Dear Bushwick: A Work In Progress

[Pigging by Wilfrid:  October 22, 2012]

Dear Dear Bushwick,

Just a note to say I think you have promises.  Early days, I know, but the neighborhood seems to love you.

After all, what's not to love?  A sweet little restaurant trying hard with food and drink in a neighborhood where demand suddenly outstrips supply for good eating and drinking options.

I spent much of this year mocking people who claimed that Bushwick was becoming a dining destination.  One Roberta's does not a summer make.  The Morgan came and went (it re-opened about a week ago as Tutu's, with meat and cheese plates, and plans for brunch). NorthEast Kingdom stills holds its corner as a decent neighborhood bistro.  I liked Café Ghia. But for all the good value bar snacks at Miles and Tandem, Bushwick was still not a place you could eat out every day, unless you craved quesadillas.

I have to admit, things are finally changing.  The old Life Café closed, to be reborn as the confusingly named 983 (or 983bk, or 983 Brooklyn, of 983 Brooklyn's Living Room). The burgers and vegan scrambles survive, and it's still hard to grab a table, but there's a convincing list of fresh market plates for sharing, and the new kitchen is putting more precision into the comfort-based entrées.

And then there's dear little Dear Bushwick.  It occupies a townhouse on Wilson, pretty much opposite Cain's Tavern, where the bar food runs to potato chips, pickles, and Slim Jims.  It's like stepping into somebody's living room, on a day when the extended family, neighbors, and friends were all invited to tea.  There are a few tables more or less in the window, a narrow bar, then a slightly larger dining room in the rear. The open kitchen is the size of a handkerchief, and is currently over-stretched.

But, as I said, it's early days.  Ask to vary something on the menu slightly, and you might be told: "It's difficult, she's very back up."  I can believe it.  She is Jessica Wilson, a Prune alum, and the attempt to serve reasonably ambitious food in a cupboard is somewhat reminiscent of Prune.

There are some very good small bites on the menu. The "LPB&J" unites smooth liver pâté with bacon and jam, and cleverly serves them on nutty slices of black bread. 

Fried potato peelings were less appetizing.  I guess I was expecting something like potato wedges, but these really were just strips of peel, served like a little pile of grass cuttings.  A vehicle for conveying salt to the mouth, but not much more than that.

The so-called "eggs and butter" was much better, featuring genuinely smoky-yolked eggs (wine-barrel smoked, whatever that means), mild horseradish butter, and a savory garnish of green peppercorns and salt.  The yolks were just soft. It came in a one-and-a-half egg serving.

And indeed, small plates here can be tiny.  A garlic and sweetcorn soup, with a pumpernickel crouton, was sweet and mellow, but came as barely a scrape in the bottom of a bowl.  Surely there's not a pressing need for portion control when it comes to vegetable soups.  Indeed, while the menu scrupulously lists vegetarian and vegan options, it would be hard for someone following those regimes to fill their bellies here.

Meat eaters can go heartier, but oops -- teething problems again.  The pork loaf should have been en croûte, but something happened to the pastry...  Okay, I ordered it anyway, and it was very good: ground pork made interesting with fruits and nuts, and with an overall citrus accent. There were figs on the plate too, as well as salad.

I didn't mean it as damning criticism, but I described it at the time as like a really tasty plate of leftovers.

Dear Bushwick, if you can find a way to pace the kitchen, and still serve your eager diners, you are going to make some locals very happy.  Early days, I say again.  Properly measured cocktails at the bar, by the way, and a contemporary seriousness about beer.  Wine is more limited.

Here's the website.