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A cheeky start to the year

For me, 2013 didn’t officially start until sometime in the early afternoon of January 4th. That’s precisely when, on my first day off of the new calendar year, I walked over to Perla, the Greenwich Village restaurant I had been food-lusting over since opening last year, and ate one of the most outrageously delicious sandwiches I’ve had… possibly ever.

BAM! just like that, 2013 was suddenly off to a phenomenal start and I could feel it in my bones that everything was going to be ok this year. It would all be more than ok. It would be delicious and amazing.

This will probably remain one of the top meals of 2013, you wait and see

My edible omen came in the form of Perla’s open-faced beef cheek sandwich, a mountain of tender, braised meat on thick toasted bread with porcini mustard, all topped with two eggs, of the glorious, sunny side up variety, and a heap of crispy shoestring fries to go with it.

Beef cheek, which apparently tends to be tough, is braised or slow-cooked to really tenderize it. This particular beef cheek went through that and then some. It was some of the juiciest, softest meat I can remember eating, almost just falling apart in the best way as I shoveled it in my mouth. Add rich, thick egg yolk and a slight, but spicy, kick from the mustard and you’re looking at a serious foodgasm waiting to happen. (No really, think the “I’ll-have-what-she’s-having” scene from When Harry Met Sally. No faking.)

It was one of those meals where I walked out of the restaurant with a little pep in my step and a smile on my face. If I could whistle, I would have. This year’s gonna be good, I thought to myself. My full, happy stomach was telling me so.

Perla on Urbanspoon

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Good breakfast is always a great thing

If there’s one thing I could eat tirelessly it would be breakfast. Well, no, really it might also be pizza, ice cream, mac and cheese, or pork buns but that’s besides the point. Today, for the sake of this post, it’s breakfast.

Eggs, bacon, pancakes, ALL of it— I. Love. It. And last week, on a day off in the middle of the week, I had a great breakfast (or brunch I suppose) at one of the best spots for it in town: Clinton Street Baking Co. & Restaurant. On the weekends, people line up outside before the place even opens, but during the week, in the middle of the afternoon, you can just walk right in and help yourself to a table, which is exactly what we did.

Rosemary Salty Dog and Cucumber Cooler, fine company on a day off.

Drinks are a necessary part of the brunch experience so I went with the Rosemary Salty Dog, a rosemary-garnished, salt-rimmed mix of gin, fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice and rosemary simple syrup on the rocks.  It was citrusy and tart with just the perfect bit of herbal sweetness from the rosemary. Flaneur, always shying away from overly sweet drinks, went with the cucumber cooler, a crisp mix of vodka, cucumber puree, lime and mint with a refreshing bite to it.

Probably the best blueberry pancakes I’ve ever had.

Earlier that morning, Flaneur had rolled over in bed and said, “I want pancakes,” so at Clinton Street, which is known for its pancakes,  he ordered the blueberry variety. They were perfect in their soft fluffiness and had big fat blueberries throughout with a delicious bunch of more wild Maine blueberries on top. But what really had me literally licking my fingers was the delicious maple butter these came with. Instead of just traditional maple syrup, these pancakes came with warm maple butter, a ridiculously good concoction that was simultaneously sweet and just a tiny bit salty.

Southern breakfast in all its glory.

But because we had agreed to split something sweet and something savory, I ordered the southern breakfast: two eggs (ordered sunny side up because I go bonkers over runny, orange yolk), cheese grits, sugar-cured bacon and fried green tomatoes. Yes, that’s right, fried freakin’ green tomatoes! It’s not every day I see those on a menu, and with cheese grits no less! The only thing missing was a biscuit, but that was ok because the bacon more than made up for it. The ideal thickness and crunchiness, it had a sweetness to it that made me want to eat plate after plate of it.

After eating at Clinton Street, I get why people line up outsides on the weekend, which makes me even happier to have days off during the week.