A hot little town

Bustling with green-clad students, the main street in Newark was alive Friday night as my boyfriend, his parents and I traveled to a hip restaurant named Homegrown. It was actually more hip than I thought his parents would like, with vibrantly colored walls and local artwork hanging for sale. Space-age style lighting hung down like fruit from the ceiling, small, globular and colorful.
I was prepared for eccentric, experimental cuisine that only certain palates might like, but was surprised by the seemingly main stream tastes that were accommodated. There on the drinks menu at the half-pear shaped bar surrounded by circular wood tables and chairs with X-shaped backs were the trendy pomegranate martini and Godiva chocolate shots.
I settled for a somewhat expensive Grasshopper martini, which was perfectly made to resemble the cookie, or for those of us with the memory Grasshopper pie. Though at $7 a glass (which had enough liqueur for two drinks), it was still cheaper than the coke and Jameson’s my boyfriend had been drinking the night before at a local St. Paddy’s day party in Bally, Pa.
After a few minutes we were led to our booth, which line the walls of this nicely sized establishment and were handed our menus on steel clipboards. Printed on antiqued paper, the offerings covered all price ranges and included the traditional salads and wraps, but with their own twists. A Green Apple wrap, for about $6.50, included chicken, green apples, cherries, walnuts, lettuce and tomato, and made note that all apples were organic and came from Lancaster County in Pa. Hmm, a taste of home in Maryland, or Delaware rather. Though tempted, I settled for the chicken bacon wrap, which had honey mustard dressing. My boyfriend ordered the lamb gyro, his father got the hanger steak and his mom the chicken mozzarella sandwhich.
We started off with some crap dip that was served with slices of French bread and green apple. I thought the apple might be an odd combination, but when I bit down on the tart slivers with a big swab of crap dip on them, the taste was fantastic. The tartness was enough to eliminate any fishiness the crap might have and accented the musky flavor of the meat. The sweet actually worked.
The wraps were fresh, fresher than I’d ever expect, which goes to show that quality ingredients can make something ordinary divine. The tomatoes were at the peak of freshness and the ingredients had been tossed in the dressing, versus the traditional deli style of glopping it on top like a glue.
My boyfriend said his gyro was great, though a bit garlicky, and his parents said they’d never been disappointed in their choices. The hanger steak came laid out in dial style on top of garlic potatoes. The mozzarella was piled thick on the chicken sandwhich.
Trendy this eatery certainly was with its mozzarella, which has become a craze in the U.S. after its explosion on the Italian scene with newly opened mozzarella bars, which only serve homemade versions of the cheese all on their own. For an appetizer we could have had a plate full of the homemade cheese balls. But eating it pure is definitely an acquired delight.
For desert we opted for the crème brule which was perfectly heated on top. (I’ve had it burnt before) and an apple flavored cheesecake, which my boyfriend’s parents sparred over. For those who didn’t like the options presented, there was a cupcake bar down the street. Though I don’t know how that craze will take off.
I’d heard about the rise of cupcake bars, which apparently offer gourmet versions of the grade school birthday treat, last year. This one, called Sas, announced its “spring collections” with what one of my colleagues described as “food porn” pictures in its windows. Apparently it caught on to eat cupcakes at a special café just like people choose to have their coffee, elevating something simple and cheap to a status object. This particular cupcake bar, which we did not frequent, had a plate glass window with a bar behind it that numerous female students had sidled up to. But inside there were not cases of cupcakes as I had expected. Instead it seemed to be making money of handmade purses, cupcake logo T-shirts and jewelry.
In the far corner was the small offering of cupcakes, which though pricey apparently don’t pay the rent.
It seemed a fixture in this college town that jewelry and other handmade goods were up for sale, despite the real purpose of the store or even restaurant. In the foyer of Homegrown there was a selection of unique, obviously locally made glittery things to wear, which struck me as odd to be the first thing that greeted us. Not a menu or pictures of food, but something you could buy real quick in case you didn’t feel made up enough. I wonder how they do with this.
But Newark is definitely a city worth visiting. Though if you don’t like the young crowd, it might make you a little uncomfortable. Luckily there weren’t drunken gangs carousing in the streets and puking everywhere. Though the night was still young when we headed out of town.
I would recommend knowing how to parallel park, though, if you drive in. Bring quarters for the meters, which are digital and can be paid for up to 3 hours. We managed to be seated and eat everything, including desert, before our two hours were up, and I credit the efficient wait staff for that.
For those who can’t afford to drop $30 or more a person, there are plenty of pizza shops, including a branch of Peace a Pizza and a Subway. There is a traditional steel train car style diner in town, but it was undergoing renovations when we were there.