Those who love New York take the bus. My consort and I had an offer of a ride to and from a meet-up with the eating-Asian/Asian-eating group that always includes us in such fabulous meals, but I insisted we should follow the slow route one way so Bob could see the ethnic richness that lies between the Port Authority and the relatively upscale suburb where Petite Soo Chow is tucked away in the back of a little parking lot, catercorner from a Russian catering hall. And, as always, I was right. The local passes through another world of Spanish signs and symbols, but we soon realized we were flying and should get off and walk. So we did the last mile poking through three great food stops — one Russian, two Turkish — and contemplating what a gorgeous mosaic this whole region is.
We bought nothing at our first stop but succumbed to both a simit and those tiny Antep pistachios with outsized flavor at the second, after walking down every aisle to marvel at the variety of stuff on offer, then we crossed the street to Gulluoglu baklava cafe just to look. As the cheery countergirl said: “Looking is free.” But we had to indulge, in two cylinders and two squares of pistachio baklava, for which she charged us by the pound ($5.36) rather than the piece ($8). The Cat WCTLWAFW went nuts for both the simit and the cylinder.
And at the end of the walk we were rewarded with easily the most excessive Chinese feast we’ve split a tab for ($31 a head, in this case). The waitress was in major up-selling mode, but everyone was definitely open to nearly everything she up-sold (lobster and crab were lines drawn, however). First to land on the table were excellent Shanghai-style fried buns, soup dumplings and pickled cucumber spears, then three choices off the cold buffet near the front door (all of which scared me): tripe, jellyfish with celery and a sort of Chinese headcheese (or jambon persille sans the greenery). I also passed on the thickly sauced eel with pork belly but quite liked the whole steamed bass, the stir-fried pea shoots and the weird but worthwhile packets of carrots and mushrooms wrapped in bean curd skin. As much as I love duck, though, the eight-treasure one that was sliced open was too much treasure, not enough meat. Because it’s near New Year’s, we were also treated to a mochi-like cake. WIGB? Absolutely, especially if we can snare a speedy ride home over the Chris Christie Memorial Bridge.