The good: Mighty Quinn\u2019s in the East Village, where my consort and I headed after a trip to Union Square just for eggs that also snared duck legs, potatoes, celeriac, apples and shallots and where we wound up getting a tour of the \u201cpit\u201d after quite a happy-making little lunch. The carver and counter people could not have been nicer, and it turns out that\u2019s no accident; the owner who walked us through his rib-and-brisket methods said only the pleasant need apply. We shared that brisket, which was far juicier than you normally encounter, with perfectly crusty ends, and some ribs, super-tender and jazzily dry-rubbed. Both came with a choice of creamy or vinegary coleslaw (Mrs. Sprat here preferred the former) plus pickled cucumbers, onions and red jalape\u00f1os, all better accents to the fatty meat than the sweet and tame barbecue sauce in the honking huge bottle on the table. WIGB? Absolutely. The price was right, too ($8 or so for each meat).<\/p>\n
The good except for the food: Fig & Olive on the Upper East Side, where I let a friend and curiosity lure me after the ridiculous \u201cunaffordable luxury of food\u201d column cited it as a destination for kiddles who care about eating. It\u2019s a favorite of hers, and I understood why as soon as she was seated and the server recognized her. The whole place is like a canteen for the 1 percent, with super-obsequious service, and if there is one thing all that top tier has in common it is a low bar for vittles. Rube that I am, I figured a $22 crab salad would at least include topnotch seafood, but as soon as the oversized plate finally landed I realized it was the kind I routinely pass up in stores, undoubtedly canned in waters I wouldn\u2019t wade into. The hard-cooked eggs with it at least looked and tasted fresh, although what I guess was roasted tomatoes looked as if an unfortunate \u201csanitary\u201d accident had happened. Mostly, though, it tasted like pretty much nothing, the cucumbers as bland as the radishes and the cherry tomatoes and the avocado, all of it laid over a pile of outsized lettuce and under oversized sprigs of basil and tarragon. The little squares of focaccia with different oils at least got the soaking job done. And I will give the waiter credit for asking if I didn\u2019t finish because I was full or because I didn\u2019t like it, and for accepting my lie with a joke only a family retainer would brave. WIGB? I walked by the place at least once a week over 20-some months of physical therapy and never once ventured inside. Now I know why.<\/p>\n
The pretty good but what do I know? — Upi Jaya in Elmhurst, where I met up with our eating-Asian group for Saturday lunch and where even our relative ignorance of Indonesian cuisine didn\u2019t prevent us from satisfying ourselves one dish or another. I liked the perkedal kentang\/potato fritters, the lemper ayam\/steamed glutinous rice stuffed with shredded seasoned chicken, the kale in coconut curry and especially the beef rendang, which was not exactly tender but was busting out all over in flavor. The weekend-only noodle dishes were also worth ordering, one with shrimp and the other with more shredded chicken. I wasn\u2019t crazy about jackfruit curry, and the gado gado was pretty sloppy. Overall, though: Yes, I got my $22 worth, and the super-patient, running-hard waitress really earned her tip. Props to the youngest at the table who wondered: Can she live on tips? 76-04 Woodside Avenue, 718 458 1807.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The good: Mighty Quinn\u2019s in the East Village, where my consort and I headed after a trip to Union Square just for eggs that also snared duck legs, potatoes, celeriac, apples and shallots and where we wound up getting a tour of the \u201cpit\u201d after quite a happy-making little lunch. The carver and counter people… Continue reading