The Roaring 40’s
Thursday, July 15th, 2010
(3 out of 5 hot dogs)
Loading ...Urban Lobster Shack
805 3rd Ave (at 49th)
Time: All the time
Price: lobster roll, coleslaw and salad, $10
Urban Lobster Shack is located in a secret underground food-court. It’s sort of a lunch-speakeasy for people who have boring office jobs in midtown. When you enter the discreet office building location, a security guard gives you the evil eye as you turn left and go down an escalator into the seedy underbelly of Manhattan. The “Shack” is less of a shack, and more of a kiosk that could easily be converted to hawk bedazzled cell phone cases during other business hours. The lobster roll is tasty, although it fills you up only about as much as a hotdog (coulda eaten 3 of ‘em). The side salad and a mini-cup of coleslaw are fine too, but don’t do much to curb that terrible hunger that is slowly, minute by minute, engorging my body and soul.
Spring is here! And with it come flip-flops, a freakshow aka the Easter Parade (nothing like the Judy Garland 
I was heading home, minding my own business, when I tripped on an uneven piece of sidewalk, and ended up at the Stumble Inn. But this was no ordinary piece of cement; it was a magical sidewalk that transported me to a bizarre Twilight Zone where I was trapped in a straight-to-DVD National Lampoon’s movie and couldn’t get out. There were greasy nachos, $1 beers, and a party playlist to rival the frattiest frat house. I went to use the restroom in the basement, and the Women’s Room door was propped open, and I saw two girls without their tops on, adjusting each other’s bras for maximum cleavage. In the Men’s Room someone had spilled chili all over the floor and toilet seat. At least I hope it was chili… Back upstairs, my friends were challenged at beer pong by a wicked cheating French team. But in the end, the good guys won, and I can only imagine that the pompous pair was so ashamed that they took the next flight back to Charles De Gaulle. Upon exiting, the outside world was drab and drizzly in comparison, and I went into a deep depression. If one dark night you go walking on 76th Street, and you stumble on a slanted sidewalk, you too might be lucky enough to visit this Brigadoon of the Upper East Side.
I have had a few crushing disappointments in my life; once a friend pulled the tag off Humprey, my camel Beanie Baby, making it virtuously worthless, and another time Marissa Cooper got in a car accident and died on The O.C., only to return once or twice in ghost/flashback-form. My experience at Wicker Park is right up there with those horrible defeats. After hearing about Wicker’s all-you-can-drink dinner, I was fully expecting to have a great hump day, dish out four or five hotdogs, and share an amazing special with my loyal readers. However, things were rocky from the beginning. The menu was very limited and the waitress refused to make any substitutions for me and my vegetarian date (even refusing to replace a steak with a side salad…) On top of that, service was slow, we had to wait over twenty minutes in between wine refills. In AYCD situations, I’m not picky about mediocre food, lack of ambience, or the abundance of fratty douchebags. I’m there to drink as much as possible in the allotted time and fully capitalize on my $25. But after three of four glasses (we hadn’t even finished our entrees yet), our server told us that we had been there too long, and wouldn’t give us any more wine. The NERVE. It occurred to me that this restaurant shares its’ name with that God-awful Josh Hartnett movie. In both cases, I would forego Wicker Park, stay in with a bottle of Trader Joe’s wine and watch 40 Days and 40 Nights.
On a recent road trip, I learned on Yelp via my blackberry of an alleged 
After the rum incident last meal, Mim and I decided to keep it classy with a lunch special sans booze. JoJo (pronounced with a refined soft ‘J’) was crowded because of Veteran’s Day, and all the people with real jobs had the day off and apparently wanted to go out to lunch too. Lame. But the hostess was sweet, and was able to seat me and my nearing-95-year-old-dining-companion in two minutes despite our lack of reservation. The meal began the best way possible: with a basket of warm, toasty bread. My first course was shrimp steamed on a mesclun salad with button mushrooms. It was delightful. My second dish, salmon with truffled mashed potatoes and brussel sprouts was good as well. I then excused myself to use the restroom, but Mim informed me that in her time it was much too vulgar to say so. She always says “I need to go check on the girls.” So after I checked on the boys, our dessert was served, for which we both had the warm chocolate cake with ice cream. Spectacular start to finish. Take advantage of Jean Georges’ Autumn Promotion, a top-notch $26 lunch available at all of his restaurants in NYC!
Oysters are considered an aphrodisiac. I’m not sure what about slurping raw mollusks out of a crusty shell people find arousing, but it definitely seems fancy. And after the lobster poop incident last week, I figured I should continue my trend of ‘rich people food at poor people prices’ and go for the oysters. Fear not all you 9-5ers, Fish’s ‘Red, White and Blue special’ is available all the time. It consists of six blue point oysters, or clams, and a glass of wine or a PBR. Oysters typically go for around $2 each in NYC, so this is a good deal already, and then add in some house merlot, and I couldn’t be happier. But beware, entrees at this seafood joint are pretty pricey, so come in for the special, and then row your boat out the door before being tempted to spend $22 for seared scallops. There is also a $19 all-you-can-eat steamed Maryland crab special from 12-3 everyday for your feasting pleasure.
I was very excited to have an affordable fresh Maine lobster right here in NYC. I ventured to Beach Café to check it out (which by the way isn’t very beachy, in menu or décor). They offer 1 ¼ lb lobsters, which turned out to be pretty small with very little meat inside (scrumptious though). Luckily there is a bread basket, and baked potato to fill you up. Lobster isn’t usual fare for a cheap foodie like myself, so I was perplexed and a little revolted by the green stuff that covered most of the body. When I asked my waiter what it was, he said that he didn’t know, but that I should probably just eat it. I sampled a little bit, and it tasted like lobster poop. Hmmm fishy. When I got home, I did a little internet research and found out it’s called tomalley, and it acts as the digestive system for the lobster (that explains the taste…) AND it probably should not be eaten because high levels of toxins. Cool. A bottle of Listerine and a couple shots of tequila later, I felt cleansed of crustacean crap, but I don’t think I’ll be doing the Baywatch run back to 70th street any time soon.
The name of this restaurant sounds more like somewhere you’d walk your dog, or the title of a DVD that you would stash under the loose panel in your bedroom. But, in fact, is another all-you-can-drink brunch destination. Our meal began with a basket of freshly-baked mini-muffins. Mmm. The sign out front said ‘Brunch with unlimited drinks $13.95.’ Only partially accurate. The drinks had a 60-minute limit, which is lame, because everyone knows that the best brunches last three to four hours. (The waiter was nice though, and didn’t mind that we overstayed our welcome by a few hours.) Also, most of the entrée options on the menu said ‘plus two dollars’ or ‘plus three dollars’ next to the listing, making them NOT $13.95. So I had one of the three actual $13.95 plates, and my recent breakfast favorite, the huevos rancheros. It tasted fine, but the egg was a little rubbery, and in perfectly round patty form (a la Egg McMuffin), which made me question it’s integrity. The time limit, the higher price, and the below average food knock this down to a three hot-dog rating, but the frozen margaritas bring it back up to four. They are a perfect brunch drink that you seldom see on the menu. And who doesn’t love tequila in the morning? Not me!