A-Zupper Club

"Z" is for Zelebrating at Zampa

2010-04-28T17:37:00.004-04:00

“Z” night was zensational. In keeping with our 26-month-in-a-row alphabetical puns, that’s the best way I can think of putting it. For months, we joked if we made it to “Z”, we ‘d have to do it up big - celebrate in style. And that we did. We put on the fancy high heels, suits and ties and met for martinis and champagne at the new bar at the Jane Hotel. Among the glitter and alcohol, we toasted to (what we believe) is the first ever A-Z dining experiment in New York City (maybe even the country?). We chose Zampa as our last restaurant and considering the first image on their website is a sketch of a pig, we deemed it the perfect place. It was cozy yet big enough to hold 15 of us, and loud enough so we could laugh and tell stories about the past 2+ years without more than a few stares. And, most importantly, we ate almost every morsel from our multi-course meal. Awards were given: “(Near) Perfect Attendance – Michael Sweeney”, “Best Dining Adventure – Dan Rollman for Nurnberger Bierhaus Staten Island” and “Worst Dining Adventure – Colin Nissan for Kombit in Brooklyn”. Appropriately, A-Z Pinot Noir bottles were awarded. Dan even designed original Mr. and Mrs. Zupper Club t-shirts for us Sweeneys.

Is it the end of an era? The end of some edibly wonderful dining experiment never to be repeated? After 26 consecutive months of alphabetical New York dining, it was hard to believe we were actually finished. We really did it (without skipping one letter!) We were all still friends, and we even added a few along the way. Some of us got married, some had babies and some simply got drunk and hooked up after the Zupper night was over. Some of us lost jobs, started new companies, some wrote books and some went on to learn how to cook. If you live in New York, you know how busy life can be. Just running errands can sometimes be tough, let alone trying to get a group of friends together every month AND securing a reservation in a New York restaurant. Although A-Zupper club franchising has begun (friends in LA and SF have mobilized regional groups), the excitement and support that each member of our wonderful, delicious club has made would be hard to replicate. It was one of those things we didn’t expect to keep going - like one of those book clubs that sounds exciting at first but that you eventually can't find the time to commit.

It wasn’t about fancy four star dining or being the first to try a trendy new restaurant. It was about scouring every “C” restaurant in the Zagat guide (“there are so many damn restaurants that start with Café!!”), sorting alphabetically on nymag.com (“how could there be so many frickin’ restaurants in Williamsburg!!”), stressing to find just the right summer “S” type place. It was about finding a restaurant in every borough – even if it meant freezing your toosh off waiting in line to take a bus in Staten Island, or "gingerly" walking through the Bronx to seek authentic Italian. It was about the hundreds of cheesy, alliteration filled emails and the comical replies. It was about friends visiting from out of town and emailing specifically “can we get it on a zupper night?” (or trying to schedule productions around when we were meeting next).

But most of all it was about eating. And being together. So is it an end of our own little era? Not really. No one is ready to let go and an idea for Zupper 2.0 has already begun. Introducing A-Zupper Club: Around the World. A group of friends, one month at a time, one letter at a time, one country at a time, in alphabetical order... until we reach Z.

Who wants some African grub?

"Y" is for Yucan, and should, go to the Yuca Bar

2010-03-13T13:48:00.003-05:00

"Y" could also stand for "Y didn't we write this 3 months ago when we went and could remember what everyone got." But we didn't. So we don't. But we do remember the place was good. And lively. And unpretentious. And the right price. And, truthfully, a whole lot better than expected. Which is why this little A to Zupper Club has been a stroke of genius for these past 25 months. Not only does it give us a chance to make up stupid names for the friends who get together every month (and for the ones who never show, like, say, Matt "Hells, no! I can't go!" Vescovo!) but it gives us a reason to check out places we might never have ventured into. Like the Yuca Bar. So if you find yourself in the East Village and are in some dining club with friends where every month you have to eat in a restaurant that begins with a different letter of the alphabet, check out the Yuca Bar. Just remember to write about it before the club gets to Zuca.

"X" is for xcitement at Xunta!

2009-12-09T18:48:00.008-05:00

Upon dining at Xunta, no one knew how historical this event was going to be. At press time, Xunta is currently closed. We caught a glimpse and shared in the end of an era. Well, almost. Although it doesn't look like much from the street, Xunta was quite happening on the inside. The underground tapas joint felt like a nice blend of East Village bar and authentic Spanish restaurant. Authentic in that the service was extremely slow, and they provided impressive entertainment of flamenco musicians and dancers. East Village in that there were congregations of post college kids sucking back sangria. Not that we should talk - the 12 of us sucked back a few buckets of beer as well.

The food was at times quite delicious, and other times quite terrible. Shrimp soaked in chili oil and paprika were fantastic (for bread dipping as well as you can see [PIC]. If the place actually existed anymore, the spicy potatoes and manchego with quince jam would also be worth going back for. We could have used a bit more imagination when it came to the tortilla española, rice and grilled dates with bacon. We could have used a live, breathing cook to make the marinated clams and chicken (it was so un-noteworthy I've forgotten what kind) actually edible. We probably ordered way too much, but it's better that than too little. We had to debunk the myth most men are accustomed to. Poor Mike has been abused by spending $75 on dinners with semi-anorexic girls who only order small plates of olives and two green beans (in which he usually has to devour a large burrito afterwards). Not this night, not with the Zupperites.

"X" at Xunta was xcellent fun, with an xceptional crowd. Xtra thanks to Covitzs for organizing!

"W" is for Walkers

2009-12-09T18:38:00.003-05:00

Walkers is the type of neighborhood place that won't win any major awards, and you won't want it to. You don't want the creepy old guys at the bar to go away, not even the douche-y banker guys. The setting is so comfortable and worn in, you're happy with the slightly rickety chairs and background banter of the locals at the bar. From first impressions, you might expect simple pub grub, but the menu actually has a bit more than the typical burgers 'n nachos. There's an old school vibe that is as eminent in the staff as it is in the setting. Walkers is an inviting atmosphere... we were there on a pleasant summer evening, but I'm sure there will be return visits to get cozy as the weather gets colder.

We spent the first part of the evening have a lengthy debate on whether our waiter was from the Bronx, Ireland or the South. And we barely had any drinks at this point. Turns out the gregarious fellow was indeed from Atlanta (and the rest of us are absolutely clueless). For the grub, we started with a couple healthy treats - cornmeal crusted oysters and fried calamari (oysters were the best). Entrees ranged from free-range roasted chicken, burgers, and the semi-famous cowboy chili. Again, you're probably going more for the atmosphere than for the food, but nonetheless we are eaters and eatin' we did.

The paper table cloths and crayons were a nice little treat for several of our attention deficit Zupper members. Nick had a field day drawing lovely pictures of bleeding animals and a recent depiction of how he cut open the middle of his nail. Appropriate and lively discussion for dinner you can imagine.

Overall, Walker's is a neighborhood gem that should be appreciated as a good place to go after work, for a late Sunday afternoon meal or really whenever the hell you're thirsty.

"V" is for Veloce Pizzeria

2009-09-14T19:55:00.006-04:00

We had been wanting to do a solid pizza and wine evening for the past few letters or so. Call it fate, but a new pizza joint had just opened to high acclaim, with the name Veloce Pizzeria. Veloce Pizzeria was just about as perfect as a pizza evening one, or 14 people, could hope for. What a turnout. What was originally 9 people slowly crept to 11, then 14, and then who knows, I think we lost count. I'm pretty sure we caught the unassuming waiter off guard because of his slightly off-putting attitude at first. But that iciness was quickly subdued (no doubt because of our charm and good looks) and he was a dreamboat for the rest of the night. You know who else was a boat of dreams? The host/manager. Our party wasn't small, or on time, or for the number of reservations we had originally made, or quiet, or...you get the point.. but he was wonderful and accommodating and made us feel like we were guests of the house. (All Devin had to do was sell his soul and offer a few favors in the back of the kitchen. That's it.)

The food, oh the food. It was all dynamite. We started with these insane fried porchetta meatballs...mmmmm meatballlssss... the only thing i could use to describe them was that they tasted so, well, porky. That melt in your mouth porky sweet and savory tenderness all wrapped up in a thin little blanket of fried crust. Umm, hello? Delicious!

The pizza, oh the pizza. It was sicilian-esque, square style and the waiters placed them on double towers in almost a royal manner. We tried a variety: porchetta sausage, prosciutto di parma on fontina, mushroom complete with hen of the woods and oyster mushrooms, margherita and garlic & clam.
Each was piping hot, containing perfect layers of all the essentials: crisp outer layer of dough hiding a chewy, more soft interior. The outer crust was flecked with baked in cheese and had a bit of charred taste, nodding to the slice's fiery start. It was just the right amount of dough to support the sauce, cheese and toppings. None of the layers overpowered the other, they all seemed to meld together into that perfect bite. The quality of the ingredients was top notch. Not too much of a surprise, especially when you consider you've got Miss Pork USA Sara Jenkins as one of the partners. The house wine is also a good thing to note - we thought they were a great deal, with the Rose being the favorite.

It was a night of old friends - shout out to the SF crew: Craig Mangan, Tod Puckett, Paul Charney, Devin Sharkey - coming together, eating, laughing and drinking. Imagine the classic television show, Cheers. It was like that, except with better clothes, better food, better atmosphere and way hotter women. Take that Shelley Long!

Veloce Pizzeria gets an official "Approved by Zupper Club" stamp (a few of us have already been back). And the conveniently located Tile Bar (not it's official real name, we're not sure there is one) was a great dive-y spot for pre and post cocktails. Thanks to the SF crew for making it one of the most memorable nights, we miss you and "we're always glad you came...to eat pizza."

disclaimer: the lovely shot of the pizza slice was not from our photo-challenged group. it's from a nice guy on flickr.

"T" is for Taco Tuesday at Tenny's

2009-09-14T19:52:00.005-04:00

T is for:
a pretty girl named Tenny
who made good looking Tacos
on a Tuesday in May
and even chips & guac... mmm... Tasty
where beers were drunk and all were gay

T is for:
a Tenacious cook and hostess
and Three other solid foodies
big Thanks for her rooftop party
but points off for making me write this,
and for it being so Tardy.

S is for (short) and Sweetwater!

2009-07-10T18:05:00.006-04:00

Sweetwater in Brooklyn couldn't have taken place on a more sumptuous, Spring evening. It was one of those early Spring nights that only East Coasters can truly appreciate (well, maybe mid-westerners could too). The flowers were budding, the birds were chirping and dirty hipsters were hanging out of bar windows, toasting the chance to wear colored Ray-bans and cut-off neon tank tops once more. Sifting through the sidewalk parties that seemed to take place outside every establishment (even the pet store was going off), we found ourselves nestled in the backyard patio of Sweetwater on N 6th St. The outside decor felt like an entirely different place than the more subdued, French-bistro interior space. The beer selection was a tasty one, but most of the group ended up with the Pilsner. We ordered a good sample of dishes that were pretty straightforward (except maybe the lamb burger served with tzatziki on an English muffin). The other straight up beef burgers were also tasty, served on the English muffin with caramelized onions. Other faves included the lovely, earthy beet salad, roasted chicken with french lentils and spinach, and pan seared salmon with mashed potatoes. The cook may not be Top Chef material, but the outdoor atmosphere combined with the consistently good fare made it a two thumbs up.

The entertainment of the night must have been when the ladies at the table learned an important, eh maybe not important, but rather disgusting revelation. It had to do with berries and pebbles and such. It's best not to get into details at the dinner table blog. You gross boys and lucky girls know who you are and hopefully don't have to be reminded.

We welcomed Adama to New York, and her first Zupper night (along with her lovely sister, Fatou). Hopefully we showed them a good night and didn't offend them too much. Nick can do that sometimes. Also, the Zupper family raised their pints to toast Phil and Andrea as they shared their last Zupper meal before marriage (clearly a sign of good luck).

"R" is for RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRoberto!

2009-04-28T10:02:00.019-04:00

It was like that age-old children's story, "The Ten Little Zupperites." First there were ten fearless food junkies all gung-ho, ready to storm the Bronx like a bunch of Zupperites hopped up on some high-grade meth. We had just conquered Queens two weeks prior with the noticeable flair and zest that comes from a group that knows its shit and is confident taking down another borough. And this time it would be the last borough. The Bronx.

That's right, the Zupperites had put away 18 months, 18 letters, 18 restaurants, 4 New York boroughs and only had one borough left to bring down. We were strutting around like a bunch peacocks wearing bright yellow shirts, ruby-rimmed glasses and Horn of Plenty hats encrusted in sausage links. This was Confidence's bigger brother. The perfect mixture of Popeye Doyle wearing a Martha Stewart Halloween mask. After Saturday, it was clear to all involved that the Zupperites would claim victory over all five boroughs with 8 months to spare. Life was good...

...Or so it seemed... (Insert crack of thunder and bolt of lightning here)

Like the fat guys on Saturday Night Live, the Zupperites suddenly started dropping like flies when R-Day approached. Some had work, some had sicknesses, some just didn't have the decency to write back and say, "Sorry Dudes, I moved to LA a few months back. I'm probably not going to make it. This is Paul, btw." So what started out as a strong, solid, Zeitgesit of Zupperiters, pretty soon dwindled to a paltry, fidgety, forlorn five. 3 women. 1 man. 1 undecided. It was a watershed moment. Would the Zupperites, ravaged by disease and flakiness, survive to conquer their bitter foe, the Bronx? The confidence was gone. The swagger, no more. The Horn of Plenty hats traded in for ones less ostentatious. One fainthearted Zupperite even suggested in a text, "Rain check?"

The seas were in tumult. Would this happy Band of Food Brothers and Sisters still make it to arguably the toughest borough in town? Don't be silly.

Of course, we would. We're F*in Zupperites. And we were hungry. And thirsty. So before we set out, we powered up with a couple cocktails at the famous Oyster Bar in Grand Central.

Once we were "juiced" up, we boarded the LIRR and headed North to 125th St. We headed out in search of the famous Arthur Ave (New York’s original, real Little Italy). The street was a culinary mecca of little delis, bakeries, pizzerias and family run pasta joints. Temptation was everywhere, but we had to stay the course, we had to reach Roberto’s or this would all be for nothing.

Roberto’s doesn’t look like much from the outside, but with just a crack of the door, we could sense that we were about to experience something unique, something utterly and wholly divine. (We just had to get past the "Sopranos extras" at the jam packed bar and “coffee talk” ladies milling about.)

It’s hard to begin on the gloriousness that was our dinner. The specials were a highlight, the best being the spring risotto (fresh pesto, toasted slivered almonds and buttery morels) and this creamy, rich pasta pictured below:

The Chianti flowed, homemade pastas were twirled, chicken was smothered and veal carmelized to perfection. We felt like Kings, Queens... like we found out a secret that we didn’t want to share. And best of all, Roberto himself came over to check on the table, made a few jokes and posed for a picture. I think someone tipped him off that the Zupperites were there.

We were so inspired (and loopy), we had no trouble entertaining ourselves. Our first attempt at replicating the shape of an "R":

And Tenny’s successful way of making an “R”:

Another night of culinary success- our bellies, satiated and adventurous souls, quenched. Roberto's (the restaurant and the chef) absolutely rocked. Two right thumbs up.

"Q" is for Quaint in Queens

2009-04-09T14:04:00.006-04:00

I think we have to hand it to Covitz for this one - "Q" night at Quaint in Queens was quite a lovely surprise, a true pig in the poke. Not that we didn't expect a lot from Phil's quixotic quest (or from Queens) but whenever we leave the island, it's always a little bit of a gamble. Going to and from seems to be as flavorful as the meals themselves.

A core group of Zupperites and two very special guests, Lisa from San Francisco and James from Kenya, met at Grand Central and after a few detour quagmires (the 7 wasn't running) landed in Sunnyside, Queens. Due to the quivering cold and queasy subway feeling, we quickly quaffed down a beer at a nearby pub. After a few quips of us yelling "queers" at each other (clearly only replacing cheers with a zupper version of the word), we headed to Quaint.

It was quite a top quality restaurant, the quintessential little neighborhood spot. The menu had a short list of seasonal items (no quail) and the group took advantage of all the options. Several enjoyed the seared salmon over a bed of garbanzo beans and braised fennel, someone ordered the pan fried catfish with wild rice and toasted pecans (one of the true highlights, it was like each grain of rice was freshly picked and marinated, not goopy or mushy at all). Even the chicken breast served with a thick brick of gratin potatoes quenched a couple hungry bellies. There was an all-you-can-eat mussels and fries deal for $18 but to quote a questioning zupperite, "Having a finite amount of mussels is a good idea. I'm not sure I trust people who can eat unlimited amounts of bivalve mollusks."

On our way home, we experienced something you don't see everyday in Manhattan: a small Asian woman with a quadraphonic megaphone making the subway announcements. A real, live human being uttering those quizzical and incomprehensible announcements that typically blare overhead from some invisible speaker. It was so jarring, it prompted someone to impulsively query "oh my God, you are real!?!" We even got her to announce Happy Birthday to Mike, making him feel like the quasi-queen of the night. But even though she was standing right next to us, the only thing we were able to quantify was "Hmmmpp... Btooreerkkk, fivmelele, aexcxxxcitte!!" Close enough.

We ended the night in quality fashion - by playing Buck Hunter at the querimonious Subway Bar. Definitely not your quotidian bar night - the bar itself is a hodgepodge of B&T, quiddley old drunks, and some young hipsters nestled in the rotting red leather booths. The boys flexed their quads and competitively fought to be the quincurion with the highest Buck Hunter score (except Phil, who's points grand total was a quiet 12. Don Quixote, he is not.)

Without quibble, Q night was all about good 'ol fun (no quaaludes or anything). Two thumbs up for Quaint and big Qudos [sic] to Phil for organizing.

"P" is for Paradisiaque (le) Pére Pinard

2009-03-03T17:11:00.010-05:00

Newly anointed, Tenny "Give me a beer, son" Pearson, organized a splendid evening of French cuisine. Some nights are all about the food, and other nights are more about the party. le Pére Pinard was a nice balance of both. Let's start with the food. Some dishes shined, and others waned, and even a few whined (Sweeney). The starters were part of the shine family: French Onion soup, caprese salad, goat cheese in puff pastry. The onion soup was quoted as "one of the best i've ever had", "wanted to lie down in a big bowl of it", "a true highlight". There is just something so damn sexy about French Onion soup. How many babies have been made after eating French Onion Soup? Am I wrong here people? The caprese salad had mozzarella with a texture and taste more reminiscent of burrata than it did the usual rubbery, white slaps of store bought mozz ("muzz" as New Jersey would say). We might have selected every possible entree that was being served that night: ribeye skewers w/ peppercorn sauce and asparagus (a special), sole in beurre blanc with orzo and veggies, Shepherd's Pie, hanger steak with roasted potatoes (another special), and pan seared skate with a caper butter sauce. And since I was remiss in not tasting all the dishes for "O" night, my belly and I made a mission to play chinese fire drill around the table and take a little bite of each dish. The sauce on the heavy portioned sole may have been better than the actual fish, but the fish still held it's own with a light, fresh taste. The ribeye was flavorful and tender, served with a peppery, creamy dipping sauce. The food wasn't the most memorable we've had, but judging by the clean plates around the table, it was enjoyable enough.

The other nice thing about (le) Pére Pinard was the seating. We gathered around a big rustic, picnic-like table that allowed us to do a little musical chairs throughout the evening. We had two big surprises that night and #2 was Allison - she's engaged! Apparently after repeatedly watching Beyonce's hit video "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)" and realizing that Southern women couldn't cook nearly as well as Allison, he popped the question. We're seriously falling like flies here at Zupper Club.

Our special guest of the night was Candice Matthews, whom you might recognize as the lead singer in the all girl band "Date Nite". Luckily, she sat near Phil & Andrea, and it looks like Candy could be headlining at the Covitz's wedding. Andrea's Mom will be tickled pink! Dan got a little loopy and tried to tell Tenny about the dark web of zupper management but that's just nonsense. For all those who know what I'm talking about, don't worry, I've drugged him and his memory has been erased. We've also received more interest in franchising this puppy out (Zupper West has already begun and a Zupper SF is in potential development). Anyone who has ideas on how to commercialize this thing, let me know. And the #1 most interesting news of the night came from Molly. Apparently she loves magazines like South Jersey Girl Bride, and grew up with an ex-hitman teaching her to play the piano. No? Not that riveting? The guy hung around their house a lot and murdered like a lot of people. Trust us, it really explains a lot about Molly.

Kudos to Tenny for a superb night - she definitely earned her Zupper name. 16 months down, 10 to go!

"O" is for Oh My, Omai!

2009-01-13T09:25:00.010-05:00

"O" night was certainly memorable because of the tasty Vietnamese food, but also because this was the first Zupper night it snowed! As snowflakes the size of golf balls fell upon the city, an impressive group of 12 (keep in mind this was during the holidays) were welcomed into a small, but chic and inviting dining room. There's something about the winter months that make you hungrier. Maybe it's the extra effort of walking through the wet streets, or getting dressed and undressed. Or, maybe it's just the perfect excuse for everyone to rationalize eating lots of comfort food and drinking pint after pint of Sierra Nevada. Either way, it's a wonderful time to get together and eat, and Omai was a perfect spot for the task. As New Yorkers, we have option after option of authentic, delicious ethnic food. From the Michelin starred, to the Shendy Halal cart, New York is filled with wonderous specialties from overseas. Omai is no exception. Omai represented a nice balance of the traditional, but somehow still felt like the typical NY restaurant you'd recognize anywhere. The restaurant was upscale without feeling stuffy, and the food was sophisticated without tasting complicated or fussy.

The menu is a difficult one, but only because every single item looked devour-ishly good. We started with a variety of decent spring rolls and grilled prawn rolls dipped in peanut sauce. The apps were probably more impressive and fresh than noted, but that's probably because the entrees left a more indelible mark... well, my entree at least. (You know, it's not easy remembering everyone's dish. And yes, I could start writing these in a little more timely fashion in order to better represent each Zupper's experience. And no, I'm not feeling guilty about it.) The Omai salad was anything but a salad in the traditional sense. A large steaming bowl of Vietnamese classics - filled with omai rice vermicelli noodles, salty pork, grilled shrimp and crispy spring rolls. It was perfect in that you could either combine flavors, or appreciate each ingredient as it's own clean, pure taste. I was also fortunate enough to taste Jen's dish - jumbo shrimp sauteed in a light coconut curry sauce. The first scent of the dish reminded me of those rich tasting, but somehow light Indian sauces that I love so dearly. The shrimp were perfectly cooked - the meat had a nice tender snap, far from chewy or fishy.

In-between eating, we toasted the engagement of Phil & Andrea - another one bites the dust! I wonder who will be next... Unlike "N", the night was void of drama, adventures or juicy gossip. It was just one of those great nights out, with great friends and great food. This is a definite Zupper recommend (but if you're also looking for another tasty Vietnamese place, we suggest stopping by Kampuchea on the LES. It has a different vibe; but the communal tables, street style sandwiches, noodle bowls and the Flaming Lips soundtrack make it an equally worthwhile experience.)

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

2008-12-08T22:49:00.001-05:00

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!

2008-11-03T15:18:00.000-05:00

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

2008-10-07T19:54:00.001-04:00

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

2008-10-07T19:48:00.000-04:00

"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!

2008-08-01T16:22:00.000-04:00

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

2008-08-01T16:17:00.000-04:00

"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!

2008-06-19T12:33:00.000-04:00

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"

2008-06-19T10:12:00.000-04:00

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!"

2008-04-21T20:58:00.000-04:00

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!

2008-03-18T18:39:00.001-04:00

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

2008-01-29T22:52:00.000-05:00

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.

"C" is for Casimir"

2007-12-08T15:15:00.000-05:00

"C" night was full of excitement: record attendance, guest
appearances, near death experiences... even the ghost of Rollman
was present! Oh, and some pretty tasty French food in a super cozy
place.

Zupperite, Colin Nissan, chose Casimir in the East Village. The sepia toned, candlelit atmosphere was just dark enough that no one could notice the red wine induced blue teeth. "C" night actually (strangely) began the night before. Guest stars, Matt Rivitz & Tyler Magnusson, were in town so the majority of the crew went out, got wasted and decided to open the invite list to the ex-goodby guys. Rivitz was so excited that he wanted to prepare for the Zupper night by stalking a nearby pizza joint that night at 3:30am, rolling an entire pizza into the shape of a taco and shoving it in his mouth. The news of the "C" night spread like wildfire. Nancy King, along with Covitz and Andrea, jumped on board to make the final turnout a whopping 13 people. We were aiming for 14, but alas, a guy named Paul Foulkes (aka Alex Rodriguez in the playoffs, batting avg. 0-3, .000) didn't show.

The night was full of steaks, melt in your mouth mash-pos, and tasty (affordable) wine. And best of all, the whole bill was pretty damn cheap. The burger was just a burger, and the rest of the menu was typical French but overall pretty impressive. However, the highlight of the night went to Mike Sweeney. He had the whole crowd on the edge of their seats while recounting the harrowing tale of battling Guillain- Barre Syndrome. While Mike painstakingly recalled the paralysis, Italian diagnosis' and other details no one ever wants to hear at dinner; Colin noticed there were tears in Alisa's eyes. Once we calmed her down and told her that "no, really, mike doesn't end up dying", we all celebrated with one last toast and headed out for the night. Overall, a night to go down in Zupperite history. Thanks to all! p.s. Dewine you're up for "D". Really, no pressure at all.

"B" is for "Booyah!"

2007-11-14T20:58:00.000-05:00

Okay, you're right. "Booyah" is circa 1987. My bad. Sorry about that.

Let's try this again..."B" is for "Bread!" And what delicious bread it was. Actually, hold on. Let me back it up a bit. I don't want to start this off on the wrong foot but the bread kinda sucked, right? Am i wrong here? Kinda stale? Rough to the touch? Gave you a little bit of that Honeycomb mouth at the top of your palate? Who's with me?

Anyway, nevermind the namesake. Everything else was pretty awesome. I'll let the rest of you "foodies" get into the specifics about the actual meal but I'll offer up a few observations to get us started.

1.) Nice rebound from the "A" attendance. Good to see some people were finally there and some people weren't. I'm not naming names but, Paul.

2.) I like Allison's new haircut. She now has shorter hair than two so-called "men" in the club. Nice ponytails, "guys."

3.) I wish i wasn't balding.

4.) I think we all got either chicken paillard, lasagna, or pork. Umm, delish!

5.) I think we all decided "C" would be for Colin.

6.) And then I think we all decided that we didn't mean that we should eat at "Colin" because that would be weird and, quite frankly, I don't think colin's body could fit all of us. Then again, he wouldn't need to fit ALL of us since Paul probably won't show up. But the point is that he should pick the next restaurant on the list. The "C" place. Not that we should eat Chez Colin's Body. See how those misplaced modifiers can cause confusion? Mind your grammar people.

7.) Rumor has it we're all going to be cooking up some tasty zecipes one of these days. Hook a brotha up. Or hook Jane up so she can hook a brotha up.

8.) Do you think Colin cheated on us in San Francisco and went out with another A-Zupper Club? If he did, it was probably the A-Zupid Club.

9.) Yes, of course I'm stalling. Do you really think I'd ever write "A-Zupid" if i actually had something real to talk about? But you can't end a list of thoughts on 9. It's got to be 10. This isn't Communist Russia.

10.) "B" is for "Bravo!" Emily. Awesome job picking the place. Your man was cheating on you with the Zupids and you pulled it off with flying colors. Great job. Good times had by all.

Booyah.

A is for Azul

2007-10-28T16:50:00.000-04:00

Our first letter, our first success!... (kind of)
4 hard core members showed up with A-Z tattoos on their asses and got down to some serious eating: Colin, Dan, Jane and Mike.
There was wine, there was steak and there was a pretty hot waitress that Dan somehow thought he had a shot at. Dan's funny that way.
The place gets 2.5 stars. It was dark enough that the previous statement of "hot waitress" could have, in fact, been a moderatley attractive busboy. The steaks were pretty tasty - some better than others (the filet and flank steak were the best).
We walked away from Azul with full bellies, good laughs and, unfortunately for one of us, no phone numbers. But there's always "B" in November. So let's storm "B" in force next month and show our A-Z spirit ("We can eat, yes we can, we can eat how 'bout...you?" Not sure how that cheer goes but you get the point. Let's git 'er done this month.)