TASTE TEST: Korean Fried Chicken at BonChon

I haven't sat down and had a long talk with my buddy Kristine in a very long time. So I made her trek all the way from Jersey City to meet me for something I've never tried before: Korean fried chicken. Originally, we were supposed to meet up at Dok Suni's in the East Village, but I didn't feel up for the travel—I know, I'm a douchebag; she traveled plenty far for me—so we scrambled for somewhere closer to eat. She told me that if my heart was set on trying Korea's version of fried chicken, I could meet her at BonChon Chicken. Sounded good to me.

As usual, I immediately perused the menu for what was edible. The chicken menu was broken up into wings and drums and combos of wings and drums, and then there were sauce options. I, being the wuss that I am, chose the non-spicy garlic soy sauce and 3 drums. I thought they might be appetizer small, but when the meal arrived, they were adult-sized. Still a little wary of the taste, I took a timid bite.

Crunch!
Sweet!
Juicy!
Mmmm.

I can still taste it. It's like Chinese fried chicken, but ten times better. It's like they fried the chicken twice, and rubbed honey and duck sauce all over it. Where has this been all my life?

I'm a chubby girl, but my chubby friend Ty decided to get a lap gastric band and her doc said she wouldn't be allowed to eat fried foods for several months. That meal, among many others, are why I exercise whenever I can and eat healthy when I eat-in. Because there's no amount of medical warnings that would stop me from consuming that again...unless at least three experts proved it was poisonous. lol

98 Chambers St.

New York City's Summer Movie Series

I LOVE watching films outdoors. And because of my life-long dream of going to a drive-in (after seeing it in Grease as a kid, lol), I've seized every opportunity to attend an outdoor movie series in the city. Most summers I've indulged in the Bryant Park HBO Movie Series, watching Hitchcock and Bond films. This summer, I wanted to branch out and try ALL of the other movie venues, including the Intrepid, Hudson River Park, and Brooklyn Bridge Park.

Of course, I wasn't just going to watch any old film. So I chose each one I was interested in and put them all on my calendar. Friday the 23rd was my first film. Goonies at the Intrepid. Can you imagine it? Seeing a pirate treasure movie on a big boat, the ocean surrounding you? Incredible, right? It was. It was a beautiful view. And the jets parked on the surface were even more awesome! Check out Ali's blue steel:

There was even a vendor selling water and ice cream. Bank of America was giving out little pads to sit on. We had great seats near the front. Everything was perfect....until the rain came.

We were sooooo close. Ugh! Ever vigilant, we were going to try again on the 29th, watching Rear Window at Brooklyn Bridge Park, but I scored a free screening of The Other Guys, so we nixed it. If all goes well (and it doesn't rain again), I might get a second chance at seeing a film at the Intrepid this Friday. They're showing Indiana Jones and Raiders of the Lost Ark, and even though Temple of Doom is my favorite, it's good enough for a free flick. And if it does rain or my plans fall through, I still have a chance to see Annie at Hudson Park on the 20th, Bonnie & Clyde at Bryant Park on the 23rd, and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade at Brooklyn Bridge Park on the 26th.

TASTE TEST: Pan-Asian at Republic

I've never really dabbled in Pan-Asian food before. I try to play it safe whenever it comes to exotic Asian cuisine. Sushi isn't my thing. The sauces are often alarmingly gross. And I've only recently begun to appreciate properly prepared fried dumplings. But my friend Megan came into town from Phillie for a birthday dinner, and she was hellbent on going to Union Square's Republic.

Everything on the menu seemed like a gamble, and I didn't want to spend too much on a meal I probably wouldn't eat. So I thought I'd play it safe and order chicken and rice. Easy enough, right? Not when it comes to my juvenile palate. The rice grains were so tiny, it was like eating pebbles or debris, and the chicken...okay, I'll admit I tried two brown pieces and they may have been mushrooms, but it was chewy and gummy and I felt like I was trying to dissolve rubber. I barely ate anything. Thank god there was great conversation.

37 Union Square West, New York, NY

SWEET TREAT: popbar, a Topper's Utopia

I haven't had a popsicle since I was 12. I used to love them. They were extremely refreshing and I was always eager to read the riddles that were printed on the sticks. (i.e. What is black, white, and red all over? A newspaper. Get it? Read all over.) But of course, like everyone, I hated the fact that they dripped all over you and ruined a perfectly good shirt. Plus, I was soon eternally enamored with vanilla ice cream smothered in chewy rainbow sprinkles, and indoctrinated into the gelato-loving cult. Thus, I retired my love for pops.

Then one steamy summer day last week, lost in the Village while searching for gelato, Ali and I passed popbar, which sells handcrafted gelato, sorbet, and yogurt on a stick, made with 100% real fruit. We were so excited to see a childhood favorite in the neighborhood, we vowed to return, and so we did this weekend after a rousing game of ping pong at Fat Cat.

Even though their menu consisted of cream, pistachio, coffee, chocolate, coconut chocolate, vanilla chocolate, vanilla splash, hazelnut, strawberry lemon, raspberry mint lemon, and their exclusive popyogurt, I ordered the super simple strawberry sorbet (which I'm allergic to, shhh!) and Ali ordered mango. Our friend Kristine was the most adventurous. She chose mango drizzled with Italian gourmet chocolate. 

I rarely indulge in toppings. Even when I bought my Baskin Robbins sundae to score that baseball cap, I stuck to the basics: whip cream, sprinkles, and a cherry. But if I were a top-aholic, I could've had my pick of almonds, hazelnuts, pistachios, shredded coconut, granola, coffee grains, biscotti crumbles, brownie chunks, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, or white chocolate. AND popbar encourages double-dipping and allows requests for one layer of one topping and another layer of a different topping and yet another layer on top of that. It's a topper's utopia...totally wasted on me. lol

BUT, I am interested in trying the coconut next time. Since I love coconut gelato, I might like a coconut pop. Of course, I'm not too keen on paying $3.75 again, when I can just get a pop at my local bodega for a buck. Then again, I can't pretend those are healthy when I'm pretty sure they're not even 10% real fruit.

popbar, 5 Carmine Street

TASTE TEST: Mofongo at La Casa de Mofongo

My Haitian friend Stace loves mofongo. My Miami-visiting friend Morayo has always wanted to try mofongo. I have never (and I mean, ever) wanted to try anything that sounded like mofongo. It childishly reminds me of the Spanish word mojon, which means shit. This did not entice me. But they've been begging me to take them to a place with great mofongo for weeks, since I'm Dominican and I should know where that is. So I went to the great Dominican oracle (Google Maps) and I searched the words "mofongo + ny," and there it was...La Casa de Mofongo, the promised land of all things mofongo.

This is the part where I tell you it was a religious experience and I am now a mofongo-ite. And I spread it on my toast in the morning, and I carry it around in my bag to freshen my breath, and I've frozen a block of it in my fridge in case of emergency. Alas, that is not the case. I have the palate of a newborn. If it aint salty or sweet, it's gross.

For those of you who don't know what mofongo is--essentially 99.9% of you--it's mashed plantains. I know what you're thinking. That sounds friggin delicious. No. No it isn't. Fried plantains are delicious. Plantain mush tastes like mush. Pureed plantains with shredded beef (a.k.a. ropa vieja, which literally translated means "old clothes" and still sounds better) is delicious. Mashed plantains are not. Not even when you mix in a meat (pork, beef, chicken, etc.) and then mold the mixture into a hard, 4-inch tall, cylinder shape, as La Casa de Mofongo does.

The only person who enjoyed it and vows to return is Stace. I, on the other hand, will stick to my old clothes, because if a place that specializes in a dish can't make it taste good, I doubt it ever will...to a newborn at least.

La Casa de Mofongo, 1444 St. Nicholas Ave

ART SHOW: Icons by Mr. Brainwash

On our way to Chelsea Piers, I decided to show Alice this random grafitti art I saw on Mother's Day of Alfred Hitchcock:

But when we got to 13th Street and 9th Ave., I noticed it had been slightly altered. Now Mr. Hitchcock was directing viewers towards a warehouse. At first we saw drawings of Einstein, Charlie Chaplin, and Woody Allen, but then we realized that there was an entire art gallery called Icons inside of the warehouse. And so the picture taking began:

I'd suggest visiting it. It reminded me a whole lot of the rebel artist Banksy, but people who know more about art than I do are suggesting that its all a ruse. The artist Thierry Guetta, a.k.a. Mr. Brainwash, is Banksy's protege, and according to said authoritarians, Banksy could be using him to make a statement about the art market or he could very well be Mr. Brainwash. For more on Guetta, watch his documentary Exit Through the Gift Shop:



Icons
415 West 13th St. b/w 9th Ave. & Washington St.
Hours: Mon-Thurs 12pm-9pm, Fri-Sat. 12pm-12am, Sun 12pm-7pm
Free Admission 
Cameras allowed

FLASHBACK: Fourth of July Fireworks

What can I say about the 4th of July?

When I was a kid, I used to have the perfect view of my neighborhood's fireworks show from my window. I would turn the NBC special on and watch them simultaneously, because the TV screen would reflect in the window. Most people have a favorite firework, but I have a favorite 4th of July. It was the year that they set off a firework so big outside my window that it lit up the entire night sky orange, blew out car windows, and set off countless car alarms. It was like Armageddon, but without the messy clean-up.

FLASHBACK: Gelato for Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner

The cliche American things to do in Italy are to eat gelato, "hold up" the Leaning Tower of Pisa, eat gelato, visit the Vatican City, eat gelato, and shovel pasta—fistfuls at a time—into your mouth...then top it off with gelato. And since I'm American, I did as the Americans would do, minus Pisa—couldn't make the trip.

This gelateria in Florence is just one of the many shops I went to while in Europe. I swear, I ate at least three servings in one day while wandering around Rome. My favorite flavors are coconut and stracciatella, which is basically chocolate and vanilla mixed together. The best I had was next door to a pizza shop called, if I'm not mistaken, Caffè Accademia, right outside the Spanish Steps train stop. That's right, there are train stops near historical monuments in Rome. Your mind would be blown if you exited the Colosseum train stop.

My friend Anna was the most adventurous. She tried a different flavor every time we stopped in every Italian city (Rome, Florence, Venice, and Milan) we traveled to—from mango to Nutella. I always tried hers, but stuck with my beloved coconut. When we returned to Madrid, we "settled" for the gourmet gelato at Giangrossi, two blocks from our apartment. Like in the shops of Chelsea Market, you can watch them make your gelato in their kitchens.

Nowadays, I settle for the Village's Grom whenever I need a fix. $6 for a little vanilla delight. I wouldn't say it's the best, but I will say that I'll be trying a few more places around Bleecker Street this summer.

SWEET TREAT: Baskin Robbins Mini Baseball Caps

When I was a kid, I vaguely remember eating ice cream out of a black plastic baseball cap. Nothing odd about that...except I think I was in the Dominican Republic. Hmmm I have the worst memory.

But I still have the cap. I didn't notice which team it was for though until a few months ago. The White Sox. I'm no Boston fan, but when I was in high school I liked a White Sox fan. If I was superstitious, I would've thought it was fate. Instead I thought, "Man, I wish I could get the Yankee mini cap." lol

 That's Wile E. Coyote and Bugs Bunny under there.

So me and Ally made our way to the nearest Baskins and basically just asked for the cap and whatever else we had to buy to get it. $5.99 for a two scoop sundae (I recommend America's Birthday Cake, despite the embedded cake cubes, or the Daiquiri—it's so weird) with fudge, whip cream, a cherry, and assorted toppings (sprinkles, nuts, etc.), plus a bottle of water. I know, the water is kind of random, but appreciated. The promotional ads say to collect all 30, but I honestly can't picture myself eating 30 sundaes this summer. I mean...if they were gelato, maybe. lol

Hitting the Batting Cages at Chelsea Piers

Train ride to Chelsea Piers? $2.25
Ten swings at soft slow balls? $2.50
Two strained wrists + a banged up finger + an inability to grip anything with my right hand + sore back muscles? Priceless...or the price of a hospital visit—one or the other.

I may have previously expressed a love for baseball. Of course, being athletically challenged, I can't exactly join a neighborhood league or play a friendly game with a few friends. But I've always thought going to the batting cages could be a fun alternative. I'm not expected to run any long distances and there's no possibility of spraining an ankle or bruising my knees sliding into 3rd. The ground is clearly marked for where you need to stand, so there's no chance I'll get hit by a stray ball. And there's netting surrounding you on all four sides, so you couldn't possibly hit anyone. But, as it happens, there are still a few hazards.

It hurts more than you would imagine. 

First off, if you don't know how to hold a bat—and don't expect anyone to volunteer to teach you—your improper posture will cost you. Once your bat connects with the ball, if you can manage to hit it, it feels like an earthquake running from your hands to your shoulder. For the 5 seconds you feel accomplished by your amazing eye-hand coordination, you'll spend 4 days with aches and pains. Slow soft balls are supposed to be perfect for beginners. Clearly, I was delusional.

I guess there's three good things that came out of our weekend expedition:
1) I got to see if I was any good at baseball...and technically hitting 6 out of 10 balls makes me at least minor league material. lol
2) I now know that I won't be doing this for my birthday come December.
3) And I definitely won't be doing this on a date. Ever!

Chelsea Piers, W. 21 St. and 11th Ave.

A priest, a baker, and a mime walk into a bar...no wait...

My favorite film genre is comedy. I love to laugh. (And I'll be honest, I started loving it even more after learning laughter burns calories. lol) So one would imagine that going to a comedy club would be an ingenious idea. I've told you guys about seeing comedians Anjelah Johnson and Donald Glover at Comix, and since that was such a great experience, I thought I'd try seeing Johnson's hilarious opening act Erik Rivera at Gonzalez y Gonzalez.

Let's see, how do I say this? Rivera was funny as usual. His opening acts, on the other hand, were...not. They were actually excruciatingly awkward and since there were about 20 people at the venue, the laughs were few and far between. I'm not sure if it was the restaurant's poor promotion—when I called they couldn't even confirm that he was performing—or if Wednesday's just not a night everyone wants to go out, but I felt humiliated for them.

It's safe to say that the next time I go to a comedy show it'll be at a fairly large and established venue, and it'll be on a weekend.

But definitely check out Erik Rivera the next time he's in your city.