Get In Line at El Triangulo

What could be better than having a few women call you 'guapo' or 'lindo' when you walk in to a restaurant?
Having them serve you strong coffee, bring you plates of food from a cheap buffet, and seating you next to a big, glorious window on Greenpoint Ave. to watch the Sunnysiders stroll by, that's what.

Super-friendly people. Super-sugary tea with lemon, and loads of just-oily-enough-but-still-fresh tasting traditional dishes that will leave you ready for a long walk through your great nabe.

Cafe Cuteness on the South Side

My friend is newly pregnant & suffering from hideous morning sickness, so I put together a care package for her. She lives in Park Slope, which makes her a long-distance friend, so I figured I better mail it otherwise she'll have had the baby already by the time we see each other.

What a lovely day for a walk! My iPod mini playing the latest episode of Filmspotting, I strolled down 47th Avenue all the way to our hellhole of a post office on 44th. Just as I'm about to pay for my package (thank goodness I was using the machine & hadn't waited in line for a surly teller), I have a mental flash. To my wallet. Sitting on the dining room table.

I leave the PO and call Wesley to tell him how stupid I am. He tells me he's just about to leave for Hackensack (don't ask), and he can meet me at 43rd St and 48th Ave and hand off his wallet on the way to the BQE. Beats the pants off of going back home.

Instead of walking back down 44th St, I decide to take 43rd & stop in at the library. A sign caught my eye: "Free Wireless." I stepped inside the Dolce Vita Cafe on the corner of 43rd Street and 48th Avenue, and discovered a gorgeous, welcoming environment that immediately made me want to order a Limonata and a pastry. I couldn't stay today, but I'm going to go back there ASAP to write up a full review. In the meantime, read this article from the Queens Chronicle.

Aint Nothin’ Scary About This Yeti

A Yeti can be defined as - a legendary large, hairy, humanoid creature said to inhabit the Himalayas. Thanks for the nightmares. But now to us 11104’s a Yeti is simply one of the newest restaurants to hit Sunnyside, Queens—Yeti of Hieizan.

Yeti of Hieizan, as I prefer to call, “Yeti,” (because I have no idea how to pronounce “Hieizan” and want to appear culturally/globally aware) is doing its damnest to bring our neighborhood fine Japanese & Nepalese cuisine in a chic setting—and it’s succeeding.

The place is brand spankin’ new. I saw a UPC code stuck to the side of a booth once. Ok—not quite, but it is really basking in its new car smell glory. The shiny cherry wood floors, the adorable booths draped with blowfish curtains and tiki lights, the elevated private booths where you can take your shoes off and eat on the floor (really, this is much cooler and classier than I make it sound) and cocktail bar— this place invested a pretty penny in seating alone.

And the food, (which I have primarily taken in the Japanese side), has amazing presentation and is delicious to boot. Go pork gyoza dumplings! But I digress.

So, there’s nothing to fear but fear itself—welcome to the ‘hood Yeti.

Yeti of Hieizan
43-16 Queens Blvd
Sunnyside, Queens
www.yetiofhieizan.com

Good Baby Pig-Eatin' on Greenpoint Ave, Sez Times

(Lynn and Paul--this is a non-vegetarian post.)

According to the Dining Section of the Times today, Las Americas on Greenpoint near 46th can fill all your pig--baby and otherwise--needs.

Wesley and I have long been fans of El Comelon, on Greenpoint near 41st, but I think I know where we'll be going the next time we get a craving for rice & beans, plantains, and some kind of yummy animal, washed down with sugary goodness.

My mouth is totally watering.

The Inspection Fires are Hot!

Maybe now we'll see some real action on the part of health inspectors at NY restaurants.
Raise your hand if you've lost work because of food poisoning.

Quaint Ain't The Shaint

Ain't Donovan's got better burgers?
Hell yeah.
Quaint overcooks and oversalts.

Ain't Tournesol got better steak frites?
Hell yeah. Any damn day of the French Fuggin' Week. And without the mushroom sauce drowning the cow, needer.

Ain't the fish just as fresh at Ariyoshi?
I mean to tell ya what.

Fried fish ain't ever better than it is at Kettle.

And, I ain't got the time or the inclination for a waitress can't even tell me what fuggin' hummus is. That's not very special.

What is special? The waiter cleaning the table next to us with Windex while we ate.
Ain't that special?

Ain't it clean though.

At least it ain't Bliss, but ain't we got to have a better place to take our honeys on our one night off together? Ain't we?
I mean, really.
Shoot.

ps - I think we might have found a nice Subaru. Wish us luck.