10458…that’s the zip code for Arthur Avenue in The Bronx. Considered by many to be the Mecca of Italian food in the NYC area, people travel for miles to enjoy bakeries, delis and traditional red sauce restaurants. When you are 75 miles away, and looking for an Italian grinder, that drive is formidable.
Fortunately, if you are in the Seymour / Oxford area in The Valley, there is an incredibly delicious alternative, The Bronx Deli – A Taste of Little Italy, on Main Street (also known as route 67). Located in a nondescript strip mall with Dunkin’ and Oxford Pizza Palace (which serves some pretty good cracker-crust pizza), this unassuming deli serves some of the best cold and hot grinders without fighting the traffic on 95 and the Hutch to The Bronx.
According to the website, The Bronx Deli is a family-owned restaurant, with locations in Naugatuck and Oxford.
Back in April my colleagues from CTBites visited Arethusa Farms to perform a “meet & greet” with 300 cows that comprise the foundation to the Arethusa dairy products. These world renown Holsteins and Jerseys produce some of the best milk, and by extension the ice cream that is sold in the Arethusa Farm Dairy store is world class. More recently, they visited Arethusa Al Tavolo and enjoyed numerous dishes prepared with numerous of the farm’s ingredients, including the cows’ milk. The team was not able to visit the ice cream storefront on either visit as the line was staggering, so it fell heavy on my shoulders (insert smile) that I took one for the team and lazily drove to Arethusa Farm Dairy one Sunday afternoon.
Steaming hot, wrapped in a bun, the hot dog, frankfurter, red hot, tube steak, wiener, frank, weenie, dirty water dog, dachshund, all relate to spiced pork or beef stuffed inside a casing, then fried, grilled, smoked, boiled, steamed, and placed in a long roll, topped with numerous toppings and devoured. They are so popular that Spotify offers over 300 songs about hot dogs, from Elvis to Zeppelin, Joey Chestnut is a household name for eating 75 hot dogs in 10 minutes, and outrageous antics of flamboyant athletes are called “hot-dogging.”
The day started with snow flurries in Denver, pre-dawn, long week, long flight, two hours from Kennedy to CT. When my wife asked where we should eat, the temptation for a culinary transport to the Caribbean was too much to resist. After a quick drive to SONO, we were seated at one of my favorite restaurants, Harlan Publick, where Chef Kamal Rose is still creating magical combinations, balancing the spiciness of the Islands, with a delicate focus on subtleness.
Gates Restaurant has been an institution on Forest Street in New Canaan since 1979. It was sold in 2015, completely redesigned and re-opened last February. The new Gates maintained the relaxed environment with a rustic, Americana décor, with the original gates repurposed around the entrance to the revamped bar, exposed brick-and-wood walls, bistro seating, and an open kitchen. On weekends kids’ teams continued to flock to this town fixture for post-soccer game celebrations, families scheduled weekly Sunday brunches, locals met for a casual lunch, guys sat at the bar indulging in a burger, beer and ballgame, and young adults enjoyed a few late-night drinks and live music. It was still the town watering hole...Gates 2.0.
CTbites has been following Greer Fredericks since she opened Mama’s Boy in Norwalk in 2013. She believed that low country southern cuisine could tantalize Fairfield County diners, from shrimp & grits, chicken and waffles to mile high desserts. Mama’s Boy’s food started the trend where down home, stick to your ribs cooking with bold flavors, deep fried, with cheese and calories were an accepted cuisine. Greer’s newest venture is Peaches’ Juke Joint, a fun-loving, take off your shoes, leave your inhibitions at the door and have some fun with a side of food. She hired Paul Failla to oversee the kitchen; many will remember Failla from his days at neighboring Bar Sugo. Ctbites was recently invited to sample Chef Paul’s newest creations and feel the vibes at Peaches.
Jim Morrison believed the ghosts of American Indians jumped into his head as a child and gave him spiritual direction for the rest of his life. I had a not totally dissimilar experience the night ofDinosaur BBQ's soft opening party after I returned home, wherein I undressed and found the ghosts of several pigs, cows and hickory trees inhabiting my shirt. The sign on the window said "Private Party" and there were people checking names at the door, but the attendance must have been close to 200. Owner John Stage seemed to have prepared for twice that number, thus accounting for the volume of aerosolized meat and wood, which, in their previous and more solid forms, were of course what brought Dinosaur to Stamford, the crowd to it.
