New Yet Old in New York: Reclaim Your Youth at Mr. Throwback

By Mitch Broder

Somewhere there’s a place where the Power Rangers still morph, the Smurfs still frolic, and the California Raisins still wrinkle.

It’s where the Nickelodeon blimp always sails and the Mighty Ducks always play.

It’s on East Ninth Street. It’s called, not surprisingly, Mr. Throwback.

It’s designed to look like the childhood bedroom that you left behind, specifically if your childhood took place in the eighties or the nineties. It’s filled with the kind of stuff that you most likely left in it. And now that stuff can be yours again. If you want it. And can afford it.

Yes, though it may be unsettling to people who come from earlier decades, nostalgia now refers to years like 1993. It means the Jerky Boys. It means the Spice Girls. It means “Beethoven.” It means “Full House.” They’re all here, waiting to comfort all the people who never forgot them.

Among those people is Michael Spitz, Mr. Throwback himself, who is thus, but only coincidentally, Mr. T. He never forgot them, so he got them back. And now he sells them. And when he’s not selling them he’s still happy, because he walks among them.

He was teaching t-ball to four-year-olds when his life went into reverse. But it wasn’t because of the four-year-olds. It was because of his parents’ house. “You see your old video games,” he says. “You see your old toys. You go into your basement. I guess the concept of the store was to bring back everything from my childhood.”

He brought back He-Man. He brought back the Ghostbusters. He brought back the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They’re all here in the form of figurines and other playthings. He brought back Pokémon and Game Boy and Super Nintendo. Not to mention Hulk Hogan and the Energizer Bunny.

They’re in a space that’s actually a cross between a bedroom and a bedroom closet. It has scuffed-up wood floors and posters on the walls. Michael sits in the rear at a desk equipped with an Alf phone. On his tube television he runs a VHS tape of “The Mighty Ducks.” All day.

Other videocassettes on hand include “Home Alone” and “Free Willy.” Audiocassettes feature Billy Squier and New Kids on the Block. Everything’s sprinkled among period sports jerseys, jackets, sweatpants, caps, and T-shirts, along with T’s that celebrate the likes of the Backstreet Boys and MTV.

The sports collectibles are a big draw. “All the old brands I sell are coming back now,” says Michael, who is usually modeling some of the stuff in the store. “Stylists are coming in here because this stuff is so hot, they’re using it as inspiration to create their next lines.”

But everybody love the toys. “My favorite part of this,” Michael says, “is when someone comes in and says, ‘This is the coolest store ever.’”

“This is my life and I’m reliving it every day,” he says, and picks up a He-Man. “I played with this when I was a kid, and now I’m holding it again.”

Regress at Mr. Throwback, 428 East Ninth Street, between First Avenue and Avenue A, New York City.

New in New York: Another French Roll Rocks at Baguette Bar

By Mitch Broder

I can’t promise you a Houska House or a Pumpernickel Pub, but I can follow my report on Croissanteria with one on Baguette Bar.

And considering that the city is full of places like Popover Café, it could soon very well have a restaurant named for every bread and roll.

For now, Baguette Bar is the apparently the newest, undoubtedly the tiniest, and surely the most focused. It serves meat-and-vegetable sandwiches on toasted baguettes. If you don’t want your meat and vegetables on a toasted baguette, you’ll most likely have to take them in a pile.

The meats are pretty much limited to corned beef, pastrami, salami, and turkey. The vegetables include corn (the cereal) and avocado (the fruit). On a standard sandwich you get one meat, two vegetables, and one sauce. Ketchup Mayo is a sauce. Ketchup is still a sauce.

The bar is about to roll out its Signature Sandwiches, which are based on five of its most successful combinations.

The New Yorker is pastrami, lettuce, red onions, pickles, and honey mustard. The Pirojok is corned beef, roasted red peppers, jalapenos, and spicy honey mustard. Lettuce does not count as a vegetable. Pickles and onions do. Pirojok means pie, even though it’s a sandwich.

The categorization may be challenging, but the concept is simple. The appeal of the simplicity is nicely explained by a comment on Yelp: “Cool New place downtown and its open super late! Perfect for when you’re really drunk and need something to eat…”

Just weeks ago the Baguette Bar space was a storeroom for Pink Elephant, the glittery new club whose entrance is around the corner on West Eighth Street. The club’s owner set up his brother, Ben Nahmani, and Ben’s friend Zachi Ozery as baguette baristas.

The idea came from places that sell comparable food in Israel. The furnishings came from a nearby defunct delicatessen. The location is the MacDougal Street corner of the regenerating West Eighth Street, just across from the appealingly simple Sticky’s Finger Joint.

The sandwiches, besides being panini-style, are also kosher-style, which means that the corned beef and pastrami are better than what you get at the diner. And they’re toasted not once but twice, the second time with an olive-oil glaze that Zachi says makes for “a much more nice taste.”

“Now,” he says, “I want people to recognize this product, and we’ll be able to open more.”

I’ll let you know when they do.

I’ll also let you know about the Brioche Boîte and the Sourdough Saloon.

Belly up to Baguette Bar, 179 MacDougal Street, near West Eighth Street, in New York City.

New in New York: Two Buddies Are On a Roll at Croissanteria

By Mitch Broder

As long as you’re going to open a humble neighborhood bakery, you might as well make it a global destination for crescent rolls.

It’s unusual logic. But Selmo Ribeiro and David Simon wanted something unusual. And so far, their humble bakery and global destination are doing well.

Having determined that they wanted to launch some sort of restaurant, they went on to determine that Alphabet City could use a homey café. They then determined that — at least locally — the croissant was a short-changed pastry. With that determination, they launched Croissanteria.

It’s a plucky alternative to the nearby Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts. It has tiled walls, ceiling fans, an antique mirror, and an antique bench. It’s comfortable. It has what any good bakery-café should have. With the addition of croissants that Parisians have said rival the ones in Paris.

They include almond croissants, chocolate croissants, and almond-and-chocolate croissants, not to mention apricot croissants, and just plain croissants. Those varieties come in full-size or mini, but you have to go full-size if you want the peanut-butter-and-jelly or Nutella-and-banana croissants.

Croissanteria makes gourmet sandwiches, and they all come on croissants. They include French Ham, Italian Tuna, and Smokey Turkey. The Prosciutto di Parma has “Buffalo Mozzarella, Sliced Prosciutto, Tomato, Basil, EVOO, & Cracked Pepper.” You wouldn’t think that all of that could fit in a croissant.

Selmo and David gave me a couple of croissants, though without Nutella, Buffalo Mozzarella, peanut butter, or EVOO. They were perfect — soft and fluffy, with a thin crispy crust and a buttery flavor. And without any of that pesky croissant greasiness.

These were croissants that virtually any neighborhood could use. And not at all what you’d expect from guys with backgrounds in hamburgers and smoked fish.

David worked for his father’s Catskill Artisan Smokehouse — known as Catsmo — which sells smoked salmon and caviar to places around the city. Selmo founded the Nah Nah Bah café and lounge, a burger joint on the beach in Lagos, Portugal.

The guys had met at Northeastern University, where they were roommates. “The one thing we really had in common,” Selmo says, “was that we liked going out to eat.” He adds: “We always spoke about opening something together having to do with food.”

David first went to Catsmo and Selmo went to Lagos. But they stayed in touch, and Selmo came to New York every year. They decided to open a bakery, but with a twist, Selmo says: “If you’re in New York, the more niche you go in what you offer, the better you can make it.”

They’re happy with their success as a global destination. But they seem happiest with their success as a humble neighborhood bakery. “We’ve gotten such a friendly reception from the neighbors and the neighborhood,” David says. “We focus on this, and try to make the place special.”

One day, Selmo says, they had to close for a plumbing repair. One of the regulars emailed him, in fear that they wouldn’t come back.

“I don’t know how he got my personal email,” he says. “But those are the small things that are just awesome. Really, really awesome.”

Get flaky at Croissanteria, 68 Avenue A, between Fourth and Fifth streets, in New York City.

Old New York: The Broadway Restaurant is Still Just the Ticket

By Mitch Broder

The menu says “Photos Are For Suggestion Only,” which explains why the Broadway Restaurant does not look like the Parthenon. But it is a temple — a temple of New York short-order cookery. It’s the perfect place to nestle while awaiting a dawdling New York spring.

It’s one of the last of the bygone Manhattan coffee shops, the kind with pastrami and eggs for breakfast and meat loaf parmigiana for dinner. The kind where the pastrami and eggs is $6.65 including potatoes and toast, and the meat loaf parmigiana is $12.95 including potatoes, vegetables, and soup.

It’s a place to find a sumptuous five-dollar burger, and to chase it with an intriguing five-dollar “Milk Shake with an Egg.” It’s a place where your waitress calls you “honey” and sounds like she means it. It’s a genuinely homey place. There are so few left.

I felt at home when I came in alone and saw the signs that said “Seating of 2 Or More in Booths,” and the waitress promptly seated me in a booth. I felt at home when the waitress took the time to help me choose my short order. I felt loved when she called me “honey.” I felt married when she called me “dear.”

I had the burger, which beats ones that cost three times as much, though I postponed the Milk Shake with an Egg so I’d still have it to look forward to. And I was not alone, after all. I dined with Brigitte Bardot, Marilyn Monroe, and Sophia Loren, who smiled at me from the wall. It was the perfect lunch.

My waitress was Ann Taylor, who told me how, when the prices go up, she changes them on the menu signs with red nail polish. “Stuff goes up for like a nickel,” she says. “It’s so much work for a nickel.” But she knows it’s worth it. The signs are among the things that make the place homey.

They date to around 1970, which is when Broadway opened, says Angelo Arsenis, who bought the place in 1980. He chose to keep the signs. He had to keep the wagon-wheel lights. “I tried to change the lamps,” he explains. “People complained. I put ’em back up.”

Most important, he kept the horseshoe counter, which evokes an old-time doughnut shop, which is what Broadway reportedly used to be. Customers say that in the sixties it was part of the Twin Donut chain. Back then, doughnut shops were supposed to be pleasant.

Angelo figured that a coffee shop also ought to be pleasant. And he figured that his ought to be homey — not only for you, but for him.

“This is my house. This is my second house,” he says. “When I leave my house and come here, I feel like I’m in my house.”

Settle into Broadway Restaurant & Coffee Shop, 2664 Broadway, between 101^st and 102^nd streets, in New York City.

  

New in New York: At Baconery, Everyone's Taken With Bacon

By Mitch Broder

Wesley Klein’s plans for his bakery became clear to me when I asked him if he thought there was anything at all that doesn’t go well with bacon, and he said no.

“It works with everything,” he said. He named his place Baconery, and he meant it. Today he puts bacon in a few foods. Tomorrow he may put it in all foods.

So go now, while the menu is manageable, and decide for yourself how clever he was to open the city’s first all-bacon bakery. The response has been promising, he says: “People come in with their expectations too high and go out saying it was even better than they expected.”

Their choices include bacon cookies, bacon brownies, bacon blondies, bacon muffins, bacon croissants, and bacon pecan pie. Also bacon lollipops, bacon caramels, bacon marshmallow bars, chocolate-covered bacon, and gluten-free bacon macaroons.

If they really want to pig out, they can precede (or follow) the sweets with one (or more) of the bakery’s six bacon sandwiches. They range from the Miss Piggy (Grilled Bacon & Cheese) to the Porky Pig (Bacon, Egg, Lettuce, Cheese, Tomato, Avocado, Cucumber, Mayo). There's also a Wilbur.

Wesley’s idea was to address our need for sweet combined with salty. He got the idea while sopping up pancake syrup with a slab of bacon. He consulted with chefs, established his main ingredient’s versatility, launched Baconery online, and a year later opened the store.

He started small, but he went whole hog. It’s a hard-core bacon store. There are bacon slices on the walls. There are bacon rugs on the floor. There are bacon-colored sofas accented with bacon-print pillows, behind red-and-white-striped tables and baconian wood-topped stools.

Besides the food, he sells T-shirts that say things like “Feel Like Bacon Love,” along with items like bacon-themed platters and wallets, and actual gourmet bacon. And he has posted “The Rules of Bacon,” of which Number Four is: “Even the pigs like bacon. That’s a fact.”

It’s a curious obsession, especially curious since Wesley is Jewish, which he says only proves that Baconery welcomes customers of all faiths. And you can glimpse the obsessive future with a glimpse at the selections currently served from 6 to 8 p.m. as “Snack of the Night.”

Sunday’s snack, for example, is the Ultimate Bacon Mashed Potato Bowl. Wednesday’s is the Nutella Bacon Strawberry Crepe. Monday’s is Bacon Wrapped Pineapples; Tuesday’s is Bacon Wrapped Jalapeños. And Friday’s is apparently what it’s all leading to: Bacon Wrapped Bacon.

Get bacon for granted at Baconery, 911 Columbus Avenue, between 104^th and 105^th streets, in New York City.