Gam Mee Ok

Standing on 32^nd Street between 5^th and Broadway is very much like traveling to a foreign country; the block is even laid out like downtown Seoul. Restaurants, supermarkets, a hardware store, luggage shops, and banks are found on the high-rent ground level. Piled on top are beauty salons, travel agencies, karaoke bars, bookstores; all you have to do is look up.

Everyone on 32^nd Street seems to be Korean. A group of Korean teenagers, decked out in Burberry scarves and fake Prada knapsacks, smoke Marlboro Lights on a street corner. A young Korean cabbie, blasting Korean pop music from his speakers, wrangles for a few inches of space in front of a fire hydrant, causing a maddening traffic jam. Honking horns of every language protest while the beat-up Towncar wiggles to and fro. Bleary-eyed tourists, clutching giant plastic shopping bags from Macy’s, seem to be wondering if they might have taken a wrong turn onto the wrong continent – all of the signs are written in Korean. And the locals who live around the corner curse themselves for ending up on 32^nd Street once again.

Seeking refuge from the hustle and bustle, as well as the brisk cold, there are two choices. The first choice is to walk briskly, toppling the old ladies examining persimmons at the fruit stands, in order to get off the block. The second choice is to duck into one of the many restaurants for a steaming bowl of something, anything. Among a dizzying array of seemingly identical Korean restaurants on 32^nd Street, especially when prim women workers are meticulously assembling foodstuff in the steamy windows, which to choose?

You choose the busiest one, the storefront with customers waiting in a queue just to get inside, of course. I use this very logic when I travel to foreign countries. The busiest restaurants tend to have a high turnover of food, so that the food doesn’t even have a chance to spoil. Further, eating foods that have been cooked thoroughly insures against stomach trouble later. I don’t even know why I am contemplating the choices, when I’d subconsciously made a destination decision by “accidentally stumbling” onto this block.

Just walking into Gam Mee Ok is a treat in and of itself: I am instantly deluged with steam, the hazy scent of beef brisket and garlic, and of course, my friends who have served me breakfast, lunch, dinner and the occasional 5AM post-drinking binge fortification. There’s an open kitchen in the back, where a giant iron cauldron of steaming oxtail broth percolates. One fella flips a mung bean pancakes, a woman arranges organ meats on a platter.

I’m offered a seat in the back, where I must remove my shoes and sit on a mat, on the floor. The minute I am settled, I have a cup of hot barley tea. A busboy carries over a ceramic pot and a set of kitchen shears, then promptly disappears. Those who don’t know any better are tempted to manhandle the contents of the ceramic pot on their own, but will be gently scolded by the woman who appears moments later, who sets to work. Her job is to take the kitchen shears and transform the pickled radishes and kimchi into manageable segments. To follow the woman is a plate of cabbage, raw garlic, and hot pepper for dipping into a spicy mung bean paste.

If this wasn’t enough of a show, then there is the steaming bowl of oxtail stew from the cauldron, doused with a double starch dose of rice noodles and white rice, topped with thin beef brisket. On the table is a bowl of coarse sea salt, a pepper shaker, and diced scallions, with which to season to one’s liking. Too much salt? You have only yourself to blame.

The concept of breakfast is a Western one; Gam Mee Ok bustles with activity 24 hours a day, and a piping bowl of stew is a perfect breakfast. The scene at 5AM is particularly vibrant; young drunk people mix with old drunk people, all uniformly hoarse after a night of active karaoke.

Belly full of fire, salt, and heat, I find that I suddenly don’t mind a post-prandial walk through the hustle and bustle. There’s a good chance that I will pop into a Korean bakery for a red bean pastry and a cup of coffee, too, without a single complaint.

Food Writing Fall 03

IS BIGGER BETTER?

I live in a 300 square ft. apartment in Manhattan. My so-called “kitchenette” is composed of a 2-burner electric stove, and no oven. My mini-fridge actually serves as a mini-bar and moonlights as leftover condiment purgatory. Armed with a toaster oven, an industrial strength microwave, a trusty George Foreman grill, possibly a Cuisinart, and my trusty double burners, I technically have the tools to crank out big flavor dishes out of my teeny kitchen. Size of kitchen apparently doesn’t matter, and in fact, it’s almost a merit badge for hip chefs to cook in a miniscule kitchen; after all, Gabrielle Hamilton whips up many a culinary masterpiece from her mini EV resto Prune, as does Frank P at Frank, that dude at Punch & Judy.

But why on earth would I take the time or effort, when there are 10,000 restaurants in New York City? Why would I eat alone? Most importantly, why on earth would I want everything in my home – my sheets, my rug, my sweaters - to smell like garlic or bacon or fish filets?

My kitchen was clearly designed to boil a kettle of tea. Therefore, I eat out every night. This past week was a particularly expansive and culinarily adventurous week, as I had to travel for work.

They Call This Food?

AOL Corporate Cafeteria

22200 Pacific Blvd – CC2

Dulles, VA

The economy of scale kills the ecology of flavor. In Economics 101, you learn that once you have the tools and the people and the place to make widgets in place, the cheaper it becomes to produce more widgets over time.

If you’re making a huge quantity of the same food, the same theory applies. Once you already get a grill in place, and the lady with the hairnet and the gleaming cafeteria to serve food, the cheaper it becomes to produce more food over time. Sadly, there appears to be a quantity:flavor ratio disconnect - the more food big cafeterias crank out, the worse it tastes.

The brand spankin’ new company cafeteria at AOL Headquarters in Dulles, VA cranks out every imaginable thing a hungry employee could even dream of eating, from apple sauce to ziti. However, the flavor and texture between dishes are virtually indistinguishable.

How can food be so BIG and be so flavorless?

How can there be so much of it, and why is it that I am not compelled to eat it?

The Salad Bar boasts so called healthy options for the dieting, the same folks who walk out of their home to their car, parking lot to work building, then reverse.

Feta

Chick peas

Tofu

Green Beans

Asian Noodle Salad

And an array of creamy and oily dressings to ruin your diet.

1. Burger – He didn’t ask, but I asked the grill man for medium rare. I got a hockey puck.

2. French Fries – Thick skinned steak fry of a nugget of hot carbs, virtually flavorless, satisfying only insofar as knowing that you are indulging in a guilty pleasure.

3. Spaghetti & Meatballs. Water and oil separating, Standard flavorless meatball falling apart due to length of time spent cooking, meat sauce (not to be confused with a Bolognese – this is definitely canned sauce with meat in it)

4. Soup of the Day: New Orleans style Chicken Gumbo with Okra and Andouille. Grease in a bucket.

5. Pizza – Crust thicker than the average NY Sicilian, cheese crusted ¼” thick. Looks like Pizza Hut, but tastes worst than store brand Frozen Pizza.

6. BBQ Sandwich – Pulled beef which had spent some time stewing in a mysterious and sugary BBQ sauce, hiding underneath a seeded sesame bun.

BEST DISHES Salad Bar, Cheeseburger, Pizza, Spaghetti and Meatballs, Soup of the Day, Turtle Brownie.

PRICE RANGE
CREDIT CARDS Cash Only
HOURS Daily, 7:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m

NOISE

Haute Snack

Jack’s Luxury Oyster Bar

246 East 5th St.

East Village

212-673-0338

I just spent $100 on a snack.

Jack and Grace Lamb walk in and out of their restaurants, which are situated across the street from each other.

Delicate dollhouse

Thai silk curtains.

Like being in someone’s home.

People must walk out with the Laguiole knives all the time

Toasted Pecans with Sugar and Cayenne

Amuse Bouche: Quail Eggs and Chive

Raisin Pumpernickel Toast and Cheddar and (Red) Spread

Oysters 6 Ways $14

Foie Gras with Candied Fig & Dressed Greens $14

Poached Lobster, butter (something puree sauce, chives)

Nicholas Feuillat Champagne $10

Heitz Chard $12

Alsatian Pinot $8

BEST DISHES
PRICE RANGE
CREDIT CARDS All major cards.
HOURS Daily

NOISE

The Old Standby

P.J. Clarke's
915 Third Avenue

Midtown

(212) 317-1616.

After bad road food and a $100 snack, I crave something simple. At this point, affordable and familiar is just gravy.

Eric Asimov of the NY Times said that you don’t go to PJ Clark’s for the food. The man’s got a point: you go for the atmosphere. The new owners, who include Philip Scotti, of Dock's Oyster Bar and Sarabeth's fame, and Timothy Hutton, the actor, have taken painstaking care to keep the spirit of the old-school American saloon alive. You go to hang out on a bar stool with a Con Ed repair guy to your left, a woman in a sable coat to your right, perched on wooden barstools at the very same beer-soaked mahogany bar. There could be a Con Ed repair guy still in uniform to your left, maybe a woman with patrician cheekbones in a sable coat to your right, both at the very same beer-soaked mahogany bar, under the tin ceilings, with its hard-earned nicotine patina from a hundred years of pipe and cigar smoke.

You really go to eat a burger ($7.80) and the greaseless shoestring fries ($3) in a room with beveled glass, worn wood floors, red-and-white checked tablecloths, and pictures of old-timers on the walls. You might also go for the raw oysters ($1.75 to $2 each) shucked by some dude wearing a skull cap at the raw bar, which you slug down with a pint of Guinness.

The burger is perfect. The meat is juicy, literally oozing with grease and flavor. The bun is soft. I’m a purist, I like hamburgers without any accoutrements, but plenty of folks dig the bacon cheeseburger, the so-called Cadillac of Cheeseburgers (as once coined by Nat King Cole). You will not get lettuce tomato or a pickle unless you ask your friendly, long-aproned server. My only complaint might be that the onion, a stinking surprise found underneath the burger itself, is cut too thick. In the dining room, the burger is served on a salad plate, at the bar, on a paper plate!

The PJ’s burger reminds us that bigger is not better – this is not 12 oz. of beef slathered with sautéed onions and mushrooms served on a Kaiser roll next to a mountain of soggy fries, that you might find at a sturdy burger joint. The PJ’s burger is small, flavorful, and manageable. It is sustenance when you are ravenous after a show, a perfect accompaniment at the bar with a beer and the ball game on TV, or an antidote to a hangover.

For those who diet, Caesar salad ($7.50) is flimsy, wilted yellowed romaine, laden with anchovy laced dressing. The Cobb Salad, sadly, is composed of dry grilled chicken, slices of avocado, diced red onions, chopped hard boiled eggs, crumbled bits of bacon, and bleu cheese, on a sorry looking bed of iceberg lettuce.

Turkey Club ($10.95) is a classic hotel-style triple decker, with thick–cut roasted turkey and crispy slabs of bacon, and unremarkable mayo, lettuce and tomato on 7-grain toast. Their steak ($24.85 hangar, $32.85 rib-eye) is decent, though I’m not sure why you’d order a steak when a burger would meet a meat jones. My favorite dessert is a wedge of coconut-lemon cake ($6.85), fluffy and sweet, and innocent.

This is not the place to try to tickle your palate. I just like knowing that I can show up at 3AM and order ½ a wedge of iceberg lettuce, shrimp cocktail, and chopped steak. I’ve magically landed at PJ’s for brunch, lunch, dinner, or at 3AM for a hamburger fix after a night of boozing. No matter when I show up, the hamburger is consistent and arrives on my table in 8 minutes flat. Plus, being a regular and all, the hostess lets me sit anywhere I want.

BEST DISHES Bacon cheeseburger, Turkey Club, Caesar salad, Cobb Salad, oysters, steamed mussels, coconut-lemon cake.
PRICE RANGE Appetizers, $4.25 to $9.75; main courses, $8.10 to $32.85.
CREDIT CARDS All major cards.
HOURS Daily, 11:30 a.m. to 3:30 a.m, kitchen is really open until 3:30!