Les Enfants Terribles/Milk and Honey

At my last bartending gig, my worlds collided. My work friends met swimming friends met new friends met all my friends. It was fun, but slightly overwhelming. I was flailing behind the bar trying to keep all of my friends fed, drunken and entertained.

The best part of the night was when two friends and characters of my blog realized who the other one was. It was my very own live version of "Who's on first?" My co-worker ClarkKent went to talk to Fashionista because they met a couple of times previously, and he ended up having a moment with TheDude. Not only was the conversation amusing, but the sight of the three tallest people in the bar chatting gave everybody who noticed a good chuckle.

ClarkKent: So, you know about Mona's blog?
TheDude: Yah, I'm on it. We go out to dinner a lot.
ClarkKent: Dude, no way. Me too. What's your name?
TheDude: Yup, I'm TheDude. Kinda funny, right?
ClarkKent: Yah, totally. You must be the dude if you're on her blog. I'm ClarkKent, but she's only written about me a couple of times. We've never gone out to eat. So, dude, what's your name?
TheDude: TheDude.
ClarkKent: What dude? You're the man, but seriously, go ahead and tell me, what's your blog name?
TheDude: TheDude!

It was TheDude's turn to pick the crew's second round of dinner. He sent us a few options: Bacaro, but we discovered they were closed on Mondays, Azul and Les Enfants Terribles. He had me at the French one.

Fashionista and I showed up to Les Enfants Terribles, with the intention of beating the boys, or at least showing up simultaneously. Shocking. We blew it. They were cozily seated up against the window at our four-top sipping on their beers and glowing at our arrival.

Our waitress came over to the table as we were pulling our chairs in and asked us what we wanted to drink. I needed a moment to take a breath and look at the cocktail menu before I made my choice. I appreciate promptness, but give me a second to dole out hugs, kisses and hellos. After reading the menu and asking a couple of questions, like what was less sweet a maracana or a guericuacuara, we decided on our adventurous staple, the mojito.

The dining tables surrounded the bar, which was a big rectangle that jutted out into the middle of the space. This made it feel like dining was secondary to drinking. Luckily, the bar wasn't that crowded. This worried me, especially because a good friend and co-worker told me the food was mediocre. She frequented Les Enfants late night when the taste buds aren't necessarily the strictest judges.

I expected there to be beads hanging in the doorways to the bathrooms and for Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart to come bursting through the door. It had this African -Mediterranean vibe that I really liked and one that I had never felt before in Manhattan.

For starters we tried several dishes.

First a salmon confit with a banana guacamole, papaya-mango chutney and sweet potato shavings. Sweet potatoes get me every time.

We also went for the steak tartare...

and grilled calamari with a ginger and sweet chili dip, with chickpea and cilantro salad.

I don't remember which one I liked best. I just remember fighting with LoveLight over who got to eat the last calamari and chickpea, fighting with Fashionista who got to eat the last of the steak tartare and fighting with TheDude who got to finish the last of the salmon. I don't even like salmon regularly, but the confit is the way to go. Salmon's probably the only fish I don't really like raw or cooked, but the confit preparation is the perfect in between. I imagined these would be the types of dishes I would find in a beach hut on the coast of Morocco.

For our entrees, I ordered the duck with couscous...


TheDude ordered the chicken with white rice...

LoveLight ordered the sliced sirloin steak with French fries, tomato, onion and lime...

and last, but not least, Fashionista ordered the marinated grilled steak with fried kasava and salad.


I was sitting next to TheDude and I think we both suffered from other-half-of-table envy. We went with the poultry, but the beef dishes across the way looked a lot more exciting than ours. My duck fell right off the bone and was really tender, so much that it slithered down my throat without me even having to chew it. I would try to lather it in sauce and couscous so it could sit in my mouth a little longer.

Fashionista's steak was a little fatty, but juicy and cooked well, and the kasava was an awesome choice. Besides Public, I've never had these anywhere else. I will now be on a mission to find these sumptuous suckers. LoveLight's dish won the award for best, however. His mammoth steak was to die for as were his thinly-cut fries. I was a little uncertain where the Moroccan flare was in this dish, but it was still good all the same.

As dinner progressed, our server seemed to be more and more aloof. She seemed to be in a pissy mood. She was very short with us, slow on taking our drink orders and getting water was like asking for it to be blessed by the Pope. My assessment was dinner, like our experience at Kingswood, went downhill after the appetizers. The entrees seemed to lack that Moroccan zip that I found in the first course.

If dinner falls on the first of the month, we are required to get drinks afterwards. My dinner next week is July 1 and I think I have my place in mind, though it has Shaquille-sized shoes to fill.

Last night over another crew dinner, we discussed our recent favorites. I know it shouldn't count, because mine is a bar and not a restaurant, but my favorite discovery, over the past few months since we all started hanging out, is Milk and Honey. For several years, it's been an elusive destination, whose threshold I never thought I'd cross. Now that I've been in once, I know I'm in for good. Thank you, TheDude, for my introduction.

There are no menus at Milk and Honey. You have to know your s---. Decide before you go what your liquor of choice will be. They appreciate confidence and assertiveness. I'm convinced the less hemming and hawing, the better drink they serve. My first was a rum-ginger blend and my second was a margarita-esque concoction. "Nothing too fruity," I said. Kids, don't try these at home. I couldn't tell you what was in them, but they were magical and I reveled (cried) over the fact that I'd never again consume cocktails like these. Milk and Honey is the home of the one-hit wonder.


I don't want to give away too much, because your first time should be as unsullied and unaffected as mine was. That's the fun of it. There isn't much out there about the bar and it's better that way. Milk and Honey becomes what each person wants it to be: it can be your first date, if you're really into the person; it can be your pre-party with friends; it can be a quiet solitary cocktail over a good book; or as we made it, it can be the after-dinner drink.

There are a lot of people to meet, places to see and restaurants to visit in this big city, and we all seek special, once in a lifetime experiences to make it our own. That's what makes New York New York. Sipping my cocktail with the crew at Milk and Honey, I was reminded of this. I smiled to myself for a moment and didn't want the night, or any nights like this, to end.

Les Enfants Terribles
37 Canal St., at Ludlow
ph: 212-777-7518

Milk and Honey
134 Eldridge St., near Broome St.
ph: I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you