THE VERDICT: Albany food critic B.A. Nilsson's take on the Philly food scene

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THE VERDICT: Albany food critic B.A. Nilsson's take on the Philly food scene

POSTED: Tuesday, November 4, 2008, 6:28 PM

Filed Under: Field Trip | We're Here to Help

B.A. Nilsson, restaurant critic for the Metroland alt-weekly in Albany, New York, recently tapped Meal Ticket for restaurant suggestions for a weekend trip to Philadelphia. We came up with a big list of destinations, and he went for it. Check out his full eating recap, with photos, below. —Drew Lazor

This is about dining in the age of the GPS, making it possible for a hungry out-of-towner to graze across the length of several neighborhoods during the course of a weekend. Thanks to my daughter Lily's recent passion for Panic at the Disco, her mother and I were bringing her to Philadelphia, one of the stops on the band's Rock Band Tour, and Susan, my wife, generously relieved me of any need to sit through the show.

I review restaurants for Metroland magazine, the alt-newsweekly published in Albany, NY. It's an area that struggles to achieve any multi-ethnic culinary variety, and often seems like the red-sauce capital of the universe. Right now we're being inundated with Japanese steakhouses, provoking the fear that I'm doomed to an eternity of forcing a chuckle at little plastic squeeze-dolls pissing on teppanyaki flames.

Why not see what Philadelphia has to offer? There’s a strong collegial feeling among alt-weekly writers, so I sought the advice of Drew Lazor. I’ve been so consulted in the past, and Drew, it turned out, also has turned to a far-flung counterpart. He and Felicia D'Ambrosio put together a list that looked inspiring. And challenging. It promised to keep me close to South Philadelphia and the Wachovia Center, so with list in hand and the car's GPS ready, I set forth to see how many places I could during the course of this Saturday night.

First stop: Dinner for the family. I pulled into Wing Phat Plaza, grateful to avoid struggling with parking this early in the game, and nearly lost a choice spot when a small car with Jersey plates attempted to buzz around my right and preempt me. Not for nothing did I learn to drive in Manhattan. With a half-hour to spare before heading Wachovia-ward, we goggled at the dizzying, bright yellow array of shops and chose Viet Huong Restaurant. At 5:40 p.m., we shared the large dining room with few others. I eased into my evening with a bowl of rice noodle soup sporting thick chunks of stewed beef, fatty meat in a liquid so meaty that I confined myself to a few slurps, a maddening form of discipline at that hour.

After depositing the family at the Spectrum’s Pattison Street entrance, I continued north for a taste of the grilled octopus at Dmitri's. Here’s where the GPS got wacky. Instead of sending me to Queen Village along the river, I was led through a maze of one-way residential streets, each block ending in a stop sign, traffic light, or, as far as I could tell, free-for-all. And the tiny dining room of my destination was packed, the sidewalk thick with waiting customers. It was approaching 7. I couldn’t imagine the crowd thinning too soon.

On to Chinatown. The route was more direct, but parking on the narrow streets eluded me. I dropped the car at a for-pay lot where it was crammed into an array that couldn’t possibly be untangled when I chose to depart.

Pork kidneys at Potluck Café

Photo | B.A. Nilsson

Malaysian cuisine has yet to come to Albany, so I elbowed my way past the sidewalk crowd in front of Penang to see if a single diner could be accommodated. I liked the warehouse-y feel of the interior, with its creative use of corrugated steel on the walls. Placed at a high, steel circlet adjoining the window, I studied N. 10th St. while waiting for a very hot clay pot of green curried chicken to cool. Set off with lemongrass and chilis, it was a tasty contrast to the Vietnamese soup. A few spoonfuls were spicy enough to liquify my face, which I consider a recipe’s mark of success.

I had the rest of it wrapped, and carried it a short distance down N. 10th to the Potluck Café. We’ve got a million of these tiny storefront takeout joints in my area, but none offering "Frog with Three Kinds Mushroom in the Hotpot." I like to boast of epicurean adventurousness, but that was daunting. Presented with tasty morsels of salted chicken as I studied the menu, I settled on pork kidneys with hotbean paste.

"They make their own hotbean paste," Darren Finizio told me. "It's excellent." He was dining at an adjacent table, and couldn’t extol the Potluck too highly. “I’m the one who told Drew Lazor to review this place,” he said. My conclusion: If I'm going to eat kidneys, let it be in a hotbean paste. But with lots of rice.

I marveled at the parking attendant's skill at vehicular Tetris, quickly bringing my car to the head of an exit lane. I wanted to get to Indonesia. I was eager to sample fare from Ethiopia or Eritrea. And I was running out of hunger. I drove a short physical distance for a huge change of neighborhood, and entered Wazobia for a Nigerian meal.

Capogiro

Photo | B.A. Nilsson

It's humbling, as a middle-aged white guy, to be the minority. I gamely introduced myself and explained my purpose and was served a tray of steaming goat stew with sides of amala, a sticky yam derivative, and okro, a stringy, viscous okra soup.

And then pathetically addressed each item individually, forking into my face a bit of this, a bit of that. "This is Nigerian food," explained a man named Peter, taking pity on me. "You mix it all together, that's how it's supposed to be eaten." Then he launched into a fascinating comparative survey of African cuisines, describing so many unfamiliar aspects that I failed to follow much of it. He even left me with his phone number should I wish to learn more.

Still trying to pace myself, I added this fresh round of leftovers containers to the car and journeyed south. A navigational pattern was emerging. No matter where I headed, once the GPS signed off and left me in front of the restaurant and I continued on to find parking, I ended up on Broad or Market St. with City Hall looming in front of me. You can’t fight it.

Had I done more research, I would have discovered that the recently reopened Minar Palace closes Saturdays at 7. It was well past 9 when I read the sign on the door. My luck continued lousy: Vic Sushi had just closed when I neared the place, taking my hope of sushi with it, and the walk to Almaz Café also proved fruitless — I missed the place by minutes.

But I finished the evening, as recommended, by whisking wife and daughter to Capogiro Gelato, arriving just under the wire. Many of the bins had been scraped empty by then, but I enjoyed a melting mound of pumpkin and chocolate-banana gelato before hitting the hotel.

Zilzil tibs at Almaz Café

Photo | B.A. Nilsson

Sunday was given over to sightseeing, but I had unfinished eating to pursue. We lunched at Almaz, sitting in the tiny balcony, enjoying the coffeehouse ambiance. They were out of kitfo, the Drew-and-Felicia recommended steak tartare, but the chef suggested zilzil tibs — tender beef strips sautéed in butter with an aromatic sprig of rosemary, leaching its juices into the enjera, the soft bread on which it was served.

I couldn't persuade my tablemates to go gursha and abandon their forks in favor of scooping the food in swabs of enjera, but I did it and enjoyed it and hope I earned some spiritual redemption for having been so lame at Wazobia.

When my dining request hit the City Paper blog, the trio of chef Jose Garces' restaurants was recommended. Taking a cue from that, we finished our visit at Distrito. Yes, it was by far the costliest venue, but the combination of outrageously pink décor, deliciously described menu items and a potent margarita shook open my parsimonious spouse's purse strings and we ordered away.

Carnitas tacos at Distrito

Photo | B.A. Nilsson

We began with the tiniest imaginable portion of yellowtail ceviche — but the cherry-sized scoop of sangria sorbet redeemed it. I'd argue that the fried whole-wheat wrappers on the squash and poblano purée are more like empanadas than quesadillas, but I can't quarrel with the inspiring intricacies of their flavor. And the rabbit mole was as beautiful to see as to consume, served in a small metal pot with the meat and the sauce, that wonderful purée of nuts and peppers, separated into adjoining areas. By the time we finished, five dinner selections and three dessert had laid waste to our appetites.

"I used to work for the chef when he had a restaurant in Chicago," our server, Jessica, told us. So she contrived to move to Philadelphia to work here. "He's honestly the nicest, most generous chef I've ever known."

"We could move to Philadelphia," my wife observed as we strolled back to the car, adding, with the braggadocio of the infrequent drinker, "and I'd have a margarita every day." And why not? I enjoyed the food and the friendliness and was confident that I’d soon solve the mystery of parking. And I felt like I was beginning to know my way around the city, so I set off for the hotel without bothering to set the GPS, looping around City Hall a couple of times before returning to that instrument's surety.

darren finizio

Posted 2008-11-08 03:45:48

hey, whats up? sorry ud idn't think much of the kidney, guess u have to grow up with it.....being italian i grew up with tripe, sweet breads etc and always had a thing for liver........i think kidneys the bomb and potluck also makes it in a ginger and scallion sauce -- it's very good for your liver supposedly........perhaps u and drew don't go for the weird stuff too much and should stick with the "three cups chicken" (far more excitinbg than it's name) which is cheap at 5$, comes in a fiery pot with lots of cooked basil garlic bulbs and giner in a wine/soy/seame oil sauce and u can't get anywhere else: a real delight.......potluck makes uncompromising fuzhou cuisine -- i imagine it's as close as one will get to real chinese food here.......rememeber though: places like this have to work with what they have here and isn't quite the same -- much of the red meat, forinstance, would be fresh over there whereas here it's frozen -- organ meats, thus, are probably somewhat compromised, but i have no complaints.........perhaps u need to get goodn'drunk and just embrace the moment when trying these type foods.....anyway, thx 4 the namedrop, take care.

Cathy Buckwalter

Posted 2010-07-18 11:38:00

Dear Mr. Nilsson: I read your fabulous review of Casablanca Cafe in the fairly latest Metroland. HOWEVER, you mentioned the "charming neighborhood" (my emphasis)in which it is doing business and that you and/or Mr. Cherif do not have much hope for the restaurant's long life because of the nature of the neighborhood -- basically, a crappy, crime-ridden, unfriendly parking, area in which one would not even walk a hamster, let alone even give the intrusive panhandlers shekels -- but then I'm reading between the lines and I know this area very well -- and you are so right, but in your words....SOOOO, why not put your money where your pen is and HELP Mr. Cherif find a more suitable and affordable area to help him stay in business and see his wonderful and different cuisine flourish? You should help him by using your contacts in whatever field you can (maybe real estate--I'm sure you come in contact with people in that business, and maybe even specialize in it) for entrepreneurial chefs who should be located in better and affordable areas. And I would do it pro bono -- what better way to give back to a community than to help the individuals responsible for good business, good food, and good neighboring -- way better than writing a check for some national disease-of-the-week or political thugs in both parties. No, I'm not in the real estate business, but I'm going to see if I can help Mr. Cherif (sight and taste unseen, yet), and I'm just a lover of great and different foods. I enjoy your column immensely, but I have noticed over the years that many times when you praise a restaurant that's just starting up, their location gets slammed, e.g., undercurrent in the review of "Burger-Centric", and your observation is correct and then their longevity depends upon their moxie and lease, and sometimes their lost. And there are others which I can't recall at this moment. If you really like these little gems of cuisines popping up all over the Capital District, then maybe you should help out a bit --- pro bono findings wouldn't be a conflict of interest with your column and Metroland -- it WOULD be in YOUR best interest and those of your fellow foodies/readers to keep these courageous businessmen and women cum chefs here and prospering and building the Capital District economy and palate. Hope to hear from you. Bon Appetit and Cheerio, Cathy Buckwalter(I am retired from the advertising/marketing/pr business these last 27 years; My mentors were David Ogilvy and Jerry Della Femina; I have degress from FIT and Brooklyn College in English and Psychology and boy do I know my business! I sold my advertising business in NYC back in '83, moved here and got married because my husband already had a practice here, raised a family, and now do stuff I never got to do because I worked from the age of 13 [yes, that's 13! with never a summer off during school vacations].).

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Founded in October 2008, Meal Ticket is a City Paper blog about food, drink and assorted other things that make you go mmm. We do recipes, interviews, restaurant news, commentary and much more. We don't do restaurant reviews here — those are handled in print, mostly by our critic (and Meal Ticket contributor) Adam Erace. Got a tip, question, thought or concern? Just want to say hello? Please shoot a note to caroline@citypaper.net.

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