I'm not going to lie: I think it's a total cop-out that I'm combining two restaurant reviews in to one post.  However, I don't have a sufficient number of quality pictures for either establishment, and here are my reasons why:

Shopsin's: I didn't take pictures here out of shear respect for the Shopsin's and, to be quite honest, because all of the first-hand accounts that I had heard about Kenny and Zack (Shopsin) scared the shit out of me (i.e. yelling and cussing at customers, etc.). 

Los Feliz: I attempted to snap a few shots of the menu, my margarita and a couple of the items we ordered at Los Feliz.  Unfortunately, after losing my battle to the restaurant's dim lighting, I quickly gave up and put my camera away.

Brunch at Shopsin's:

Located in a stall within the Essex Street Market stands Shopsin's General Store.  At capacity, this small restaurant can comfortably seat approximately 20 diners; five people at the counter overlooking the kitchen, three two-top tables to the left of the counter stools, and three more two-top tables located just behind the stools.  Hence the name, the space resembles an old-fashioned general store, or, dare I say it, a smaller-scale version of the Cracker Barrel: exposed shelves lined with canned veggies, jars of preserves, old tattered cookbooks and knick-knacks, etc.  I almost felt like I was on the set of a movie.

Ceci and I arrived at Shopsin's promptly at 9:55am, only to find ourselves waiting in a line for seats behind three anxious patrons.  Approximately twenty-minutes later, we were seated at a two-top table located to the left of the counter stools.  Our waiter, decked out in a Metalica t-shirt (circa one of their 1990-something tours), was prompt, knowledgeable about the menu and all of its 500 items (that's right, 500 items), and courteous; a far cry from what I had anticipated after reading all of Shopsin's service-related horror stories. 

Ceci and I decided to split an order of the famous Mac n' Cheese Pancakes, in addition to ordering our own entrees.  I chose the Migas, which is a Tex-Mex play on traditional huevos revueltos (scrambled eggs).  A large salad bowl was piled high with a mound of fresh-out-of-the-fryer tortilla strips.  Hovering Mount Crispy were fluffy scrambled eggs, salsa rojo, avocado, grilled green peppers and onions, and fresh sprigs of cilantro.  I did my best to neatly toss all of the ingredients together before showering my breakfast with house-made hot sauce and a dash of salt and pepper.  Although I was overwhelmed by the massive amount of tortilla strips, I was very pleased, both in flavor and texture, with my Migas. 

Between bites of my eggs, I could not seem to take my eyes off of our order of Mac n' Cheese Pancakes.  Before they arrived in front of me, I had no clue what to expect, and I'm sure that you don't either; so picture this, if you will: as you're hovering over the the skillet waiting for your Bisquick pancakes to brown on one side, you add a dollop of homemade mac n' cheese to the top of the under-cooked side, then flip.  So, what do you get?  A pancake that's half "cake," half crusty, cheesy and salty browned macaroni.  And the best part?  Adding maple syrup to the 'cakes, believe it or not!  Pure, unadulterated genius.      

Ceci and I loved every aspect of our experience at Shopsin's.  From the efficient service to the incredibly delicious and hearty food, Shopsin's ranks high in my book. 

~ ~

Dinner at Los Feliz:

Honestly, after my kick-ass brunch at Shopsin's, I thought that my Saturday (food wise) would just keep getting better from there.  Unfortunately, this is where it ended...

Cathryn, Clint, and I made our way (reservation-less) to Los Feliz at approximately 8:30pm on Saturday evening.  Upon our arrival, I was instantly taken by the restaurant's casual-yet-dramatic, sexy, dimly-lit, gothic-chic interior. 

I found myself pleasantly surprised that the three of us were seated, at a table of our choice, immediately.  A tortilla chip-filled brown paper bag and side of salsa arrived simultaneously with our glasses of ice water.  I chose to begin my evening with a hibiscus margarita; so you can imagine my confusion when I was served a colorless beverage in a salt-rimmed glass.  I overheard the young man at our neighboring table ask our waiter why the lime margarita he ordered was magenta-pink in color.  It was obvious that we were mistakenly served each other's drinks.  Once our orders were corrected, I secretly wished that I had just asked for a god damned bottle of beer: my hibiscus margarita was bland, watered-down, and utterly flavorless.  What a disappointment. 

The three of us were quite hungry, having already plowed half-way through our second bag of tortilla chips and salsa.  Finally, our waiter returned to take our order.  Cathryn, Clint and I decided that we would split three entrees: Chile Relleno Tacos, Chicharron de Pollo Tacos, and the Pollo Quesadillas.  Apparently, after I stepped away from the table to check out the restaurant's space downstairs, Clint asked for another bag of tortilla chips and salsa, only to be scolded and embarrassed.  "Another round of chips and salsa?" Our waiter snarked.  "I've been told by my manager that you need to be cut off."  Was this guy serious?

Downstairs, Los Feliz has several differently-themed cavernous rooms, in addition to yet another "downstairs" below that, which houses a lounge/club.  While I was only there briefly, I will say that the use of the space is quite impressive, clever and dramatic. 

When I returned to our table, I was shocked to hear that we had literally been "cut off" from more chips and salsa.  If that is the policy, then that's fine; if we needed to be charged for additional chips and salsa, no problem; but I find it inexcusable to treat a customer like he's some kind of free-loading punk who's only sipping ice water and not ordering food.  This was reaffirmed when I asked to speak to the manager.  "Sir, is there an issue with us asking for more chips?"  I asked.  "Yes, there is an issue," he responded.  "One or two rounds is fine, but three?"  I suppose he wasn't blatantly trying to be rude about the situation, but he certainly wasn't the poster-child for stellar customer service.  Had he worded things a bit differently, perhaps we would have left Los Feliz with a better taste in our mouths.  Instead, we were made to feel like morbidly obese local yokels. 

It's taken me a long time to come to grips with the fact that most Mexican restaurants in NYC charge patrons for chips and salsa.  I get it and, unfortunately, I have to be OK with it if I want to frequent some of my favorite spots.  However, if you're going to serve me free chips and salsa and then cut me off, explaining yourself in a patronizing and uncompassionate manner that leaves me and my fellow diners feeling like a bunch of free-loading fat asses, then I have a problem.     

And honestly, the food that we ordered was decent, but I'm not in the mood to give Los Feliz any more credit by talking about "how delicious our chicken quesadillas were," etc.  I'm sure we just came on an "off night," or "I'm being too sensitive," or "we just had a bad waiter," or whatever; but it's going to take me a while to get over the fact that we all felt much worse about ourselves post-dinner than we had prior to our arrival.

• Cuisine: American, with French influence
•  Occasion: 1x1/small groups, trendy, historical space, smart casual, hip, Euro-scene
  
•  Price: most brunch entrees under $22, with some exceptions 
•  Reservations: via phone 
•  Phone: (212) 475-3850
• Website: www.minettatavernny.com
• Location: 113 MacDougal Street (btwn Bleeker & W. 3rd St.)
  

Before Minetta Tavern (we'll call it "MT" for short) even opened its doors in the spring of 2009, the public's anticipation and buzz surrounding the restaurant was already intense.  Having known this, plus all of the hype, crowds, and impossible-to-get-reservations that came along with it, I decided that I would keep MT in my peripheral radar, but not try to wiggle my way through its doors for at least 6-months.    

Set on the corner of Minetta Lane and Macdougal Street, in the picturesque West Village neighborhood, MT is housed in a building that dates back to the 1930's.  The interior space reads like a speakeasy cum Parisian brasserie cum supper club: framed caricatures, checkered black and white tiled floors, deep-red leather banquettes, glossy-painted cafe chairs, brass chandeliers; and a subtle dim lighting (note that the space is window-less) that makes you question what time of day it is outside (a-la-Vegas). 

Dara, my brunch date, was lucky enough to have scored reservations for two on a beautiful February weekend.  From the moment I entered the bustling space, I was slightly surprised by the friendly service we received, and the fact that we were seated rather promptly.

"I'd like a lemonade sans ice, please," I responded after, whom I thought was our waitress, asked what we'd like to drink.  After a couple of minutes had passed, a different employee approached and introduced "your Arnold Palmer, ma'am."   I politely told the woman that I did not order an Arnold Palmer (iced tea + lemonade), but rather, a lemonade.  She apologized and said she'd be back shortly.  Within moments, yet another employee approached the table with "your Arnold Palmer, ma'am."  This time, the person handing me the incorrect drink was, in fact, our waitress.  I told her that I had ordered a lemonade sans ice, and she quickly scurried off to alleviate the problem.  Upon returning with my lemonade, Dara and I placed our food order, under the notion that we'd split everything in half.

Chilled Gulf Shrimp Salad: serving as an "appetizer" of sorts, this plate of artfully composed ingredients arrived simultaneously with a short loaf of homemade bread and spreadable butter.  Three of the largest and most plump shrimp I've ever seen were carefully placed atop steamed and halved artichoke hearts, ribbons of sliced fennel, and a shallow pool of "coral vinaigrette," which tasted similar to French dressing.  Aside from the bland "coral vinaigrette," and the fact that the shrimp had not been de-veined, I was quite pleased with this dish.  Texturally, the "Chilled Gulf Shrimp" was a hit.

Minetta Tavern: Chilled Gulf Shrimp, $16Shirred Eggs & Black Truffles: I must give Dara credit for this entree, as it was she who chose to order it.  The dish's name alone prompts diners, such as myself, to wonder, "What in the hell is a 'shirred egg?'"  Basically, a shirred egg is a fancy ass term for "baked eggs."  MT's version was served in a ramekin (approximately 6" x 6"x 1") that had been filled to the brim, then baked, with what appeared to be three shirred eggs, heavy cream, a sharp cheese along the lines of comte or gruyere, and finished with shaved black truffles, fresh parsley, and coarsely-ground black pepper.  "Baguette soldiers," or pieces of crunchy, buttered toast/crostini (in layman's terms) served as an accompaniment.  The best way to describe the taste of the shirred eggs would be to have you imagine: poached eggs + gruyere cheese-flavored custard + butter + heavy cream + earthy black truffles + fondue.  Note to self: must order an extra side of bread to sop up all of the rich, decadent goodness that is the "shirred eggs."

Minetta Tavern: Shirred Eggs & Black Truffles, $20And...drum roll, please...the infamous Black Label Burger (we'll call it the "BLB" for short): if you were to compare this burger to a person, it's right on par, visually, with Megan Fox (or whomever you find to be the most attractive woman on the planet).  Yes folks, it is that stunning to look at.  

"How would you like your burger cooked?" the waitress asked.  Dara and I looked at each other and agreed that "medium" was a safe bet.  The waitress smiled, scribbled down our order, then stepped away.  Literally, about one-minute later, she returned with a nervous grin.  "Our kitchen prepares our food in the European fashion.  Do you know what a 'medium-cooked' hamburger patty looks like?  It's not bloody, but does have a pink center."  Was this lady serious?  "European fashion?"  Wasn't the hamburger created in the U.S.A.?  I know that the waitress meant well, but her patronizing words came out humorously wrong.

Since the kitchen knew that Dara and I were going to share the BLB, they split the burger for us prior to service.  We met this gesture with much appreciation; as cutting a burger in half is messy!  Each of our plates were topped with: a "butter lettuce" leaf, tomato slice, house-made pickles (I actually hated them; the pickles were extremely sour and gag-inducing), a mound of piping hot French fries, and one-half of a burger.  Served atop a buttered, sesame-seed brioche bun, was about a 1"-thick beef patty oozing with its own juices.  The outer circumference of the patty had at least, and I'm not exaggerating, a 1/2mm "crust," which I assume was achieved by spending a serious amount of time simmering in butter.  A thin schmear of caramelized onions crowned the patty.  *Note to future diners: MT does not serve the BLB with cheese and, if requested, will urge against it.  They feel that, aside from the caramelized onions, no additional topping should take away from the intense flavor of this special beef blend. 

So, was the BLB worth its $26 price tag?  In my opinion, no.  While it was ridiculously delicious, I still prefer Peter Luger's $8.95 version. 

"Why does MT's BLB cost $26?" you ask.  Click *here* to read more. 

Minetta Tavern: Black Label Burger, $26Conclusion: Did I order dessert?  Yes, I did.  In fact, I ordered a scoop of "malted vanilla ice cream," and it was delicious.  However, I didn't feel the need to write about it because it was not made in house, rather, it's a flavor produced by Il Laboratorio del Gelato.

My experience at MT was enjoyable, too expensive, annoying, delicious, and aloof, all at the same time.  Aside from the lemonade mishap and the patronizing manner in which I was informed that the kitchen "cooks in the European fashion," I found the service we received to be quite pleasant.  The crowd, many decked out in floor-length fur coats donning Birkin bags in every color under the rainbow, was not particularly "my cup of tea."  To me, an ideal Sunday brunch will always be free of: fur, designer bags, and being stared down by cougar socialites with really bad plastic surgery.

•  Cuisine: American
•  Occasion: small/large groups, great for brunch, casually-elegant atmosphere, ideal spot to "take the parents"
  
•  Price: most brunch items under $20 
•  Reservations: via phone or www.opentable.com 
•  Phone: (212) 675-9500
• Website: http://www.brguestrestaurants.com/restaurants/blue_water_grill_new_york/index.php
• Location: 31 Union Square West (at 16th Street)

Lately, I've found myself very pleasantly surprised.  Case in point: Sushi Samba.  The last time I had dined at the chain's Park Avenue location (or any of their NYC locations, for that matter) was sometime in July...of 2006.  And honestly, post moijito #2, I don't remember too much about that meal.  After nearly four years, I returned to Sushi Samba in early January for dinner with my friend, Michelle.  Everything we ordered, from the rolls and Peruvian corn, to the dessert, was really fresh and delicious.  This left me wondering why so many New Yorker's dog this place.  Is it because the rolls are stuffed with prissy ingredients like lobster tempura?  Sushi Samba may not be the most authentic option in town, but who cares?  Does thoroughly enjoying a tropical rum-based cocktail (with or without one of those paper umbrellas), a bowl of salty edamame and a lobster-tempura roll make someone any less of a foodie?  Hell no.  And to anyone who thinks it does, well, get the F over yourself.

And speaking of pleasant surprises, I recently had an excellent brunch experience at Blue Water Grill that I can't stop gushing about!  Now, given BWG's (Blue Water Grill) heavy tourist-traffic location in Union Square, its massive physical space, and the shear fact that it's owned by hospitality giant, B.R. Guest, I automatically wrote the restaurant off, assuming that the food would only be mediocre, at best.

Located in a tri-level space that formerly housed the Metropolitan Bank, BWG's interior evokes casual elegance and sophistication.

Upon being seated, Emily and I were presented with a basket filled with moist breakfast breads and a ramekin of fragrant strawberry-butter.

After perusing the bountiful menu, I ultimately chose the Lobster Benedict for my entree.  A large plate arrived with two thick slices of toasted lemon-pepper brioche (bread) that were each topped with a mound of steamed spinach, a perfectly-poached egg and a generous helping of warm hollandaise sauce.  Sauteed home fries (potatoes) and approximately eight-ounces of the freshest lobster meat this side of the Cape sat alongside the Benedict.  "Psssssh, I'll eat half of the food on this plate and then hit the gym.  I won't blow my diet," I said to myself.  Unfortunately, after one bite, it became very clear to me that in order to only consume 50% of my meal, I'd have to plan an exit strategy.  But what excuse could I use to leave the table?  I quickly decided that I was too tired and hungry to conjure up some stupid scheme.  And before I knew it, my entire meal had vanished before my very eyes; finding a nice little hiding place in my stomach.  Honestly, had Emily not slapped me after my first attempt, I would have licked that entire plate clean.

From its central and easily-accessible location, fabulous interior space that's well suited for patrons of all ages, and delicious food/drink, I wouldn't hesitate in calling BWG a "brunch destination."

 Click *here* to see all of the yummy pics from this meal!

• Cuisine: American, comfort-food
• Scene: casual, bustling, babies/toddlers/children welcome, brunch hot spot, bakery on-site
• Occasion: dining with the kids, good for groups, brunch
• Must try: homemade Concord grape soda
• Price: most brunch entrees under $20 (definitely not the place to come for a deal)
• Reservations: n/a
• Contact info: (212) 219-0666 - www.bubbys.com
• Location: 120 Hudson St.

Sunday brunch: what is the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear those two words?  For me, it would be "tranquil," or "hangover replenishment."   If the choice is left up to yours truly, I typically choose neighborhood-y places with minimal wait times, a menu chock full of greasy grub, tables with ample elbow-room, and a crowd that is void of screaming children and wannabe socialites. 

So you can imagine my apprehension when Mike suggested that we brunch at Bubby's Tribeca location.  "I've wanted to try this place for the longest time!  It's a Tribeca institution!"  While I had never heard anything negative about the food, I had read nightmare stories about hour+ long waits, strollers as far as the eye can see, and hysterical children.  The word "dread" may be a bit of a stretch, but I can honestly say that I was nervous about the experience to come. 

I arrived at Bubby's about ten minutes prior to Mike and made my way through the storm of people and strollers en route to the host stand.  I was pleasantly surprised when I was told that we would only have to wait for a mere 15-20 minutes to be seated.  Within moments of Mike's arrival, a hostess led us to our table. 

The meal began with a complimentary plate of homemade buttermilk scones, apricot jam and butter (and if you know anything about The Lunch Belle, I am a huge sucker for house-made baked goods...especially free ones).  After perusing the menu, I ordered the following:

• Homemade Concord grape soda: Bubby's has a variety of house-made beverages, all of which sounded tempting.  With the advice of our waitress, I ordered a glass of the Concord grape soda, sans ice.  Imagine a slightly pulpy (from the fresh grapes), less sweet, carbonated version of Welch's grape juice.  This was, truly, a bubbly cup of heaven. 
• Eggs Benedict: What I especially liked about Bubby's menu was the fact that I could choose whether I wanted my entree to be served with home fries or cheesy grits (the latter being my obvious choice).  The Benedict itself was fairly standard, though I did find its English muffin (the foundation of the dish) to be much softer and moister than versions elsewhere, which lead me to the belief that it was baked in-house.  The smoked Canadian bacon was quite gristly (isn't it supposed to be lean?) and there wasn't enough Hollandaise sauce.  The grits, on the other hand, were nearly perfect: dense consistency, rich, buttery, and flavored with a decent amount of salt and pepper.  The crown jewel was the thick layer of cheddar cheese (topping the grits) that morphed in to a gurgling golden brown after spending some time under the broiler.

For me, Bubby's is not necessarily a destination restaurant, at least in terms of brunch.  That being said, I would gladly return to sample offerings on their lunch or dinner menus.