On Friday, I met Kirk for lunch. We met down by Bleecker street. On the subway ride over I pondered, ever so slightly, where it was that we’d eat when I arrived. A few days earlier I’d taken Patty and Dan to Shopsin’s for their first time. Kirk’s already been to Shopsin’s so we wouldn’t eat there. And The Pearl Oyster Bar is too expensive, though I’ve yet to try their fried oyster roll.
When I came up the subway steps and saw the Kirk in question he said: “Hey, let’s go to Grey Dog.”
Outraged at the idea that this non-food blogger could tell me, a titan of restaurant choosing, where to eat I threw a tantrum and when I say I threw a tantrum I mean I simply said: “Ok.”
The Grey Dog’s Coffee is down on Carmine, a block or two south of Bleecker, right near Deborah where I had a great meal last month or so. I’d passed Grey Dog’s many times and never went inside. This would be exciting. What would it look like?
Grey Dog’s looks like this on the inside.
As you can see it’s got that funky quirky collegy cuteness that Villagers are destined to love. The place was pretty packed though Kirk said it’s usually even more crowded. The process of ordering is not that much different than the process ordering at Subway or McDonald’s or other counter-based operations. Except, of course, the food here I can say, with great certainy, is far better than Subway or McDonald’s.
[Meanwhile, in class the other day we had a dinner break and I got a McDonald’s extra value meal. Dan turned to me and said, “I’m surprised to see you eating that.” I said: “It’s the people’s food, Dan.”]
The food at Grey Dog’s is very straightforward. You can kind of make out the menu in the above picture. Lots of sandwiches, most of them pretty basic. I ordered a the Grey Dog’s Club because it came with honey mustard dressing and bacon.
“What kind of bread do you want that on?” asked the man behind the counter.
Because it was so crowded, I couldn’t hear what he said. Neither, apparently, could Kirk.
“He wants to know what kind of meat you want: turkey or chicken?” explained Kirk.
“Turkey,” I said.
“You want turkey bread?” responded the man sarcastically.
“Oh,” I said and hung my head in shame.
“Stop hanging your head in shame and tell me what kind of bread you want.”
“Multigrain is fine,” I said.
Kirk and I found a table and about 10 minutes later our sandwiches were delivered.
That picture really says it all. It’s a club sandwich on toasted bread with chips and a pickle. The pickle was pretty bad, the chips were pretty good and the sandwich was nicely prepared: the right textures (crunchy toast, crispy bacon) and a nice balance of flavor (the honey mustard, the tomato, the lettuce, the turkey.)
This is the sort of place I would return to frequently if I lived in the neighborhood. I don’t live in the neighborhood, but I want to live in the neighborhood so maybe I will eat there frequently. I’ll eat there so frequently that they’ll name a sandwich after me. The Moron: Turkey on Turkey Bread.