Sorella

The borders of Chinatown have been creeping into Little Italy for years now, but Italian newcomer Sorella has decided to strike back. In 2009, it plopped itself down between two rundown Chinese storefronts on Allen Street, close enough to the East Village to attract downtown hipsters with its small plates and wine bar concept, but in a humble enough location to match its fledgling status. Its impenetrable dark gray exterior is hardly inviting, but behind those heavy doors and rows of tiny porthole windows, a delightful jaunt through the cuisine of Piedmont, Italy awaits those curious enough to enter.

Piedmont is located in northern Italy, and is one of the country's wealthiest regions. Unsurprisingly, its cuisine is characterized by luxurious, rich ingredients; egg yolks, truffles, butter and cheese are used with a heavy hand. Sorella doesn't deviate from this decadent approach, yet manages to imbue a certain lightness to its fare, so that the diner is satisfied, rather than overwhelmed, by the end of the meal. The way the menu is structured, into qualcosina ("little something" in Italian), probably helps too.

The meal begins with a bundle of complimentary grissini, the slender breadsticks that originated in Turin, the capital of Piedmont. Crunchy and salty, they have an addictive quality that will have you reaching for them throughout your meal.

Pate de fegato: Duck fat English muffin bread, chicken liver mousse, fried egg, bacon.

This is what I came to Sorella for. Extravagant? Sure. Pervasive meatiness emanating from every duck fat-soaked bite I took? Check. However, while this dish was good, it was a bit underwhelming. The flavors failed to play off one another and highlight the intensity of the other components; they were individually delicious, but never became more than a sum of their parts.

Hearst Ranch Beef Carne Cruda: sugar snap peas, parmesan, lemon aioli and crispy shallots.

The beef cruda fared much better. Luscious cubes of beef sit on the plate like a mound of rubies, crowned with a tangle of fried shallots that lend a savory crunch to the supple meat. The effect is a whole lot like eating a good rare steak topped with some frizzled onions or thick cut potato chips - just in a more refined package. A smear of that lemon aioli, and that's about as good as it gets. The sugar snap peas were lovely as well, sweet and delicate, momentarily punctuated by the sharp Parmesan with each forkful.

Risotto: Ruby red shrimp, Caprino Capra, lemon, almond, chilies

Pasta is one of Sorella's strong points. Risotto, which I usually associate with fall or winter, had been carefully tweaked to complement the warm summer weather through the use of lighter, sunnier ingredients. The fat, al dente grains of rice, which had been stirred to a creamy (though never mushy) consistency were enlivened by the zest of the lemon and subtle crunch of sliced almonds. From time to time, you will be rewarded with one of those sweet ruby red shrimp, plump and jewel-like, nestled in the risotto's starchy depths.

Tajarin: Lamb ragu, black pepper ricotta, pistachios, mint

Tajarin, a delicate, egg yolk-heavy pasta specific to the Piedmont region, is one of the best pastas you will ever eat and Sorella's is no exception. The subtle gaminess of the lamb, the grassiness of the ricotta and the soft egginess of the pasta combine in a whirlwind of contrasting and complementary flavors, the noodles maintaining an ethereal daintiness despite their heavy accoutrements. I especially loved the ricotta, which is thicker and more paste-like than most - it gives the dish a presence rather than taking a backseat to the lamb and the tajarin.

Brussel sprouts with bacon and apple

The brussel sprouts were the only true disappointment of the night. They had been roasted down to a abrasive bitterness, rather than a caramelized sweetness. We abandoned this shortly after its arrival.

Bomboloni: Lemon custard, raspberry sauce

These little Italian doughnuts are a favorite of mine, and I order them every chance I get. On that particular night, a tart lemon custard had been piped into the doughnuts, which were accompanied by a raspberry dipping sauce. While I love both lemon and raspberry, I would have preferred more of a contrast between the filling and the sauce. The tart sweetness of the lemon custard was mirrored in the raspberry sauce, making for a rather one-dimensional experience. Nevertheless, I ate my fair share.

Assortment of gelato: Espresso, hazelnut and peanut butter

Like any good Italian restaurant, Sorella offers a daily selection of gelati and sorbetti. Neither the espresso nor the hazelnut gelato made much of an impression; however, the peanut butter evoked memories of my favorite childhood Reese's ice cream.

Sorella is a bit pricey, with small plates ranging from $10-16 and desserts from $8-11. With wine, the meal can become exorbitantly expensive for what you thought was a casual dinner out. The wines are impressive, but if you are worried about price, splurge on either food or wine, not both. The restaurant itself is conducive to such an approach; it is split into two main areas: a dimly lit wine bar at the front of the restaurant, and a small but airy dining area in the back with expansive skylights cut into the ceiling. Whatever your pleasure, once you are behind that imposing facade, you will find yourself transported to a charming cafe in Piedmont, where carefree diners sip velvety wines and laugh over wonderfully executed regional cuisine - a little bit of Italy in Chinatown.

Sorella

95 Allen St.

New York, NY 10002

Best dishes: Beef cruda, risotto, tajarin, any of the pastas

Hours: Closed on Mondays; Tues-Sat: 6pm - 2am; Sun: 5:30pm-midnight. A reservation is likely not necessary.

Mike's Halal Cart

Halal carts are ubiquitous in New York, particularly in neighborhoods like Midtown and the Financial District, where a halal cart might be found on all four corners of a single intersection. That's a lot of street meat. How is one supposed to distinguish between the good and the bad? There are, of course, those that have achieved widespread fame (Chicken and Rice at 53rd and 6th, Kwik Meal), and others get by on a combination of word-of-mouth, loyal cult following and food bloggery. I found Mike's thanks to the latter, and was sufficiently intrigued by the promises of real grilled lamb (not a Kronos gyro cone) to pay them a visit.

Mike's is the little halal cart that could. Simple and nondescript (I wasn't even sure I was at the right cart until I saw a small stack of business cards perched on the ledge of the cart emblazoned with "Mike's"), this cart dishes out one of the best halal platters in the city.

The first thing you'll notice is the white sauce. Unlike the white sauce at most other halal carts, which often look either like runny mayo or ranch dressing, Mike's white sauce sits majestically on top of the platter in snowy, stiff peaks, the key indicator of the thick tangy yogurt that comprises it. It tastes different too, like a beautiful, rich tzatziki, with an underlying grassiness reminiscent of goat cheese. The second thing you'll notice? The tender chunks of grilled lamb, boasting veins of unctuous fat interspersed throughout the meat that bombard your taste buds with a fierce, lamb flavor. At one point, I actually began to wonder if Mike had run out of lamb that day and substituted a particularly delicious cut of pork. There was little gaminess to the meat, which only intensified my confusion. It didn't help that I was in the throes of street meat ecstasy at the same time*.

The chicken at Mike's exhibits similar tenderness and flavor, but the star here is the lamb. Both rest on a bed of exceptionally fluffy rice, infused with hints of curry and coriander. Everything tastes fresh, and the quality is on par with what you would get at a fine Greek or Middle Eastern restaurant. Indeed, your senses may be fooled into thinking you are dining at such a restaurant, until you see the white expanse of your now empty Styrofoam container, and you realize, with a slight jolt of disbelief, that your supreme contentment can be attributed to two ordinary men, doggedly grilling meat, trying to earn a living out of a little cart on the corner of South and Wall.

*After my initial post, I was informed by several law school classmates that in places devoid of food carts (a.k.a. uncivilized America), the term "street meat" is used to refer to prostitutes. Let me just clarify that I was not in that kind of ecstasy during my lunch. But hey, you learn something new every day.

Mike's Halal Cart

Corner of South St. and Wall St.

New York, NY 10038

Backyard Chicken

By all appearances, Backyard Chicken looks like the type of lunch spot that should be good. It is shoved into a dark corner of an obscure street in the Financial District, the awning is ratty and smudged with dirt, and the only indication that nourishment can be found there are the two men, one behind a register and one behind a display case of steaming chafing dishes. As you approach, you may be able to make out some rotisserie ovens tucked away in the back, roasting chickens and dripping fat. This breed of sketchiness is usually pretty promising, a sign of the greasy gastronomic delight to come.

However, in some cases, sketchy is just sketchy. And mediocre. Even with its weathered looking, faux we've-been-around-the-block-and-we-know-what-we're-doing scrappiness, Backyard Chicken disappoints. The chicken was dry, in spite of the gravy that had been ladled over it, in spite of the fact that it was the typically moist chicken thigh, and in spite of the chipotle sauce that I had slathered on, hoping to eke some flavor out of my lunch. The sides were equally as listless - the macaroni and cheese only a slightly creamier and more voluptuous version of its more popular cousin, Kraft, the spinach cooked to a rather pulpy, fibrous mass of greenery. I found myself plugging away at my lunch, eating only for the sake of filling my stomach, with little pleasure.

Backyard Chicken has some redeeming qualities. The people who run the place are friendly. The prices are dirt cheap. My lunch, which included two sides and a drink, was only $6. However, for the same price, a much better lunch can be had at one of the many food carts that are rampant in the Financial District.

Panade

Tucked along a quiet stretch of sidewalk on Eldridge Street sits Panade, an unassuming, miniscule shop that focuses on one thing: pate a choux, the airy, impossibly light French pastry dough that makes cream puffs, eclairs, gougeres and ladyfingers possible. With its open storefront, lack of signage and a mess of kitchen equipment visible from the street, Panade would be easy to miss if it weren't for one dead giveaway - the intoxicating scent of choux pastry, rising by way of its own steam, wafting out onto the street, cloaking the air with a buttery sweet smell.

Panade seems to be owned and operated by a sole proprietor, Yvette Ho, who singlehandedly bakes all the pastries, serves customers and makes cream puffs to order. As I sat on the one of two wooden stools available on a lazy Saturday morning, I watched neighborhood regulars stroll in, order coffee, snag a puff or two and chat with Ms. Ho before being on their way. It's that kind of place.

Herb savory puff: Panade offers savory puffs in a variety of flavors, including plain, cheese, ham & cheese and rosemary.

Black Forest ham and Brie puff sandwich on plain puff pastry with cucumber and honey mustard: This sandwich is one of the best offerings at Panade. The airy egginess of the pate a choux elevates what would normally be a heavy lunch into a delicate lady's sandwich. The paper thin slices of black forest ham and crisp cucumbers mirror the diaphanous nature of the pastry, while the perfectly ripe hunks of Brie confer an understated richness to the whole affair. I liked Panade's honey mustard as well; rather than the usual sweet concoction, it retains the bitterness of the mustard seed, rounding out the spectrum of flavors.

Vanilla cream puff with fresh blackberries: After two plates of food, I sheepishly ordered a cream puff for dessert. (Apparently, hipsters don't eat very much). I recommend inquiring what types of fresh fruit they have available that day and ordering your cream puff accordingly. On that hot July day, peaches and blackberries were on the menu, so I decided to go for a classic berries-and-cream puff. Ms. Ho pipes cream filling into each puff as it is ordered, making it completely customizable and preventing the soggy, dairy logged interior of other cream puffs. The blackberries' burst of tart juicyness mingled with the prevalent vanilla flavor of the cream, putting a refreshing textural spin on the decadent filling. The only thing I found wanting was the scarcity of fruit compared to the abundance of cream. More berries, I say!

You will walk away from Panade satisfied but not overwhelmingly full, happy without a trace of guilt. More than anything, you will leave Panade struck by the exquisiteness of Ms. Ho's fare and the studied craftsmanship of each pastry and sandwich, with the feeling that you have been privy to something both very simple and very exceptional.

Panade

129 Eldridge St.

(between Broome and Delancey)

New York, NY 10002

Best dishes: Sandwiches, cream puffs

Hours: Tues-Fri, 8AM to 7PM; Sat-Sun, 9AM-7PM; closed on Mondays. Minimal seating.

Cones

Since my first encounter with corn ice cream at Centrico in Tribeca six years ago, I have been on a quest to find easy, no-strings-attached corn ice cream for sale among the various ice cream shops on the city. So when I was alerted by a friend that Cones carried corn ice cream, I made a mental note to pay them a visit. The opportunity presented itself when I met a friend for dinner at Keste and noticed during the wait that Cones was right across the street! I immediately hatched a plan to coerce my dining partner into getting ice cream after what would probably be a rather sizeable pizza dinner. The minute I spotted him bounding down the street towards me, stomach empty, I made my pitch. "See that ice cream store across the street? We're going after this."

The industrial, slightly sterile character of Cones belies the care and innovation that clearly goes into the making of their ice cream. Under the grayish fluorescent lights, stainless steel tubs of almond cream, yogurt gelato and ginger ice cream sit in a seemingly endless row of flavors, clamoring to be sampled and scooped up. After much deliberation, I decided on a scoop of corn ice cream and a scoop of yogurt gelato.

Corn ice cream and yogurt gelato: Cones serves their corn ice cream with a dash of cinnamon, in keeping with the dessert's Latin American roots. The cinnamon lent a faint kick to the ice cream, which had captured the natural sweetness of a bushel of summer corn. I was surprised to find that the ice cream contained actual kernels of corn. Though I loved this ice cream, I could have done without the fibrous kernel casings interspersed throughout. They lend little to the wonderful corn flavor that is already present, and spoil the slippery smooth texture of the ice cream. The yogurt gelato was similarly well-done, although I would have preferred more of the tang that is characteristic of a good, thick yogurt.

Kiwi sorbet: Cones does great sorbet. In addition to offering a plethora of flavors, each sorbet often tastes more like the fruit than the fruit itself. This was certainly the case with the kiwi, which startled me with its eerily accurate concentration of kiwi flavor. With its bright green hue and little black seeds scattered throughout, this was a kiwi doppelganger if there ever was one.

At $5 for a two-scoop cup, Cones is slightly more expensive than other premier ice cream shops in the city. However, they compensate for their prices with large portions and a high-quality, creative product that will, if you're anything like me, have you strong-arming a very full, very tall friend into an ice cream shop after making him eat two large pizzas with you.

Cones

272 Bleecker St.

(between Morton and Jones St.)

New York, NY 10014

Veronica's Kitchen

In the urban culinary wasteland we call the Financial District, there are few options for an affordable, tasty, non-cliche, non-chain restaurant lunch. What is a corporate peon to do at mid-day? You could head to Chipotle or Europa Cafe, get some variation of an overpriced soup/salad/sandwich, eat it and be utterly dissatisfied with life. Or you could head over to Veronica's.

In a rickety stainless steel contraption that is almost hidden behind a decorative waterfall/fountain thingamajig on Front St., Veronica and her sons dish out an impressive number of soul food and Jamaican specialties. If you're not sure which cart is Veronica's, just look for the line of customers 10+ people deep, rain or shine. (Yes, I did once stand in line, in a downpour, to get my fix.)

Stewed oxtail with rice and peas and green beans: The oxtail is undoubtedly one of the best dishes at Veronica's. Stewed to a meaty tenderness in a rich, faintly sweet sauce, it is the ideal companion for the rice and peas, which are moist and wonderfully flavorful, especially when steeped in the oxtail sauce. The green beans are rather mushy, but in that so-overcooked-it's-kinda-good way. They elicited memories of my grade school cafeteria.

Jerk chicken with rice and peas and stewed cabbage: This is not a dish for the faint of heart. The chicken is encrusted with chili peppers, including Scotch bonnets (one of the hottest peppers in the world), which give jerk chicken its signature smoky and slightly numbing heat. Halfway through this lunch, I closed the door to my office so that I could gasp and emit groans of pain without alarming passerby. In vain, I tried to temper the five-alarm blaze in my mouth with rice. Unfortunately for me, the spicy juices from the chicken had seeped into the rice as well, thus prolonging my suffering. The esophageal damage that I will surely have in a few years will be directly attributable to this chicken. The stewed cabbage proved to be my only relief. It had been cooked down to a comforting softness, and the sulfuric sweetness of the cabbage was evident. The chicken could have been a tiny bit moister, but this is still one of the better selections from Veronica's cart - it just hurts so good.

Curried goat with rice and peas and stewed cabbage: This ranks with the oxtail as one of the top dishes from Veronica's. The meat was fall-off-the-bone tender, with no overwhelming gaminess. My only complaint is that the potatoes in the curry were a bit watery.

BBQ Boneless beef rib with macaroni and cheese and stewed cabbage: This was the one big miss from Veronica's cart. (Sadly, this was also the lunch I stood in the rain for). The beef rib was disappointingly dry. I was even forced to leave one sizeable piece of it uneaten, as it had been cooked to the consistency of beef jerky. The macaroni and cheese was no better. The macaroni was mushy, with no discernible cheese flavor or creaminess. The impenetrable, overly-caramelized cheese crust only made matters worse.

Curried chicken with rice and peas and collard greens: This was another winner. The chicken was so tender that when I speared it with a fork and attempted to move it to another part of the container, the meat fell apart in transport. The curry flavor could have been a bit stronger, but it was an overall good dish.

Veronica's may not be the best soul food in New York, but it offers some standout dishes that are done extremely well. It is also a good value - a small container of food (like those pictured above) is anywhere from $5-7 and a large container is $9-10.

Veronica's Kitchen

Front St. (between Wall St. and Maiden Lane)

New York, NY 10005

Hours: Monday-Friday, 11:30am-2pm. Arrive early and expect a wait. Popular items begin to run out around 1:30pm.

Best dishes: Rice and peas, oxtail, curried goat, stewed cabbage, collard greens, jerk chicken, curried chicken.

Num Pang Sandwich Shop

This casual outpost of the Cambodian restaurant Kampuchea serves up creative and delicious num pang (Khmer for 'bread' or 'sandwich') sandwiches out of a cramped space in the Union Square neighborhood. If you like banh mi, you will love these. Each sandwich is made a la minute, on lightly toasted Parisi Bakery bread and topped with cucumber, pickled carrots, cilantro and chili mayo. The shop offers ten different kinds of sandwiches, which change seasonally. The choices encompass a variety of meat and seafood, including the ever-popular pork belly and pulled pork, skirt steak, catfish and coconut shrimp. Some respectable vegetarian/vegan options are also available.

Roasted cauliflower sandwich with Chinese and Thai eggplant spread and soy milk chili mayo: I love eggplant. I love cauliflower. I love them so much that on my first visit, I bypassed all the porky, beefy sandwiches for this vegan option (a rare occurrence). As far as meatless sandwiches go, this was fairly decent. The smoky, creamy eggplant mingled with the chili mayo and lent the necessary moisture needed to bind the sandwich into a sum of its parts. It also counteracted the crunchier texture of the cauliflower. The roasted cauliflower was good, but some additional seasoning prior to roasting would have propelled the sandwich to greatness. Further roasting might have helped bring out the caramelized sweetness of the vegetable as well.

Hoisin veal meatball sandwich - basil, stewed tomato, jasmine rice: One bite into this, I vowed to never again try and be a friend to the animals. Despite the stifling heat of the upstairs seating area and the fact that my thighs were painfully stuck to the plastic seat of my stool, I completely lost myself in this sandwich. The well-spiced, moist meatball, with hints of star anise, melded with the rest of the ingredients to create a harmony of sweet, savory, tangy, spicy and creamy. The bread, soft and chewy, with a lightly crisped exterior, only highlighted the perfection of the sandwich. The stewing of the tomatoes had coaxed a natural, juicy sweetness out of them, providing both textural contrast and an additional band of flavor. This was one of those dishes I felt like I could eat forever.

Watermelon juice: Cold and refreshing, with fairly good watermelon flavor. My only complaint is that the juice contains sizeable chunks of watermelon, forcing me to sip and chew at the same time. It was not as good as the watermelon ice that you can get at Chinese bakeries, which are blended with ice (making it easier to drink) and taste much more like sticking a straw in a watermelon.

Blood orange lemonade: I'll just repeat what I heard a chatty customer in the shop say about this drink: "It's sour, bitter, sweet and salty all at the same time." I don't think he meant that in a good way, and I don't either.

Beverage missteps aside, Num Pang's sandwiches truly hold their own amidst the throes of the Asian sandwich craze. The next time you want a no-holds-barred, sriracha-running-down-your-palms, silence-at-the-table gustatory sandwich experience, make your way to Num Pang and let your senses take over.

Num Pang Sandwich Shop

21 East 12 St.

(between 5th Ave. and University Place)

New York, NY 10003

Sit-in dining available upstairs, take-out and delivery also available.

Best dishes: Sandwiches