be added to our carb-heavy day, and this was the tastiest, most refreshing way to consume them.

Tagliatelle with nduja, mascarpone, and parsley was spicy, sweet, and creamy, but not too much of any of those things. The pasta was as wonderful as you'd expect it to be when you know that this restaurant comes from the team behind Trullo in Highbury: Not at all claggy and wonderfully al dente.

But I have no doubt in my mind that the real star of the show, and perhaps our whole trip was the ricotta ravioli with sage butter. As all of you loyal readers will know, ravioli really is my desert island dish. When I'm served a plate of these pasta parcels stuffed full of what is (obviously) one of my favorite ingredients – ricotta – and doused in fragrant, lightly perfumed, almost nutty butter, I am quite possibly (momentarily at least) the happiest girl on the planet. When I remember that this plate of gluten and cheese only cost me £7, you're going to struggle to prevent me from talking about it non-stop for the next six months.

Padella, 6 Southwark Street, London, SE1 1TQ

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China Town Explorations

New York's China Town is ever expanding. Little Italy has been reduced to just one street as Chinese shops, markets, restaurants, banks, and homes gobble up the rest of its real estate. But its rapid growth, doesn't seem to ease its busyness, its chaotic movements, its endless noise, and the vast quantities of people filling its streets. The only time I've passed through China Town and it's been empty was at 7.30am on a Saturday when I was out running down an eerily deserted Canal street.

B has finally finished his exams, so we've regained our weekends. This means we can resume spending our Saturdays exploring this crazy city we not-so-recently moved to, but still really don't know nearly as well as we knew London by the time we left, despite our best efforts. I get stopped and asked for directions in the street a lot: I'm really not the right person to be asking. I'm about as clueless as every tourist glued to their over-sized map wearing their I HEART NY tops.

Anyway, enough rambling. What I'm trying to say is today we went to explore China Town. It was as crazy as we had guessed it might be on a Saturday afternoon. We weaved in and out of the locals, the bikes, the cars, the delivery trucks, as we dived in and out of food shops, gazed at the ducks hanging in restaurant windows, tried to pluck up the courage to get closer to that bucket full of frogs (I'm terrified of anything slimy, frogs included, so getting that photo took quite a lot of courage), and bought more steamed buns from the Golden Steamer than we will possibly be able to eat over the next few days. 

Next time I'll go back with a hungrier stomach, a bolder spring in my step, and maybe some improved Chinese-speaking skills (mine have all disappeared), so I can actually ask questions, find out what most of those ingredients are, and try to understand what on earth I'm meant to do with them.

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