eateryROW: FOREST HILLS

FINBACK BREWERY

78-01 77th Avenue

Glendale, NY 11385

(718) 628-8600

Just 'round the corner from the Shops at Atlas Park, down a stairwell near an overpass, and along a suburban Glendale street lies the Finback Brewery. In what has become nothing short of a phenomenon, it's one of the city's newest breweries, and it's practically right here in Forest Hills. It's not. It's in Glendale, but I managed to walk there from my apartment, so it's close enough.

Craft beer, a label given to brands that only put out less than 6 million barrels per year and are not a subsidiary of one of the big guys, has exploded in recent years. It's no wonder that InBev has been buying up small breweries like Long Island's Blue Point, among others, like their market-share depends on it. It does. The fact is, craft beers and micro brews are the new currency for a halfway decent bar. Forget a blog here and a blog there, there are literally entire newspapers and glossy magazines devoted to small-batch brewing. People are willing to spend more to get the intimacy of the small batch brew.

It's not just beer. It's across the spectrum. Think of it as the Farmer's Market Ideal. We want the small batch, local stuff. The newest iPhone aside, we don't want things made by robots helmed by child slaves. We don't want the cookie cutter widget that Wal-Mart paid bottom dollar to pawn off on us. Well, we do. But not the cookie cutter one. We want the Biltsharp knife. We want to item made by a person. With a history. Someone real who, if he or she screwed us, would have to answer personally for their product. Kickstarter couldn't exist without this ideal, Etsy couldn't exist without this ideal, and craft beer couldn't exist without this ideal. Personally, I don't follow football, so I don't get inundated with ads for Budweiser, and I don't follow NASCAR, so I couldn't give two number 2s whose ad is on car number 2 (it's Miller Lite), but when I walk into a bar and the smallest brewer they can offer up is Sam Adams, I know it's time to choose another bar.

Ipso facto, a journey over a short hill and a shorter dale was a no-brainer. Finback's tasting room is just that. A room. There's a bar with a rotation of taps cranking out whatever they happen to be making at the time and a bunch of folding tables with chairs. If you want food, there's free popcorn or you can pony up a buck for some trail mix. It's open only Friday, Saturday, and Sunday afternoons and evenings. When I arrived, it was pretty dead, which meant that I had my pick of the seats. But inside half an hour, it started filling up.

It was like being in a Williamsburg with more trees and fewer noserings; a Williamsburg where the residents grew up a bit. The people coming in were young and cool and tattooed and wearing those small fedoras that only cool people and the elderly wear, but they were more reserved. They had little kids and strollers.

Although they do have their selection of "normal" beers, the best adjective to describe the beer from Finback would be "experimental". Here is a reading, direct from their menu, of some of the infusions that they use: cinnamon, nutmeg, Schezuan peppercorn, ginger, chamomile, jalapeno, citrus, and ahtanum... whatever that is (Wikipedia says that Ahtanum is a village in Washington State with a population of 3,601 people, so I guess that ahtanum is soylent green).

There are four sizes to choose from when you arrive. There are two growler sizes to choose from, and feel free to bring the one that your buddy brought over one poker night that he never took home. Finback does not require that you purchase their growlers. Then there's a 10oz glass which is $5 or $6 depending on the variety. Finally, there is the small tasting glass for $2. Basically, you can create a custom flight for yourself, should you so choose.

OVOSODO

110-60 Queens Boulevard

Forest Hills, NY 11375

(718) 487-3524

Nestled in what used to be Just Like Mothers, the entirely forgettable Polish diner that went the way of an overcooked kielbasa last year, is OvoSodo, an Italian bistro of sorts brought to you by the team at Tuscan Hills (a restaurant I should really return to sometime in the near future). When OvoSodo was first being discussed, at least around me, it was because they were going to offer pizza "by the inch", an allegedly authentic method by which Italians serve their pies up in the old country. "Yeah, I lived in Italy for a while," Myna casually stated. "That's totally not what they do there." Skepticism about this newcomer to the nabe was thusly born.

Pizza was on my mind when Bro and I moseyed over a few weeks ago to give OvoSodo a look-see. I was half expecting that we would walk into another version of Gloria, down by the movie theater, but to my pleasant surprise, I was completely wrong the second that we walked through the door; a crisp, clean, white, and modern interior. Art from local artists, for sale, on the wall. An espresso bar sits by the front entrance; a regular restaurant occupies the rest. Fat guys in red and white striped shirts and white paper hats were nowhere to be seen. Indeed, although everything that I had read discussing OvoSodo was pizza this and pizza that, there was virtually no pizza on the menu. Still, I had to know. Was the pizza even any good? Spoiler: it was.

Bro and I started our meal with the Carciofi Bruschette, Parmesan, ham, and artichoke. Delicious. It was a bit heavy, but we were hungry, and the waitress probably wasn't even across the room by the time it was gone from the plate. Then came the pizzas. The whole "inch" thing should be discarded and instead think of the sizes as large (17 inch) and small (8 inch). Trust me when I say that unless you're looking to start buying two seats every time you fly the small is more than enough for one person. I decided to try the OvoSodo Pizza pie. It's basically a margherita pie (plain) with bacon and an egg. A-maz-ing. I never would have thought that putting an over-easy egg on a pie and popping a yolk to bleed it's golden goodness across the cheese would make me drool, but now I want one on every pizza I eat from now on. I even tried it at home the other day. Bro got the Capricciosa Pizza pie: tomato sauce, olives, artichoke, and ham. Also good. A little bit too complicated for my taste, but I still liked it and when Bro accidentally left his leftovers in my fridge, I was more than happy to finish them the next day.

Having been thoroughly and pleasantly surprised with my first meal, and seeing that OvoSodo's menu was far more encompassing than what I'd been able to sample, I convinced Pike to return with me for my second round. We sat down, ordered a couple of diet colas, and immediately split an appetizer of Polpettine, aka: meatballs. They arrived in a veritable soup of marinara sauce that was sweet and perfect. "And you almost asked the waiter not to give us bread," he stated with rolled eyes while soaking a crusty slice in the sauce. The meatballs were very good too, so don't think different.

As an entree, Pike ordered the Chicken Tuscan, which he very much enjoyed. Rigatoni pasta, chicken, mushroom, sun dried tomato, in a pink sauce. I stole a few bites and agreed. "The only thing I don't like," his critique began "is that the pasta is al dente. I know that its the right way to cook pasta, so it's not like it's a flaw. I know that it's good." He paused. "I'm basically complaining that they didn't fuck up my dinner." I ordered Pollo Al Marsala, a classic dish that every red sauce joint makes but none make properly. The last time I ordered this, it was at a BYOB family style spot in the burbs for a friend's birthday and the dish was laughably bad. Ordering chicken marsala is basically a test. It's a simple dish, but it isn't inundated in flavor-masking tomato sauce. Can the kitchen get it right? Will I finally be able to eat chicken marsala without disappointment? They got it right. I wasn't disappointed. In fact, it was fantastic...  and so huge that I took half of it home. But the important thing is that it was fantastic. A thick red wine sauce, mashed potatoes that were as creamy as butter, and chicken so tender that you could cut it with a spoon.

I have never either eaten at OvoSodo or walked past it when it was anywhere close to full. This is a shame because it deserves to be. There are precious few restaurants that serve really good Italian comfort food and OvoSodo is one of them. OvoSodo isn't creating anything new. No Brooklynites will make the trip on the F train to see what new experiments are being concocted in the kitchen. It's just chicken marsala and lasagna and pizza. It's entirely been-there-done-that in every conceivable way. Except that it's good. It's better than good. It's a shame that there aren't more people eating there.

As for prices, it's reasonable. Neither Bro nor I nor Pike ever drank (there is a wine list, though) so we didn't give our wallet the thrashing that it could have had. The bruschette was under $10, the pizzas were $10 or under for a small, the pastas were $15 and under, and the entrees were under $20.