Do yourself a favor and go to Delicatessen asap. Soon and very soon it will carry the same clout as hotspots like The Spotted Pig and Momofuku. Then winter will come around, and you will be stuck outside, with a two-hour wait, shivering in the midst of European tourists or sandwiched between a cougar and an Abercrombie model by the bar. The place is hot, despite its clubby look with its stainless steel interior complimented by glossy whites and a warm unfinished reclaimed wood. OK, so what? It’s beautiful, I admit, and the entire restaurant opens up to the outside, making for great people-watching time.

Delicatessen’s balance stays steady from everything to the cool (but not asshole-cool) service to the whimsical yet classic menu. The cheeseburger spring rolls were perfectly crisp on the outside and succulent on the inside. Not greasy, either. The housemade ketchup provides the perfect amount of class and trash that I adore.

The fish tacos, served in fried wontons with shreaded Halibut with a kimchee mayonaise, was very light and airy with a touch of spice. I wish there was more of a kimchee taste, but give ’em props just for going there.

Unfortunately I did not have room for the fried chicken, half of chicken, marinated in buttermilk, served with jalepeno corn bread and spicy coleslaw (btw only $14.00). I salivate as I write this knowing how good it will be my next trip. This place is open until two on weekends, one on weekdays.

It gets better too, they have an entire pastry kitchen where they make everything including ice cream from scratch. Yes I am the annoying customer who asks very tedious and suspicious questions. I indulged in the smores made with fried marshmallows and my sis had the ovaltine pudding parfait upen my insistence. Both were better than they sound, and words will not do them justice. (Sorry for no dessert pics. Quite intoxicated by then.)

Oh, yeah, did I mention I had the Nicoise salad? The tuna was perfectly cooked, the accompaniments were appropriate, but, you know, it’s still a salad.


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