Best restaurants?
Here’s a list of the 20 best restaurants in America—according to the folks at something I’ve never heard of before called The Daily Meal. If you take a look, you’ll notice there’s a trend, which is for restaurants that are elegant and (I’m fairly sure) expensive.
Even if I had the money, these wouldn’t be my choices. Mine would probably all be ethnic restaurants, and reasonable ones at that: Greek, Lebanese, Spanish, Chinese. Slightly down the list for me, but still way up there, would come French (not haute, but rustic) and of course Italian. Who doesn’t like Italian food?
When I was a kid there weren’t many ethnic restaurants in most of the US. Pizza places and spaghetti joints, yes. Chinese food was wonton soup, spare ribs, and chow mein with those little crunchy things on it, which we considered very exotic indeed.
And that was about it until I was eight, when my uncle took us to a Manhattan eating establishment that was ever-afterward known in my mind as “the Armenian restaurant.”
I no longer remember the occasion we were celebrating. And I certainly don’t know why my uncle—a man not otherwise known for culinary adventurousness, to say the least—decided to lead us to such an odd and foreign choice.
But I remember the meal; oh, how I remember the meal! From the very first bite of the very first course, which was a soup with barley, yogurt, and mint, I was hooked. It was as though previously I’d been eating in black-and-white and now the food was Technicolor. And wide-screen.
From then on, I became a pest to my parents. Every time we went to Manhattan, which was usually to see a play on Broadway, I would beg them to take me to the Armenian restaurant. We never did, mostly because it was in the east 20s, as I recall, nowhere near where we ever were headed. But I never stopped trying until I finally grew up, when I went there one evening myself with some friends.
And you know what? It was just as good as ever.
So of course right now, salivating with the memory, I tried Googling it. Since I still don’t know the name, it was a bit of a challenge. But I found this query indicating there’s someone else with the same yearning:
Years ago, there were a couple old-school Armenian joints in Manhattan. One of them was down on Lexington in the 20’s. Can any lister tell me any Armenian restaurants remain in the city and where they might be? Thanks!
No one could come up with the name, so I guess it’s probably disappeared.
Was this restaurant really the “best”? I don’t know. But they say you always remember your first. And I sure do.
Our favorite ‘exotic’ restaurant when we were growing up was a very authentic Japanese place, out in the San Fernando Valley. My parents loved Japanese food, Dad having spent some leave there when he was in the Army … so it was a big treat for us to go there. They did divine tempura, and the first course soup was always good – little squares of tofu at the bottom of a bowl of broth. Ah, memories!
Okay, ya got me.
I’ve eaten at Peter Luger, Le Bernardin (In NY and Paris) and Chez Panisse (Helped build it.) but right now I’m really hungry for that Armenian barley soup.
Sgt. Mom: was it on Sepulveda near Ventura?
vanderleun: as well you should be. It was fabulous stuff. It can also be made with yellow split peas added (not a lot of them, though; you don’t want to turn it into that abomination, pea soup—feh!).
My parents told me that their first experience with pizza was in the early 1950s, when an Italian-American friend- she didn’t speak English until she went to school- brought over the homemade edition.
Short version: lost your virginity at eight in an Armenian restaurant 😉
My best food memories are from camping: long hikes, food cooked over a camp fire at dusk. It wasn’t that the food was great, it was a combination of hunger, hard exercise, and atmosphere. You can’t buy that at a restaurant.
Neo, I can’t remember – it was a little way out into the Valley, from where we lived on La Tuna Canyon Road, so Sepulveda and Ventura would have been around the right area. We loved going there, as it was a very special treat for us.
Sgt. Mom: I used to like a Japanese restaurant there. It was pretty small, and had masks something like this on the walls. Don’t remember the name of the place.
Billings had a quaint little Japanese place. Broke would buy me a bowl of rice, miso chicken and a bowl of sunomono soup all for 3 bucks. Payday was always the best day of the week.
The last time I was in Chinatown, a friend and I stopped at a place for lunch; actually, the owner was out front corralling people to come in. He sort of hesitated before welcoming us. (I think he let us in because my friend is Filipino.) He explained that it wasn’t like going to a normal Chinese restaurant. “Chinese people very loud at lunch,” he explained. Well, it was like a high school cafeteria with big round tables for ten and you ordered from carts that the waitresses wheeled around. About 8 or 10 carts went by and, man, I didn’t see anything that looked like food. We had to leave. I’m squeamish, I guess.
I remember eating at an Armenian place in London in 1973. Great food, but not as good as the Armenian/French meal I ate at a farmhouse outside Marseille. It was prepared by my Navy Buddy’s Aunt. She was the real deal – had escaped from the Armenian Massacre during her teens.
http://www.restaurantlamaisonkamfung.com/
Great view to the south of central Montreal, easy on the wallet, and a variety of dim sum to please the taste buds. If you’re ever in Montreal try it.
When it comes to food feasts, I’ll pit the Romanians against anyone, anyday. My friend owns a small health club and every year for New Years the Romanians rent it out and I help him host it. Man, love those people. So friendly, and the food! Muy bien. These people are not vegers, okay. And the wine does flow freely. And the feasting and drinking and dancing lasts from sundown to sun up. Oh yeah.
Best restaurant, best food, best atmosphere?
My house. Y’all come on by.
I remember having Basque food on the outskirts of Bakersfield when I was a kid. Spices that were new to me, lamb, pigeon(!) – and very weird to have family-style dining in a restaurant. Or having Thai food for the first time in my early twenties – a soup made with coconut milk ,WTF? It’s a big, wonderful world.
After college, I moved to Philadelphia. It was the time of the restaurant renaissance, and it was great. South Street was full of empty delapidated buildings after a proposed highway project there was cancelled. Creative types started little informal restaurants that were affordable and became a hangout for the young and somewhat hip. One of my favorites had its desserts prepared by a woman in her home. I guess the food inspectors were afraid to venture into the area.
At the same time, the ethnic neighborhoods had enough choices that you soon knew the only place to go for osso bucco, mussels, Thai crabs, spareribs with black bean sauce, Peking duck, cheese blintzes, and pastrami. The Italian Market was a typical Saturday AM adventure, and the cheese steaks were great. It was truly a food heaven. I can’t even begin to choose a favorite meal.
LOL, the best restaurants in the world are ALL “holes in the wall”.
Unfortunately, the worst restaurants in the world are ALSO, *all* holes in the wall, and there are a LOT more of them.
Ya pretty well have to be a local to know which holes are great and which ones should be relegated to food waste disposal bins.