Other locations:
4141 Broadway (@ 175th St.)
5592 Broadway (@ 231st St., the Bronx)

Average entrée: $12

Once you discover El Malecón, it’s hard to stay away. The flavors are big, the portions large and prices more than reasonable.

The lively atmosphere at this Dominican spot may have something to do with what seems to be an unparalleled server-to-diner ratio. At any given time, eight workers might be crammed behind the counter that runs the length of the restaurant -- carving rotisserie chickens, mixing fruit shakes, serving heaping portions of the day’s specials, or taking and filling to-go orders. Despite the seeming glut of staff, the service at El Malecón is inattentive, if friendly. The tables are all draped in royal blue covers that sit under clear plastic tablecloths. Tacky but practical.

El Malecón’s menu is huge (the restaurant is open for breakfast, lunch and dinner) and includes 125 meat, poultry, seafood and pasta dishes, sandwiches and salads. And they don’t call El Malecón “El Rey del Pollo,” or “king of the roasted chicken,” for nothing. The restaurant, which seats about 50, specializes in Dominican-style (Malecón) roasters. Dozens of the birds spin in the front window rotisserie, tantalizing passersby with their rich brown color and diners with their herby, peppery scent.

But tasting these birds is far more rewarding than seeing or smelling them. When fully roasted, the aromatic spice rub, which includes plenty of garlic, pepper and other ingredients the restaurant won’t divulge, forms a crisp coating atop the dark, mahogany-colored skin. Tender and juicy ($9 for a whole bird, $6 for a half), the chicken is best eaten with black or red beans, yellow rice and fried green plantains. The mellow starchiness of the beans and rice and the slight sweetness of the amber chunks of plantain offset the bird’s saltiness and concentrated spices.

Mofongo, a classic Latin dish, is served in a mammoth molded mound at El Malecón. The green plantains are fried and then mashed with garlic, and come with shredded chicken breast, fried pork or shrimp. The pile of comfort food is so dense and starchy that it requires copious amounts of the accompanying sauce, which consists of juices from the roast chickens, tomato, garlic and onion. The dish can be ordered on its own, but better to share it with two or three people as a side offering.

Vegetables are second-class citizens in Dominican cuisine and rarely make an appearance on their own. There’s a reason for that: A side of vegetables that one night included steamed broccoli, cauliflower and carrots was so bereft of flavor, I wished they could have stolen some from all those delicious chickens. Cassava and carrot play a supporting but important role in salcocho, a starchy and warming Caribbean stew that includes oxtails, potato and plantain.

It would take several months to try everything on El Malecón’s menu, but the mango shake should be a priority. The thick, pale yellow drink is made from fresh mango, milk, and a touch of vanilla and sugar. The result is a not-too-sweet, slightly tart concoction that is delicious on its own or as a foil to the restaurant’s intensely flavored and sometimes salty fare.

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Average entrée price: $16

Best bets: Age tofu, spider roll, sushi, almost any appetizer

For the last seven years, I have eaten at Shima more than any other Japanese restaurant, without exactly realizing it. Whenever a dining companion suggests eating south of 23rd St. and north of Houston on the East Side, I often suggest Shima. If I’m downtown and don’t know where to go, I usually end up at Shima. Considering the dearth of very good Japanese restaurants in the East Village, it’s striking that about every third Japanese meal I have in New York is at Shima.

I have grown to love Shima for several reasons, most of all for the consistently tasty and simple food that emerges from the kitchen. Never fancy, the dishes are always fresh and meet expectations. The regular menu is full of traditional comforts – sukiyaki, lighter-than-usual tempura, flavorful soups with udon or soba noodles. If salmon is your thing, the sake oyako don (literally, “salmon mother and child”) is a simple, rich and savory dish of salmon sashimi and salmon roe over a bed of subtly vinegary and sweet sushi rice. The creamy-pink slices of fish are always clean-tasting and silky.

While I enjoy Shima’s entrees, I prefer to order several appetizers for the table so I can savor as many tastes as possible. The daily specials usually include at least a half dozen starters, both traditional and experimental.

Shima also has one of the best seaweed salads I’ve tasted. Two of the three kinds of seaweed come lightly dressed with sesame oil, sesame seeds and a little rice vinegar. The third is undressed with a gingery, not-too-sweet dressing on the side. The dish can easily be split or serve as a substantial starter for one diner.

Deep fried age tofu (pronounced “ah-geh-DO-fu”) is a staple appetizer at many Japanese restaurants; however it often disappoints outside of Japan. The outer shell’s intended lightness tends to get lost in translation, rendering a delectable fried tofu dish greasy and rubbery. Shima uses lovely smooth and firm tofu in a very light tempura webbing through which the white squares are allowed to peek. The whole delicious business rests in a rich and uncluttered soy-based broth. If you like tofu (and even if you think you don’t), Shima’s version is heaven in a bowl.

The crunchy spicy tuna tartare is presented as a small mound of freshly minced and spiced tuna with bits of fried tempura batter (panko) folded in to yield the crunch. Topped with a little soy sauce, the result is a simple yet textured mouthful of tuna that is impossible to eat slowly.

All of the sushi at Shima is above average, fresh and the right size. It is still trendy at some restaurants to carve pieces of sushi that resemble small steaks. Shima adheres to the Japanese custom of using pieces of fish that can be devoured in a single bite, eliminating awkward bites and ugly blobs of half-eaten rice and fish resting on one’s plate.

The servers at Shima are solicitous and helpful. When I inquire about the seasonal uni (sea urchin), I always get a straightforward “good” or “not so good.” The primarily Japanese staff smartly realizes that if a customer knows enough to ask how the uni is, he knows enough to know when it’s bad.

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Average entree cost: $14.00

Like a runway model at a Prada sample sale, gentrification is about to pounce on Spanish Harlem. Up-market apartments and galleries are slowly moving north of 96th Street on the East Side, and new restaurants are moving beyond the taqueria and lunch counter. At 101st and Lexington, Itzocan Bistro has quickly made a name for itself with its unusual French-Mexican fusion fare and looks to be a long-term resident in this transforming neighborhood.

"...A small warm place with great food, friendly ambiance, good service with affordable prices." These words appear on the back of Itzocan’s takeout menu. While one generally does not rely on menu copy to determine a restaurant’s worth, Itzocan indeed lives up to its own marketed image.

The menu here is as stimulating as the food. Who wouldn’t want to order ancho-chile crusted duck breast with arepas, steamed vegetables and rioja sauce, or the pumpkin and shrimp soup with chipotle crema fresca?

While somewhat oversized, appetizers are a treat at Itzocan, The duck confit and mushroom quesadilla seemed too over-the-top and unusual to pass up. My dining companion and I shared the two large and flaky flour tortillas stuffed with rich shredded duck and melted slices of mild Brie. The smoky duck mingled with the warm cheese to create a delightfully decadent entrance to the meal. There is nothing particularly sophisticated about the arrangement, but the result is undeniably delicious.

Steamed mussels with tequila, lime juice, serrano pepper and tomatoes are the perfect foil to the rich quesadilla. The mussel broth’s crisp and spicy tang manages to delight without detracting from the delicate flavor of the shellfish.

I like Itzocan’s attentive service and I never felt forgotten. But on the night I ate there, the waiter brought out the entrees mere seconds after the empty appetizer plates had been whisked away, making me feel as though it was all happening a bit too fast. My worries scattered when I tasted the pumpkin-seed-crusted red snapper with roasted zucchini and chipotle saffron sauce.

Occasionally, restaurants create truly memorable dishes, and Itzocan’s red snapper is one of them. Forget the word “crusted” for a moment because you’re probably imagining a dreadfully dry chicken breast smothered in crushed pistachios. The snapper was sprinkled with smoky, crispy pumpkin seeds that flavored the fish without overwhelming it. The two flavors, while distinct, worked together to mouth-pleasing effect.

Despite my fullness, I could not say no to the Ibarra chocolate pear tart with goat’s milk caramel sauce. Barely sweetened, this thin tart was the perfect expression of the French-Mexican aspirations of Itzocan – a traditional French dessert, woven with the complex cinnamon-chocolate flavors of Mexico.

There is always a doubt that such a bright and earnest spot will lose its folksiness and/or double its prices once it is established. Let’s hope that the friendly faces and extremely reasonable prices stay fixed at Itzocan.

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Best bets: Steamed tiny buns, sticky rice in bamboo leaf, soups, anything with tofu

Keep in mind: No brown rice

Average entree cost: $7.00

In the middle of one of Chinatown's busiest blocks, Shanghai Café stands humbly, consistently serving up tasty and affordable fare. Fresh ingredients, a peppy atmosphere, and friendly if slightly brusque service make this casual up-to-date establishment a Mott Street standout.

Formerly Shanghai Gourmet, Shanghai Café caters to its own: Chinese patrons are always in the majority, and the large round table in the back is usually occupied by a boisterous group with superior ordering skills.

If you've eaten here before, it's almost impossible to sit in one of Shanghai's blond-wood booths and not order the first item on the menu, the steamed tiny buns. Filled with crabmeat and pork, or just pork (I recommend the former), these dangerously hot, broth-filled dumplings require concentration so as not to burn one's tongue, and to commit the senses to what is truly heaven in a dumpling skin.

Many a food critic has pontificated on the proper way to consume these little darlings. The key to a successful steamed bun experience is to spill as little of the rich and incredibly flavorful broth as possible. Place a dumpling (and cabbage leaf if you are so inclined) on a soupspoon, and pierce it with a chopstick. Puncturing serves two purposes: It allows the scalding broth to cool down, and it makes eating the bun less messy and awkward. Place a small amount of the vinegary, ginger-infused sauce that accompanies the buns on top of the whole concoction. When the bun is cool enough to eat (this might take longer than you think), slurp and eat away! Whether you're wont to nibble delicately at the bun or throw it back in one hot shot, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a warmer and more satisfying combination.

Shanghai's menu has much else to offer, and for $2.50 the sticky rice in bamboo leaf is one of the cheapest and tastiest treats I've eaten. Seasoned with soy sauce and a bit of sugar, the superbly glutinous short-grained rice is studded with succulent bits of slow-cooked pork that seem to disintegrate upon contact with the tongue. One of these savory triangular packages is the perfect accompaniment to a fresh, comforting soup like vegetable with bean curd.

Luxuriously silken tofu makes its way into a number of dishes and should not be missed. Utterly rich yet feather-light, Shanghai's tofu -- delivered fresh every morning -- is a close cousin to the homemade kind that Chinatown street vendors sell. It is a demanding task to eat the slippery white squares with the clunky plastic chopsticks the restaurant provides. You may even find yourself asking for, yes, a fork.

On a recent Sunday, I ordered the tofu and crab. Anticipating that the soft, vegetable-less dish would need a little bite, I asked for the dish with water spinach, a long green chute topped with a spinach-like leaf. A Chinese acquaintance introduced me to the lovely green, which I've only seen in Chinatown and rarely on a menu, including Shanghai Café's. Its crunchy texture and bright but subtle flavor improve almost any saucy dish. When the steaming dish arrived, the tofu and crab had a smooth, delicate flavor, but it came with a surplus of gelatinous sauce that detracted from the main event. As I had suspected, the crispy water spinach balanced the texture perfectly.

Shanghai Café's reliable, above-average food is likely to lure you back again and again. Even the most seasoned diners will find the siren song of steamed tiny buns impossible to ignore.

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