I've been to the Honey Badger a few times. It's probably the only restaurant of its type in New York, if not the country. I live in the neighborhood and went in out of curiosity, but kept coming back because of how really special it is. If this restaurant were a destination place in Bovina or Beacon or the Berkshires, it would get a full page article in the Wednesday NYT. They say that they do wild to table (as opposed to farm to table), because they really serve mostly foraged food and food as close to wild as possible: line caught local small fish, diver scallops, bear, bison, ostrich. The portions are small, but very rich, and very unique. Everything I've eaten there with oysters, clams, or other seafood, has been very, very delicious. It has always been served cooked just barely. The last time I had oysters, roasted in the shell with turkey tail [mushroom] dashi and smart weed, which is a type of pepper or mustard plant. The flavors, as here, are often smoky and finished with fire, like in a Japanese restaurant, with a torch. The pasta dishes are always delicious and very buttery. My favorites have been the stuffed pasta dish - last time: hen of the woods served with milkweed and some other type of green, maybe lambs-quarters - and the seafood lasagna. There has always been a type of mandolined raw salad, dressed simply and topped with a local cheese whose name I can never remember. There are always little amuse bouches that come to punctuate the other courses in the $75 tasting menu (which has all of the dishes on the menu to start, like 5), and the $120 omakase (which has like 7 or 8 dishes to start) has even more. In the times I've been there the chef-owners (2 people do all of the work, including serving) highlighted the difference between native and invasive plants, which is some next level shit. It's a very clear concept in ecology, but in the food world it's a seldom-discussed thing, people are still trying to convince restaurateurs (and their customers) to use local farmers and seasonal ingredients. What's done at Honey Badger is similar to what's done at rarefied European Michelin-starred restaurants, but it's got the punk, DIY feel of the restaurants I've always loved to eat at in Brooklyn - many of which no longer exist - it's like a secret club that anyone can go to if they just walk in the door. In a city with so many busy places to dine at, almost all of them cribbing from whatever hip neighborhood spot is trending right now, it's refreshing to eat somewhere actually different and original, and it can be kind of challenging at times, but I don't really want to live a life of comfort. I love Contra and Wildair and Atla and restaurants of this ilk, they're delicious, but they're about as seasonal as a Stop and Shop, and as indicative of the NYC of today as the highline. When I go to one of these former restaurants I am treated to good, original, food and a particular type of theatrical sophistication, and unlike the highline, they don't rush me through the paces, even if I'm surrounded on all sides by people just passing through. There's something very different about this place, and it really stands outside of the paradigm of New York restaurants. It's actually an underground restaurant, and it's actually seasonal, serving things which are in season only for a week or two (various nettles and things from the mustard and pepper family, beach peas, mushrooms that are actually picked from the wild) things that you've seen every year of your life (day lilies, hostas, juneberries/serviceberries, cherry blossoms and blossoms from other trees that you never noted the blossoming of, spruce/pine tips), and things you have eaten your entire life but contextualized with the things that grow up around them (mulberries, elderberries, dandelions). If you have no interest in learning about this kind of thing - specifically the Anthropocene food environment of the world around you - and you only want to eat in places that serve style from a narrow but successful repertoire, that The Infatuation writes about in a flippant, demoted-Gawkier-journalist, manner, then you might not like this place. If you are interested in what happens beyond the Michael Pollan-Alice Waters slideshow of big curvaceous tomatoes in every Berkeley lunchbox during summer and a pumpkin in every New England pot during winter, and you want to know about what is growing right now, out in the park, in the woods and disturbed places right outside the city, without human intervention [sic.], and how that mixes with what the farmers are also growing right now, like it used to be in the earliest days of Noma 1.0, you might like this restaurant. There's twice been some self-identified chef sitting at the table next to me, probably because there's literally no better place to learn about the micro-seasons of the region than here. Sit back and relax, and have a conversation with one of them. read more