JOAQUIN BACA, THE chef behind Brooklyn Star, likes a challenge. Opening a restaurant in New York is hard enough with a team of backers. Baca financed, designed and equipped his new joint on his own. He even served as general contractor (and sometimes laborer) on the build out. Then there’s the matter of his resume. Baca was once the right hand man of Momofuku’s David Chang. The first chef at Noodle Bar, then a partner who helped open Ssam and Ko; Baca has, in Chang’s, a lengthy shadow to step out from.
As is true throughout the Chang empire, Brooklyn Star emphasizes cooking over concept or decor. Beginning with the name, there is a studious avoidance here of anything suggestive. Slate tabletops and threequarters-height wainscoting are the dining room’s only adornments. It’s pleasant enough, handsome even, but gives what I thought was too vague an impression.
The same can’t be said of the menu, a full-throated invocation of Southern homecooking traditions. Forget Momo-style aggressive creativity—Brooklyn Star deals strictly in battered, buttery, vinegar-tangy Southern comforts.
On my first visit, I brought along two friends from Georgia, and we went straight for the menu’s Southern heart. Fried green tomatoes with tomato vinaigrette ($9) let everyone down, the batter too bland and too thick, the tomatoes too resistant. Cornbread ($4) fared better, its dark crust full of deep, buttery flavor. But the jalapeños and bacon (add one or both for 50 cents) outshone the cake, which, despite its moist, firm texture, disappeared absent crust or those extras. Likewise, the mac and cheese ($9) had a nice brūlée crust, but the noodles and béchamel lacked their own luster. We moved on to the Dr. Pepper ribs ($16), a source of much web-based contention. These half-size pork ribs, braised in soda, then finished in a soda-vinegar sauce, defied consensus at my table, too. Worth so much fuss? Maybe not. But I found them tasty, with fatty, slightly caramelized and not-too-sweet pork that arrives so tender it slides off the bone.
The ribs beg another question, though—why is a starter so pricey? Oddly, there are several plates on the “small” menu that reach the entrée price point. Adding to the confusion, traditionally snacky dishes are served in massive portions. The fried chicken wings ($10), for instance, are shockingly huge. Unfortunately, size was their most distinguishing feature. Slathered in a too-sweet vinegar-based sauce, the wings were sodden, their skin soggy where it should’ve been crisp. I preferred the fried pig tails ($10), done with a similar but less sweet hot sauce. Served on (and tender enough to fall off) the bone, the tails and their vertebrae leave nothing to the imagination. If the sight of spine makes you queasy, close your eyes. It’s worth fighting squeamishness for this moist, fatty dark meat, each bite sour and tangy from the sauce. And the tails come with hunks of pickled and fried corn on the cob, a sour, sweet and toothsome side-withina-starter that could easily stand on its own.
Don’t forget that small plates aren’t necessarily so, because entrees and sides are where Baca’s Star really shines. The BBQ catfish ($14), which I tried on another visit, was remarkably subtle. Its Cajun-style rub supplied a peppery base for the slightly sweet barbecue sauce, both applied with enough restraint to leave room for the fish. It was served with fried cucumbers, brined but still snapping beneath a crunchy skin of breadcrumbs, and a deliciously rich, perfectly textured creamed corn. Add the smoked trout for one of the most unusual flavor-texture blends you’ll find anywhere. (The corn-trout combo is offered as a standalone side for $5.) Best of all (unsurprising given the Chang connection), was Baca’s smothered Berkshire chop ($17), a thing of porky beauty. Slightly caramelized at its edges, the massive chop arrived swimming in its own juices (these amped up with garlic and bacon) and topped with a heap of onions, scallions and red peppers sautéed to an almost liquid consistency. Every bite was tender, the pork a sponge absorbing the concentrated flavors of the jus and the peppers’ and onions’ caramelized sweetness.
For now, Brooklyn Star offers one desert, but it’s a good one: deep-fried strawberries with vanilla ice cream and honey ($5). The simple but clever preparation bolsters a classic berries-and-cream combination with the crunch and richness of batter and an extra sweet, sticky note from the honey. It was a great note to end on, hinting, like the mouthwatering pork chop, at the restaurant’s potential.
Though my meals at Brooklyn Star were uneven, occasional flashes of brilliance signaled that if he steadies himself, Baca will eventually shake the burden of his past success.
> The Brooklyn Star
33 Havemeyer St. (betw N. 7th & N. 8th Sts.), Brooklyn, 718-599-9899
