Fette Sau
I can count on two hands the amount of times I've been to Brooklyn since I moved here roughly five years ago. Sad, right? It averages to about twice a year and one of my New Year's resolutions is to change that.
I can thank FTDC (Fat Tuesday Dinner Club for new readers) for a couple of my visits across the pond. Fashionista introduced us to The Grocery -- one of the most charming outdoor dining spots within the five boroughs, while TheDude introduced us to a hot barbecue spot -- Fette Sau (German for "fat sow" and pronounced FET-tih ZOH).
One of our rules within FTDC is we have to switch up the genre of food and the neighborhood each month. We can't always have French, Italian or the Lower East Side. Last month I was thrilled to venture to the Upper East Side for dinner at Sfoglia, another one of Fashionista's picks, because atypical from most nights, I'd beat my fellow club members home.
Before I headed to Brooklyn for Fette Sau, I printed out my trusty Hopstop directions. Yet somehow when I got off the subway I was lost. I felt like I was in Japan -- where the buildings have numbers according to the order they were built throughout the entire city as opposed to the order in which they appear on a street. I asked several pedestrians where to go and finally one gave me an answer I liked, "Follow this street straight ahead. It'll be on your left."
Fette Sau wasn't anything like I expected. It was the mini version of a beer hall I visited in Zurich with Swimster. It had about three or four long picnic benches, a small bar counter towards the back and a counter display where you ordered your meat and sides. I didn't even notice the flat screen with a faux fire until we were leaving. I would have preferred watching sports to the cheesy screen of flames.
When I arrived I was the only person in the place besides the bartender. I took my seat in front of her and ordered a pale ale. I was intimidated by the butcher knife tap handles in front of me. I felt like I was a sip away from being the Texas Chainsaw's next victim. The painting to my right didn't help the situation either with its cheat sheet of cuts. It reminded me of the cave paintings of Lascaux, but instead of learning the anatomy of a horse, I learned what a Saratoga chop looked like.
As my other dinner club friends trickled in we decided to go with a pitcher of beer. TheDude was drooling for one of Fette's many bottles of bourbon and whiskey. He's our token scotch drinker in the club. Each bottle looked foreign to me, and I encouraged TheDude to try one, but he stuck with beer.
After a solid pitcher or two we decided to graduate to picnic benches for our second, third and fourth courses of barbecue. Fashionista and I took our seats and put our stomachs in the hands of LoveLight and TheDude. When they came to the table this is what we saw:
Similar to Hill Country, Fette dumped everything on a big sheet of paper. But what I like about Hill Country's style is they separate each cut of meat you order into different paper so if you're not a barbecue-ficionado you at least know what you're eating. Here it was a gigantic hodgepodge of meat: pork belly, spare ribs and beef brisket galore. TheDude pointed it all out to us before we dominated the single tin tray covered in barbecue for the four of us. On the side we got some baked beans and broccoli. The baked beans were my second favorite on the tray besides the juicy pork belly.
I don't remember having a Meg Ryan moment over the barbecue at Fette Sau, but I know we killed every piece that was in front of us. It was all tender and juicy and crispy in the right spots, but I'll be the first to admit it. I don't have a discerning palate for barbecue. It's the same thing with ice cream and cupcakes. Is there really such thing as bad barbecue? Maybe I'm just fortunate and I have yet to encounter it. I loved Dinosaur and I loved Hill Country and I still have to try my friend Backyard Chef's Wildwood. I realize I am an amateur barbecue fan, and you diehards may scoff at my lack of experience with the cuisine, but know that I strive to learn more by trial.
FTDC Rules Clause 4: When your dinner (first Tuesday of the month) falls on the first day of that month we all go out for drinks after. TheDude brought us all to a beer garden a short walk from Fette Sau called Radegast. This was a risky move because I felt Radegast upstaged Fette Sau. I almost wish we had spent the whole night in this place. And when I saw the fries coming out of the kitchen in the back room it was all over. It didn't matter if I'd eaten half a sow at the first place, I could not resist these fries that looked and tasted like they were right out of a Bruges cafe.
While Fette resembled a small beer hall, Radegast was straight out of Oktoberfest. I cannot wait to organize a big crew to go back there. It was tables and beer steins for as far as the eye can see.
It's been almost a year since we started dinner club and I've grown to love us and our monthly dinners immensely. Sadly one of our crew, LoveLight, is tackling a new, challenging work schedule and he will not be able to continue with dinner club. The news was a crushing blow to the rest of us. FTDC started as a foursome and we hope to continue it as such. FTDC Rules Clause 5: FTDC must be a devoted foodie group with an equal guy to girl ratio.
In order to preserve the foundation of FTDC, I will be holding open auditions for any male who wants to become our fourth member. Please prepare a monologue discussing your favorite N.Y. restaurant and be ready to answer some hard-hitting questions on local eateries and chefs (i.e. can you name every Keith McNally restaurant in the city). You will also be tested on how fast you can down a J.G. Melon burger and a beer. LoveLight always brought the fun. His shoes and heart will be tough to fill.
Fette Sau
354 Metropolitan Ave., near Havemeyer St.
718-963-3404
Radegast
113 N. 3rd St., at Berry St.
718-963-3973
I can thank FTDC (Fat Tuesday Dinner Club for new readers) for a couple of my visits across the pond. Fashionista introduced us to The Grocery -- one of the most charming outdoor dining spots within the five boroughs, while TheDude introduced us to a hot barbecue spot -- Fette Sau (German for "fat sow" and pronounced FET-tih ZOH).
One of our rules within FTDC is we have to switch up the genre of food and the neighborhood each month. We can't always have French, Italian or the Lower East Side. Last month I was thrilled to venture to the Upper East Side for dinner at Sfoglia, another one of Fashionista's picks, because atypical from most nights, I'd beat my fellow club members home.
Before I headed to Brooklyn for Fette Sau, I printed out my trusty Hopstop directions. Yet somehow when I got off the subway I was lost. I felt like I was in Japan -- where the buildings have numbers according to the order they were built throughout the entire city as opposed to the order in which they appear on a street. I asked several pedestrians where to go and finally one gave me an answer I liked, "Follow this street straight ahead. It'll be on your left."
Fette Sau wasn't anything like I expected. It was the mini version of a beer hall I visited in Zurich with Swimster. It had about three or four long picnic benches, a small bar counter towards the back and a counter display where you ordered your meat and sides. I didn't even notice the flat screen with a faux fire until we were leaving. I would have preferred watching sports to the cheesy screen of flames.
When I arrived I was the only person in the place besides the bartender. I took my seat in front of her and ordered a pale ale. I was intimidated by the butcher knife tap handles in front of me. I felt like I was a sip away from being the Texas Chainsaw's next victim. The painting to my right didn't help the situation either with its cheat sheet of cuts. It reminded me of the cave paintings of Lascaux, but instead of learning the anatomy of a horse, I learned what a Saratoga chop looked like.
As my other dinner club friends trickled in we decided to go with a pitcher of beer. TheDude was drooling for one of Fette's many bottles of bourbon and whiskey. He's our token scotch drinker in the club. Each bottle looked foreign to me, and I encouraged TheDude to try one, but he stuck with beer.
After a solid pitcher or two we decided to graduate to picnic benches for our second, third and fourth courses of barbecue. Fashionista and I took our seats and put our stomachs in the hands of LoveLight and TheDude. When they came to the table this is what we saw:
Similar to Hill Country, Fette dumped everything on a big sheet of paper. But what I like about Hill Country's style is they separate each cut of meat you order into different paper so if you're not a barbecue-ficionado you at least know what you're eating. Here it was a gigantic hodgepodge of meat: pork belly, spare ribs and beef brisket galore. TheDude pointed it all out to us before we dominated the single tin tray covered in barbecue for the four of us. On the side we got some baked beans and broccoli. The baked beans were my second favorite on the tray besides the juicy pork belly.
I don't remember having a Meg Ryan moment over the barbecue at Fette Sau, but I know we killed every piece that was in front of us. It was all tender and juicy and crispy in the right spots, but I'll be the first to admit it. I don't have a discerning palate for barbecue. It's the same thing with ice cream and cupcakes. Is there really such thing as bad barbecue? Maybe I'm just fortunate and I have yet to encounter it. I loved Dinosaur and I loved Hill Country and I still have to try my friend Backyard Chef's Wildwood. I realize I am an amateur barbecue fan, and you diehards may scoff at my lack of experience with the cuisine, but know that I strive to learn more by trial.
FTDC Rules Clause 4: When your dinner (first Tuesday of the month) falls on the first day of that month we all go out for drinks after. TheDude brought us all to a beer garden a short walk from Fette Sau called Radegast. This was a risky move because I felt Radegast upstaged Fette Sau. I almost wish we had spent the whole night in this place. And when I saw the fries coming out of the kitchen in the back room it was all over. It didn't matter if I'd eaten half a sow at the first place, I could not resist these fries that looked and tasted like they were right out of a Bruges cafe.
While Fette resembled a small beer hall, Radegast was straight out of Oktoberfest. I cannot wait to organize a big crew to go back there. It was tables and beer steins for as far as the eye can see. It's been almost a year since we started dinner club and I've grown to love us and our monthly dinners immensely. Sadly one of our crew, LoveLight, is tackling a new, challenging work schedule and he will not be able to continue with dinner club. The news was a crushing blow to the rest of us. FTDC started as a foursome and we hope to continue it as such. FTDC Rules Clause 5: FTDC must be a devoted foodie group with an equal guy to girl ratio.
In order to preserve the foundation of FTDC, I will be holding open auditions for any male who wants to become our fourth member. Please prepare a monologue discussing your favorite N.Y. restaurant and be ready to answer some hard-hitting questions on local eateries and chefs (i.e. can you name every Keith McNally restaurant in the city). You will also be tested on how fast you can down a J.G. Melon burger and a beer. LoveLight always brought the fun. His shoes and heart will be tough to fill.
Fette Sau
354 Metropolitan Ave., near Havemeyer St.
718-963-3404
Radegast
113 N. 3rd St., at Berry St.
718-963-3973
posted by Mona at 10:23 AM
2 Comments:
whoa good thing i got in on the first round. not sure i'd be able to pass the new rigorous interview process. oh i don't even want to think of ftdc without lovelight.
ha! for reals.
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