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I have to say that the more I think about Red Rooster, the more excited I am by it. (Maybe it's better if I NEVER eat there.)

That's the same reason I've never gone to the Olive Garden - it excites me sooooo much.

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So the point of this article was to promote the Red Rooster or is Marcus taking a writing class at some community college

THERE were four elderly black women in hats at Red Rooster Harlem the other night, across the aisle from a group of white men who had come north to 125th Street by subway. Also present were a mixed-race family sharing apple pie, a stroller beside them; an Asian same-sex couple, drinking wine; and mixed-gender black couples eating Swedish meatballs. Above them all was a Philip Maysles painting depicting the artist Norman Rockwell staring into a mirror and painting a portrait of himself — as Ruby Bridges, the African-American girl who integrated an all-white elementary school in New Orleans in 1960.

 

The scene was unusual, notable, a view of a city many believe in and few ever see, at least in the presence of Caesar salads and steak frites. New Yorkers are accustomed to diversity on sidewalks and subways, in jury pools and in line at the bank. But in our restaurants, as in our churches and nightclubs, life is often more monochromatic.

 

I would just like to say that this is what eating in Fort Greene has been like for the past 10 years.

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Oh, by the way:

 

New York Journal:

 

The space looks like Keith McNally Comes to Harlem, a breezy brasserie set-up with shelves of knickknacks, an open kitchen, a bright glass-lined liquor wall, a spacious bar, and ample communal table seating for walk-ins.

 

Sam Sifton:

 

...the dining room has some of the energy and excitement you can find in the best of Keith McNallys restaurants. Everyone seems to be there, making the scene. Red Rooster recalls early days at the Odeon, or more recent ones at Balthazar or Minetta Tavern.
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Actually, I was going to add (thinking of places like Roman), "until the tipping point came a few years ago." But then I thought about the last time I ate at Chez Oscar -- a couple of months ago -- and Madiba -- a couple of weeks ago -- and they were the same as ever. So I left it out.

 

You're right, and I hadn't thought of it: the new places get the white people (exclusively). The old places chug along as always.

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Speaking with all the authority of someone who is performing a copy editing function for a remote part of the NYT empire this afternoon, I think I would have caught "island flare" [sic].

 

Otherwise, an acute portrait of the restaurant. Well done (whether random or not).

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For what it's worth, the crowd at Chez Lucienne (couple of years old?) is a different crowd, but every bit as diverse. Same goes for my friends' place Bier International. But Red Rooster has the profile to be an emblem of these changes.

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Oh, by the way:

 

New York Journal:

 

The space looks like “Keith McNally Comes to Harlem,” a breezy brasserie set-up with shelves of knickknacks, an open kitchen, a bright glass-lined liquor wall, a spacious bar, and ample communal table seating for walk-ins.

 

Sam Sifton:

 

...the dining room has some of the energy and excitement you can find in the best of Keith McNally’s restaurants. Everyone seems to be there, making the scene. Red Rooster recalls early days at the Odeon, or more recent ones at Balthazar or Minetta Tavern.

That's 3. Or maybe 2.5.

 

(For those of you who haven't been following along, this is the third instance of Sifton using phrases that were previously written by Wilf and Oakie.)

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Cafe Beulah had a mixed clientele too. I miss that place.

i keep hearing that mr. smalls is thinking of opening a new place, i wonder who will get to be chef if he manages to find the right concept and space. i loved marvin woods cooking.

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Oh, by the way:

 

New York Journal:

 

The space looks like "Keith McNally Comes to Harlem," a breezy brasserie set-up with shelves of knickknacks, an open kitchen, a bright glass-lined liquor wall, a spacious bar, and ample communal table seating for walk-ins.

 

Sam Sifton:

 

...the dining room has some of the energy and excitement you can find in the best of Keith McNally's restaurants. Everyone seems to be there, making the scene. Red Rooster recalls early days at the Odeon, or more recent ones at Balthazar or Minetta Tavern.

That's 3. Or maybe 2.5.

 

(For those of you who haven't been following along, this is the third instance of Sifton using phrases that were previously written by Wilf and Oakie.)

 

I'm no defender of Sifton, but really?

 

A. Coincidences happen more than people realize (it's a big world out there).

B. More to the point, everyone (including Sifton) is writing in the same milieu so coincidences like the above are not only possible but probable.

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I'm no defender of Sifton, but really?

 

A. Coincidences happen more than people realize (it's a big world out there).

B. More to the point, everyone (including Sifton) is writing in the same milieu so coincidences like the above are not only possible but probable.

Try this one on.

 

I am not going to say it's deliberate; maybe phrases stick in his head and he thinks they're his; I am sure that's happened to all of us.

 

The French take a trotter and braise it forever, then coat the wobbly result in mustard and bread crumbs and fry it crisp. The Italians take the bones out, then stuff the skin with ground pork from the trotter and elsewhere — the same mixture they use for cotechino sausage — and sew it back into shape.

 

The French like to braise a trotter, then smear it with mustard, breadcrumb it, and fry it crisp - a style known as Sainte-Menehould after a small Lorraine town which specialises in the titbit. The Italian, on the other hand, will seize most of the porker's limb, and leaving the foot in place, stuff the hollowed out shin with much the same spiced pork mixture as fills the mighty cotechino sausage.

 

It's the "fry it crisp" duplication which really made my jaw drop.

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