Flood's On Draft [13]
Pop the trunk and have some tartare
Away Game
I’ve been massively inspired by Craig Mod lately, an American writer, photographer, and walker living in Tokyo. There’s a lot to learn from Craig’s journeys across Japan on foot. Most timely and topical is how he taps into his surroundings — traveling and traversing with intention and attention.
I’m headed out of town this week — to Puglia, Italy. I’m incredibly excited about the trip. The hilly small towns, vast farmland and olive groves, vibrant coastal scenes — not to mention the food, proper Campari spritzes, and the slow Italian way of life.
While I’m away, I want to embrace it. I want to be present, mindful, and immersed in the culture. I can’t go full Craig Mod, off-the-grid mode — I’ve got a day job, after all — but I’m going to do my absolute best to disconnect for as much of the trip as possible.
One of Craig’s guiding principles is “no mental teleporting.” So, no podcasts, social media, or news sites. I’ll have a few books along for the trip, and plenty of ambient albums saved for the longer drives between towns. And of course, I have my camera ready to rip. Another one of Craig’s suggestions: “Take as many photos as you can.”
This intentional sidestep from digital consumption feels profound and noble — which scares me a bit. It illuminates how deeply ingrained the constant stream of information, distractions, and stimuli is in my life. I’m actually looking forward to the challenge of shutting it down for a while.
For the next three weeks, you’ll be getting a streamlined Flood’s format: Away Game: Puglia, Italy.
I’m not sure what this format will look like. I have an idea — but we’ll see what I produce. Photos, for sure. Grandpa Larry used to say “Quando arrivi lì, scrivi,” or “When you get there, write.” So I’ll do that too. I suppose that combo — photos and words — isn’t anything new here. But this will be different; less structured, more instinctive.
I’ll see you back in New York in a few weeks. Until then, thanks so much for hanging at Flood’s. Now, into one more On Draft before I head off:
Recently Added
The newest additions to Flood’s Worldwide
Dearborn Meat Market Dearborn, Michigan
I made a very important pit stop on my way out of Detroit. The Dearborn Meat Market, perched just a block south of the Detroit city border, is a thing of urban legend — a counter-service, Lebanese-style butcher shop and charcoal grill house that handles every step of the process on-site. Around 1:00 pm on a Saturday, the place was a madhouse, ass-to-ass with patrons, with no semblance of order. The man who seemed to be the most in charge frantically approached me, “No more, no more,” he said, sternly. After some bargaining, he placed me on a waitlist for grilled meats — 2 hours, and only available to-go. With a flight to catch, this wasn’t gonna work — so we improvised.
Hommous, baba, and parsley salad from the cold chest. Half a pound of freshly cut beef tartare. And a sachet of chewy pita bread. Somehow, all just $17. We popped open the trunk of the car and started crafting what I’ll call “tartare handrolls,” picnic style. Even without diving into the grilled meats — beef ribeye, filet mignon, chicken tawook, kafta, and makanek sausage — I know this place is special. From here on out, every time I land in Detroit, it’ll be my first stop from the airport.
Angel Jackson Heights, Queens
I couldn’t get charcoaled meats off my mind for the entire 75-minute flight between DTW and LGA. The pit-stop in Dearborn was eye-opening and awe-inspiring, but it left me blue-balled — wanting more, wanting lamb.
A while back, the Q70 bus took me to the promised land. And I played that card once again. The Jackson Heights-Roosevelt Ave / 74th St subway station feels like the wild west — chaotic, frantic, lawless. But there’s an operation just a block off the main drag that is pure serenity: Angel Indian Restaurant.
Despite walking into Angel narrow-minded about my desires, I still scanned the menu up and down, reading through the descriptions of each Indian classic. The good-sounding choices started piling up: paneer tikka, channa masala, goat dum biryani. But then, a platter of sizzling lamb landed on the table next to me, and my menu review came to a halt. My shoulders released of tension, and my order became simple. “I’ll have that. And a butter chicken.” “Naan?” “Naan.”
I Ubered back to Brooklyn with my luggage and a paper bag full of leftovers, feeling like the smartest man in New York. Angel is a sanctuary of flavor. I will be back.
These hits, and many more, are included in Flood’s Worldwide:
Best Dishes
Some of the best things I ate (or drank) recently
Mafaldine — Place des Fêtes Clinton Hill, Brooklyn
Never listed as a “Primi,” but always functioning as an intermediate course, pasta at Place des Fêtes is always a highlight. The simple iterations tend to edge out the intricate, and this was no exception. PdF’s spring menu featured a ribbony malfadine with just enough bite, dressed in a silky butter, preserved lemon, green garlic sauce — true-to-form flavors that can do no wrong. Like most of PdF’s dishes, it was rich and comforting, yet balanced, bright, and fresh.
Butcher’s Steak — St. Anselm Williamsburg, Brooklyn
St. Anselm isn’t a hidden gem, but it still feels slept on. The same can be said for their butcher’s hanger steak. It’s their bestseller for very good reason — yet it still doesn’t get all the love it deserves. Perfectly crusted on the outside, tender and juicy within, finished in garlic butter. At $34, I don’t think you’re finding a better steak in New York. If you do, give me a shout. Pan-fried mashed potatoes and charred long beans better be on your table to support. And ideally, that table is on the back patio on a sunny early summer evening.
Flood’s Hi-Fi
Artists and records for moving and grooving
Ennio Morricone — Dance On (single)
Disclosure turned this bad boy into a dancefloor heater. But man, the original is such a pure, synthy, euphoric groove. Orchestral mastermind Ennio Morricone’s foray into downtempo disco still sounds great, almost 50 years on. Great tune.
Up Next
Places on my radar
Taqueria El Chato Greenpoint, Brooklyn — Word on the street is El Chato is making a damn good taco, specifically al pastor. I will investigate.
Suono Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn — Newish subterranean hifi bar beneath Bar Camillo, rocking a vintage walnut speaker system — presumably a nice place to listen to Italo disco.
Ostuni, Monopoli, Bari, Lecce… — I’ll keep you posted on the hits.
the way i gasped at the lamb pic from Angel - duuuuuuude