The Star Diner puts the grease in greasy spoon. It's a great joint for reasonably priced, well-prepared old school breakfast fare such as corned beef hash and eggs or ham steak and eggs, served with hash browns and toast.
Fortunately, breakfast is available round the clock. I don't recommend the Star for lunch or dinner.
I visited the Star recently. The waitress was very charming, she recommended the daily specials: either the pot roast or stuffed peppers. But I was hoping to satisfy a fried chicken jones. The Star didn't scratch my itch -- the chicken was mostly bone and breading, the mashed spuds were cold and boring, the gravy was why bother. The Grumpy Diner got the pot roast, which consisted of several paper-thin slices of gray meat, with the same dull spuds and gravy and a side of tasteless corn.
None of the meals served to other clients looked appealing either, including diner basics like burgers and sandwiches.
The Star is packed on weekend mornings. But if I ever get a heavy breakfast craving midweek, that will be my destination.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
M&M
The six (alleged) contributors to this blog range from excellent cooks to willing helpers. We get together fairly often to eat in or out. Our conversations at one another's houses often include remarks like, "This is better than dinner at (fill in the blank)." When we're perusing menus, one of us is likely to say, "I don't want to order (use your imagination), I fix that at home."
But another phrase I often use is: "The only thing I like better than my own cooking is someone else's." Going to a restaurant isn't about subsistence, it's an opportunity to relax and talk with friends or colleagues or potential clients. It's easier to focus on my companion(s) and the conversation if I'm not involved in cooking or serving, my phone's not ringing, neighbors aren't passing by the window, the dog next door isn't barking, and countless chores aren't competing for my attention. If I notice chipped paint or a spill or a tchotchke that's obviously in the wrong place, it's not an action item, it has absolutely nothing to do with me.
That brings me to our long-running Mexican food and Margarita tradition. For the past five or more years, groups ranging from three to a dozen or so regulars have gotten together periodically to eat, drink and catch up. I don't remember how or when south of the border officially became the cuisine of choice for these gatherings. But these days when one of us says it's time for M&M, nobody thinks we're talking about something that melts in your mouth, not in your hand.
We've probably visited well over a dozen places over the years. Some have been one-shots remembered only by nicknames such as "the slow place" or "the place that charges for chips." Others have have become favorites: We all know by now that what started out as "the place with the backyard" is actually called Paquito's. While other places may have better food (including "the noisy place," a.k.a. Los Dos Mulinos), Paquito's ranks high for being quiet enough for us to talk, and tolerant enough to let us linger long into the evening.
Each of our regular M&M venues will get its due here eventually, but our most recent choice, Gabriela's, is a particular fave. We've been to at least three incarnations of this Upper West Side stalwart, and on our most recent visit Miz Style declared it "probably the best Mexican food I've ever had."
From the fiery and complex salsas to the moist tres leches cake, it's hard to make a bad choice. I usually go for the pollo yucateco, moist, crisp-skinned rotisserie chicken with a subtle touch of orange, served with a flavorful mole poblano or nutty pipian sauce. This time Mean Cuisine and I shared the chicken and an order of carnitas uruapan -- crispy pork served with fresh pico de gallo and a creamy avocado tomatillo relish. Both were very, very good. Miz Style chose cochinita pibil, tender, citrus-y pork, which rated the "best ever" remark. The Practical Joker (she really needs a different name, maybe "she who rocked the outhouse") was pleased with her veggie dish.
It's time to hit this place again!
But another phrase I often use is: "The only thing I like better than my own cooking is someone else's." Going to a restaurant isn't about subsistence, it's an opportunity to relax and talk with friends or colleagues or potential clients. It's easier to focus on my companion(s) and the conversation if I'm not involved in cooking or serving, my phone's not ringing, neighbors aren't passing by the window, the dog next door isn't barking, and countless chores aren't competing for my attention. If I notice chipped paint or a spill or a tchotchke that's obviously in the wrong place, it's not an action item, it has absolutely nothing to do with me.
That brings me to our long-running Mexican food and Margarita tradition. For the past five or more years, groups ranging from three to a dozen or so regulars have gotten together periodically to eat, drink and catch up. I don't remember how or when south of the border officially became the cuisine of choice for these gatherings. But these days when one of us says it's time for M&M, nobody thinks we're talking about something that melts in your mouth, not in your hand.
We've probably visited well over a dozen places over the years. Some have been one-shots remembered only by nicknames such as "the slow place" or "the place that charges for chips." Others have have become favorites: We all know by now that what started out as "the place with the backyard" is actually called Paquito's. While other places may have better food (including "the noisy place," a.k.a. Los Dos Mulinos), Paquito's ranks high for being quiet enough for us to talk, and tolerant enough to let us linger long into the evening.
Each of our regular M&M venues will get its due here eventually, but our most recent choice, Gabriela's, is a particular fave. We've been to at least three incarnations of this Upper West Side stalwart, and on our most recent visit Miz Style declared it "probably the best Mexican food I've ever had."
From the fiery and complex salsas to the moist tres leches cake, it's hard to make a bad choice. I usually go for the pollo yucateco, moist, crisp-skinned rotisserie chicken with a subtle touch of orange, served with a flavorful mole poblano or nutty pipian sauce. This time Mean Cuisine and I shared the chicken and an order of carnitas uruapan -- crispy pork served with fresh pico de gallo and a creamy avocado tomatillo relish. Both were very, very good. Miz Style chose cochinita pibil, tender, citrus-y pork, which rated the "best ever" remark. The Practical Joker (she really needs a different name, maybe "she who rocked the outhouse") was pleased with her veggie dish.
It's time to hit this place again!