"N" is for November Nippy days and Natwurst Nosh @ Nürnberger Bierhaus

So what does a supper club do on an unseasonably cold day of 30 degrees in November? Take a ferry to Staten Island in search of sausages, of course. We decided to get our bellies ready and explore the unknown (Staten Island). The day began around 3pm at the Staten Island Ferry depot. We had two visiting friends from California, Debbie Hampton and Marina Myler, who Dan had somehow duped into boarding a ferry in the freezing cold, to eat sausages, in Staten Island, with a bunch of NY lushes. So, with the group intact and 100 other unassuming tourists, we boarded the free ferry. The boat ride was actually pleasant, with beautiful views of the city and Statue of Liberty. We arrived in the massive terminal-like port and took a guess at which outlet would have the correct #46 bus. That was our first mistake. (Not that anyone will, but if you do read this and decide to do what we did, make sure you find out how often the buses come around.) We lined up outside and after watching several of every other bus fly by, our group began to get anxious. Yoga poses, interpretive dance moves and lots of inappropriate touching and hugging took place. Just when we thought we couldn't take it any more, we saw the #46 rounding the corner... and just as excitement peaked, the sign changed to OUT OF SERVICE and the shouts of "Hooray!! Woohoo!!" turned quickly into expletives and rhetorical "Why God?!? Why us!??" This happened at least three more times. Either God didn't want us to eat sausage that day, or He was testing us as Zupperites. At one point, reaching her wimpy temperature threshold, Jane stomped over to one of the drivers with her left hand reared back in a punching stance. It must have been her scary presence, or the pink flower on her knit cap, but he quickly took off and bypassed the group.

Finally, a #46 pulled to our stop and the crowd broke into cheers (Well, only us 8 really. The other locals looked at us as if we were psychotic). For many of us, this was our first (and probably) last time in SI so we tried to enjoy the scenic drive through town. After a few false alarms of getting off, then getting right back on, then right back off, we reached our destination - Nürnberger Bierhaus (a.k.a heaven). Walking into that restaurant was the best thing in the world. We all swore that we'd never leave and contemplated moving in. The front room was a welcoming bar area, with a neighborhood pub-like feel. The bartender immediately greeted us and promptly started to dole out steins and lagers. After getting that warm, fuzzy feeling we headed into the main dining room, outfitted with a fireplace and all sorts of random and authentic German memorabilia. The menu is extensive, offering a wide array of traditional German plates, including an entire section called Kartoffelpfännchen (from what we understand, "whale's vagina" in German) - a massive meal of homefries, bacon and onions served with whatever wurst, schnitzel or chop you may desire. Although there were many choices, about half the group quickly announced the were ordering the Wurstteller mit allem Drum & Dran (basically a sampling of all the wursts they serve: pork-beef, pork-veal, kielbasa, veal weisswurst and pork-heartattack). Alex and Tenny ventured out and ordered the jägerschnitzel (breaded port cutlets fried in a brown mushroom sauce). The sausages, particularly the kielbasa and bratwursts with mash pos were the crowd favorite. You can just imagine the sausage jokes that were made with mature 35 year old males at the table. The Reibekuchen appetizer and apple cake dessert are also worth mentioning. Reibekuchen is a fancy name for fried potato pancakes served with applesauce and sour cream, and were so good, we devoured them in seconds. I think it was because they were crispy and delicious, but it also could have been that we had been waiting an hour to put something warm in our bodies. The apple cake, eh, well... came when we were over-served so I don't remember much, but just take my word and order it. It was delicious, I think.

The service was great and swift with the food and the beer refills. Actually, very swift. At one point, out of no where, we heard a gasp, then the sound of broken glass and dripping beer. Von Klutz Rollman shattered his 12 inch pilsner glass all over the table. Luckily, it was completely full. After his blushing and apologizing, our dear waitress quickly replaced the beer. Not even 15 minutes later, Dan was in the midst of telling a joke and, as if in slow motion, he gently grazed the top of his beer glass with his hand. Again in slow motion, it bobbled up and down and up and down and just as Rollman was about to catch it in his lap... it splashed everywhere and crashed to the floor with humiliating embarrassment. Tenny could have been the saving grace but burst out laughing so hard, she only aided in the fall. At this point, our whole table had our heads down and were laughing so hard we were certain we'd be kicked out. We were...kinda. The somewhat senior (very Eastern European) waitress immediately dropped off our check (without being asked) and gave us all a disapproving stare (without being asked). Not to be undone, we went over to the bar for one last round. Dan's was served in a sippy cup.

As we embarked home, a determined Alex ran back to grab our mini-van cab and thankfully saved us from a bus ride. The car trip and wait for the ferry were filled with the obvious sausage and weiner jokes, a few hand slap tricks from Dan and group photo sessions (see above). Yes, we're massive dorks. But, we were having such fun we decided to keep it going and ended up at White Horse Tavern (near the ferry). It was packed. Well, there was actually only a waitress and a guy who had passed out in his beer, but with our spirits, we felt like it was packed. Even though the adventure began with blustery weather, ferrys, late buses and mysterious German words, I think it was one of our most delicious and soul nutritious yet. So great that it inspired Marina and Debbie to begin a Zupper West club! Zupper franchising, here we come!

So the final word is: If you dare venture to Staten Island, we highly recommend making a trip to the Nurnberger Bierhaus for some wurst, cold beer and apple cake. Just wear a bib and don't piss off the waitresses.

"M" is for Max and a Mega Meatball!

The Zupper Club takes its letter seriously: Molly picked Max as the restaurant, Mike ordered a Meatball the size of his Melon, Matt Rivitz joined as special guest, and Rollman and Magnusson Made out!

I have been to Max once before in the summer, and enjoyed the seasonal fare, but was so close the person next to me, I could barely concentrate on my food. Maybe it's because we were in a big group, but the experience this time was a little more roomy, cozy and enjoyable. The food was just as delicious, maybe even more so. We started with garlic bread and the prosciutto and mozzarella plate. The bread is not for the garlic feint of heart and the prosciutto was melt in your mouth-salty-porky goodness. Several serious zupperites ordered the signature dish - lasagna. Each dish came baked in a crock, bubbling over with molten magma-like tomato sauce and cheese. It was simply wonderful - layers of thick noodles and meaty, fresh tomato sauce. The food was so authentic, you'd imagine a plump, old Italian woman was in the back, rolling out the noodles with Pavarotti serenading her in the background. To the contrary, what we found in the kitchen turned out to be two short, hairy Mexican men shouting at each other over a large flame (see pic). *Word of caution about the lasagna - the surface of the sun isn't nearly as hot as this dish. Watch out before digging in.

The winning dish of the night belonged to Mike (although, ask him 4 hours later and he may not have agreed. actually, ask his wife 8 hours later and she definitely wouldn't have agreed). First of all, the size of it rivaled a ten pound bowling ball. Then after deconstructing the m'ball, and several arguments over whether the thick white center (that was wrapped in prosciutto) was cheese or a hard boiled egg, Mike was able to dig in and enjoy. And to his delight (or to his later chagrin) we discovered it was in fact both an egg and a ball of cheese. Wow.

Max turned out to be the perfect spot to get out of the cold, drink some wine and eat some Italian on the cheap. And we can't end this without mentioning that M was a Monumental night in that it marked our one year anniversary of the A-Zupper dining club. We've eaten together, every month, consistently now for 12 months. Now, only 14 months to go. Easy, cheesy.

"L" is for Lessons Learned

Zupper speaking, "L" is actually for La Nacional tapas restaurant in Chelsea. But I've named this entry as Lessons Learned because I think we learned a couple important things that night. It started with a small group of Zupperites and a couple of beers across the street. We headed over to the restaurant and began scoping it out while we waited for a couple people to show up. Upon peering in, the place looked pretty empty and non-inviting. We began questioning. Then questioning quickly became doubting. Next thing you know, I'm yelling "let's go, let's go, let's go to Lombardi's!!" Nick & Alex are quickly yelping every L restaurant in Manhattan and Rollman is pacing outside telling us not to panic (hoping the host doesn't see us). Then, as if in divine intervention, Rollman gives us a much needed pep talk and reminds us that we are indeed Zupperites, culinary adventurers & foodie explorers. We can't turn to Lombardi's in face of the unknown or seemingly shady digs. Plus, Allison would never lead us astray, right? (Although we had another shameful moment and almost accused Allison of setting us up since she wasn't there).

Well, our dear Allison did not lead us astray and the evening, nor the food, was boring. The dining room was nondescript but cozy and within 15 minutes, young couples on dates and old Spanish men came trickling in. Although we ordered several entrees, the tapas were the highlight of the night and the reason I'd return. Fried baby artichokes were lightly fried and served with lemon aioli. The buttery crust didn't overwhelm, but rather complimented the bright artichoke flavor. A variety of Spanish cheeses (we didn't receive details) were creamy and salty. The chorizo slices were served hot and delicious, with a good balance of spice (good enough for me to promptly order another round when Mike came in). Meatballs tasted good, but they were just meatballs - no Spanish flare of any sort. On the other hand, the shrimp were served in a fantastic garlic-spicy sauce and perhaps tasted more "Spain" due to the olive oil. We followed with a classic and vegetarian paella, and the codfish. The paella was beautiful in its presentation, and fine in its taste. It could have used a little more flavor, but the rice was cooked well (tricky in paella) and both boasted fresh tasting vegetables, fish and meats. The only thing I really remember about the codfish is that it was hard to tell which was the codfish and which were the potatoes (but that was after a couple pitchers of deceptively strong Sangria). Service was quick and attentive, and the bill didn't break the bank.

Interesting things to note (and had I done my homework, I probably wouldn't have doubted). There are no signs outside, and this is due to the fact that it is still the gathering spot for the Spanish Benevolent Society, founded in 1888 to provide a cultural welcoming for Spanish visitors and ex-pats. This also explains the strange room you have to first go through in order to get to the dining room. The club sponsors performances, and has a bar that not only shows all the Spanish soccer matches, but also provides little tables for card games and socializing.

Muchas gracias a La Nacional y Covitz, Andrea, Sweeney, Nick, Alex, Rollman y Tenny para un tiempo muy divertido y muy delicioso!

"K" is for Krazy Kreole Kookin at Kombit

"K" was a myriad of memorable experiences, very few having to do with dining. The first and probably the best experience of the night was the guest appearance of baby Julia Nissan (broke the record for youngest Zupperite appearance). She might also break the record for cutest Zupperite (sorry Colin, I know you were campaigning for that one). While we applauded Colin for his pro-risk, cavalier choice in the exotic - Caribbean Creole - we lambasted him for his suspect, non-investigative, "dysentery farm" pick of where to eat. (Noooo, it wasn't that bad. I'm just kidding. But seriously, the place is like a block away from Colin's apartment. Maybe a quick "let me stick my face in this place to make sure the waiters are breathing and that they're not cooking up some nasty goat" would've been a good idea.)

Sooooo, the restaurant didn't quite deliver on service (it's like they were brewing the beer in the back... and, there wasn't even anyone in the place!) decor, or food, or really anything else that you go to a restaurant for but hey, who cares, it was a critics pick on NYMag.com and they never lie! Of course, the very first review on NY Mag reads "I'm not used to Caribbean spices, so I got sick afterwards, but I'd still go back"... Hmmm. Words to consider.

Skip the starters (bbq wings were light on the meat, and the coconut shrimp were pretty typical). I ordered the shrimp gumbo and I was actually impressed. The flavors were complex, rich but not heavy and the shrimp tasted fresh. Traditional rice and beans were served family style and were equally tasty. Mike (**important to note that my sometimes conservative eating husband spent the afternoon at the Yankee/Red Sox game and was undeniably over-served**) ordered the goat. (Yep, that's right. Goat. Not lamb. Not cow. Goat. Goats eat clothing. Goats have horns like the devil. Goats inspired millions of guidos to wear goatees. And yet, with all those facts staring him in the face, Mike still ordered the goat. Bad call.) It was served in a sauce of herbs and spices, resembling a chunky beef stew. Reminiscent of pork tenderloin, yet not as tender. And, well, not as porky either. Another hmmm.

Overall, the group was satisfied with the place but the bizarre decor (or was it the quiet atmosphere?), slooowww service and "mixed bag" dishes probably made it the oddest zupperite meeting so far. But, odd can still be fun and fun we had. Odd can also be delicious. Sometimes.

Special shout out to the Spahrs who just moved to New York. Hope we didn't scare you off.

p.s. guess who was a contributing editor to this post?

"J" is for Joup Jumplings at Joe's Shanghai!

Around 7:30, a group of seven zupperites huddled in a small alley off Bowery, fidgeting and mouths watering as we waited in anticipation of sinking our teeth into the famous soup dumplings from Joe's Shanghai. Thanks to our seasoned vet, Butter My Rollman, we were amply prepared for the great (and often dangerous) art of eating soup dumplings. We graciously perused the menu out of habit, but we already had a shortlist of desired items in our minds. Rollman & Sweeney took initiative and ordered the night's spread. Within a few minutes, cold TsingTaos and three baskets of dumplings were planted at center table.


We began by pouring a small amount of the table "soy" sauce mixed with a sriracha-like sauce that looked like it was studded with red pepper flakes. After several jokes related to men's "tonsils" and such, we dug in. Obeying Rollman's direction, we each slowly nibbled on the outside of the tender pork dumpling, letting a bit of the hot steam escape. After another small nibble or two, we began sucking out the soup. Just the broth alone packs a ton of shanghai flavor (mmm... salty! mmm... porky!) With one bite, there was an explosion of juicy, ground pork with the lingering taste of tender dumpling dough. Good thing I was wearing my napkin as a bib - the small explosion of flavor went dribbling down the sides of my spoon on more than one occasion. The third basket was filled with crab and pork (and the same dribbling smiles from the crowd, although I do think the pork were the best).

Just as our smiles faded with the last trace of dumpling, we were brought new rounds of TsingTao and steaming plates of meat, vegetables and shanghai noodles. Had we not dug in like animals, we might have noticed that two of the dishes didn't resemble what we ordered (or what we thought we ordered). The General Tso's chicken and vegetables and beef with string beans were the crowd pleasers, while the crispy chicken (which wasn't so crispy) and the noodles (which weren't the little flat ones we were seeking) were still tasty, but didn't really wow. But hey, they had a tough act to follow. It wasn't really their fault.

All in all, a culinary feast and success. As we relaxed, fat and happy, we recalled the past 10 months of fine New York dining and toasted making it to "J" night. We've had babies, marriages, new jobs and new members (a special welcome to newest member Tenny Pearson!). I'm feeling a bit nostalgic (perhaps I'm still giddy from my love affair with the dumplings last night) and extremely proud of our little club. Now, forge on zupperites! We've got some "K" eatin' to do.

"I" is for Il Vagabondo

"I" is also for "I barely remember all the details so we'll just stick to some key memories of the night in this entry". We surprisingly found Il Vagabondo tucked in-between two brownstones on the UES. When I heard that the restaurant had bocce courts, I just assumed Covitz was a zupperite rookie (this being his first pick) and it would be some sprawling dining hall with mediocre red sauced pastas. But, I was wrong. LIttle did I know the place has been around for 40 years and has a dedicated crew of regulars. We walked in and shared cold Peronis at a classic, long wooden bar. We were then brought to one of the back rooms (we were in the smaller one), squeezed around a red checked tablecloth, and shared some precious moments:

- Alison contemplates the seafood pasta and decides to interrogate the waiter on what kind of seafood is actually in the pasta. To which his lengthy reply was "Errr... Uhhh.... Ehhh....Oooh...I'm not really sure". (Quick! Name something that swims in the sea! A seafood dish typically eaten by human beings! Just make it up for goodness sake!) She makes a bold move and orders it anyway, and ends up quite enjoying the mystery-seafood-meat selection.
- Alison shares the sad news that Dave is moving to Austin, but not to fret because she already has dates lined up on sugardaddie.com and gothicmatch.com
- We learned about Phil's special relationship with his cat, and what a sweet little thing she is. Andrea shares how Phil's cat is nasty and mean, and something about liking to sit on people's faces. Hmmm.
- Mike ordered the veal parmesan special and by the looks of his clean, shiny white plate, he enjoyed it throroughly. The meat was pounded super thin, but still very tender (and as Mike would say "I'd eat toe smothered in that sauce")
- Jane watched Mike eat and silently wondered to herself if she was about to marry someone who was "letting himself go"

And alas, we were wussies and didn't end up playing bocce. But, if you're looking for a low-key Italian place, a good game of bocce or just a classic New York experience, take a trip to Il Vagabondo. NB: Maybe even check out the room to the right where it has a larger, more livelier room and a view of the kitchen.

"Hecho en DUMBO" hace para un tiempo muy divertido!

Either the club is getting more press, or its members are getting better looking (I think it's fair to say the latter), but we had another record turnout for our first ever Mexican fiesta! The food was amazing but I'll get to that later. I think it's more important to first highlight some of our special guests. This gentleman actually shouldn't be that special considering his name is etched above on the zupperite blog wall. Mr. Paul "Dinner's Over That's All" Foulkes made a cameo! There was shock and applause as he rode in. And then grumbling because we used to like making fun of him for being the only charter member to never show up. Thanks for showing up, Paul.

Also making guest appearances for the first time were the two men of the hour, Mr. Ian Kalman and Mr. Sean Farrell. They paid us a visit while on a break from their intense National Greeting Card Show. (go to www.baldguygreetings.com to pick up your own set). The two not have not only dazzled us with their greeting card talent (yes, there is such a talent), they also apparently dazzled the judges and took home the "Louie Award" in the under $3.00 category! Seriously. They have awards for greeting cards. I'm not kidding. No, I won't get out of here. Look it up. It's not a joke. They really have awards in the "under $3 category." And they name the awards after fat guy names like "Louie." Anyway, Congrats Sean and Ian. We are impressed.

Also, sidenote, the lovely Wixoms showed up between shoots in Shanghai and LA. And they both had cut 3 inches from their hair! As I always tell Mike, the couple who trims together, stays together! Eww. Anyway, nice to see the dedication, guys.

Being a California girl, I've been underwhelmed by the Mexican food in New York (I know I still have a lot to explore but typically it's overstyled and expensive), but this was pretty damn tasty. We ordered a smattering of plates ranging from Burritos de Res (carne asada), Carnitas & Poblano Chile tacos, and the quasi-famous Queso Fundido. The queso came out in good size crocks -- somewhere between hard and soft (not gooey, and yes, that sounds pornographic). It comes with warm flour tortillas (basically a fancy way to make delicious quesadillas). The pork was tender and juciy - no frills - just the meat and a little salsa. The sopas were good (I'd recommend crab with avocado) but the dough was a bit thick in comparison to the toppings. Since Molly was the host and had already downed a shot of tequila, she went for it and ordered rounds of dessert. Two plates were served: one was barely worth remembering, and the second was an interesting selection of coconut fried-cupcake-macaroon type cookies, each with a different piece of fruit on top. The most interesting choice was one with avocado - the sweetness and fried coconut crunch went surprisingly well with the buttery smoothness of the avocado.

So once again, we conquered another letter with flying colors. Hooray for terrific company, and hooray for Dumbo Mexican!

NB: the sign on the door says something about a Scandinavian design store. Don't be fooled. Scandinavian design doesn't taste nearly as good.

"G" is for short and sweet, like "Gus"

I’m thinking Gus’ was fun. I’m thinking Gus’ was mostly tasty. I’m thinking some people could have used a little more seasoning on Gus’ food. I’m thinking it wasn’t that big of a deal. I’m thinking that’s not why you go to Gus’. I’m thinking you go to Gus’ for Gus. I’m thinking Gus is different. I’m thinking Gus has a dynamic personality. I’m thinking Gus truly appreciates you coming in to his restaurant. I’m thinking Gus makes you feel happy that you went to his restaurant. I’m thinking if all restaurant owners were like Gus, I’m thinking eating out would be a lot more fun. I’m thinking I would go back to Gus’. Because I’m thinking I’d like to hear what Gus is thinking about dinner tonight.

"F" is for "F Yeah, Five Points!"

I don’t know what fat little babies wrapped in puppies and stuffed with kittens tastes like, but if it tastes anything like the grilled double-cut Berkshire pork chops at Five Points, well, then call me a cannibal and order me a double portion of babypupitten, ‘cause that shit is tasty!

After figuring out that our first option for dinner (Freeman’s) wasn’t going to work out due to the size of the Zupperite crew and the late-night timing they were offering us (we’ve got a pregnant woman and cranky men that need to be fed early and often), we stumbled upon Five Points Restaurant. And I think I speak for everyone when I say, “Suck it, Freeman’s! We found better!”

Actually, I’m sure Freeman’s would have been great but we were no worse off, and possibly even upgraded, by going to Five Points. They sat us at a great group table in the back room (the one with the skylight above) and it felt like we were sitting down for a rustic meal in the countryside (although we were actually just around the corner from a questionable Manhattan alley). And if we had only eaten the appetizers and not been allowed to eat anything else, the meal still would have been rock solid. I don’t know what was in that pizza (three buttery cheeses? truffles? garlic? magic?) but I’d like to marry it. Or at least make sweet love to it. I’m not kidding. If those ingredients approached me in a bar and said, “What’s up, handsome? I’m in town for a fresh ingredients convention and, well, I’m feeling a little lonely… Wanna get freaky?” I’m doing it. No joke. Judge me if you want but it was that good.

We had some other apps that I’m sure were just as good but I had my truffled magic pizza blinders on and blocked the rest out. Except for the patè that Vescovo ordered “for the table.” Apparently in Matt’s world, “for the table” means “Matt’s plate.” “Hey does anyone want to get some really warm and mushy patè as an appetizer? Anyone? Anyone? No? Okay, great, I’ll order it.”

When dinner came, I think everyone got something delicious to eat. But to be honest, I’m not quite sure. I was still reeling from the pizza buzz when my Double Cut Bershire Pork Chop came out. After one bite I went dark. Completely catatonic. I could have been eating with the Smurfs for all I knew. The cut was thick and juicy and it came nestled in a bed of shaved, roasted brussel sprouts. Drool-city. Later, when I came to, I learned that some of our folks got the sea scallops, the buttermilk chicken, the cavatelli and the duck. Rumor has it they all loved it. But did they love theirs as much as I loved mine? Is that even possible? Can you give 110% out of 100% like every little league coach demands out of his kids? I don’t know. But I think it’s definitely worth going back to Five Points to find out.

Oh, and one last thing. Foulkes is 0-6. He’s like A-Rod with runners in scoring position.

"E" is for Elia and OOPA!

Dan had the brilliant idea to ditch the Manhattan dining scene for a culinary adventure in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. He dared us to leave the island and join him in his new Brooklyn apartment for a pre-dinner screening of Saturday NIght Fever -- with the added bonus of boogie-ing down with special guests Mr. and Mrs. Rollman. If you can't make it out in the picture, Mrs. Rollman is, amazingly, only 4 feet tall and Mr. Rollman is bald. (Sidenote: Dan has a washer / dryer in his apartment so feel free to bring dirty clothes if you ever visit).

In case you're wondering what Bay Ridge or Saturday Night Fever have to do with '"E" night (all 3 of you who actually read this blog), Bay Ridge is home to the set of Saturday Night Fever and a delicious Greek eatery called "Elia". While the jury's still out on Saturday Night Fever, "Elia" is definitely worth the (really super far) trip to Bay Ridge.

The meal started at a cozy round table when our Greek waiter showed up with a block of creamy, yet firm cheese set on fire. With singed eyebrows we devoured the artery clogging deliciousness. After the cheese flambé, we had more appetizers that were authentic and tasty -- mediterranean spreads, warm-doughy-pita bread, salad and olives. When it came to the entrees, we weren't too adventurous in ordering: Moussakas and the Halibut special. They were both quite impressive. Simple, fresh, satisfying.

We dined like Greek gods, drank like Kings (Coors Lights) and listened to tales of Rollman travels and conquests (well, maybe not conquests but we did hear about Kew Gardens). I suppose if I was a real food critic, I wouldn't give anyone above 2 stars, but what the hell? It was a splendid night indeed - 3 1/4 stars!

"D" is for Darnivores at Dinosaur BBQ

For an ultra-American BBQ joint, it was surprising that the theme of the night was two Spanish words: Tres Hombres. All 14 of us sat down at a large wood table and looked to the BBQ "expert" Colin for guidance. Majority of us newbies went with his recommendation of the "Tres Hombres" platter -- 1/4 rack of ribs, beef brisket, pulled pork and two tasty sides (ranging from cajun potatoes to baked beans). Only tubby Tyler got nervous and decided it wasn't going to be enough. He insisted upon getting a 1/2 rack of ribs, an order of pulled pork and a side of brisket (he slipped into a slight coma at some point on the subway ride home). The pork was melt in your mouth, with just the right amount of sauce and kick. The brisket depended on what piece you got (the crispy ends had tons of smoky flavor) and the ribs were lined with plenty of stick-in-your-teeth tender meat. And the wings! Lest not we forget the wings! The giant wings were glazed with BBQ and were nice and juicy - we got these as an appetizer but basically could have stopped right there.

And our turnout? We didn't think we could beat "C" night's turnout of 13, but leave it up to smoked artery cloggers to inspire a crowd. We had 14 people, including 5 out of towners. Although they claim it a pure coincidence, Rivitz & Tyler showed up in NY again right in time for "D" night. Rivitz was so excited, he even made his parents trek from Baltimore to Harlem to check it out. That's dedication - we might have to invite Mr. & Mrs. R again for next month.

And the most exciting news of the night, we're expecting a new Zupperite into the family! Not A Meal Missin' Nissans are expecting our littlest member yet. I'm sure they'll think of a great name that will fit nicely with the club. Mike & I are thinking: Zane or Zike (although Zemily and Zolin are nice too).

Well kids, it just keeps getting better & better! Dinosaur BBQ gets 3 full stars for ridiculous food (taste and portions), fun atmosphere, cheap (thanks Hilary! ) and of course a great turn out. Cheers to Allison - good pick.

p.s. mental note, next time you eat a small petting zoo, do not take the subway home.