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<\/a>The only good thing we can say about this place is that at least the dishes are pretty!<\/p><\/div>\n
Though I could not find the exact meaning of the root \u201c-alicious\u201d anywhere on-line (I research just about everything I tell you guys, to make sure I\u2019m correct at all times,) I think that we can all agree that it\u2019s used to connote something good. So, unless \u201cchikalicious\u201d means \u201cawful, unsanitary rip-off\u201d it\u2019s not. Anything \u201clicious,\u201d that is.<\/p>\n
I wish that I had taped what my smartest friend in the world, *Sharon, and I had to say on the ride home, because her<\/em> bon mots, especially, were perfect. But we were just getting it all off our chests at the time, and I can\u2019t remember everything we uttered in outrage against this supreme Emperor\u2019s New Clothes <\/em>of eateries. I will try my best to convey to you our creepy experience there.<\/p>\n For years, I had been reading about this three-course dessert bar in the East Village. I imagined a lovely afternoon tea-esque girly experience, in a tiny, but beautiful, space. What I got was far from. It all. I\u2019ll go in a row.<\/p>\n For some unknown reason, they have a host <\/em>for this minuscule 17-seater! (Eleven stools at the counter, six chairs at tables. I think his name was Don, and he was quite genial and the best thing about the place. (Unnecessary water-pourer, Jorge, was also lovely.) The goodness ended there.<\/p>\n Don suggested we sit at the counter to watch the action. There was plenty of that, but it all made our hair curl. It turns-out that the owner is a thin Japanese woman, Chika, hence the shop\u2019s moniker. I had thought it referred to \u201cchicks,\u201d and was therefore fun for a girls\u2019 afternoon out. My bad. Not only were her teeth far from lovely, which indicated to me to maybe not consume her confections on a regular basis, but her uniform was dingy and the rag she had on the waist to wipe her hands was downright repulsive. We should have left as soon as we spied it, but we\u2019re no quitters.<\/p>\n The deal here is that, for $14, you get a chef-chosen \u201camuse,\u201d which is a pretentious way of saying a \u201ctidbit,\u201d (and, for their information, the correct term is actually \u201camuse-bouche<\/em>,\u201d not just \u201camuse\u201c) to start, then you choose a main one from a short list of desserts, then get what they\u2019re labeling \u201cpetit fours,\u201d yet another example of their pretentiousness because, even though the definition of a true petit four is \u201ca small confection generally eaten at the end of a meal,\u201d in America we generally accept it to mean little square iced cakes, which these were definitely not.<\/p>\n We had the misfortune of getting \u201cserved\u201d by the most obnoxious chef ever, David, who was downright rude, bordering on abusive. The Soup Nazi has nothing on him!!! I\u2019ve been to the soup guy\u2019s former window, and he doled-out his orders with a twinkle in eye. David just seemed to get off on his own nastiness. (After we had choked down the crumbs that he served, the girls next to me had something else, and I asked what it was. He snidely answered that it was their signature dish. When I said I wish I had known about it, he rudely retorted, \u201cYou didn\u2019t ask<\/em>!\u201d What an idiot–how would I know to ask?! He should have let us in on it, knowing that we were new customers. No loss, I\u2019m sure, if the other dishes are any indication.)<\/p>\n Okay, so one would think that since, as David informed us, we were getting an amuse and petit fours \u201cchosen by Chika and myself,\u201d they\u2019d ask us our preferences and choose accordingly. No such luck. What they \u201cchose\u201d for us is what the entire assemblage got! It\u2019s what they felt like making that day. Nothing \u201cchosen\u201d about it, except for the fact that every chef chooses his or her menu! Morons.<\/p>\n But, always open to new experiences that quite often work out well, Sharon ordered a cappuccino and we settled back to, as their website states, \u201cenjoy fabulous desserts while watching both their preparation and plating.\u201d Trust me, I wish that we had averted our eyes. I couldn\u2019t believe what I was seeing.<\/p>\n The amuse, David obnoxiously proclaimed, was \u201ccoconut ice cream on chocolate gelee.\u201d Sounds good enough, right? It was a thimbleful <\/em>of slightly chocolate-flavored gelatin with a small oval of the ice cream on top. But–this is the worst part–guess how he shaped the ice cream into an oval??? Ready?–IN HIS BARE HANDS!!! I think I\u2019m going to throw-up writing this.<\/p>\n Not to reference Seinfeld<\/em> again, that I\u2019ve seen only a few times in my life, and those were in reruns, but it was exactly the episode where the chef went to the bathroom and didn\u2019t wash his hands. Sharon and I were hitting each other under the table, but we were in such shock that neither of us had the temerity to just leave. We just swallowed it in two bites and hoped the experience would improve. And we were starving. We hadn\u2019t eaten much beforehand because we all know how three courses of dessert will fill you up. Except in this case.<\/p>\n That's my petite hand in there to demonstrate just how lilliputian this fare is!<\/p><\/div>\n Sharon chose what was described as \u201cWarm Chocolate Tart with Pink Peppercorn Ice Cream and Red Wine Sauce.\u201d What she received was laughable. It was a mini-cupcake-sized shell with a dollop of basically tart chocolate pudding. A couple of inches away was another oval of ice cream, shaped again in his non-washed hands, (believe me, I watched every move they made back there,) with an isolated miniscule swirl of some red sauce. Even I, the slowest eater on earth (just ask CBS executive Paul Gilbert about my French fry-eating sometime,) could have eaten everything on the plate in three or four bites.<\/p>\n My supposed apple soup with buttermilk ice cream and biscuits was basically baby applesauce with another gloveless hand-rolled ball of ice cream and three thimble-sized squares of dough. I don\u2019t know how we held in our laughter. On the way home, when we were discussing just how insulting this whole thing was, Sharon likened it to food at a baby\u2019s party. She said, \u201cNot even a two<\/em>-year-old\u2019s party–a one<\/em>-year-old\u2019s.\u201d I said, \u201cnot even a child\u2019s<\/em> party–this wasn\u2019t even enough food for a doll\u2019s<\/em> tea party!\u201d<\/p>\n The three "petit fours." At least "petit" is the correct description of them!<\/p><\/div>\n Okay, so we finally came to the aforementioned \u201cpetit fours.\u201d What a joke! These are the three pieces we got: 1) a miniscule ball of chocolate goop, which actually dissolved in a few minutes when I put it in my napkin to take to the car to get a close-up picture of, to share with you guys. 2) A thumb-nail sized marshmallow with shredded coconut. And 3) a sliver of tasteless brown cake from a basic cupcake-sized cake that was sliced into twelve pieces!!! The nerve of them!<\/p>\n And the whole time, Chika and David acted like they were working hard, creating in front of our eyes. What they were doing was constantly opening and closing the tiny refrigerators and freezers and taking out what they had already made and placing the morsels on pretty plates! They definitely could have just plated the non-perishable petit fours pre-opening and served them right away!<\/p>\n Instead, they made us sit there way after we wanted to leave, so that it looks like they\u2019re working hard, and also to create a line of people waiting to get in, like something special and coveted is going on in there! (FYI–there were no lines either on our ways out or in, so that\u2019s most likely a myth, as well.) The whole experience, from start to finish, should have taken about twenty minutes. Instead they held us hostage for about five times that! What a supreme waste of time, money, and blood boiling.<\/p>\n I\u2019m giving you the info, but begging you not to use it, unless it\u2019s to give to the Department of Health!: 203 E. 10th Street New York 212-995-9511 <\/strong>www.chikalicious.com<\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/a><\/p>\n *Not her real name, but she\u2019s so nice that she doesn\u2019t want to be identified because she hated saying unkind things. So, she\u2019s not only my smartest <\/em>friend, she\u2019s my kindest<\/em> one, too! But I showed her this column pre-posting and she agreed with everything in it. And don\u2019t even try to guess her identity because she\u2019s not a regular cohort I\u2019ve written about before.<\/p>\n \u3000<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" CHIKALICIOUS\u2026NOT \u00a0 This is the kind-of review that makes me miss doing my show, Karen\u2019s Restaurant Revue. It would be so much better to talk it out, rather than try to write it in a cohesive fashion. I know just where my audience would be gasping and guffawing. But I\u2019ll give it my best shot<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a>