Walking down Nostrand Ave in Crown Heights and what do I find? Doubles! I haven’t had them in a while. A Trinidad & Tobago standard, doubles are two pieces of fry-bread sandwiching a dollop of chana (curried chick peas). Fried? Curry? How can you go wrong? Nice!
Three fine trenchermen – cosmopolitan racconteurs, all – accompanied the Gastropod to Luger’s last night; what a treat. I can’t add much to the lore surrounding this Brooklyn institution, except to report that the meal was outstanding, once again. Luger’s has not dissapointed me. The waiter simply asked “steak for 4?” and we were off. A few moments later a couple of pounds of perfectly cooked, still sizzling porterhouse goodness arrived at the table.
The waiter served everyone, and a few side dishes got apportioned out (the creamed spinach is the ideal accompaniment). The steak is perfect; buttery inside, a little carbon crunch to the tooth on the outside. It must take a powerful flame to do this to a large piece of meat.
There were deserts and wine, but all pales in comparison to the centerpiece of bloody, buttery beef, and the companionship of such fine fellows.