Robert Sietsema at El Mio Cid; Tejal Rao at Arthur on Smith


Robert Sietsema heads out to the Outer Borough and weighs in on El Mio Cid, a Spanish tapas bar with portions that are way larger than fashionable: “Three to an order, the sardines ($7.50) are some of the biggest fatties you’ve seen lately, sautéed head-on and sprinkled with fresh parsley.”

Tejal Rao was also in Brooklyn this week with a review of Arthur on Smith. She’s a fan of the sardines, duck breast, and duck-fat popcorn — but others on the menu did not pass the test: “A nest of semolina tagliatelle hides tight curls of overcooked Gulf shrimp ($18) and recently came to the table cold, the scanty cream sauce stiffening on its too-fat noodles.”

Adam Platt finally files in on Mission Chinese Food and Pok Pok NY. Pok Pok Ny gets off with three stars but Mission Chinese is not so fortunate. One star for the San Francisco transplant. With a handful of exceptions, “the one-note, meat-centric focus on Sichuan cuisine” sent him “into a peppery, protein-induced death spiral from which there was little relief or escape.”

Pete Wells was also at Mission Chinese: “Mr. Bowien does to Chinese food what Led Zeppelin did to the blues. His cooking both pays respectful homage to its inspiration and takes wild, flagrant liberties with it. He grabs hold of tradition and runs at it with abandon, hitting the accents hard, going heavy on the funk and causing all kinds of delicious havoc.”

Ryan Sutton checked out Reynards, complains about the $20 cab, and doesn’t seem impressed: “It’s fine, it’s forgettable.”

Stan Sagner for the New York Daily News urges people to check out Hahm Ji Bach in Flushing: “There are no losers, but the Dol Samgyusal, thick planks of pork belly sprinkled with coarse sea salt and then seared until they have taken a caramel crust, is the signature dish for a reason.”

The New Yorker wrote about West Village Italian-American restaurant Perla: “Take a bite of the tramezzini of foie gras, cherry jam, and pistachio butter on finger-size slices of crustless white bread and it’s clear: Stulman has another hit on his hands.