Ditch Plains Says “Sorry” with Fried Pickles
 

Ditch Plains sloppy dogs with fries. Photo: Steven Richter

        Eeeks. Squeal. My friend across from me has a small black worm crawling on her menu. The woman next to her rears back in shock. The Road Food Warrior checks it out. “Don’t be too loud or everyone will want one,” he says. We thrust the odd creature – neither cockroach nor fuzzy caterpillar – toward our server chatting with the cashier at Ditch Plains. Then a second critter crawls out. A giant mutant ant.

         “Keep it for the Natural History Museum people across the street,” I suggest. “They’ll tell you what it is.”

Chicken chili, not to be confused with chicken chili nachos. Photo: Steven Richter

         Monday night was quiet. Seven restaurants we called were closed. The place we went to was limping along and definitely not living up to mostly ecstatic yelps. I suggested we skip entrees, cross the street and each order one dish at Ditch Plains.

         “I’ll take Marc Murphy’s award winning burger from the South Beach Festival burger bash,” I say.

         The waitress gives me a grin to recognize my smartness and a snappy “We don’t serve it.”

         So I am already annoyed by that. The grey gloom of the cheerlessly lit room doesn’t help. I remember a certain tropical echt when Rain reigned here, clever collage and stripes of bright poster color at the ill-fated BarBao in this space (100 West 82nd Street).

         The house sends out marvelous fried pickles with tarter sauce and spicy meatballs with a melt of fontina and grilled bread – delicious little orbs, stale bread – to say sorry for the worm and the ant.

         Some people might have fled after the insect parade, but we are still hungry. And quite frankly, the food is pretty good and gently priced. I can barely finish my entrée size Caesar. Steven is content between the Mets on the screen over the bar three steps away and a pause to put away a rockin’ sloppy dog and a half with fries – almost good fries. Our companion who thought she was ordering fish tacos seems pleased with pan seared salmon – rare as requested (I taste and agree). Only the bowl of chicken chili surrounded by a wreath of tortilla chips seems off for the holiday – a little forced with some bits of chicken piled on top, capped with melted cheddar and a splotch of sour cream.  For $2 less, we could have ordered the chicken chili nachos which boasted guacamole. 

         It’s walking distance from our digs. We’ll probably be back even though I don’t go anywhere that doesn’t take reservations. Time enough to do something about the gloom, Mr. Murphy, and give me a good reason why you are too stuck-up to serve your prize winning burger.

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