Willamsburg Bullshit Coming to your Neighborhood Soon

Queens Comfort is a lot like much of Manhattan and Brooklyn--pre-made, cute, safe. A theme park version of what a fun NYC restaurant is. There's nothing unexpected, strange, scary or excellent or surprising to be had, but by golly, judging by the scores of half-cool Brooklyn types there happily lining up, that's what NYC douchebags crave these day. On a street with a gay bar with amazing hamburgers and good cocktails, and a beautiful Italian deli, this half-ass place packs em in. Fuck tourists and trend followers. Walk around a little and perhaps make up your minds and try something that you've not already been told to do by NY mag or some website. How lame is this place? My OLD BOSS came to Queens to eat there.

The details--the brunch burrito is tasteless, the chicken is too salty and waffles are EGGOS (frozen supermarket shite), the fried green tomato sammy is bad fat people food.

I liked the DVD of Destroy All Monsters (Japanese monster flick) on the wall, but that's a bar vibe, and so is the loud 60s rock on satellite radio. And this is not a bar, THEY DON'T EVEN SERVE ALCOHOL.

RATING: Boo Hiss.

Queens Comfort
40-09 30th Ave
Queens, NY 11103

(photo by guest photo snapper Chante Tenoso, whom I still owe for this meal. )

Mozzarella by the hour

Sorriso's Market
44-16 30th Ave
Astoria, NY 11103
718-728-4392


If you venture past Steinway on 30th street, into the land of Sicilian accents and cigar-smoking men in suits in front of "members only" clubs, the small grocery shop Sorriso should not escape your attention. Paralyzed in the aisle as we ogled the array of mouth watering products, we were interrupted by a new friend offering us thick wedges of soft&white-as-a-babe's-bum-before-spanking home made (every hour) mozzarella -- and while the Italian sprinkled our tongues with slices of sausage, we whipped out our $$, and left the shop enriched with two pounds of that better-than-a-milking-breast mozza, a basil-tomato-sausage (custom made, big enough for two, and only $6.50), and a sandwich the angels would weep for. Due to an unforeseen onset of rapaciousness no pictures are available of the die-by-panino, but let it be said that our taste buds were opened by a touch of balsamico, then tickled by the spiciness of the hell-hot salami, and finally embraced by the salty fattiness of the lush cheese, a singular experience comparable only to the the tears of the compassionate Madonna soothing your existential pain.

The mozzarella below will be sacrificed tonight for a pizza, but we will not fail to follow-up on the use of any remnants of this piece of paradise.