No Pain No Gain...Bonnie's Grill

This year my friends and I have become regulars at a no-frills burger joint called Bonnie's Grill on 5th Avenue and 1st Street in Park Slope. Bonnie's is revered by locals for three key items: the buffalo chicken wings, the burgers, and the mysterious and mouthwatering chipotle mayo.

First, the wings: Buttery (although I read that they actually use margarine), spicy delight. I like that Bonnie's doesn't mess around with myriad choices of wing sauces; instead, they stick to what they know, offering simple buffalo wings with various intensities of hotness. For first-timers I recommend having "Medium", which has a definite kick while not being overpowering. I prefer the "Hot" option myself, but only on occasions when 1) I'm in the right mindset for some masochistic pleasure ( and loads of forehead sweating; I'm considering bringing out the headband next time) and 2) there are not girls there that will judge my sweaty wings eating habits.

One time, my friend Kyle, who is a fiend for spicy foods, tried the "Hotter" version of Bonnie's Wings. For people with normal taste buds I would not recommend this, but Kyle impressively made it through about six and a half wings, before his eyes began to tear up rapidly. Needing a glass of water, Kyle looked about frantically for a waiter, but to no avail, which led to him running into the bathroom and being reduced to gulping down water from the sink.

But while the wings at Bonnie's are excellent, the real reason that we come here are for the burgers. Bonnie's burgers are the best in Park Slope. Before it is cooked, the burger is rubbed with a cajun spice blend. It has a charred exterior, and an always juicy first bite. Even the toppings are perfect: sauteed jalapenos add to the texture and spice of the burger, and a few squirts of chipotle mayo help to temper the spiciness of the burger. Overall, it is a taste explosion that is unrivaled by any other burger in Brooklyn (Sorry Five Guys, but you don't even come close, with your greasy flavorless excuse for a burger).

One final note on Bonnie's: The service can be very spotty. Sometimes they are right on-point (especially the dude in the Expos hat, who is the man), but a good portion of the time the waiters seem to forget that you are there. One time they simply forgot about half our orders, and when we asked about our missing burgers, the waiter shrugged and said, "Not my fault, man."

But even though the wings can be painful to eat, and the servers don't even pretend to care about us, we keep coming back to Bonnie's. The burgers are just that good.

The Falafel King

I'm not sure exactly who Mr. Falafel is, but he serves up some killer eats at a reasonable price. 
I have a passion for good sandwiches under 5 dollars, and MF's falafel sandwich (only $4) fits the bill. Mr. Falafel is located on Fourth Street and 7th Avenue in Park Slope, but delivers to at least a 10-block radius. The mashed combination of chick peas and secret spices is scooped like ice-cream into a vat of oil, and fried on the spot. Make sure that they add the mysterious spicy sauce (which I believe is tahini-based, meaning that it is made from a paste of ground sesame seeds) so that the sandwich maintains its moist, juicy texture. The sandwich is the perfect size, and comes in a little pita pouch that you can eat on the go. 
Whenever I visit MF (which every year is in the double digits) the guys working there seem kind of lonely, and I know that they want me to stay and eat there, but take-out really is the way to go. It's more fun to eat MF on the wooden benches in front of Connecticut Muffin, but if you're with a date you should remember two things: 1) have a napkin ready, it could get messy and 2) NO ONIONS (You should be able to figure out why, and if you can't you probably don't have a girlfriend anyway)

The guys who work here are really nice. MF gets an A for service. For example, they are probably the only restaurant in Park Slope that will deliver to a street corner. Stuck at the monument at Ninth and the Park? They'll make it happen. 
Also, random anecdote: I took a girl here, and we were wondering what one of the vegetables on display was (a mysterious, pink item). They turned out to be turnips, and our server offered us a free sample, placing the pink turnip slices at opposite sides of a fork a-la Lady and The Tramp. It was pretty crafty, although I wouldn't recommend the turnip itself: it was slightly sour. Anyway, the servers seemed pretty happy with themselves, and I got a free kiss out of the deal.

What exactly is a sandwich?

I am The Sandwich Guy, and my mission is to search the world over in pursuit of sandwich nirvana. I believe in the power of the sandwich to sooth the soul, to take complex culinary delights and make them accessible to the average man. Cultures all over the globe feature sandwiches that define their cuisine; we can bite into a toasted "Croque-Monsieur" and taste the Champs-Elysées in Paris,  or savor a Gyro and be transported to the maritime landscape of Greece. 

Bread has been consumed with other food since its creation in the Neolithic Era, but the concept of the sandwich is a more recent development. In 17th century Netherlands historians observed meat being sliced and placed between bread, but sandwiches truly gained relevance in the 19th century, when with the rise of an industrial working class in Spain and England quick, portable meals became in demand. By the onset of the 20th century the sandwich had spread to America, where it soon became a fundamental part of American cuisine. It was quite a long time ago, but when this Sandwich Guy was only a little knish,  sandwiches were ubiquitous in the lunch room. Bologna on white bread, tuna on rye, peanut butter and jelly; these combinations became staples of my diet. 

The true etymology of "sandwich" remains up to debate, but the most compelling story of the origin of the name of the greatest food of all time concerns an English noble named John Montagu, the Fourth Earl of Sandwich (referring to the town of Sandwich, whose name comes from the Old English sandwic meaning "sand village," or "Place on the sand.")  According to legend, Montagu was an avid gambler, who one night in 1762 was hungry but too busy gambling to stop for a meal. Montagu asked a waiter for roast beef between two slices of bread, which he could hold in one hand while continuing his gambling with the other. This invention allowed Montagu to keep his hands grease-free for optimal gambling, and soon it caught on with his friends, who began to order the "same as Sandwich." Thus, from the dark gambling rooms of 18th century England, there was set off an irrepressible chain of events which resulted in the serendipitous birth of The Sandwich Guy just a few years ago.

But, with etymological disputes aside, before we begin our journey within the realm of the sandwich we must define what exactly is a sandwich. Dictionary.com defines a sandwich as  "two or more slices of bread or the like with a layer of meat, fish, cheese, etc. between each pair." This definition is highly American-zed and just seems outdated. Merriam-Webster's definition of a sandwich is slightly more flexible, with the inclusion of  "a split roll having a filling in between," and also "one slice of bread covered with food." This definition allows for our beloved hot dogs and lobster rolls to be included in the sandwich category, not to mention the open-face sandwich; after all, who could live without some moist tuna salad on top of a piece of crispy rye bread with a melty layer of swiss cheese to top it off ? Not this Sandwich Guy.

      Merriam-Webster comes close, but The Sandwich Guy's definition of a sandwich is even more flexible and all-compassing. Yes, a sandwich can include two slices of bread, but for us "the like" will include also any form of "wrap," including of course the Mexican burrito and Greek souvlaki. Our definition of "bread" includes  bread that can be cut into slices, but also bread that cannot be cut into slices, including bagels and tortillas, as well as pita bread. Any sort of a "patty" works as the form of a sandwich as well.  The filling of a sandwich can range from an assortment of meats, fishes and cheeses, to any sort of vegetable filling. In fact, the "filling" of a sandwich can consist of any sort of food whatsoever, from layers of hot pastrami to a fried Oreo (Oh yeah, it's out there somewhere). 

So now that we have established the ground rules, it is time for the fun part. The Sandwich Guy resides in the Park Slope neighborhood of Brooklyn, NY, so naturally our sandwich journey will begin within the friendly confines of these steep, narrow brownstone-riddled streets. I urge all of my readers (the at least 3 or 4 of you) to send me your favorite sandwiches; maybe we can go eat some together. 

 I might not be quite the gambler as the nobleman Montagu once was, but I at least play a pretty mean game of Texas Hold'em.