Lost City Walking Tours?

Dear Readers: It's been a while since I did one of my impromptu walking tours of Carroll Gardens, Cobble Hill and the Columbia Street area. I was thinking this weekend, Aug. 11 and/or Aug. 12, might be a good time for an informative job around the neighborhood.

Please write in to lostcitybrooks@gmail.com if you are interested. Say which date works for you and which neighborhood interests you. If we can get a good group together, we'll take a walk.

The Wacky Wondrousness of Roll-N-Roaster

I recently profiled Sheepshead Bay's Roll-N-Roaster in my "Who Goes There?" column for Eater. For those who have never been there, I wanted to share these photos to get across an idea of singular personality of the place. The above diner waitress is featured often on restaurant materials. Her figure is hourglass and her outfit skimpy in every depiction. Note: none of the real Roll-N-Roaster workers dress like this.

The pineapple flag is a timeworn symbol of welcome.

"Simply delicious" is Roll-N-Roaster's slogan. The wheel below can be spun by people celebrating their birthday. $25 is the most you can win.

Look at all the things you can get "cheez" on. And all the things you can get in a cup.

A.I. Namm's Mysterious Friend

Most of the mercantile buildings that used to make up the fine reality that was once downtown Brooklyn's Fulton Street have long been obscured and blighting by the ugly signage that marks modern-day Fulton Street. But the handsome edifice that housed A. I. Namm & Son is still openly visible. It's even in pretty good shape, its rounded, many-windowed corner of Indiana limestone and bronze trim on display for anyone who cares to look up from the sidewalk. 

Adolph I. Namm (you can still see where his name once announced itself) was born in 1856 in Posen, Prussia (now Poznan, Poland). He immigrated to New York City around 1870. He transferred his Manhattan upholstery and embroidery trimmings business to Brooklyn in 1885. Namm opened a new store in 1891 at 452 Fulton. It soon expanded into a full department store which took up the whole block. Benjamin Harrison Namm, Adolph's son, followed his pop in running the firm. By the 1920s, Namm’s was one of the largest American stores. The building above—all that remains—is the last part of the store that was built. It was built in 1924-25 and 1928-29 by architects Robert D. Kohn and Charles Butler. (Ironically, Kohn also designed additions to the 34th Street store of Namm's rival, W.H. Macy's.)

In March 1952, A.I. Namm & Son acquired the name of Frederick Loeser & Co., one of Brooklyn’s oldest department stores. After that, it became Namm-Loeser in name. In February 1957, the company announced it would close its flagship store on Fulton, saying it could not compete with larger stores on the strip, and would only operate its suburban locations. Later that year, however, Namm-Loeser’s sold its Bay Shore store to Gimbel's, and merged with Hughes & Hatcher, a men’s clothing store in Detroit and Pittsburgh. Abraham & Straus acquired the Fulton Street Namm building and demolished most of it to erect a large parking garage. 

Which is all fine and good. Except that I noticed another name on the facade besides Namm's—smaller and barely visible above the Modell's sign, but carved in a lovely script: T. H. Von Deiten. Who dat? I can't find out a thing about the German-American personage.

Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Roll-N-Roaster?"

Sheepshead Bay has gotten some decent coverage in this column. Randazzo's Clam Bar, Brennan & Carr, and now B&C's longtime rival in roast beef, Roll-N-Roaster. I prefer Brennan, food- and atmosphere-wise. But, my, R-N-R is a lot of fun. If I lived nearby, I'd bring my son all the time. There's an air of both partytime and family reunion to the place.

Here's my Who Goes There? column:

Who Goes There? Roll-N-Roaster 

"Get some cheese!" bellowed the young man in the booth at his friend, who was headed for the counter at Roll-N-Roaster. "For the fries!"

Roast beef is the raison d'être of this curious Sheepshead Bay fast-food institution, which has only one location and a lot of un-fast-foody characteristics. But gooey, drippy cheese — or "cheez," as it is always spelled here, even in the neon signs — plays an important role as well. "You can have cheez on anything you pleez," declares a sign. Cheez on a sandwich is fifty cents. Cheez on "pickle chips"—the odd potato disks that are Roll n Roaster's version of french fries—costs 35 cents. "Cheez in a cup" will set you back a dollar.

The woman standing next to me knows about the cheez. She always orders the Cheezburger. "It's worth the wait," she said. And wait she did. At Roll-N-Roaster, they don't start making the burger until you order it, so it can take eight minutes to come out. The roast beef sandwich — the joint's most popular item — arrives with more speed. It's drier and not as flavorful as the one at Sheepshead Bay's other temple of roast beef, Brennan & Carr, but at $5 it's a bargain. The concept of "fresh" is very big here. The orange juice is "freshly squeezed," the iced tea is "freshly brewed," the cole slaw is "freshly made," the apple pie is "freshly baked."

Like some other New York food landmarks—like Katz's Deli and Marchi's—Roll-N-Roaster has its own quirky way of doing business. You approach a cashier, place your order and receive a ticket. You then back up and wait until it's ready, picking up the food at a different station. Everyone knows the drill. My cashier was a bored Russian teenager who knew nothing about the place where she works, and looked as excited as any McDonald's drone. But this ain't McDonald's. Every kid who goes to the golden arches doesn't get a balloon. And McDonald's doesn't have a birthday wheel where you can "spin and win" anywhere between $5 and $25. You also can't order Moët Champagne for $59.99, as you can at Roll-N-Roaster — though who drinks Champagne with roast beef and corn fritters, I do not know.

Though I was told that people come from all over the city to eat here, the crowd looked pretty local to me. Regular Brooklyn folks. Many older people, but also teenage high schoolers on dates. One big-bellied father started rhapsodizing about the first time he visited the restaurant. His family, familiar with the old story, wasn't listening. At a booth, a friend stood and chatted with a seated diner as casually as if they were standing on their back deck. "How's Carl?" asked one. "He's retired. After 28 years," was the reply. "What as?" "A captain, and that's good money. I know." Cops like this place. Kids like it to. They run around and play games. No one stops them, because there's more than enough room. Following two additions over the year, Roll n Roaster is cavernous.

After I finished my roast beef and pickle chips, I lingered. The place is made for lingering. Finally, I grew hungry again. Curious about the cheezburger the woman has praised, I ordered one. It took a long time. But it was pretty good. Next time, maybe, the Champagne. With cheez. 

—Brooks of Sheffield

Lüchow’s Lives on in North Carolina

Over the years I've written fairly extensively about Lüchow’s, the German-American eating and drinking emporium on 14th Street that was one of the most famous and storied and beloved restaurants New York ever produced. (It closed in the 1980s after a century of business; the building was torn down in the 1990s; there's a P.C. Richard's there now.) At one point, I was in touch with a gentleman who had salvaged much of the interior, and had hoped to retrieve a tiny section of Lüchow’s from him. That never happened, but a husband and wife team of restaurateurs in Raleigh, NC, were more successful.

Shannon Wolf and her husband Jake are the owners of Capital Club 16 in Raleigh. For 13 years, they lived in the East Village. She was a freelance TV producer; he was the chef at Zum Schneider. After they signed a lease on a space in Raleigh, they began looking for pieces that would make the interior special. They found the salvage man of whom I spoke, who had a lot of Lüchow’s lumber and furniture in his basement. They built their bar and backbar out of salvaged Lüchow’s wood. You can see it in the picture above.

Wolf says that a good number of their customers have been to Lüchow’s and tell them stories about it. Capital Club also looks to Lucho Lüchow’s for inspiration for our seasonal festivities and overall energy, from our family style Sunday Suppers to Game Week in November to their 14-foot Christmas tree. (Luchow's famously had a 25-foot tree.)

Arthur Miller Ate at Cafiero's, and Other Facts

One day I will write a book about Cafiero's, the Red Hook Italian restaurant that was a legend in its day, but is all but forgotten today. I have been slowly piecing together the history of this mysterious President Street eatery, which was a favorite of mobsters and judges, and today lives on only in the memories of the people who ate there before owner Sharkey Cafiero closed the place in the 1970s, refusing to sell the place to anyone else.

Over the years, I have heard from a few folks who told me they were relations of Shakey and Kate Cafiero, or regulars of the restaurant. To recap the history, Sharkey, who was born in Naples, owned the place. Wife Kate and Sharkey's sister Mamie (Marie) were waitresses. Sharkey's brother Frank was the cook, and apparently quite adept at flinging balls of dough at local kids with great accuracy. Everybody lived above the restaurant. The bill of fare would be based on what Frank could find at the markets that day. There were a few tables up front, but the real dining room for the locals was in back, back the open kitchen. The waiters were named John and Red.

So, recently I heard from Linda, who told me she is the granddaughter of Mamie. She wrote in to clarify a few points of Cafiero's history and also add some additional information. Sharkey's real name was Gaetano. He changed it to Anthony in the 1940s, though everyone called him Sharkey anyway. Linda believes there was indeed a menu, but it may have been added in the 1960s or 1970s. Sharkey closed the restaurant in 1975.



Of the food, she remembers the potato croquettes the best and said "I have yet to eat one as good, although I've had a few in Barcelona that came close. And there was something called a beef brasholatine [she's not sure on the spelling] they were famous for that my grandfather once showed me how to prepare. It really is a shame that we have none of the other recipes but I can give away one secret: they used lard to fry foods, not vegetable oil. Lard makes for a very tasty veal cutlet Milanese. I have such fond memories of Monday nights at Cafiero's. This was when they closed the restaurant. And my parents and cousins came for dinner in the restaurant."

The most important piece of information Linda sent along, however, concerns Cafiero's most famous visitors. Once of the earliest stories I ever heard about the place was that Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio has once eaten there. "It was Arthur Miller who accompanied Marilyn Monroe to Cafiero's," wrote Linda. This actually makes sense, because Arthur Miller spent a lot of time in Red Hook as a young man, and based his play "A View From the Bridge" on the dock workers in the area. He would certainly have know about Cafiero's.

"My Uncle Sharkey didn't know who she was—hard to believe that was possible—and called her 'girlie' as in, 'Please have a seat here, Girlie.' My family has been telling this ridiculously funny story for years."

Barrymore's, As It Was

One of the first closures I wrote about on this blog, back in 2006, was of Barrymore's, the Theatre District eatery. It was one of four longstanding, affordable bars on W. 45th Street and W. 46th Street that were needlessly and heartlessly torn down to make way for a luxury hotel plan that never happened. (Frankie & Johnnie's Steakhouse was the only survivor of that massacre.)

A reader recently sent me these photos of the lost theatre hangout. They're from 2000. Only 12 years ago, but seems like an age away.

Someone using a pay phone! I guess 2000 was a long time ago. Has Barrymore's survived, that wouldn't have been yanked out by now.