On August 20, 2001 my brother Josh moved in with his special lady friend Tracy in Boreum Hill Brooklyn. Soon thereafter, I began driving a yellow cab. Two of the first three garages at which I worked were located in Brooklyn, so it quickly became something of a tradition for me to stop by their apartment on Mondays (Josh’s day off) to relax and eat before my night shift began.

And what a neighborhood in which to eat. Less than a block off Smith Street, the world was our oyster when it came to ordering. I’d always spend the first chunk of my Monday shift gleefully stuffed with pannini from Pannino’teca, a rueben from Salonike, or a burger from Bar Tabac.

It was a perfect setup for me. Relax and eat, eat and relax, and then go out and face the city being of sound mind and full belly. But then some ominous developments began to occur. Josh and Tracy got engaged. Josh and Tracy got married. Josh and Tracy began talking about moving to the suburbs. Josh and Tracy had a baby — Milo. Josh and Tracy bought a station wagon.

I tried my hardest to convince them that Milo would grow up to be much cooler if he grew up in Brooklyn rather than the ‘burbs as we had. But Josh countered with some nonsense about sending Milo to a good public school and giving him a backyard to play in. As well as Josh and Tracy are doing, you’ve pretty much got to be a millionaire to buy a place with a backyard in that part of Brooklyn and send your kids to private school.

Before I knew it, they’d bought a house in Westchester, and they were packing their things. I’d grown quite attached to their neighborhood in the five years they lived there together. But I guess I could understand them wanting to give Milo a backyard and a good school. Plus, I fully admit that it’s nice to be a little further away from the Gowanus Projects than a quarter block.

It was with a heavy heart that I drove over to Josh and Tracy’s for my last Monday lunch. Tracy was at work, but Josh and I decided to head over to Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights to do our final lunch right. We took Milo to Teresa’s where he was an instant hit with the Polish waitresses. And they were a hit with him.

The blintz was a hit with me. I ordered the pierogies, which I’d had many times before and never left me disappointed. Boiled and served with apple sauce and onions, Teresa’s pierogies are as close to the gut-busters I had in Krakow as any I’ve tasted in New York.

But I’d never orderd their blintzes before. I’m used to blintzes being mediocre at best. The filling always seems to be too sweet for me, as though some uncaring cook just stuffed it with Smucker’s jelly. And the outside is always too mushy.

But the blintzes that Josh ordered that day were a thousand times better than any blintz I’ve ever tried. The outside was just crispy enough to change the entire texture of the treat from the usual “blah” to the rare “delicate and gourmet.” The sweet farmer’s cheese filling was by no means overwhelmingly sweet. So much so that it benefited from more sweetness being shaken onto it from above in the form of powdered sugar. And the plum butter gave the whole thing a down home flavor.

Milo dug it the most:

Josh and I had never eaten at Teresa’s together, and that meal just made me more wistful than ever. Now, when I drive the cab on Mondays, I’ve got no anchor to throw before I start working. I just have to dive right in.

I’ve been up to Westchester a few times already. They’re supposed to have great Mexican food on North Avenue. But the burritos we had at El Jalisco were merely pretty good, though they were clearly authentic. Milo loved them because they were covered with two slices of melted Muenster – his fave.

Watching Milo enjoy them so much made me like them a little more. But he won’t remember the superior burritos at California Taqueria on Court Street. Maybe we’ll find better burritos somewhere else in Westchester.

The whole family went out for some Turkish food one evening at Turqoise in the next town over from Josh and Tracy’s house. The meal was delicious, especially the stuffed grape leaves jammed with pine nuts. But Milo enjoyed the milk more than anything else:

I still prefer Kapadokya in Brooklyn Heights for Turkish food. I took Josh there for his bachelor party, and we ordered from there a few times afterwards:

I was starting to wonder if Westchester was going to yield any great food. We heard there was great whitefish salad at one deli, but when we went they were sold out. We heard Walter’s has the best hot dogs in the whole New York area, but when we went they were closed.

Yesterday, Josh threw his first barbeque at the house. Melissa and I brought some Merguez sausage and a whole wheel of parsley and cheese pork sausage from Pino’s on Sullivan Street. The wheel, once unwound, went over big:

Milo couldn’t resist it.

So there we were, deep into the suburbs. Brooklyn was already a distant memory. Milo won’t ever remember it. I took stock.

Josh was firing up the grill. Kids were running around the backyard as we played football and baseball. The sun was shining through the clouds, and the shadows were short. People were spread out across Josh and Tracy’s big house. Parking was plentiful. And everyone was relaxing and eating, eating and relaxing – including me.

Teresa’s, 80 Montague Street at Hicks, Brooklyn Heights

Kapadokya, 142 Montague Street at Henry, Brooklyn Height

Pino Prime Meats, 149 Sullivan Street, SoHo, Manhattan

Turqoise, 1895 Palmer Ave, Larchmont, Westchester

El Jalisco, Somewhere on North Avenue 576-4008, New Rochelle, Westchester

Famous Fat Dave, 5 Borough Eating Tours, New York City

So it’s a good thing that I’m conducting more and more Famous Fat Dave’s Five Borough Eating Tours these days.  The more you read The Hungry Cabbie, and the more you tell your friends, the less often I have to drive my yellow cab for street hails.  Reservations for tours are pouring in (August is almost booked), so call now.  Operators are standing by.

This weekend I was planning on heading to Rockaway Beach for a filet of sole hero from the 101 Deli, a stroll on the boardwalk, and a dip in the Atlantic.  But I was busy with two eating tours I booked at the last minute.  One was a Midnight Munchies Tour like the one I did with David Wain and Ken Marino in June.  The other was a Best of Brooklyn Tour I conducted for the Sorey family of Richmond, VA.

Rachel and her boyfriend have a few years in New York notched on their belts, but the rest of the fam came up for the occasion, a surprise gift for Mr. Sorey.  With dad in the passenger seat and 4 in the back seat, we were breaking all sorts of Taxi And Limousine Commission rules, so there was a nice touch of extra added adventure whenever we saw a police cruiser and had to have one person slink down in the back seat to hide.

We only had four hours for the whole tour, but the Sorey’s were real champs, and we did a lot of eating on the run so as to fit in more chow time.  I didn’t take a picture of the Ewephoria Sheep’s Milk Gouda from Murray’s, but that’s what held us over during the drive to Tom’s Diner in Prospect Heights:

We called ahead, so our piping hot Belgian waffle with strawberries was waiting for us.  We felt like the smart ones as we slathered ours in syrup and cinnamon butter while we sat outside in the chairs meant for all those people waiting in the line that stretched out the door:

Click here to read what I wrote about Tom’s in Gothamist.

After we (I) finished our waffle (this was when I explained that Famous Fat Dave always gets the last bite), we stopped at El Gran Castillo de Jagua for a Cubano.  The mercury was pushing 100, so the heavily forested Prospect Park was the ideal spot for everyone to dig in on the pressed sandwich:

Click here to read what I wrote about El Gran Castillo de Jagua in Gothamist.

The kids ran into Culpepper’s to grab a Bajan (that means ”from Barbardos”) flying fish cutter with hot sauce while the rest of us relaxed in the A.C. from my 2001 Ford Crown Vic with 200,000 miles on it.  Then we all took turns devouring that sandwich while we drove down Nostrand Avenue:

Click here to read what I wrote about Culpepper’s in Gothamist.

Stuck in a bit of traffic on Nostrand and Glenwood, we noticed the overwhelming smell of smoky bbq filling the air above the avenue.  I switched on the hazards in a no parking zone in front of a church, ran across the street, and returned with some jerk chicken from a Guyanese man bbqing on the sidewalk:

And my nose served us right.  It was delicious:

Next stop was the Irish-style, soaking wet roast beef sandwich from Brennan and Carr that took a beating in my Gothamist column last week.  And guess what creepy Gothamist commenters:  The Soreys all LOVED it:

Like father,

Like son.

Click here to read what I wrote (and how revolted some ignorant commenters were) about Brennan and Carr in Gothamist.

After a taste test comparison with the Roll N’ Roast beef sandwich with cheez whiz and onions in neighboring Sheepshead Bay, we took our Roll N’ Roaster lemonades and hit Brighton Beach for a while.  We had time to get some sun, feel the breeze, and take a gander at some Little Odessa’s summer street culture:

No Famous Fat Dave tour is complete without eating off the big yellow table:

And that’s how we enjoyed our shawarma from Sahara in Gravesend.  Mr. Sorey wasn’t impressed.  I wish we had time to hit Zaytoon’s (they put pickles in their shawarma, and the meat has the more complex flavor Mr. Sorey was looking for), but we had time constraints:

Click here to read what I wrote about Sahara and Zaytoon’s in Not For Tourists Guidebook.

L&B Spumoni Gardens in Bensonhurst is always a crowd-pleaser though.  No one can deny the glory of a steaming hot thick slice of pizza and a steaming cold squeeze cup of spumoni on the outdoor patio:

Click here to read what I wrote about Spumoni Gardens in Not For Tourists Guidebook.

Zipping up the Gowanus Expressway that never has any traffic on it, we found ourselves in Red Hook as the time grew near for me to return the cab to Cha Cha in Greenpoint.  Frozen, chocolate-dipped mini key lime pie on a stick really hits the spot at the end of a muggy, sticky day of eating and driving.  Everyone was grabbing for it:

Click here to read what I wrote about Steve’s Authentic Key Lime Piesicles in Gothamist and Click here to read how I discovered Steve’s Authentic Key Lime Pies

So how could we possibly cap off a tour like that?  We did it with deep fried, crunchy, dill, sour pickles, rolled in Cajun spices, and dipped in tartar sauce.  A heavenly treat straight out of Elvis’ cookbook.  And it was a big hit:

Where do you find something so scrumptious you ask?  I’m keeping that one a secret for now.  But if you take a tour, I’m sure we can arrange a tasting.

I’d like to use this space to thank the Soreys for their enthusiasm.  You really ate like pros.  I’m sure it is clear from these pictures, the Sorey’s enjoyed their Best Of Brooklyn Tour immensely.  But more importantly, they really did save Famous Fat Dave the last bite:

Visit www.famousfatdave.com to book an eating tour.  And if today’s post wasn’t enough Best of Brooklyn for you, take an almost entirely different virtual Best of Brooklyn Tour with the Dolgens.

The direct link is: http://www.gawker.com/news/gawker-walker/gawker-walker-midnight-munchies-with-famous-fat-dave-179379.php

(Famous Fat Dave never looked so fat or so famous)

(David Wain rarely smiles, but I assure he loved the bulgogi)

(Ken Marino, next to the cab parked on Avenue T, expressed his feelings on the adventure)

Visit www.famousfatdave.com to take virtual eating tours without comic geniuses