Lobster rolls have come to Jackson Heights, thanks to Farine!
I’m not typically a brunch guy, but I’ve been known to make exceptions. M. Wells for one with Hugue Dufour’s decadent creations like foie gras and oatmeal, and now Farine. I’ve been meaning to try the lobster roll from the brunch menu, but I’m averse to weekend crowds.
On Monday night I stopped by to introduce a friend to Michael Mignano, the man behind the hot new Jackson Heights eatery. I’d forgotten it was the last night of Ramadan and the last night of Farine’s Iftar dinners. Every table was filled with joyous Muslim families all tucking into spicy fried chicken sandwiches and fruit plates.
“We’re going to have it tomorrow as part of an EID brunch,” Mignano told me when I asked about the lobster roll, which I’d been seeing on the gram for weeks.
As food writer I’m often loathe to throw around superlatives even though I’ve been called upon by Grub Street to do so in recent months. All that said, I have no problem calling the spicy buttermilk chicken sandwich at the newish Farine Baking Company in Jackson Heights the best fried chicken between bread in Queens.
At $16 Chef Michael Mignano’s chicken sandwich is isn’t cheap, but it’s worth every penny. It’s insanely crunchy and juicy and packs a nice kick from a Sriracha honey glaze. It is a gloriously messy sandwich requiring removal of both wristwatch and rings. The secret behind this marvel is twofold: first the chicken thighs luxuriate in a mixture of buttermilk, fresh thyme, rosemary and garlic for two days. Then they’re fried twice first at 325 to seal in the juices and then at 375 to get a nice crust.
If this method sounds a lot like Korean fried chicken, that’s because Mignano borrowed the technique. “I’m not using a Korean chili paste, but I am borrowing the double fry technique and the breading mixture is very similar,” he said. For the record his favorite KFC can be had at the H Mart off Route 100 in Hartsdale. Farine Baking Company, 74-24 37th Ave., Jackson Heights
Behold, the mighty Tortas Chivas, CDMX’s answer to the NYC breakfast sandwich.
“They’re all pretty big,” I said to two recent guests on a World’s Fare Eating Along the 7 food tour. We were about an hour into our trek and had already enjoyed delicacies from Joe’s Steam Rice Roll and Soybean Chen and had just arrived at Tortas Neza, which specializes in comically huge Mexican sandwiches. I was doing my best to steer the two ladies toward a carnitas taco, but l knew they really wanted a sandwich.
The gargantuan 7-ingredient Tortas Puma named for the owner’s favorite Mexican soccer team was out of the question. So I scanned the roster of 20 creations, each named for a different team, and settled on the Chivas, which listed only three ingredients: huevo, quesillo, and chorizo.
As Galdino “Tortas” Neza prepared the sausage omelet on the plancha I told the guests it represented just one component of his biggest sandwich. “We can handle this one, it’ll be like a Mexican breakfast sandwich,” I said with a chuckle. (more…)
Soup and a sandwich via Lhasa, Elmhurst, and Instagram.
There are some who say Instagram—with its over the top milkshakes, noodle pulls, and levitating food—along with Yelp and the other usual suspects—is just another sword in the slowly dying animal that is food writing. I am of the opposite opinion, if you know where to look Instagram is actually quite inspiring. Which brings me to the subject of this post, a beefy soup and sandwich combo inspired by Tibet and one of my favorite places to look: self-proclaimed prolific eater @nigelsie. (more…)
Even though it sports two eggs and pork belly—not unlike a certain New York City coffee cart staple—Bill Henderson is quick to point that Hendu’s pork belly hero isn’t a breakfast sandwich.
“You’re not going to have a very long day if you eat that for breakfast,” he said of his creation which features thinly shaved pork belly, two fried eggs, and redeye gravy. The latter—a combination of tomato, veal stock, and coffee—was not quite to Chef Hendu’s liking so he had taken the pork belly off the menu when I stopped by last night.
Nevertheless he was kind enough to make this glorious sandwich, a favorite among some Per Se chefs, who like to stop by the sandwich shop that operates out the kitchen at Dutch Kills Bar. It was stupendously good. I can’t wait to taste it when the gravy is really on point. If you’re reading this right now, do note the kitchen is open late.
Hendu’s Sandwich Shop, Dutch Kills, 27-24 Jackson Ave, Long Island City
This past Saturday I had the privilege of judging Pig Island, a festival of fine swine hosted by my dear friend Jimmy Carbone. The pork was provided by Flying Pigs Farm, and much of it took the form of ribs. As anybody who knows anything about barbecue and cooking it in a festival setting, it’s very easy to screw up ribs. You can take a perfectly good smoked rib and ruin the texture by grilling it afterwards. The best ribs come straight from the smoker, or in the case of my dear friend Rodrigo Duarte, straight from a pig bladder. (more…)
Bellwether’s patty melt is lovely, but it’s more of a cheeseburger.
Sometimes I wish my dear departed friend and meat maven Josh Ozersky was still with us. Partly so I could take him to dodgy Chinese restaurants, but mostly so I could ask him questions about burger lore, like the one in the headline.
I came to the patty melt late in life. I didn’t try one until my late forties. And I suppose that the one I tried, which I believe was at Tower Diner, formed my impression of what a proper patty melt should be. It was composed of a medium rare patty swaddled between two crisp pieces of rye bread along with melted Swiss and caramelized onions.
It was more of of a grilled cheese than a hamburger, and I have it on good authority that that’s how it should be. Most of all it was a messy sandwich oozing an amalgam of beef drippings and fat from the Swiss, what Ozersky would have lovely called “greeze.” (more…)
Simply called ‘salsiccia,’ Maialino’s breakfast biscuit is far from simple.
When it comes to breakfast sandwiches I used to be an old-school bacon-egg-and-cheese man. For the past year or so though, I have been leaning toward the BEC’s heftier cousin, the sausage egg and cheese. There used to be a coffee cart down the street from my house that made them, but one day in April it vanished. So when a pal said I had to try the sausage and egg sandwich at Roman cuisine specialist Maialino, I made it my business to head to the Gramercy Park Hotel for breakfast. (more…)
Cherry Valley’s Fatboy (left) combines roast beef, gravy, onions and mozzarella while the Corona features a chicken cutlet, cheddar, bacon, onion rings, and barbecue sauce.
A while ago I told a friend who is a longtime Whitestone resident that I’d just tried out the excessive 80-plus sandwich emporium that is Cherry Valley. “You gotta go to Cristina’s across the street,” came his response.
So when my pal Rocky proposed a trek to Whitestone to check out the dueling delis earlier this week I was on board immediately. On the ride over I expressed some concern about my appetite level and intestinal fortitude. “Don’t worry, we’ll strategize,” my pal reassured me.
First up was the O.G. Cherry Valley. The one good thing about going to this popular post-partying munchie spot for lunch as opposed to 3 a.m. is there’s no line, which gave us plenty of time peruse the voluminous menu.
Having wisely decided to get rolls instead of heroes, we ordered one Corona and one Fatboy. I went for the Fatboy first since it was new to me. The combination of grilled roast beef, fried onions, and mozzarella bathed in brown gravy on garlic bread was a great way to start an afternoon of sandwich indulgence. For a creation called the Fatboy it was somewhat dainty. Not so the Corona, though. It was just as I remembered: smoky crisp bacon, chicken cutlet, cheddar, and onion rings anointed with tangy barbecue sauce made for an excessive finale to my Cherry Valley revisit. (more…)
When it comes to fried chicken sandwiches I’m easy. I’ve wolfed down everything from a sad hot mess at Wendy’s to a spectacular lunch only dazzler at Joseph Leonard in the West Village. So I’m quite glad that I ducked out of the deluge yesterday and into Urbanspace Vanderbilt because it gave me the opportunity to try the latest creation from Delaney Chicken, the Ranchwich.
As it turns out I wasn’t the only one who decided to duck out of the downpour. Hundreds of stranded commuters waylaid by a suspension of trains from Grand Central crowded the food hall, but that didn’t deter me from making a bee line for Delaney Chicken. I’d tried his classic sandwich a couple of years ago and was wowed by its juiciness and the nice hit of cayenne in the batter.