Cafe Grumpy

For weeks, my friend Doug has been raving about Cafe Grumpy, a Brooklyn-based coffee shop that recently opened its second location in Chelsea. You might remember that Doug designed the precious little piglet for this site. He also gave me about half the music on my Ipod. Actually, come to think of it, he's the one who made me get an Ipod. And DVR. We usually see eye to eye on food and resaturants. So, is it any surprise that I am now a huge fan of Cafe Grumpy too?

The cafe's curmudgeonly logo reminds me of my favorite AOL instant messenger icon, you know, the one that looks like he's screaming? Every time I look at either of them, I can't help but smile. And maybe that's the point? Plus, Cafe Grumpy? Great name.

Smack in the middle of a Chelsea side street, you'd expect to find this place in Seattle, Portland or San Francisco. It's small and cozy with just a few tightly packed tables and for under $4, you can get a fancy cup of frothy coffee. Made with organic milk, only. Hip hip hooray! You can also ask anyone behind the counter a million coffee-related questions and rather than grunt at you grumpily, they'll happily talk on and on and on.

Even if I have tried cupping, I'm still no coffee connoisseur. In fact, just a drop or two is plenty. Any more and I get shaky, which is just another reason why Cafe Grumpy is the perfect place for me.

My decaf cafe mocha came with a velvety mountain of milk that was thick and scoopable. There was even a pretty design. I mean, could this place get any better? It was just what I needed after a filling Shake Shack lunch (where I swapped my usual burger for a Second-City Wurst, a chicken and apple sausage with 8 toppings).

Doug ordered a macchiato, an espresso that's marked with just a dollop of milk.

Here's Alexandra displaying her lovely caffe latte. She can talk coffee better than I can, so I'll leave a more detailed review to her.

Karlyn has a baby on the way, so she also ordered a decaf cafe mocha, and Mark ordered a plain, old cup of coffee. No froth, no fancy design. But this post wouldn't be complete without mentioning those two.

For those who like to linger, Cafe Grumpy serves their coffee in cheerful ceramic mugs, a welcome relief from all those places that insist on doubling up cardboard cups.

My only complaint? Milky coffee is best when extra hot. Cafe Grumpy's was a little on the warm side. Aside from that, it was a wonderful way to end a long Friday lunch with a group of very fun friends.

Thanks Doug for the great tip and all the gorgeous photos!

Cafe Grumpy
224 West 20th Street
(btwn 7th & 8th Aves)
New York, NY
212-255-5511

193 Meserole Avenue
(at Diamond St.)
Brooklyn, NY
718-349-7623

The end of Lent

For years, I've been giving up sweets for Lent. In middle school, I was addicted to Big League Chew, tape gum, and Big Red. For 40 days every year, I gave up all three. In college, my roommates and I gave up all forms of chocolate, and for the last few years, I've gotten extra sadistic and given up anything with added sugar. That means no chai lattes, no jelly on my PB&J's and of course, no cookies, cake, brownies or ice cream.

The funny thing is, I'm not even really religious. Then why do I subject myself to such torture year after year? Anyone who knows me will confirm that sweets make me very happy. I'm not one of those "when I'm sad, I can't eat" kind of girls. When I'm sad, I eat sweets and when I'm happy, I eat even more sweets. It's hard not to when a bright blue cookie shop beckons as I walk to and from the subway every day. And did I mention that my office is in Chelsea Market, home to some of the best brownies on earth?

When your life revolves around dessert, a little detox is necessary every now and then. Lent helps me see that I don't have to eat at least four cookies in one sitting. And if for some crazy, horrible reason I had to live without apple crisp or Grandma's Crumb Cake, I now know I could (although I really, really hope that never happens).

The first few days are always very hard, but plenty of all-natural sweets are almost as satisfying. One year, I ate a lot of oranges. This year, I got into those plump, succulent Medjool dates that are sticky and sweet and I never need more than one or two. My pants sure fit a lot better and I always have more energy. I'm not saying I like living without sweets. It's just a nice change of pace.

This year, I didn't have to wait until Easter dinner for my first dessert in 40 days. My friend Jessie got married the night before, and a little after midnight, these sugary sacks were served. Stuffed with chocolate cake and a fudgy sauce (and caramelized bananas on the side), it was a great way to break a sweets fast.

On Easter, I made John Scharffenberger's Silky Chocolate Pudding, a recipe I read about on The Wednesday Chef.

Just as Luisa promised, it was velvety and luscious. It took almost no time to make, although it should have stayed in the fridge for at least 30 minutes. After about fifteen, my family caved.

Inspired by a salty whipped cream at The Farm On Adderley that pairs perfectly with a milk chocolate mousse, I whipped up two bowls of cream to plop on top of this pudding. One was plain and the other? Yup, I gave it a few shakes of salt.

The salty whipped cream certainly caused an uproar, but I thought it tasted good with something so rich and chocolatey. No one else seemed to agree, but I guess they're still scarred by the salty Blondies I served for Easter last year. That time, I tripled the amount of salt (by accident).

I also splurged on some overpriced egg-shaped cookies to serve on the side. Filled with a tart, lemon filling, they were delicious, though I'm still shocked they were $2 each.

Later that evening, as Daniel and I watched the season premiere of the Sopranos, we alternated between slices of that leftover lemon cake from Bouley and pieces of guava paste and queijo minas, a Brazilian cheese. You'd think I'd ease back into my dependency on dessert, but every year, it never takes too long before I'm back to my old ways. Waking up with a flat stomach is always fun while it lasts. The other 325 days per year, I just can't stay away from sweets.

B is for Bocca Lupo, Thomas Beisl, BLT Burger, & Bouley

My friend Karlyn loves my This Little Piglet Goes to a Restaurant posts, so I thought I'd do a quick one today about some recent visits.

Bocca Lupo
I'm a big fan of Frankies 457, the Carroll Gardens small plates spot that has developed a bit of a cult following. Their butternut squash ravioli is sweet and soothing and I could easily eat the pork braciole every day, but the no reservations policy is a pain, and there's always a really long wait. So what if Chris Robinson might sneak in and steal the table you've been waiting for? It might have been fun once, but I'm not falling for that trick again, especially since Kate Hudon will most likely not be sitting with him. These days, I'm thanking my lucky stars for Bocca Lupo, a sandwich/small plates spot that's tucked away on a quiet corner in Cobble Hill, just a few blocks from my apartment. It's loud and lively like Frankies, yet still a bit more subdued. And the food? On our first visit last month, Daniel and I shared a perfectly pressed sausage, broccoli rabe and tallegio panini, a rich and cheesy risotto, veal and porcini mini meatballs, an artichoke salad with hazelnuts, and a bunch of bruschetta, all of which were just as good -- if not better -- than some similar dishes at my old friend Frankies.

Thomas Beisl
I love going to see movies at BAM. I've never fallen asleep mid-movie there (something which happens a lot at other theaters) and its soaring ceilings and intricate molding are kind of fancy. And instead of a tea shop across the street like my other favorite theater over in Cobble Hill, there's Thomas Beisl, an Austrian bistro that's the perfect pre-movie spot. Daniel and I only had about an hour to stuff ourselves with sausage, sauerkraut, and a few steins of beer before The Lives of Others (an excellent German film that you all should see), but I definitely plan on going back, this time after a movie, for a few more beers and a bowl of borscht.

BLT Burger
There are so many burger joints in this city that sometimes, I have a hard time keeping up. If I had to choose, I'd say Shake Shack is my favorite, followed by Burger Joint and then Corner Bistro, and BLT Burger might now be in the top 5. The burger itself, which I had topped with Vermont cheddar, was pretty good, although the bun got soggy way too fast. The real winner? Waffle fries! Crispy, crunchy, seasoned discs of deliciousness that brought me right back to my middle school days when A&W's curly fries (and TCBY's white chocolate mousse) were all the rage.

Bouley
My Mom recently treated Daniel and me to a celebratory dinner at Bouley, the fancy Tribeca restaurant I've always wanted to visit. I loved the big wooden door that leads you into a sweet-smelling, apple-filled hallway, and we even lucked out with seats in the red room, a dark, romantic den where fresh bouquets and tall lamps top every table and an army of servers glide softly.

In terms of decor and ambiance, it's a great spot for a special occasion, but would you believe that we weren't wowed by the food? When entrees cost $40 and up (and some on a special menu were over $100), I expect a mind-blowing meal. Unfortunately, it was all just mediocre.

The one thing that left an impression was an organic egg with black truffles and a 25-year old balsamic vinegar that my Mom ordered as an appetizer and the three of us sopped up with our piles of fresh bread. And while we were leaving, a hostess gave us two loaves of homemade lemon cake. I gave up sweets for Lent, so they're both now sitting in my freezer. But come Easter morning, those parting gifts could win Bouley some extra points!