Thursday's Lunch: Melt Shop

New York is a city of food fads. Cupcakes were really big for a while. After the novelty of being able to order gourmet dessert at 4AM wore off, people looked for the next decadent thing. Hence, the grilled cheese pandemonium that has invaded most neighborhoods.

A fair account of the history can be found here, but all one needs to know is that this enterprise has morphed into a miniature fleet of trucks and several upscale eateries. It's already so five minutes ago. Ronnie, the underground grilled cheese dealer of the East Village, shut down his operation before I could buy a sandwich in a transaction that could be mistaken for acquiring... well, blow. Apparently the threat of being shut down by the Health Department became too great to press on. What this meant to me is that I had to journey to midtown to catch the grilled cheese train. Bummer.

Melt Shop got a fair amount of press when they opened, so I took notice earlier this year. It just took me this many months to gain the courage to make the journey to midtown for lunch. Of course, what they don't tell you is that seating space here is just a myth during the lunch hour. I took a risk and barreled east as quickly as I could, ultimately finding an empty set of stairs on 1st Avenue in the mid 50's before the molten meal congealed entirely. It's a strange enough sight for some dude to eat a gourmet grilled cheese sandwich while sitting in front of an abandoned building as all the suited folks from the UN walk by. It pushes it over the edge when he takes out a camera to take pictures of his own lunch.

I got a side of tater tots... because I forgot one can only comfortably take so much grease on a hot afternoon. The main course is the bacon/cheddar variety, with some other disclaimers such as "aged" or "maple" that I quickly forgot; they had me at "bacon." What isn't explicit in the description of this beast is the entire stick of butter that they fry this thing with, and that's what you feel when you walk back home on a summer afternoon. However, as I wondered if I was going to expire, I did always came back to, "well... what a tasty way to go."

Verdict: Make no mistake, this is just comfort food in a pretty package. It's good, but you have to stand in line with a bunch of people wearing suits to get it. The Three-martini lunch has officially been traded for the kid's lunch in trendy clothing. It's probably for the best, because I don't like olives, and bacon is apparently my Muse.