Rice to Riches - Experiencing Rice Pudding

I have a confession. I want to be like Lindsey Galloway, who writes about staying in a beagle-shaped motel that was made by a guy who carves things with a chainsaw. In order to practice my writing skillz, I'm trying my hand at reviewing the things I see, try/taste, and do. Most of it is for fun, which is why I go off on many random tangents. Thanks for indulging me.

Because I live under a rock, I hadn't heard about Rice to Riches before going down to the SoHo-Nolito-East Village area of New York and actually walking past it on the street. Someone in our party of seven commented that it had been in a movie or two, like Hitch, and also that it was noted for its pudding. Note to self, I need to try Serendipity from Serendipity - almost went there with a friend to try their frozen hot chocolate.

Some spacebar-esque features.

Rice to Riches, if anything, is an experience. It was like eating at a spacebar, or at least what people from the 70s imagined a spacebar would be, complete with white, black, and "That 70s Show orange" plastic seating; the only thing it lacked was more chrome. There were four or five tables to sit at, and a standing bar that looked like two surfboards had been brought into the world as siamese twins. Four television screens made a column in the wall, and I felt like Derek Zoolander at the daiye spa when a bison frise' dog spun around on the screens. Certainly, the most memorable part of Rice to Riches is the atmosphere.

The rice pudding was pretty good, too. Like any good dessert shop, Rice to Riches lets you have endless taster spoons of their flavors. I tasted the Hazelnut Chocolate Bear Hug, and thought it good but heavy on the chocolate and hazelnut for a rice pudding. This could just be me, but the French toast was lighter, less bitter, and sweeter. My taste buds felt less like I was hit over the head with a brick.

Vicki and me eating our French toast rice pudding.

I got the French toast flavor to split with my friend Vicki, as did two of my other friends, and yet two of my friends got Mascarpone with cherries. However, there were four cups of rice pudding bought and shared among seven people; we got two Mascarpone with cherries and two French toast flavors. We may simply have similar tastes, or that could say something about the rice pudding and the quality and variety of their flavors.

My experience at Rice to Riches was pretty delightful overeall, but alas, it is not the best rice pudding I have ever had - unfortunately, there are no Pudd'n on the Rice joints or blueberry-white chocolate rice pudding to be had on this Coast.

I was, however, outrightly impressed with their sizes. A small cup worth $4 got me a palm-sized cup, and by splitting both the cost and the cup with Vicki, I ended up getting what I wanted for the price I was willing to pay. Also, the cups and spoons were made of edgy, spacebar like plastic; certainly modernity coming to your cutlery, because it was like a fashionized tongue-depresser. I also liked the fact that you could ask for tops and make your pudding boat-bowl into a little space capsule for safe transportation home.

The one major drawback to Rice to Riches was some of their decor. Most of it was clever and witty enough, but some of their signage did not sit well with me. They had a sign saying something on the order of "Man invented agriculture and rice pudding. Woman invented diet." They also had on their doors "No skinny bitches." I disagree with the message of these signs because they encourage an aesthetic based on image, rather than cultivating a healthy ideal, and placing blame on women instead of citing it as a broader societal ill which males and females both suffer from. They took the idea of having some rice pudding too far; a place like Rice to Riches sells a luxury commodity and should highlight the fact that it is a luxury, an indulgence, to come to a place like this, instead of encouraging an attitude which was borderline gluttonous. It is meant to be funny and lighthearted, but I was not very amused. And to top it all off, the message their decor is sending is exclusionary. Those "skinny bitches" need to have rice pudding, too - perhaps they need it most of all to put some meat on their bones.

Overall, out of five stars, Rice to Riches gets 3.8 stars for their food, 3.2 stars for their decoration, and 4.2 stars for their service. Were I in the area, I would certainly go for rice pudding again; if I had the especial hankering after rice pudding, I'd make a trip down to Nolito just to buy it from Rice to Riches.

Disclaimer: I might just be unsatisfied with everything because this is New York City, and I expect it to be absolutely delicious and am disappointed if it is not the best food I have ever eaten. My expectations are waaay too high. For a more balanced and evenhanded review, and frankly some better pictures, check out the Eatconomist's review.

Tasting New York in Lombardi's Pizza

For Kristen. See? I told you, you general pool of readers, that I would take suggestions on what to do and see so you could vicariously live through me.

Lombardi's - the name inspires interests, piques curiosity. It smacks of an Italian-American heritage, someplace far away from my Midtown abode. A place worth a journey.

Seven of us journeyed from Times Square on Saturday down to Lombardi's to try some of its best-in-New York pizza. Arriving at the corner restaurant, there was a line seven or eight people deep, and I hunkered down for a long wait, I surmised at least 30 minutes. To my surprise, thirty seconds later we were called, and all seven of us sat down at one table to await our Lombardi's delight.

We ordered a large margarita and a large spinach-garlic pizza, and after a short wait we delved right in. The crust was nice and flavorful, and easy to manipulate and fold so you could fit it all into your mouth. I noticed, most of all, that it tasted healthy - it was not too greasy, the cheese on the margarita pizza tasted light and fresh. It was tasty, but my Lombardi's pizza felt like I was eating any other pizza. The taste did not grab me by the taste buds and say "Listen, Lizzle, you are eating a Lombardi's pizza. Pay attention or I'm gonna slap you down to Brooklyn!"

Akshata and me at Lombardi's - stay tuned for "Rice to Riches" to see round 2 of the crazy-happy-I'm-going-to-be-eating-soon mouth gap.

I was impressed, though, with the speed and quality of service: our waitress was prompt but not pushy and very smiley for one of the most lauded pizza joints in town. Almost too impressive was the bussing service: as soon as we had finished the last slice of pizza, the try was gone; as soon as we stood up to leave, someone was clearing our napkins and glasses. And I don't blame them; they wanted to get people in and out, so they economized and made themselves efficient.

Overall, out of five stars, I give Lombardi's 4.1 for food quality, 4.5 for service, and 3.9 for atmosphere. If I had a similar wait time and was in the SoHo-East Village-Nolito area (still getting my bearings), I would probably go again. But as for best pizza in town? Their claim was too big. It was a good deal for this kind of pizza - I ended up paying about $8 for two slices.  Note to self, I need to try that $0.99-a-slice pizza that I walked past earlier this evening and compare it.At "Taste of Times Square" last week, the pizza I had from one of the stalls (possibly John's Pizzeria?) was cheesier, greasier, tastier, kickier. Better. It was good, but I couldn't taste New York in this pizza.

This might not be the final review of Lombardi's pizza; with more pizza under my belt (actually above it), my opinions may change. Not likely, but they may change. Stay tuned for what's around the corner.

I Love Food Trucks

I fess up about food trucks. Here in the City, they dot virtually every street corner. Most of them are fairly generic halal-type trucks or stands, but every now and then something special comes up. For example, the other day I saw the Mexicue truck, which was exciting to me as a NYC newbie because it was different from all the other carts: it was larger, red, and had a line 15 people deep. I've tasted the delights of a Mr Softee truck, and earlier today I had my first waffle from Wafel and Dinges. I've already set my sights on finding the Dumpling Rickshaw truck, regardless of their quality of food. It's safe to say I'm addicted to food trucks.

The food is usually pretty good from these trucks, but the real fun of it lies in their effervescent nature. They're on wheels, they're mobile. One day the Mexicue truck could be there, the next, it could be gone for a week, popping up on the other side of town where you didn't expect it.

The food truck concept is genius because it is essentially a massive game of hide-and-go-seek, only with food as the reward. (I suppose that's what hunting is...) Like my friend TropeGirl's Youtube video states, it adds the extra incentive of prestige - finding the food truck and attached bragging rights - to the reward of eating reasonably tasty food for a low(er) price. Genius.

We have food trucks in Los Angeles, and they're good when you hap upon them, but Los Angeles is such a sprawling city. There's not one on every street corner, to my limited knowledge. I know finding them is as easy as merely punching in the food truck's location, driving to it, and finding parking, but I'm in an LA suburb and getting into downtown is a bit of a trek. For here and now, I prefer the food trucks here in NYC.

I am aware these food trucks have Twitter accounts which tell you where they're going to be. To be a hardcore food-truck-hide-and-go-seeker, you find the food trucks without Twitter.

Another Concert in the Park

Or an attempted one, anyway.

Whilst at work, my sister emailed me about an extra ticket to a Black-Eyed Peas concert happening in Central Park later in the evening. No one else in her acquaintance had jumped on it yet, so I did. Whoo, I had something to do in the evening! I was getting nervous that I wouldn't have something to write home about tonight.

After I ate my dumplings, I met my sister at her office, and we made our way to Central Park together. We came out of the subway station and were awash in people, all trying to get into the Park. My knee-jerk reaction was to turn tail and head home; it wouldn't be worth fighting all the crowds. However, I steeled myself and figured this was New York City. There are crowds. Deal with it, self. Tickets to this concert were done by free raffle, so there were bound to be loads of people. And besides, you're a student in a very expensive city - standing in lines for free things is the experience. Ooh, memo to self: write editorial post on these kinds of experiences and feeling happy that I'm having these experiences because I ought to have them instead of enjoying them for their own intrinsic value.

As we were standing in line to get into the Park, the heavy, humid clouds gave off a flash of lightning. The crowd said "aah" in its usual mindset of "entertain me" and "everything is a spectacle." It was at this point that it started to rain. Umbrellas up (my sister had advised me to bring two), and we started to mosey forward like a bunch of cattle wielding pokers. It's a mild feat to walk forward while keeping of track of someone as you hold an umbrella and avoid poking multiple people's eyes out, mind you.

In our cumbrous fashion, we moved forward until it really started to rain. At this time, it was about 8 p.m.; the concert had been scheduled to start at 7:30 p.m., but it had been delayed for rain. One member of our party had cancelled on us, and the other member was AWOL. Well, the cry went through the crowd that the event was cancelled; a woman standing near us confirmed the fact by looking at the concert's Facebook page.

We were, in a sense, quite washed up.

To avoid the crowds coming home, we started heading home. Walking in a summer rain, even in New York City, is enjoyable, and we walked all the way home. We stopped about every ten minutes for a photo opportunity, to talk to someone (on phone, and actually my sister ran into someone she knew outside of FAO Schwartz), to eat waffles with spekuloos from the Waffles & Dinges food truck, or to take grungy photos of ourselves eating food outside of posh stores. It continued to rain sporadically, the heat was still oppressive, but the pavement was awash in bejeweled light, spilling from every building side and lamp onto the pavement.

Like Edinburgh, New York City has its own type of starlight.

Vicarious Living, Part I

I have received my first request for something to do in the City! Cousinling Kristen has requested that I go to Lombardi's for pizza on Spring Street (just a hop-skip-jump from the Line 6 subway!). It has been touted as the "absolute best pizza in NYC" by a friend of my cousinling. I'll give it a go! If it's not mind-bogglingly expensive, anyway. I am still a student, and since the address does not appear to be a numerical street, it's probably in a very fashion-conscious, flavor-conscious part of town.

It should be noted that I my sampling of pizza is and will be limited, as New York is home to over 9 million people, and there are countless pizza places to serve all of them.

Not that it has anything to do with pizza in New York, but the best pizza I've ever tasted came from this little Italian place in Madrid just off Sol. My Italian co-worker invited a few of us to come along with her, and she approved it as one of the few places to get a real Italian pizza in the city. Being Italian, she spoke to the chef/owner in Italian and became one of his bosom buddies because of their shared nationality. She ordered me a specialty pizza, topped with American sausage, extra tomato sauce, and some really good cheese I can't recall the name of. It's been nearly a year since I had that pizza; it made an impression on me.

P.S. I have a new goal in life: ingratiate myself into a (real, not a 5th generation pseudo Italian-American) Italian family.