Perry G.'s Profile

I'd read all the negative reviews here on Yelp! but since they had such a great price on a Specialized Langster and I already knew that I wanted to get it, I went to the shop anyway.

It ended up being one of the best bike store experiences I've had in years.  The service was prompt, attentive, and considered.  Other bike stores I've been on have slapped me on a bike and tried to push me out the door.  At Bicycle Habitat we came to the conclusion that the bike that best fitted me was not in stock.  It was quickly ordered, fitted, and I got a lot great tips and good advice.  

I can't speak highly enough of this store.

The Pink Pony is a cozy, well-appointed spot - warm, high ceilings.  Food isn't the best but the ambiance is golden and the relaxed, relaxed service make it a rewarding joint.

You won't find carts rolling around with severe women dishing out the goods but you will find that the menu-ordered dim sum will knock your socks off.  

The roast pork buns are piping hot and sweet with a little tang.  The shrimp dumplings nestle plump crustaceans brimming with flavor in a delicate skin.  The fresh mango pudding received at the end was indeed fresh - its piny flavor singing out.  

As ambiance goes it's all business here and without any gaudy decorative trappings.  Fine by me - the food is killer.

Kitchen Bar offers an incandescent cubbyhole for the consumption of competently-assembled fare.  

The menu trends  Southern but could also be seen as All Over The Map.  A little fried calamari here, a little jerk chicken there.  Some ribs, some linguini.  Your body will remember the meal more for its nourishing properties than your mind will its heavy-handed application of cooking school basics.

The ambiance of the place is likely its biggest draw in that its coziness and festive ornamentation provides respite from the neighborhood's generally blank, featureless landscape.  Favorite decorative conceit: the exposed wooden beam ceiling that gives the joint a rustic vibe but  just can't be real...

Service is what took this place from a 4 to a 3.  Perhaps the dude that served us had just been dumped by his girlfriend AND dosed with meds.  In which case... all is forgiven.  But if not, he needs a refresher in hospitality.  Namely - demonstrate some enthusiasm for life.  God knows it's hard enough as it is.  You don't need your server looking as if he just finished reading Schopenhauer.  At least the food tossed onto the table was aimed correctly and landed without turbulence.  Service issues are not limited to this one dour dude.  There's a generally lackadaisical attitude that infuses the place.  The informal "home-style" ambiance they're likely trying to cultivate instead comes off as laziness and boredom.

As this part of SoPoSlo continues its upward trajectory and competitors with their own decorative conceits roll in, Kitchen Bar will have to tuck in its shirt and get good.  It's certainly within its reach.

Other than taste what's the difference between good Mexican and bad?

Texture.

Tortillas with a hint of crispness.  Chicken with a crunchy sear.  Avocados with a modicum of resistance.

Chavella's nails it.  And they do so in an unassuming sidewalk restaurant without tacky ornamentation.  The pace is relaxed but efficient.  The food's flavors are delicate.  The portions generous.  Conversation is facilitated by only two beer varieties - Pacifico and Negra Modelo - but you won't mind since all your attention will be on your dining mate and the plate in front of you.

This is a crap restaurant serving crappier food only worthwhile in a pinch when you've got nothing else to eat and would lie awake all night in a semi-comatose state of semi-starvation.

Everything is sub-par.  The egg rolls have a suspiciously fecal taste.  The flavors amongst items are the same: gooey and a bit salty.  Nearly everything is deep fried.

Lord have mercy.

Park Slope Ale House reliably delivers pub fare and a good array of beers.

Outdoor seating, low-key (dark) environment, lots of draughts  I can't speak for the food other than their burgers which are generously massed and long-lived in the gut.  

Downstairs is "grandma's basement" - a seating area that could easily pass for a suburban rec room if it had a TV.  A good place for groups to get together and act sloppy.

Get the deep-fried pickles.

This is a very promising venue with an unusually eclectic programming calendar designed to attract disparate musical communities.  Music by Steve Reich - the minimalist composer - one night, music by Shearwater - an upcoming indie band - the next.  They Might be Giants every month.  In other words they aren't just chasing the youth or the hipsters but instead they hold a more expansive understanding of how to draw crowds.  And to mix them.  I spoke with the owner briefly who emphasized how mixing groups that might otherwise not be in touch (say, stock brokers and graphic designers) was a goal of Le Poisson Rouge.

Seating is at tables which are placed around a good-sized (though not huge) room in close proximity on various levels. Musicians are presented "in the round" set up on a stage in the middle of the space.  This physical and visual accessibility to the artists is supplemented by an incredibly well-tuned sound system that from my experience seemed to offer every seat in the house the same high-quality sound.  It was pretty amazing, actually, with sounds coming mostly from the speakers but still managing to indicate the locality and directionality of the performers. This is a testament to the size of the room but also the acoustical engineering. True, the band I saw played on the quieter end of the spectrum so I can't report on groups playing at higher decibels or with hundreds of layers but I imagine the capable system will be able to keep up.

The bar running the length of a side wall served fine drinks expeditiously and the bartenders were exceptionally friendly.  They are apparently putting in a kitchen which should open soon.

I am very enthused about this place.  They are running a very polished, smart operation and my sense is that this will quickly rise to become an important cultural broker in New York City.

There are some things in life that pluck at emotional cores in ways that can't be expressed and for me Bar Tabac is one of them (along with Phish, geometric abstraction, and certain types of nose).  

Once a beetle crawled out from under a salad I ordered and staggered its way to the edge of the plate covered in olive oil.  I picked it up and placed it on a nearby tree.  Then the waiter argued with me about its existence and only after a terse exchange was the salad's fee removed from the bill.

And still I love this place.

The dim incandescent glow inside...  The perky live music...  The sassy waitresses...  The way that the place always inspires good conversation...  The woozy way the night shimmers to a glowing conclusion each time I leave the restaurant...

McDonalds is the king of fast food and consistently produces quality items at outrageously cheap prices.  

I stopped at this particular location on a bike ride from Park Slope to the Bronx and ordered a number 2 extra value meal: 2 cheese burgers, fries, and a coke.  

Per usual the ordering process was painless, the food was in my hands in under a minute and my wants were satiated for the duration of consumption.

Bun - light and sweet.  Patties delicately seasoned with a hint of smoke.  Fries crispy outside, flaky inside.  Hint: accenting them with ketchup augments their natural flavor. Coca Cola complements the whole experience providing a bubbly catalyst for digestion.

What can I say?  I'm lovin' it.