And so it goes New York City…I’ve never tried your Oyster Bar pan roast as rated tops by Adam Platt.

“The Oyster Bar pan roast — still being served at the Oyster Bar in the bowels of Grand Central — is a silky concoction, thicker than soup but gentler than a stew. It’s made with half a dozen Bluepoints, sweet butter, a dash of secret chile sauce, and flagons of country cream, all poured over a comforting mattress of soggy toast.”

So I plan to pay you a visit…soon and judge for myself.

Arms crossed showing jailhouse tattoos. (In the picture to the left; the architects glasses area a tad much). Chefs holding baby pigs, lambs, fish.

I mean…I love food.

I love chefs but seriously it’s not as cool as you think. I’m not picking on any of these photographed chefs; just merely stating my point.

Keep it real.  Just drop some of the pretentious crap and have some fun. I might be at your eatry for the pig; but show me the cooked product; not the poor little guy draped around your arms fresh from blood drained.

Dear Little NoLita Cupcake Boy and Girl:

Ah, you are in luck, now.  Even though, this place was here before you…promise.  You probably never had their nice bar steak and glass of red.  You walked by a million times thinking it was an old diner. No worries, it was just honest food but as you know “jardin” means garden in French, so little cupcake, there is some nice real estate waiting for someone.

These days, fifteen years is a New York lifetime….Le Jardin was there that long. Today, just now, Grubstreet reports it’s closed.  Great, with that nice backyard it’s only a matter of seconds before Paul Sevs or Serge or any of the Nolita cupcakes invade and snatch up the goods.

One day little boy, maybe even soon, like at your Delicatessen, you will be in this lovely retreat sipping your $15 mojitos laughing without a care in the world. You will be clueless to the fact Nolita wasn’t always about the Duane Reade, the Crepe joint next to Ceci Cela nor was it about the block of Kenmare (as you know it now).  You might forget when you now pick up your coffee was once a funeral home. You might forget Kitchen Club and the feisty dog Chibi anchored the corner of Prince and Mott for 25 years (that is older than you little boy). Now look at it; good paint job though; don’t you think?It’s not about the cupcakes (which 50′s style cupcakes, COME ON guys; this is New York, CREATE! Magnolia Bakery did that (yes think we me); years ago.

NOW WHAT!  WHAT NEXT? God Save the Queen!

Oh well, little boy, I must be going.  Eat your brunch at the sparkly new Jardin with Polaroids in the bathroom stalls, drink your pricey watered down drink and walk over to Rag and Bone and buy your $200 shirt; ask for the rice and beans special. Oh no, that’s right Cafe Colonial is gone now. Phew; I’m getting too old at thirty-two.

Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York talks to The New Yorker’s Joe Dator about his killer cupcake. Pretty funny cartoon.  Par for the course in 2010 New York City (just drop down a few posts to check out the white facade of what used to be the Kitchen Club and is now the cupcake shop).

What do you have against cupcakes–aren’t they just little dollops of joy and love?

Cupcakes are just a symbol for the shiny Bloomberg-ized, Carrie Bradshaw-defined boutique city New York is turning into. I grew up during the 1970s, when the old New York–”King Kong’s New York” if you like–was still very much in evidence, and would be well into the 90s. Like you, I’ve watched, often in horror, and particularly over the last decade, as the city has been transformed into something nearly unrecognizable and sadly lacking in character.

I certainly have nothing against the cupcakes themselves. Shortly after I handed this cartoon in, I tried a Magnolia cupcake for the first time. It was good. I suppose I could have written “Twas Marc Jacobs killed the beast,” but cupcakes was funnier, and it won’t get me sued.

Via Eater: “Florence Fabricant reports and a press release confirms that Tabla, Danny Meyer’s 12 year-old Indian restaurant attached to Eleven Madison Park will close on December 30. It is the first restaurant Danny Meyer has closed since he launched his empire with Union Square Cafe in 1985. Industry vets have been rumbling about the restaurant’s demise for the past six months, but many figured Danny would never close the place. Even he has his limits.”

Yes, indeed, the trusted eyes and ears of the street, Mark James, who was saddened by the loss of Knife + Fork NOW happily reports:

“The restaurant is re-opening as the restaurant of Percy’s Tavern, which is opening on the corner of 13th Street and Avenue A. It’s a gastropub. It will seat 80 inside and 30 outside. They will do lunch, dinner and a traditional Sunday lunch. The plan on putting a twist on the Celtic culture and using farm table. They are aiming to open the first or second week of October.”

Straight from their Facebook page: Percy’s Tavern (aka the old Knife + Fork) is promoting some yummy concoctions: Squid mackerel burger, venison & duck egg, veal with smoked bone marrow along with traditional favorites are all matched with selected beers from small artisan producers from around the world to compliment each dish.

Sign me, up.

(photo credit: Mark James)

1) Freemans Alley offspring, called Peels on the Bowery. Sure it’s going to be trendy but let us not forget Freemans put the Bowery on the culinary map. Come’on the food is good and you know the coffee (STUMPTOWN) is great.  Nice landscaping too; way to green it up. Dare I say it looks like a West Village storefront?

2) The “Franks” are shaping up the Old Hudson Cafe, as charming looking as it once was has been quite an eye sore. Eater reveals the scoop; the two bearded fellas of Frankies Spuntino who operate Frankies 17, Frankies 457, and Prime Meats have landed the coveted corner space.  We can only thank them, thus far.

(image one Guest of a Guest. image two: A Test of Will)

A welcome life line has been thrown to the space formerly known as Cafe Des Artistes and the murals aren’t going anywhere.  Eater reports the space will open in 2011.  Yes, the name will change but it will be good to see old friends again.  From the Wall Street Journals coverage:  “An Italian immigrant, Mr. Sorrentino has been in the restaurant business for more than 30 years, managing restaurants across the world. In New York he is known by some as “The Mayor of 54th Street,” as all three of his restaurants have been on 54th Street and in the same vicinity. His New York restaurants have included Bice Restaurant and Sette MoMA Restaurant in the Museum of Modern Art.”

Bravo!

If you build it, the cupcakes will come.  Throwing down anywhere between $200-250/square foot lands Billys Bakery providing more cupcakes to the cupcakeless in Nolita.  More more more cupcakes; let it rain cupcakes!  Expect them November 2010 at 268 Elizabeth Street.

Recent I Loved New YOrk Annoying Trends!   Cupcakes, Pigs + Gastropubs, Trendy Bikes, DJS.

“Perhaps not, though repeated visits to Kenmare over the course of the spring and early summer revealed no restaurateurs, either, of any age.” -Sam Sifton, New York Times Restaurant Critic.

Kitty Bawler’s Favorite excerpts from Sam Sifton’s Kenmare review.  (Rating: FAIR)  READ: GOOSE EGG.

-PAY no attention to the vast basement lounge beneath the dining room at Kenmare, with its leather banquettes and cool, mottled plaster walls, its built-in D.J. booth and low lighting, its long hallway of mirror-lined restrooms quite the right size to fit a couple of consenting adults. That’s for later. That’s for special.

-He (Joey Campanaro) is acclaimed in press reports as Kenmare’s chef. Here’s hoping he is well paid for that. Mr. Campanaro is a serious and excellent cook. Kenmare is unlikely to enhance his reputation.

-It is crowded nightly, first with dinner parties that seem pulled from rejected “Sex and the City” scripts and then with a late, late, late show of models and people with incredible collections of music and sneakers and phone numbers, accompanied by the people who went to college with them who now work on Wall Street.

-But the food is inconsequential.

-and a weirdly tasteless Midwestern-style broccoli-beer soup with cheese and bacon croutons. It is difficult to imagine denizens of any precinct of New York’s night-life world eating these..

-Eventually a busboy took pity. “You didn’t like them?” he asked, wondering if he should clear the glasses. Headshakes and laughter. “I am sorry,” he said, taking the full drinks off the table with care. That was $24 right there.

-And recalling the television program “Jersey Shore,” there was a dish called The Chicken — a sautéed chicken breast served over escarole and butter beans, with a moist, acrid, smoked chicken-leg confit. Maintaining consistency, it was almost too salty to eat.

-Not that many people are actually eating, though. There are enough pretty young things and the people who chase them at Kenmare to recall Bret Easton Ellis novels, Scissor Sisters songs and the whole first season of HBO’s “How to Make it in America.”

-It is a place to get fries and sliders, followed by a sugar rush, a place to drink vodka while waiting on a text. It’s like 11 p.m. You want to meet downstairs at Kenmare and do whatever?