Kevin K.
Yelp
When it came to being me, one of the things you learn to do is to dish out pain with subtlety and garnished with kindness. Think of it as like an ice pick to the back covered in lidocaine, and applied slowly in the form of a manly pat in the back. Take for instance the double edged sword of the pastry bakery at Marani.
Some people might ask - what bakery? It's downstairs - Marani is in a Bukharian Jewish area (formerly Ashkenazi), and as such, they follow glatt kosher laws - they close on Friday nights and Saturdays, consume no pork and separate meat and dairy food items, serving meat dishes upstairs and dairy dishes downstairs using separate kitchens and dining equipment. The top level is all about the Khinkalis (Georgian style dumplings) and garlicky walnut sauced chicken, while downstairs it's all about the katchapuri. So what exactly is a katchapuri? Well, you roll out a buttery doughy bit of bread, you shave out some Georgian Salguni cheese, you add enough cheese to make Bob Saget cringe, and then you add more. If you do the adjaruli version, you crack a raw egg on top. You then toss the entire thing into a NASA-hot convection oven so it cooks quickly. When you get the adjaruli you take a fork to the egg and mix it into the cheese so it turns into a thick custard-like bit of culinary insanity. There's another version where it is cheese cheese and more cheese to the point where you cannot fathom the possibility of more cheese without questioning quantum probabilities, but no egg (because that might upset your cardiologist just a tad). Wash it down with some Zhandukreli pear soda for that cool effervescence.
So where is that theoretical ice-pick to the brainstem? Oh, picture this. Serve it to a mid-age Asian couple (with kids) and watch them ohhh-and-ahhh over its creamy pastoral deliciousness (oh that salty creamy pastoral cheese, that fresh-out-of-oven crisp, that pizza-like texture but without the heartburn eliciting tomato sauce, a white slice but with much more cheese than you can imagine, except it's dairy with subtlety). Now wasn't that good? Of course it was, it was irresistible. Now what should we do about dessert? Why, the Q23 bus to Corona for some delicious lemon ice from Benfarimos, so cold and refreshing on a summer's day. What's next? A beautiful stroll through Flushing Meadow park (3 short blocks away) for the Unisphere or the famous flying saucers observation tower and maybe some aquas frescas from the local chuzo vendors.
By this time the lemon ice, the Georgian soda and the salguni cheese would have had some time to mingle and get to know each other. If there is a constant in life, it's death, taxes and the inability of middle age Asians to tolerate large amounts of lactose. By this time you should be near Arthur Ashe stadium, an area that is devoid of public restrooms except for the comfort station near the Willets Point subway entrance.
Say, do you know who is the fastest human on planet earth? Some say it is Usain Bolt. You might be half-right. In my opinion, it's an Asian couple with the fear of containment failure bee-lining for the restrooms when the katchapuris come knocking for a way back out through the old Hershey Highway, followed by their kids wondering why mommy and daddy are hightailing towards the comfort station. If you time it right, they will be temporarily closed for cleaning, or most stalls will have no toilet paper. Try to contain the cackles while they ride the thunder bucket into oblivion and beyond. For that additional twist of the knife, offer their kids toilet paper to bring into the stall for mommy and daddy. They should breathe in that sense of regret. That uncle Kevin is a real son-of-a-bitch.
So yes - I love Marani. Their katchapuris are truly delicious and comes highly recommended. Just don't go there too much lest you are planning to date a cardiologist. If you are East Asian like me, pop a Lactaid first. Don't say I didn't warn you.