Just when I'm convinced there's little hope for New Jersey bars and restaurants, a gem like River of Beer falls into my lap from the internet.

As usual, our usual Sunday morning routine here at t:e headquarters involved the missus googling for restaurants that look interesting, good, and most of all, don't serve some sort of crappy "brunch" menu. F&cking pancakes and waffles and syrup and eggs, people. What, are you 12!??!?!? We weren't coming up with much, until:

missus: "Have you ever heard of a place called River of Beer?"
me: "No. Sounds awful. Where is it." (I'm a real pleasure in the morning)
missus: "Bloomingdale."
me: "That sounds far. And awful. I have no idea where that is and I know everything."

Some quick googling led me to the realization that Bloomingdale is pretty damned close to Bergen County. A review of the menu led us to the thought that this is a gastro-pub type of situation,  serving a bunch of craft beers, and that they put some thought into their food and menu. THAT, is exactly what I want to see. Off we went, to this strange land called "Bloomingdale."

River of Beer is a good-looking bar, set in an old two-story building. There's a bar on each floor, an outside seating area with picnic tables and a fire pit, and apparently just beyond that there's seating down by the river. I felt like I was on vacation, visiting a far-away place.

My friend was annoyed that they put some sort of "special sauce" on his burger on his prior visit. "They should tell you that they're putting sauce on it," he complained.  I noted that the menu states that there is special sauce, so that's on him. In fact the menu says there are two special sauces. What my friend lacks in reading comprehension skills, he makes up for in restaurant recommendations. He told me to meet him at Dullboy on a recent night, and being the good soldier that I am I Ubered alllll the way to Jersey City.

Dullboy could be described as a exceptional cocktail bar that happens to serve some (very good at times) food, including one fine burger. Indeed the first thing I noticed was the array of interesting spirits behind the bar. And, of course, fresh fruit, fresh herbs, tinctures, bitters, infusions, etc. I dug right into the list.

The cocktail list includes a good number of the classics, and an equally good number of originals. Lots to choose from here, and I'm not even sure I saw a single vodka drink (although I tend to simply ignore those boring concoctions when I see them).

That handsome devil Marcus Samuelsson sure has a cool sense of fashion. And he knows a thing or two about food. We couldn't have been more impressed with his newest venture, Newark's Marcus B&P.

The place is gorgeous. Lots of natural light pours through the large windows behind the bar. The restaurant is located in the newly renovated building that once housed Hahne's department store. Are you old enough to remember Hahne's? I'm so old I knew about it and have since forgotten about it, until now.

We had what can be described as a thoroughly exceptional meal, top to bottom. I'll gladly tell you alllllll about it.

But first, a cocktail.

Another year, another 5 lbs sagging from my increasingly sore frame. And another roundup of some of the best dishes that contributed to those issues.

Looking back at this year's list, it's hard to not notice a theme of burgers, tongue, and pizza. And not a single salad. Who woulda thunk. Some of these dishes were found in New Jersey, which is good for you if you live in New Jersey and want to try them. But many were from some travels. As I've noted in the past in these year-end wrap-ups, it should come as no surprise that I'm eating stuff that I find exceptional when traveling. I mean, that whole idea of traveling is to eat exceptional things that you can't find at home. And maybe go to a museum or some shit. I'm not really sure.

On to the list, a list which is in no particular order.

Cheeseburger
Husk : Nashville, TN

Husk most certainly has to be one of the finest restaurants in Nashville. So fine that I found myself there twice during two trips. Only during the second visit did a Nashville-sized hangover lead me to order the burger. I had some hesitation when the bartender said they don't take a temp on it, but any concern was unfounded.

This is a double patty burger with gooey cheese and a monster sear on the exceptional beef. On a perfectly-sized bun. This thing is a work of art in its simplicity. Balance, salt, sear, fat. Every note was perfect.

Nashville Hot Chicken and waffles
Kitchen Notes in the Omni Hotel : Nashville, TN

And to think I'd never heard of Nashville hot chicken before 2017. And to think even KFC now has it.

I was able to sample Nashville hot chicken from several places (Prince's, Hattie B's, Acme Feed & Seed) during one visit. And they were all fantastic. I had low expectations for the restaurant in the Omni Hotel, especially with respect to this regional specialty, as you might. And that was wrong. Glorious hot chicken, a waffle, a perfectly cooked egg, pickles, a gallon of water, and a coffee. Holy cow did I need that on this particular morning. I returned the next day to have this again, but, alas, they weren't serving this dish that morning. This left a hole in my heart.

Tripe with long pepper and peppercorn
Joyce Chinese : River Edge, NJ

As I noted earlier this year on the blog,

"The flavor was intense. The heat was searing. The notes were herbaceous and fruity. Again, two elements I'm not used to experiencing in Sichuan food. The bowl was loaded with tripe, and Chinese celery, and bean sprouts, and pickled peppers, and ginger, and hot chili, and wood ear mushrooms. Textures swimming all around. I didn't know where to start, but didn't want to stop."

This was quite a dish. Not for the faint of heart. In fact, don't order it unless you are an expert like me.

A lot has changed since the last time I visited Krug's Tavern, which had to be 10 or 12 years ago. The place has gotten a facelift, surely to the chagrin of some of the regulars.  It's much brighter than it used to be. A back room has now been opened up to a proper dining room, rather than being the room that held boxes and a pool table as it was. The menu now boasts their "World Famous" burgers. Prices have gone up. I'm pretty sure the cheeseburger was $6 or less. Now it's $8.75 or so. And it was a heck of a lot more crowded this time around. All of this, presumably due to positive press they have gotten from that fella from NJ.com, multiple times a year, every year, without fail.

The place is a pirate ship. A veritable sausage-fest. Indeed my female companion was the only woman in the place for the entire time we were there. Krug's was and probably generally is filled with regulars, blue collar types with some white collar types eating burgers and drinking Miller Lite like it's their job (I made that my job on this day). Quite a lively bunch. At top volume: "So the f*ckin guy gives me a check, and I says to 'em, I says, 'I'm gunna call your f*ckin bank to make sure this f*ckin' ding is good!'" 

All of that matters none when you consider that it's a great burger, and you still feel like you're walking back in history, even though it's now so fancy.

It's good to have Chef Anthony Lo Pinto back doing what he does best: cooking fantastic, seasonally-driven food.

This time, you get to watch him while he does it, as he'll be doing it all in front of you, acting as your host, Chef, and educator.

I've been following Chef LoPinto for over a decade now. I first experienced his cooking and hospitality at the now-shuttered Fortunato in Lyndhurst, NJ, where he came out to the bar to meet my friend and me, and, if I recall correctly, took it upon himself to cook for us. No ordering, just sitting back and having the chef prepare a meal, serve it, talk about it, pour carefully paired wines, and making a connection with his guests.  And that's exactly the experience you can have at Anthony Lo Pinto's Chef Table at Marcello's.

We were recently invited by Chef Lo Pinto to what I would call a friends-and-family night at his Chef's table, and were more than thrilled to take him up on the offer. The "official" kick-off, I believe, will be sometime in early September, when the Chef's table will be serving food a few nights a week, with a three course meal Wednesday and Thursday, and a five course meal Friday and Saturday nights, available by reservation.

We were greeted by a huge smile and hug, as you are by every Chef, right? The table, which surrounds the stove, was set with bottles wine and a tasting of four olive oils (from Marcello's Italian foods import business). Excellent bread from a local bakery was served. Game on.

When all of the guests arrived, Lo Pinto kicked off the night with a toast, and then went on explain his philosophies on hospitality, seasonal food, and cooking, and sharing in his excitement for this way of cooking for guests. And the first course was in play...

 I've been going to Rutt's Hut for 30 years. And this week I uttered words that I had never considered uttering, and quite frankly didn't know could be uttered:

"I'll have the basket of fried chicken."

What the what??!?

Let's rewind, to the drive over. The missus, who has been to Rutt's Hut perhaps once in her life, started thinking about what she'd be ordering.

Missus: "What should I order."

Me: "You order a hot dog."

Missus: "What else is on the menu?"

Me: "NOTHING is on the menu. You order a hot dog."

Missus: "Oh, maybe I'll get a chili dog!"

Me: "They DON'T HAVE CHILI DOGS. THIS IS RUTT'S HUT. THE ONLY THING YOU ORDER IS A %@#%&%ING HOT DOG WITH MUSTARD, and MAYBE relish."

This frustrating exchange brought me to the verge of exhaustion. Why doesn't everyone understand the world exactly the way I do? Savages. All of you.

Now we're sitting at Rutt's Hut. At the bar, no less. In the middle of the day, no less. A place I rarely find myself--I'll typically go to the walk-up side of the place and eat my meal in the car. We're looking up at the 70-year-old menu above the bar, snickering about how bad much of it has to be, and the oddly specific pricing ($3.10?). Then the missus spies "fried chicken in a basket."

The missus starts up with "I wonder how--." I immediately go to cut her off. I'm not having any more of this nonsense talk about any non-hot dog food that Rutt's Hut allegedly offers. But then something occurs to me: Rutt's Hut fries stuff up but real good. Who's to say they don't fry up chicken parts just as well?

Ordering the fried chicken would be crazy, I'm thinking. I don't want to waste a meal, skipping my two dogs for some awful chicken. I start searching online for images of Rutt's Hut fried chicken, to get a feel for it. Just to see what it looks like. There's just one. One picture of the fried chicken at Rutt's Hut. On some horseshit site called "food spotting"-- a site that doesn't believe in words, and appeals, I suppose, to people who are attracted to shiny things and don't want to think, although I guess it came in handy at that moment. Has more than one person ever ordered this? Hard to say.

We throw caution to the wind and utter those crazy words.  "I'll have the basket of fried chicken."

A short ten years ago, the only thought of Neapolitan-style pizza in NJ was the memory of Una Pizza Napoletana in Point Pleasant Beach, owned and operated by the incredible pizzaiola Anthony Mangieri, which had a run of a few years, and probably caused much confusion for the locals and bennies--"What, no slices? I have to order a whole pie? Why is it so small? Why is it moist? It's burned." It closed, and Mangieri moved his place to NYC to great acclaim. Then he moved to San Francisco, for more great acclaim.

But now, in our current world of open-mindedness and tolerance to ideas that differ from our own and our ability to have our worldviews and deeply rooted biases challenged, Neapolitan-style pizza can be all over our state, and even in some other states, if you can believe that. Many of these places do a very good job. Few combine excellent Neapolitan-style pizza with a full bar. And even fewer have a full bar and actually care about the booze they're offering. Wood Stack Pizza, in Pine Brook, is, indeed, exceptional in this regard, and others.

Here's a tip: if they offer you bread, take it. They're baking their own bread here, as good pizzaiolo do, and it's excellent stuff. Served with softened butter sprinkled with coarse sea salt (they do things right here, I'm tellin' ya that much).

Their liquor shelves are well-stocked, and even have some stuff that I've never come across. The cocktail list is expansive, and there's a separate section for margarita-type drinks (tequila, and mezcal), presumably because they knew I'd be coming.  The gin, rum, whiskey, and tequila cocktails far outnumber the vodka drinks, thankfully. Good management is in place, it's clear, because the bartenders are jiggering their cocktails. Cocktails are all about proportions, and unless you're a very exceptional bartender, not jiggering can lead to unbalanced drinks. I prefer to see jigger use at a bar. It's a sign of professionalism and an attention to detail. Even I, I, use jiggers when making cocktails at home. Of course, I can free-pour pretty well, but why bother.

The tap beers are all local, and seem to rotate pretty regularly. All from NJ as far as I can remember. All sorts of great beer is being produced in NJ, and you should start drinking it and supporting your local brewers. Otherwise those kids who make the beer are going to have to do the other things they'd be doing, like making awful music. Please drink their beer so I don't have to hear their awful music. 

Wood Stack does have some mass-produced swill in bottles, for the savages among us.

First things first: they have to rope off that entrance that faces the parking lot, since everyone thinks it's a way in, and every guest walks up to the door before realizing it's locked, including me.

Second things second: that burger is horrible. Something must be done about it.

Other than that, we had a very enjoyable meal at Barrow House.

The place seems to have an excellent staff (not much unlike its sister restaurant, Cowan's Public in Nutley). It's a stunning looking restaurant, with attention to detail at every turn (including a photo booth, in which you can have your silly photos taken and sent immediately to you via email). The place looks like it came out of the Farmhouses-R-Us catalog. The restaurant has several different rooms, each with a slight variation on the theme. Fireplaces in about every room.  And a lounge room with couches and big chairs. Certainly a bit kitschy, but executed well. 

It had been a bit over a year since my first and only visit to Jockey Hollow. That visit yielded some mixed results, but overall I walked away very positive about the place. Why it took so long to return is beyond me. Indeed, two recent meals suggested to me that Jockey Hollow is one of the best and well-run restaurants in New Jersey.

Our first recent visit included one of the best burgers I've had in quite a long time. Everything about it was outstanding. The bun was a perfect size and texture, the meat had a course grind, and was super-beefy, the garnishes were creamy and acidic and sweet and smokey and salty (the bacon), and the damned thing just worked. Really well.

A pristine piece of Branzino was served with pickled vegetables and a cauliflower velouté with some roasted cauliflower. A simple preparation on the face of it, but one which brought some creamy notes and some acidic notes to the table. Along with lots of textures. A real pleasure this dish.

Fast forward two weeks or so, and we're watching Youtube videos on Italy, one of which has a chef making a very simple pasta dish with guanciale. I think to myself "why can't we have a restaurant in New Jersey that uses guanciale." All I wanted was pasta with guanciale. I got myself into a lather, filled with disappointment. The missus out-of-the-blue says "Do you want to go back to Jockey Hollow?" I figured that would be a good move, and I pull up the menu. BOOM. Guanciale, in a pasta dish. Off we went.

But first, a cocktail.