On March 27, 2009, I wrote of the legendary original Ray’s Pizza at 27 Prince Street. Located around the corner from my office, I have frequented Ray’s for over 20 years. I loved their pizza – classic with a few gourmet touches. Yesterday, when I recommended them to a customer for lunch, one of my employees informed me that would not be possible since Ray’s had closed. When I asked to confirm that it was THE Ray’s on Prince, she said yes, that it was the Ray’s, and this was quite a big thing with plenty of local buzz.

I jogged out to see for myself with camera in hand, and sure enough, Ray’s was not only closed, but there was absolutely no vestige whatsoever of its prior existence. Neither a smear of sauce nor a faded sign. After 52 years in business, it was another episode in New York City of the End of an Era. The closing involved a legal dispute. From the New York Times:

The closing, long story short, follows a legal dispute among heirs with various interests in the building at 27 Prince, which includes apartments and the two sides of Ray’s: the pizzeria and an Italian restaurant, each with its separate entrance, but sharing a kitchen and the corporation name, Ray’s of Prince Street. When the Ray in Ray’s, one of the owners of the building, died in 2008, a row arose over whether the restaurant’s lease was valid and whether it should pay rent. A lawsuit was filed in 2009 and settled this year.

I was sad to have missed their last day on Sunday and to not have met Helen Mistretta, the manager. According to the Times article, she did look for alternate space but cited extraordinary rents and cost of renovation as an impasse to moving to a new location. Instead, equipment will be sold at auction and mementos placed in storage. I will miss their pesto pizza – a rarity in town. The closing due to financial matters is a classic saga with the loss of iconic businesses that has been repeated around New York City many times. That’s how the crust crumbles, when there’s plenty of flour but not enough dough 🙂

Photo Note: Upper photo taken March 20, 2009; lower photo taken November 8, 2011.

Related Posts: Quest for Pizza, Best Pizza in New York, Cookies in the Afternoon, Zero Minutes, It’s the Humidity, Walk Like Di Fara, No Problema, DiFara, Roots of Pizza, Two Boots

What an unsophisticated, strong-headed, argumentative, ignorant fool I was – in my 20s, a radical vegetarian, and seriously trying to make a case that carob confections were every bit as good as chocolate. I was arguing with chocaholics – what lunacy. Today, I rarely even hear much about carob, and I have not had it in eons. Far fewer are willing to compromise their taste buds, and chocolate has lost much of its evil connotation, with dark chocolate even being seen as healthy.

My sister was a chocaholic and in the 1980s, she frequented the city with her husband. They both loved visiting here and savored the opportunity to indulge in the foods and restaurants of New York City. On one sojourn, I had booked them a room at the Plaza Hotel and made reservations for them at La Côte Basque. I had not included myself in the restaurant outing for a number of reasons, primarily because I was too cheap, particularly to pay for a vegetable dinner in one of New York City’s finest restaurants.

However, as the hour of reckoning arrived, standing in my sister’s hotel room, the conversation turned to their persuading me to accompany them. I had no wardrobe at the time other than elements of the uniform of the 1960s, so I rejected the offer based on my inability to make the dress code. My brother-in-law, however, always traveled armed with additional clothing and was virtually the same size as I was.

I objected first on the basis of owning no sport jacket. He had an extra. I had no dress pants. He had extra. As we went through all the necessary articles of the well dressed man, I was offered a perfectly suited piece. Finally, in frustration, I pointed out that I could not go to a French restaurant with sneakers, but alas, he had extra dress shoes also.

OK – what about changing a reservation from two to three? And what about a vegetarian meal? A quick call to the restaurant confirmed that one could be added and that my dietary restrictions was zero issue. The French take food seriously, and restaurateurs seem themselves in business to serve the patron, not make things convenient for themselves – a common irritation among many. I was assured that my waiter would easily accommodate any dietary needs.

And so it was that I came to have one of the finest dining experiences in my memory. As we sat down, we were immediately asked if anyone would be having the chocolate souffle for dessert. We were being asked upon our seating, since the creation of the dessert was a long process and would take the entire duration of the meal to prepare. My sister obliged, of course. I remember that the entire experience was extraordinary – being young, such fine dining in New York City was an event I would always remember, the details of which I would recount for my entire life.

When the crusty confection arrived, it was delivered and presented by a team. One carried the dessert while another the chocolate sauce. As one waiter broke the crust and ladled the sauce onto the dessert, I recall my sister overwhelmed, just repeating “Oh my God” over and over.

I imagine that it was likely around that time that I stopped making the argument that carob was as good as chocolate. And thank God that I had never said such a thing within earshot of a pastry chef at La Côte Basque 🙂

*La Côte Basque was in operation for over 45 years, closing in 2004. A temple to classic French haute cuisine, the restaurant saw guests such as Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Frank Sinatra. The restaurant opened in the late 1950s by Henri Soulé. Chef Jean-Jacques Rachou became owner in 1979. He said he spent more than $2,200 a week on flowers and more than $3,000 on linen.

Photo Note: This is Marie Belle at 484 Broome Street in SoHo. The shop, cacao bar, and tea salon is a shrine to all things chocolate and is a very highly regarded gem of the neighborhood. Unless you prefer carob 🙂

Related Posts: Pure Chocolate, Sirens of Convenience, Bon Appetit, Economy Candy, Chocolate Bar, Jacques Torres

During my visit to Grimaldi’s on February 9, 2011, with friend and photographer Bill Shatto, a couple was seated next to us. I began chatting with the man. We spoke on many subjects, and when I learned that he came from Staten Island, I discussed this photoblog, my exploration of Staten Island, and the numerous places I had visited, many virtually unknown to the outsider. I mentioned the enigmatic Kirschner Mansion, and in another occurrence of Only in New York, I learned that this man was involved in real estate and had previously OWNED it. Amazing.

Conversation turned to pizza, and of course anyone seated in a place like Grimaldi’s, where the privilege of eating is paid for by waiting in extraordinarily long lines, will typically have substantial experience in the Quest for Pizza. My new acquaintance informed me that in his opinion, the best pizza in New York, and in his opinion the best he had anywhere, was from Denino’s in Staten Island. If you’re looking for good pizza, one should never dismiss the opinion of a Brooklyn-born Italian, so I filed Denino in my mind for future reference.

On Saturday, October 1, I decided to pay Denino’s a visit. Located at 524 Port Richmond, the place is a landmark, established in 1937. As would be expected, the walls were covered with articles and awards. I understand that Denino’s is typically packed on weekends, but on my visit, it was a case of walking in and seating oneself. Service was perfunctory and a bit uneven. The crowd appeared to be very local, dominated by Italian-Americans who have a large presence on Staten Island (37% of the borough claims Italian-American ancestry, the highest percentage of any county in the nation).

The pizza arrived, and I must say, the crust is one of the finest I have ever eaten. The brick oven pie is different, but on a par with legendary New York City icons like Di Fara, Totonno’s and Grimaldi’s – the kinds of places that one patron referred to as “Cappelas di caminetto capolavoro” (chapels of fireplace masterpieces).

Getting to their location on Staten Island is far from the other boroughs of New York City and is not accessible by subway, so for most, traveling there by bus, car, or ferry will be a deal breaker. Unless, of course, you’re a New Yorker on a Quest for Pizza 🙂

Related Posts: Best Pizza in New York, No Folding Required

There are no rules. Just because an acclaimed artist is messy does not mean that messiness confers artistry or that it is a necessary condition for such. Handmade is not always better than factory-made or mass-produced. And although generally speaking, I am not a huge fan of the encroachment of national retail chains in New York City, I am not going to buy into the idea that the quality of goods in every small mom and pop shop is superior to that in the chain store.

On weekends, I often like to drive in the outer boroughs looking for stories and photos for this website. On Sunday, I was hungry and in the mood for comfort food, which I rarely eat. I thought I had learned my lesson regarding diners, but apparently, not yet. And this time, I succumbed to a new foolish quest: a search for the “best diner in New York.”

My research indicated that the Family Corner in Astoria, Queens, was a worthy candidate for the “best diner” quest, so, I recruited a friend for this outing. We parked, and on the way, I spotted the Neptune Diner, which proclaimed “The Best Diner in New York City” according to the New York Daily News. However, I was to later learn that designation dated back to 1993. We stopped inside – the decor was quite nice for a diner. However, the rave reviews of the Family Corner nagged at me, so we pressed on.

We had parked in a spot that was supposed to be a short couple of blocks away using the Google mapping system. Apparently, even Google is confused with the street numbering system in Queens – their mapping software put us about one mile away. It was after 2PM and I had not yet eaten, so the long walk down 31st Street seem interminable in the humidity. The Neptune Diner was starting to look better every block. Much of the walk was nondescript commercial, making the journey extremely uninteresting.

When we arrived at 2102 31st Street, I was surprised to find the place much smaller than expected, and unfortunately, they had closed the restaurant for sit-down meals – it was now takeout only. So, another mile back down 31st Street. Neptune Diner it would be.
The place was framed by the elevated subway and stairway to the Astoria Blvd station. A fellow patron had recommend the fish, so I ordered salmon stuffed with crabmeat. Like any diner, entrees come as meals, with sides, salads, etc. My companion had the spinach pie – we both agreed that at least one of us should have a Greek specialty.

The food was passable and seemed worse viewed in hindsight as the day passed on. This was the 4th diner experience I have written about – Joe Jr’s, the Jackson Hole, the Empire, and now the Neptune. Someday I may finally learn that looking for a great diner is tantamount to seeking a nice man on death row 🙂

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People love lists – top 10, top 100, 1001 things one must do, best this, best that, etc. – it’s a staple of life, even a bit formulaic, but, like David Letterman’s nightly Top Ten List, it’s entertaining and fun. And in a complex world with so many choices, what better way to help make decisions than to quantify, rate or make lists?

Of course, many bristle against the idea of reducing subjective things to some objective standard, but lists are useful if for no other reason than to spark conversation and lively debate and to add fun to life’s decision making.

Pizza is one of the country’s – and likewise, one of New York City’s – most enduring and popular food items. It’s a rare individual who does not like pizza, the ultimate snack or meal on the go. It’s found everywhere, so the question becomes, where do I go? I have assembled a collage of six of New York City’s top pizza parlors, along with two stories involving pizza which I have previously written about. Each photo links to the story and photos of that place. There are a number of highly acclaimed places in the city which I have yet to visit and write about. I will get there. In the interim, explore places you may not have yet visited and try some of NewYork City’s top pizzas. Enjoy 🙂

Imagine the heaviest Southern American drawl you can coming from a rather disheveled man with missing and broken teeth. As a business owner in New York City interviewing employees for over 40 years, I have seen a lot of things – like a woman who arrived for her job interview with an electric guitar slung around her neck. But now I was in new territory – apparently someone in government was testing my fairness in hiring practices, because this man would scare the hell out of most city folk.

He said he was from somewhere in the deep South, I don’t recall where. But it was deep. Real deep. And unfortunately, everything I know about the South was learned through films, particularly Deliverance and In the Heat of the Night. These films will not give you a very good impression of our Southern brothers and sisters, who are in fact renowned for their kind, sweet and hospitable manner.

However, any positive thoughts I may have had about Southerners was not going to be evoked by a scruffy man with broken and missing teeth. Nonetheless, I tried to remain fair, interviewed him and gave him a brief tour of our production area where he would be working. He appeared confident and hungry to work. He was up North for the first time in his life, seeing if he could make it here. He was staying with someone he knew in New Jersey. He seemed so terribly out of place.

A quick tour around the shop and he asserted “I can run any machine in here. And I will do anything. I’ll clean toilet bowls with a toothbrush.” If you can imagine this being said with an extreme southern accent, then you can appreciate why I say everyone has their limits and I had reached mine.

After discussing the candidate with an employee, I was encouraged to keep an open mind – “I don’t think you should discriminate on the basis of appearance.” I guess, but isn’t there a limit? I decided to defer to another employee, an NYU film student. She said: “I think we’re talking Deliverance.” Thank you Christine. I don’t need to be terrifying my employees, do I?

At 69 Bayard Street in Chinatown, we have the 69 Bayard Restaurant. This establishment has been in operation for eons and is most well known for its walls which are completely covered in one dollar bills, signed by patrons. Like Wo Hop at 17 Mott Street, 69 Bayard is open 24 hours a day – one of those things so many love about New York City and hard to find elsewhere. Like Kiev or Veselka in the East Village, 69 Bayard is often frequented by late night bar (or club) goers who want to eat after bar closings (4 AM).

As with many inexpensive New York City restaurants, 69 Bayard gets the full gamut of reviews, from the reverential, declaring it to be the best, to those who absolutely abhor the place. It certainly qualifies as an example of pick two, in this case fast and cheap (see my story here). Reading any online review site, like Yelp.com, can not only be informative, but also quite entertaining. Many of the most caustic reviews are actually quite comical and well written. I recommend reading Yelp reviews for entertainment as well as for information.

Once as a child, while playing with matches, I recall my father telling me to put them down. I told him “no, and you can’t make me.” Of course that solitary act of defiance was short lived – I put down those matches. Since that time, I have played with matches – one of the perks of being an adult is a greater freedom to make choices. I try to chose my restaurants too.

I recently passed by 69 Bayard. I popped in quickly to take a photo of the legendary dollar-covered walls. However, I did not eat there. I’ve eaten in my fair share of greasy, dirty looking places and one-trick is not enough to get me to pay for a pony show. Now, as an adult, I make choices. I never hired that man from the deep South and I can’t tell you what the food is like at 69 Bayard because I’m not eating there. And you can’t make me 🙂

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In the 1980s I used to frequent the Comedy Cellar on MacDougal Street regularly, sometimes more than once a week. What drew me there was New York City comic Gilbert Gottfried. His work and style are very New York-centric. I have found that many non-New Yorkers do not really enjoy his humor.*

One bit he did regularly in his comedy routine was about plankton. Gilbert would tell how some comedians may do a joke or two about plankton, but that he did a full routine on the subject. He then launched into a rant about how he knew that someone in the audience would say that they knew a place in Brooklyn that had good plankton. Gilbert would then point out that yes, they did have it, but it was not fresh, but frozen.

This material is brilliant because it illustrates exactly how the true New Yorker thinks and speaks – a smug confidence and security that New York City has everything with many choices, even in areas that are extremely narrow and specialized. And we are picky. Good, special, unique places are accumulated like feathers in one’s cap. The sentiment concerning security in knowing that all is here was echoed by Woody Allen. I wrote about this on December 24, 2007 in Being There:

It reminds me of a Woody Allen comment about why he needs to live in NYC – that there’s a restaurant in Chinatown where he can get a certain favorite dish at four o’clock in the morning. Not that he ever has or will go there at that time. It’s just knowing it’s there.

The Original Chinatown Ice Cream Factory at 65 Bayard Street has been in business since 1978 and is run by the Reid family. Though heavily touristed, as one might expect given its Chinatown location, many still love the range of exotic range of ice cream flavors including avocado, banana, tangerine, black sesame, almond cookie, pandan, green tea, ginger, peanut butter and jelly with sorbets such as lychee, strawberry shortcake, taro, longan, zen butter and mango-papaya. There are naysayers, as always, but reviews are typically good with the feeling that everyone should visit at least once.

As business ideas are copied, appropriated worldwide and even imported into our city, those places that are unique to New York are becoming fewer and fewer. Many a New Yorker is like a proud warrior, collecting feathers as he or she can for a cap that is becoming harder to keep full …

*I was saddened to hear about Gilbert’s news scandal regarding jokes he has made, distributed on his Twitter feed about the Japanese tsunami. Known for his voice as the Aflac duck, Gottfried has been fired by Aflac. He has since apologized.

(see Part 1 here)

I was discussing with a friend, Hellen, the extraordinary service I was experiencing at a local Indian restaurant I was frequenting at least once per week. The staff was now treating me like family. When the owner, Chandra, is present, I am not even given a menu – we only have a discussion. I am offered items not on the menu, free appetizers, and dessert. In short, the experience was now tantamount to eating at home.

Wilson’s policy is that of the fine dining establishment which will comp an entire entree if a mistake is made. Atypical perhaps for a lower priced eatery, but Wilson knows that there can never be too many examples of good management and that it will take many battles and warriors to win the War on Disservice 🙂

Sometime in the early 2000s, I experienced one of the most outrageous acts of customer disservice I have ever seen. A old friend, Jim, was visiting New York from San Francisco on business. We had been college roommates and he had lived here for a number of years. Jim loved the city and, like most, looked forward to the restaurants. My girlfriend suggested a trendy place in Chelsea, so we went.

Jim ordered a pasta dish and was served a pasta dish with seafood. Before Jim discovered the error, the waiter had run off. Jim was an experienced world traveler, very easy and accommodating. He would eat just about anything and was not a complainer. The place was very busy and rather than send the dish back, Jim just ate it.

When our check was delivered, Jim politely pointed out the mistake and asked for an adjustment of the bill. The waiter noted that Jim had eaten the entire meal and asked if he had liked it. Jim said yes. The waiter said that it was their policy that he had to pay for what he ate. We suggested we speak to the manager who said that if we had informed them of the mistake when being served, they would have replaced the dish and billed us the proper (lower) amount. But since Jim had eaten it, he stood by their policy and we had to pay the larger amount, a difference of about $3. I was OUTRAGED. But Jim paid and we left quietly.

Most restaurants would have made the adjustment and even offered a free dessert or drink. Some may even have taken the entire item off the bill. Jim was more than happy to pay for what he ordered, only asking for an adjustment. For this small amount, the management would stand on “principle” and risk their reputation. It was so petty and certainly the restaurant would still make a profit on the meal. Or perhaps the issue was that we were seen as scam artists or liars?

I have retold this story a number of times to various people and gotten a number of opinions, some defending the management. A former waitress said that a business has to guard against customer abuses, that it may get out of control. I see – so we go from the customer is always right to the customer is always suspect?

Ask the management at B&H Photo what they think. I once returned a laptop, only to learn that laptop computers are one of the few items that are not returnable. I had, however, been told originally that it was returnable. A salesperson suggested I speak to the department manager. I was reluctant to bother asking, but decided to ask before I left.

I found the manager, who asked for my receipt because it was encoded with the original salesman’s ID. He went off. When the manager returned, he told me that he had found the salesman and asked him what the policy was for returning laptops. The salesman told the manager that there was a 14 day return like all other products.
Since I was misinformed, B&H was giving me full credit. He explained the reason for the policy: once used, a technician has to completely recheck a PC – software installations, hardware function, etc. The manager said that they would put the item in their used department, losing a few dollars. I felt badly, but he insisted and I was not to worry – it was their mistake.

There are also restaurants whose owners value the customer very highly. Fortunately, not all operate like that place in Chelsea. It is in some of these establishments in New York City that a small war is being fought. In Chinatown on Doyers Street, once known as the Bloody Angle owing to gang warfare, there is a man engaging in a different kind of battle. In Part 2, you will meet him and learn how he is helping to win the war against disservice 🙂