We’re riding the B and V from Coney Island all the way to Forest Hills, jumping off frequently to rave about our favorite restaurants and food stores near the subway.
This Week: Hash at Keens Steakhouse
Herald Square, with its discount stores and the horrific Manhattan Mall, is merely an obstacle between you and MSG. But snake your way through the grim and random maze of cut-rate merchandise and defeated-looking office workers, and you’ll find yourself at Keens Steakhouse, one of the city’s last bastions of hash.
Yes, hash. Though better known for its misleadingly named “mutton chop” (actually lamb) the pride of Keens is its prime-rib hash, a crusty cake of roast-beef ends served at the bar, frequently with a fried egg on top, and the perfect nutritional supplement to an evening’s drinking. The hash is every bit as good as it was in the Harding administration: heavy and rich and bland and salty, a relic of the days when the British still had a culinary foothold here. Have a cold stout with it, and then head back into the despair of modernity, reassured that even here there’s an oasis from time and progress.