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.

Malagueta vs. Manhattan

I'm not much of one to rabble-rouse, but all the Manhattan-centric
ideals that permeate New York living get a bit old. I understand their origin. I moved to New York City and that's where I intended to make
it. Then, I moved to Queens and I said, nope, this is where I'm going
to make it. I fit here. (I'm on a bit of free-floating diatribe,
forgive me. I gave up booze seven months ago after an incident at The Courtyard on Queens Blvd. - and I took the
treatment option. I know when to say when. Anyway. After the booze, I'm now strictly on
the Ambien. It's pretty harmless, some late night domain name
purchases, overbidding on ebay on occasion, nudity (mine). But, when I
post on the stuff, it gets difficult to maintain my focus and grammar.)

Anyway, Claire and I went to a Brazilian restaurant for our New Year's
Eve celebration in the Queens. While we were away for Christmas in
Montreal, we bought a subscription- full-on - from zagat.com. So, I
used that to find a restaurant. It suggested 'Malagueta'. It said
things like
A "refreshing surprise" in Astoria, a "well-rounded" lineup of
"excellent", "authentic" Brazilian dishes etc.

Now, here's what happened with that posting and how it got so far away
from the truth. People from Manhattan made the trip out to Astoria,
found a 'cute' restaurant run by amenable folk from the home country
and they thought it was just the greatest thing. They could run back
to Manhattan and tell their friends, pals and colleagues all about it.
"It was an adventure", "some of them know how to really cook", and so
on. Until more of them come. And they write the reviews, send them to
zagat. Tim, Nina and some other putz ex-copywriter do what they can
with it.

Here's the truth about the place - Malagueta is nice. The people who run
the place couldn't be nicer - for Brazilians- and if you know what I
mean great. If you don't, it's not an insult. Brazilians don't make a
big deal out of serving people. It's a job, it's done and it's done
well. They bring the stuff, tell you what it is and that's that.

Manhattanites come over, eat here, think it's quaint and that's what
ends up in Zagat.

We're from Queens. We ate there, we know there's better food to be had
and that's it. The sausage with yuca fries was tepid and over-cooked.
The fish Claire had was drowning in sauce and cheese and salt. My pork
loin didn't have enough sauce to bring it back to life from it's
terrible death in a hot searing pan. We're from Queens, we know
there's five other restaurants doing a better job within three blocks.

It's not the death of Malagueta. If they read this, they'll
understand, they'll fix it. We'll go back next year, we'll eat,
that'll be that.

Send us a list of your favorite restaurants in Western Queens. Don't
say Donovan's. Donovan's is the best restaurant on the planet. I hear
there's a bakery on Greenpoint that has special doughnuts on
Sundays...it's not in Zagats, but it'll be up here soon, I hope.