There’s a running gag in the Japanese manga “One Piece” where one of the protagonists — the moss-headed, scar-covered swordsman Roronoa Zoro — is constantly losing his way. At critical moments, he drifts off from his pirate crew, stumbling into side quests and skirmishes with the series’s main antagonists: the gun-toting Marines.
I can relate. This past month, I found myself browsing the aisles of Indonesian markets and Thai thrift stores when suddenly … I was standing in a restaurant! One quirk of competitive real estate is that a kitchen can materialize wherever there’s space for an induction burner, giving us wine bars in cafes, fried chicken shops in supermarkets and counters dispensing Hamburg steak in home goods stores, a recommendation from last month.
This week I’m taking you to three restaurants hiding in plain sight. Just don’t ask Zoro for directions.
What’s for dinner? Ask Dewi.
Warung Selasa, found within the Indo Java mini mart in Elmhurst, Queens, is a contender for New York’s smallest restaurant. There are exactly two folding tables — four chairs in total — and the “dining room” is right at the end of an aisle. Shoppers won’t mind brushing past you to reach the shelf of homemade sambals.
Since 2017, this is where Anastasia Dewi Tjahjadi, an owner of Indo Java, has run her pop-up, Warung Selasa, on Tuesdays, serving exactly one dish: whatever she likes. (Call ahead: not only to secure a plate, but also to find out what’s for lunch.) During last month’s blizzard that shuttered restaurants all over town, Ms. Tjahjadi was open and serving a limited supply of bebek goreng: a pileup of fried duck leg, green sambal and deeply caramelized tofu. She offered nasi liwet solo — coconut chicken stew — only on Chinese New Year. When the sambal strikes, you’ll be glad to be in arm’s reach of the refrigerated sweet teas.
85-12 Queens Boulevard (Grand Avenue), Elmhurst
A cevicheria in a smoke shop
Before there was Mariscos El Submarino, our most famous Mexican seafood shop, there was a small cevicheria plunked in the back of a two-aisle smoke shop in Jackson Heights, Queens. Past the paraphernalia and mountain of Maruchan noodles, La Esquina del Camarón Mexicano dispenses crimson, lime-slaked cocteles from a puny dining room. Really, it’s a counter with a picnic table.
The owner, Pedro Rodriguez, used to serve shrimp cocktail outside of a deli near the Elmhurst Avenue subway stop. When the lines at his stand became a problem, he moved to E Smoke & Convenience in Jackson Heights and later into its kitchen. His cocteles are available in four sizes, including by the quart. Into tall plastic cups, he heaps shrimp, octopus or both, and then floods them to the brim with lime, clam juice and a ketchupy homemade tomato sauce. They are shamelessly sweet — as they should be — with a supply of saltine crackers and Valentina hot sauce to cut the sugar. When the No. 7 train speeds by, you might mistake it for an ocean breeze.
80-02 Roosevelt Avenue (80th Street), Jackson Heights
Embrace the bánh mìzza
I know of exactly one restaurant in New York where you can order Vietnamese snails and choose your species, too: There are periwinkles in passion fruit butter, grease snails plunged in tamarind sauce and coiled, striped mud creepers drowned in coconut milk, their shells no bigger than pistachios. This would be impressive in any kitchen, but it’s remarkable at VPho: operating out of a pizzeria in the Morris Park section of the Bronx.
VPho used to be Sorrento’s, an Italian pizzeria that opened in 1973. When the owner retired in 2023, Michael Tran and Elizabeth Lee purchased the restaurant and updated its name. They stuck to baked ziti and penne alla vodka at first, but within a year, they rounded out the Italian menu with all sorts of Vietnamese wonders: clarified beef pho with meatballs and tripe; fine, woven bánh hỏi; and bánh mì wedged open like the hood of a car with pickled vegetables. I would probably skip the pizza — unless, of course, we’re talking about the bánh mìzza. An invention of Mr. Tran and Ms. Lee, it’s freighted with cilantro, carrots and Vietnamese ham. It benefits from a shower of garlic powder and, since we’re breaking rules, a squirt of hoisin, too.
2004 Williamsbridge Road (Neill Avenue), Morris Park
