DC FUCKING SUCKS (in terms of the culinary scene… and also everything else). So, a retrospective!
When Harry Potter 7 came out, I thought, ‘I’ve gotta do this shit right!’ I hopped onto the F train and got off at 14th & 6th, just as it was getting dark and the only people on the street were homeless folk and yuppies. A week ago, Natalie and I had been idly watching Throwdown with Bobby Flay when it dawned on us that the featured chef — who, by the way, kicked that fancypants blue cornball’s ass — worked in Greenwich Village! Late to the party as usual, we resolved to undertake the A Salt & Battery experience ourselves.
True to form, I went without her. I was foolish, impatient, proud! I had to have them. When I finally got home, white paper bag in hand, the fish had cooled somewhat and the chips had gone limp. Even so, my first bite of fish tasted the way Mario’s first bite of a 1up mushroom must have. Sexcellent.
Everything tasted fresh and handmade, except for the fish because you can’t really make a fish by hand. The chips alone were a revelation. I realized that I had become far too complacent eating frozen French fries. They were also quite dangerous as well: I almost choked on one when I found out that Hermione was a dude/Hagrid died/Harry’s pet hamster got the clap. Congratulations fish and chips, for you are delicious!
A Salt & Battery (112 Greenwich Ave., New York, NY 10011)