Dinner at Slide: Some Solace for the Indecisive

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Despite being the youngest child in my family, I’ve come to be a big fan of sharing, at least when it comes to food. As I’ve mentioned in prior posts, I really like options, and I usually find myself torn between at least two items when faced with a menu. Fortunately, my parents have always been big on sharing their dishes, often sketching out a strategy based on whether my father will eventually switch plates with my mother, or whether my mother will order something my father doesn’t mind finishing up (he’s a big supporter of Truman’s clean plate doctrine). Now that I’m an adult with a gradually expanding palate, every time I eat with my parents I get to join in on this delicate dance of gustatory genuflection, and I jump at the opportunity to share dishes when dining with friends.

If it wasn’t obvious from the myriad posts in which he has appeared as my culinary compadre, Jacob is also a firm believer in the advantages of strategic shared ordering. Our recent dinner at Slide provided a stress-inducingly long list of bite-size burgers to choose from, but I was happily secure in the fact that I’d get to knock at least two of the offerings off my list before the check arrived.

 

First Impressions:

The front bar area of Slide, facing out onto Bleecker St.

The front bar area of Slide, facing out onto Bleecker St.

Slide, a restaurant specializing in (you guessed it) sliders, is located on Bleecker St., where it seems I spend most of my time these days. It’s only a block or two down from Bantam Bagels, actually, taking up a narrow but very deep space near the corner of Sullivan St. The restaurant has a very lounge-like vibe to it, with a semi-circular bar taking up the majority of the front space, and featuring windows that open out to Bleecker so patrons at the high tables placed in the bar area can people-watch. Moving back towards the rear of the restaurant, the space is softly lit and decked out in cool colors, dark wood tables, and heavy curtains.

 

Walking back from the noise of the street, the soft-lit dining room has a distinct lounge quality to it.

Walking back from the noise of the street, the soft-lit dining room has a distinct lounge quality to it.

The rock garden and fountain at Slide, an unexpected respite from the urban bustle.

The rock garden and fountain at Slide: slightly aesthetically incongruous, but still a nice respite from the urban bustle.

We elected to sit outside, and so were led back to a beautiful fountain and rock garden-set patio. There were some odd Greco-Roman elements strewn about (Jacob sat directly in front of a disgruntled looking bust), but it was nice to have a small piece of greenery back away from the hum of the city street. The only downside was the small size of the patio, which was packed to the brim with tables. This required a bit of maneuvering on the staff’s part. I understand the appeal of having more tables to turn more business, but it might make more sense for Slide to take out a few of the two-tops and not have to worry about anyone falling into the fountain.

 

The Food:

Slide has a good deal of variety on its menu, although you could argue that the pan-global approach is a little disorienting considering the main draw of the place is ostensibly burgers. I guess I’d describe the offerings as eclectic international pub food, whatever that means. The appetizers include items like gorgonzola-stuffed figs, ceviche, and Thai lettuce wraps  (though as someone who just espoused the value of options, maybe I shouldn’t complain). They also serve some salads and non-sandwich entrees, but for the first visit, you really can’t walk into a place called Slide and not order the sliders.

The sliders section of the menu is equally diverse, ranging from beef to veal to  salmon, veggie burger, mushroom, grilled cheese, chicken & waffles, and more. After some serious deliberation (including weighing the merits of some of the combo slider entrees, which give you hodgepodge of sliders from three dishes), Jacob and I decided on the Smoked Duck and the Cheese Steak Korean Bulgogi, with a side of Parmesan, Garlic & Herb Wedge Fries. Oh, did I not mention the variety of spuds and sides you can also pick from? It’s like a middle-school word problem prompting you to use factorials.

The Parmesan Garlic Wedges, an iceberg of starch with an surprising amount hiding below the surface of the tin cup.

The Parmesan, Garlic & Herb Wedges, an iceberg of starch with an surprising amount hiding below the surface of the tin cup.

The fries were served in what turned out to be a surprisingly deep metal cup, topped with a high-hat of parmesan shreds, rosemary and garlic. When we eventually made it to the bottom of the cup, there was a small mountain of herbal dust and debris. The wedges were thick-cut (my personal favorite cut of fry), and were of varying sizes, from steak fry to tater-tot in scope. The potatoes had a taut, crisp skin to them, bright with the cheese and herb seasoning, and eventually giving way to the soft, starchy interior. Even though Jacob generally prefers thinner-cut fries (ala the new spuds at Shake Shack), he and I both found the preparation of the wedges totally addictive.

The Smoked Duck Slider -- a great set of components tripped up by execution.

The Smoked Duck Slider — a great set of components tripped up by execution.

Our sliders arrived on wooden planks with three small divots that cup the bottom bun of each slider. I realized when the Smoked Duck (w/ duck fat chips, blackberry chutney & parmesan bun) arrived that I had misunderstood our server’s description of the burger. I thought the duck fat chips meant that the meat had been formed into chip shapes and then fried, imagining a chicken parmesan-type patty that sounded like a high-risk experiment in cholesterol elevation, but one that I was willing to undergo in the name of science. I was relieved (if slightly disappointed) to discover that the duck fat chips were in fact, potato chips fried in duck fat, nestled beneath a regular old ground duck patty. Above the patty rested the chutney, and the bun sported the same hillock of cheese strands as our fries. I really enjoyed the individual pieces of this slider, but overall felt that flaws in its constructions kept the parts greater than the whole. The duck meat was moist, if not as smokey as I would have thought from its title, but when paired with the blackberry chutney, you had a sour-sweet-fatty combination that was reminiscent of the turkey-cranberry Thanksgiving flavors. I liked the sharpness of the parmesan to highlight the brioche bun, but I think I would have preferred if the cheese had been baked into the bread, since it haphazardly slid off as you progressed through the burger. The chips were a great idea, and ever since I had a “crunchified” burger at Bobby’s Burger Palace, I’ve been a fan of adding in a little textural contrast to a burger with more oomph than crunchy romaine. Unfortunately, but placing the Pringles-thin chips beneath the meat, the juices from the duck soaked into them and removed all semblance of crispness. Ultimately you were left with a fresh but soft bun, soft duck meat, soft chutney, and a soggy chip — great flavors on their own, but somewhat one-note as a full sandwich.

The Cheese Steak Bulgogi slider -- Philly meets Seoul, with some low-level kimchi.

The Cheese Steak Korean Bulgogi slider — Philly meets Seoul, with some low-level kimchi.

The Cheese Steak Korean Bulgogi (w/ pepper-jack & kimchi pickle) was definitely our preferred slider of the night. Instead of coming as a patty, the beef was served in a bundle of thin sliced cheesesteak fashion, although obviously made up of much higher quality meat. As a Philly cheesesteak vet (with strong opinions), cheese whiz or provolone would have been a more authentic topper, but I found that the pepper-jack melded well with the Bulgogi marinade (bulgogi seasoning usually incorporates ingredients with heavy umami, like soy sauce, mushrooms, sesame oil, plus bbq elements like sugar, garlic, pepper, etc). The Korean seasoning gave the meat great depth of flavor, the umami-punch of the beef counterbalanced by the saltiness of the cheese and the kimchi. I was surprised by how mild the pickle was — I’m not usually into pickles of any type, and have had much more powerful kimchi before — but I didn’t mind the pickles at Slide because they mostly seemed like vinegar-dipped cucumber. The Cheese Steak ended up being the opposite of the Duck slider — here, the individual pieces were all pretty good, but not spectacular, but the combination of tastes and textures turned out to be far more successful. The only thing I would add to the slider would be some sort of sliced onions, to add a bit of acidity to the dish and more completely harken back to classic Philly steaks.

 

Final Thoughts:

Slide is definitely a great spot for dabbler dining. It seems best suited to larger groups (ideally in multiples of 3) who are willing to share their entrees, especially if you can work out an effective slider-bartering system. With a wide-ranging menu to suit most tastes, Slide can seem a bit scatter-brained, but the kitchen turns out some solid fare on the more basic offerings, like good ol’ beef for your protein, and a well-seasoned side of fries. I’d like to come back and try some of the other items on the menu, but when I do I’ll probably opt for one safer choice and one more adventurous, and maybe I’ll see how their special menu of spiked milkshakes stands up. So check out Slide if you’re looking to leave behind your humdrum, full size hamburger lifestyle for a day. You’ve got plenty of options to explore, and hopefully a trusted companion to walk through the high and low bites of the menu.

 

Slide

174 Bleecker St. (corner of Sullivan St.)

sliderestaurant.com

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Anglophilic Appreciation: Lunch at Jones Wood Foundry

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming!

So let’s dive back into New York food by talking about the United Kingdom and more of my travels. I’ve always had a passion for British culture, probably stemming back to my family’s love of movies starring Sean Connery (say what you will about his accent, that man is KILLER in The Hunt for Red October). I’ve traveled to the UK more than any other country, and when I was in college I spent a semester studying film at the University of Glasgow. Now Scotland gets a lot of crap about its native cuisine. Understandably so, given that the national dish is a stuffed sheep’s stomach. But to be honest, I actually ate pretty well when I was in Scotland. The Indian food I had while abroad was actually way better than any I’ve eaten in the US, and I managed to find some pretty stellar desserts (sticky toffee pudding, anyone?). Yes, the average chip shop offers a greasy fry-up and some soggy chips (read: french fries), but I’ve found you can get bad regional food anywhere you go. I ate some underwhelming pasta in Rome, some bad pastry in France, even some bad falafel in Israel. My point is, no matter what the cuisine, it’s silly to write off a whole culture because of bad dining experiences. You can’t control what the food is, but you can control the quality of restaurant you choose to eat at — does anyone actually order the steak at a greasy spoon in NY?

I say all of this because of a fantastic lunch I had a few weekends ago at Jones Wood Foundry on the UES. Jones Wood Foundry is a “food-driven pub” according to their website, located on 76th St, between 1st and East End. JWF has been open for a couple of years now, but I’d never managed to make it all the way east to get my British fix. I’m lucky enough to live near Caledonia, a Scottish pub on 2nd Ave, where I could indulge in beers and ciders from the UK that for the most part met my nostalgic needs. But last weekend my parents were looking for a new brunch location on the UES, so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to check JWF off my to-do list.


First Impressions:

The front window is bedecked with British paraphernalia.

The front window is bedecked with British paraphernalia.


JWF is in a narrow building right around the corner from 1st Ave. The building it’s housed in is an old brownstone, and the owners have decked out the front window with British memorabilia, just skirting the line of kitschy. Upon entering the restaurant, you’re greeted with the long, darkly rich wood bar, and a sense of classic British reserve. The area is dimly lit, the narrow hall more than halfway filled with the bar and stools, and at the end of the room you can see some steps down into the dining area. Jones Wood Foundry offers a number of beers on tap, which are listed on the chalkboard menus on the wall that also highlight the current cask ales on tap, and the pie of the day.

The massive bar is the first thing that you see.

The massive bar is the first thing that you see.

Cask ales and the pie of the day.

Draft beer, cask ales and the pie of the day.

Moving past the bar you walk down into the first of three dining spaces — a small room with one wall of french doors that lead out to the second space, the garden patio, and fianlly, the larger dining room, farthest back from the bar. The decor was familiar — dark wood paneling, plain chairs and tables, the walls adorned with British posters and pictures — but with touches of a more upscale tone, such granite tabletops and leather banquettes. JWF is straightforward in its aesthetic and attitude — the comfort of your favorite corner bar, but with a little more thought and attention paid. This carries through to both the service and the menu, and I found the general unpretentious air to be one of the best things about the place.

The first, smaller dining room, adjacent to the patio.

The first, smaller dining room, adjacent to the patio.

The largest dining area -- note more UK-centric posters and photos on the wall.

The largest dining area — note more UK-centric posters and photos on the wall.

This laid-back but thoughtful attitude extended to the staff as well. Our waiter was happy to answer any questions about unfamiliar British food nomenclature (what are “rissoles,” exactly?), offer his own opinions on the best dishes (which we ended up picking), and even went the extra mile of switching out my mug for a fresh one when I switched from regular to decaf coffee at dessert. Yes, I had dessert at lunch with my parents — I come by this sweet tooth honestly! This thoughtfulness even extended to the end of the meal, where we received a post card featuring photos of the restaurant’s earliest employees with our bill. Ours featured a construction worker who had loved the JWF guys so much he asked if he could stay on once the restaurant opened. They found him a spot in the kitchen, and he still works there to this day.


The Food:

A lamb pie all of my own.

A lamb pie all of my own.


On our waiter’s recommendation I ordered the pie of the day, which was a lamb and rosemary pie with a side of mashed potatoes. The pie was about the size of frozen dinner pot pie, slightly larger than the handpies I’ve seen at the Tuck Shop or Pie Face, but far from the hefty ladlefulls of Shepherd’s Pie I encountered at the cafeteria at U of Glasgow. In what would become a recurring theme, the highlight of the dish was the crust — flaky and buttery without being greasy, offering just a little resistance as I plunged my fork into it. It gave way to a thick, stew-like gravy full of well-seasoned, tender chunks of lamb. I appreciated that the meat was not ground, and I thought that the rosemary was very delicately used. I happen to love rosemary, but I recognize that it’s a herb that can overtake a dish. Jones Wood Foundry’s judicious use left the rosemary as an undercurrent to cut through some of the richness of the lamb.

The mashed potatoes were actually more whipped in texture. I’m not a big mashed potato person, but they were part of a grand bargain to allow me access to the “chips” part of my father’s fish and chips. My parents seemed to enjoy the mash, and I certainly appreciated the delicate presentation of the potatoes next to my pie.

My mother got a dish that seemed to be a British play on Smoked Salmon Benedict, featuring a crumpet instead of an English muffin (but what do the English call muffins?), and scrambled instead of poached eggs. I’ll admit I was too enraptured with my lamb pie and tasting the fish and chips to try more than the crumpet. I’ve had crumpets before, and found them too spongy for my taste. This one seemed perfectly fine to me, and I think my mother enjoyed her brunch. Dessert certainly helped seal the deal.

My mother went totally British with a tea and crumpets brunch.

My mother went totally British with a tea and crumpets brunch.

The other strong recommendation from our waiter was Jones Wood Foundry’s take on fish and chips, which my father ordered. While personally my lamb pie took the top spot in the entree competition, the fish and chips were a close second. In my visits to the UK I’ve had many a newspaper-wrapped piece of fried cod, and there is something incredibly comforting about a slick sheen of grease on the paper as evidence of the tremendously unhealthy food you’re ingesting. It’s like folding your slice of pizza only to have a sluice of oil run down the back off your hand. When you’re stumbling drunk and paying 5 bucks, the cholesterol is almost a bonus.

I love the knit cap for the lemon to prevent seeds falling onto your fish.

I love the knit cap for the lemon to prevent seeds falling onto your fish.

But JWF’s fish and chips is aimed at a slightly more conscious eater, and thankfully the dish was no gut bomb. Presented on a wooden board with a cup of medium-cut chips, the fillet of cod was very lightly fried. Like the crust on my pie, the batter used on the cod was flavorful without being overly buttery and rich. It was just salty enough to play off the mild fish meat, which flaked delicately. Alas, there was no malt vinegar to be found (usually a fish and chips standard), but it was served with a nice lemon aioli. As for the chips — being a bit of a french fry connoisseur (is this a job? Can I evaluate fries for a living?), I was slightly disappointed in the chips. They were too thinly cut to be authentic, and were a bit soggy considering how well cooked the fish was. On the other hand, the potato base was clearly of a higher quality than your average steak-cut chip shop fare.

So after our very light and healthful lunch (hah), we couldn’t help but peruse the dessert menu our waiter brought around. As I mentioned above, my favorite British dessert is sticky toffee pudding, but my parents were leaning more towards the Apple Grumble and the Banoffee Pie, so I was happy to compromise and try those out. I’ll just have to save the pudding for my next visit to JWF to compliment a cask ale.

Look at the chunks of crumble on the Apple Grumble.

Look at the chunks of crumble on the Apple Grumble!

The Apple Grumble was pretty much a regular fruit crisp, filled with pieces of pear and apple, topped with a brown sugar crumble, and served with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream. The ice cream was rich with great vanilla bean flavor. The fruit was all right, poached but not quite as melt in your mouth soft as I would have liked. The crisp topping (again with the pastry) was the real star, with sizable chunks instead of a mound of crumbs.

Look at how the gorgeous plate mirrors the almonds on the banoffee pie.

Look at how the gorgeous plate mirrors the almonds on the banoffee pie.

I ultimately preferred the Banoffee pie, again largely because of how the pie crust played off the filling. The pie had real slices of banana suspended in the toffee pudding, topped with whipped cream and toasted almonds. The base was a super rich graham cracker crust that somehow balanced the sweetness of the banana and toffee. The contrast of textures in the baked, yet crumbly crust, the soft pudding filling, and the crunchy toasted almonds kept every bite interesting, and I happily scarfed down 3/4 of it, trying to ignore the fact that it was my second pie dish in one meal. Looking back on it, I’m very happy that I shared the Banoffee Pie, because it probably would have been too large a portion for one person alone. But if I’m coming back to skip dinner and go straight for beer and dessert, then maybe it’s a perfectly reasonable size.


Final Thoughts:


Overall, my lunch at Jones Wood Foundry was an enjoyable experience from start to finish. The staff is friendly and attentive, the food is familiar but slightly more refined in execution, and atmosphere is relaxed and comfortable. I’m eager to return for dinner and see what other British staples have been toyed with on the menu. Eating at Jones Wood Foundry is like having comfort food for an Anglophile. Sure, you’re paying more than you would at your average Irish pub, but I’m happy to shell out for artful hand with pastry, and the lack of indigestion later.  Jones Wood Foundry won’t dazzle you with cutting-edge innovations in Anglo cuisine, but maybe, just maybe it’ll make you believe that a Brit armed with the right ingredients can turn out some quality dishes.

Jones Wood Foundry

401 E 76th St

www.joneswoodfoundry.com