related items
By mid-summer I had memorized the cab route to the BQE, the quickest way to my home in Carroll Gardens. Right on Berry, right on Metropolitan, right at that bank that will never be built and then I'm home free. Before 2010, the year South Williamsburg absolutely blew up on the restaurant radar, I really had no idea where the hell I was most nights—trips to the hood had been that sporadic. Marlow and Sons or DuMont were the usual stops, typically after working on a story or before a show at Music Hall of Williamsburg. But certainly, never as an eating and drinking destination, to the point of rounding up a bunch of South Brooklyners to—shudder—take the G north on a Thursday night.
That changed when Fatty ‘Cue opened in March. We'd been chronicling the progress of Zak Pelaccio's Southeast Asian barbecue project for some time, but only after a couple stellar meals did I realize the pleasures of pickled watermelon with crispy pork belly and short ribs braised with galangal root and kefir lime. Fatty's lamb shoulder with goat yogurt and Vietnamese mint is a testament to the skills of pitmaster Robbie Richter, who smokes meat like the champion he is.
A month or so later, we ended up reviewing the wildly ambitious Traif, a modest global bistro on a crappy block near the Williamsburg Bridge. Chef-owner Jason Marcus received our highest marks of the year (4.5 stars) for brilliantly composed dishes like a lobe of rich foie gras working magic with fingerlings, explosively salty ham "chips" and a yolky egg. I've been back two times since, always being rewarded with amuse bouche and petits fours. When was the last time you received that customary "kitchen gift" in Williamsburg?
On the opposite end of the spectrum is The Commodore, a gastro-dive in the former Black Betty space that we found ourselves stopping at about once a month since August. The chef Steve Tanner is a Pies ‘n' Thighs vet, who fries chicken and fish with the highest regard for crispiness and succulence. But we were most impressed with his greenmarket-driven sides. A fall salad had apples, butternut squash and goat cheese. Sugar snap peas were available in the summer-and damn were they sweet perfection. (Equal props to the reopened and expanded Pies ‘n' Thighs. Glad to have you back.)
Down the street, the pies at Best Pizza can vary from margarita to grandma-style (thin square slices with a base of sweet plum tomatoes and mozzarella). Toppings are seasonal, arriving daily from the Brooklyn Grange. The venture is run by Joaquin Baca—a longtime Momofuku vet who rebounded nicely after his Brooklyn Star went supernova with a devastating fire. Glad this is working out. Operating with a similar ethic—small, seasonal, crazy talented kitchen staff—is sandwich shop Saltie, run by longtime Marlow chef Caroline Fidanze. Her Captain's Daughter (sardines, capers, parsley, fennel) and Spanish Armada egg creation (focaccia, potato tortilla, pimento aioli) are favorites.
On the drinking tip, neo-cocktail den Dram opened as the almost polar opposite of Prohibition-era spots like Clover Club and Dutch Kills. Yes, the classics like Sazerac and Martinez are served with precision. But from the soundtrack (more Yo La Tengo than Jelly Roll Morton) to the list of "experimental Scotch" to the friendly but noticeably laconic owner Tom Chadwick, nothing could be more different than the mustachioed establishment. And we like this kind of different.
South Williamsburg, you had yourself an exciting year. And with the recently re-tooled M line, it's even easier to get to you. (From our office in Koreatown, we were seated, with drink, at Dram in under 40 minutes). You're up, Greenpoint.
