In the barbecue universe, it just doesn’t get any bigger than this weekend.
Or in the case of a certain West Village smokehouse, any Malaysian...y...er.
Presenting Fatty ’Cue, the newest extension of Zak Pelaccio’s fall-off-the-bone Brooklyn BBQ empire, and a Thai-tinged alternative to your holiday weekend dinner plans, now open.
Let’s get one thing straight. Combining all-American BBQ food, East Asian spices and old-fashioned Italian cooking isn’t treasonous. It’s delicious.
So tell Uncle Eddie he’s off grill duty this weekend (his hot smokes are overrated anyway) and queue up a few cohorts outside the wood-slotted entrance with the brass pig hoof for a doorknob.
At first glance, you’d probably peg this place as a Texas roadhouse (exposed brick bar, warm natural woods, chairs made from recycled Coke bottles). But the aromas emanating from the open kitchen (yuzu, blood orange, blistered shiso peppers) tell a different story.
Despite the disorientation that comes from being outside your smoke-and-slather comfort zone, it’s important you stay sharp, keep your wits and secure one of the dining room’s few tufted dark green leather booths. This is necessary for two reasons. 1) Unobstructed viewing of all coriander-cured bacon deep-frying and goat-related braising. 2) Direct access to your own tableside liquor cabinet for what the Fatty folks call Thai-style bottle service.
And what you’ll call the evolution of hotel minibars.
Or in the case of a certain West Village smokehouse, any Malaysian...y...er.
Presenting Fatty ’Cue, the newest extension of Zak Pelaccio’s fall-off-the-bone Brooklyn BBQ empire, and a Thai-tinged alternative to your holiday weekend dinner plans, now open.
Let’s get one thing straight. Combining all-American BBQ food, East Asian spices and old-fashioned Italian cooking isn’t treasonous. It’s delicious.
So tell Uncle Eddie he’s off grill duty this weekend (his hot smokes are overrated anyway) and queue up a few cohorts outside the wood-slotted entrance with the brass pig hoof for a doorknob.
At first glance, you’d probably peg this place as a Texas roadhouse (exposed brick bar, warm natural woods, chairs made from recycled Coke bottles). But the aromas emanating from the open kitchen (yuzu, blood orange, blistered shiso peppers) tell a different story.
Despite the disorientation that comes from being outside your smoke-and-slather comfort zone, it’s important you stay sharp, keep your wits and secure one of the dining room’s few tufted dark green leather booths. This is necessary for two reasons. 1) Unobstructed viewing of all coriander-cured bacon deep-frying and goat-related braising. 2) Direct access to your own tableside liquor cabinet for what the Fatty folks call Thai-style bottle service.
And what you’ll call the evolution of hotel minibars.
