Kool Bloo

The self-proclaimed fast-food joint has locations throughout the city which it claims to know. “Dinner is mostly way past six, and breakfast is rarely before noon, and at KOOL BLOO we understand this. We also understand New Yorkers. We know that you can be both intensely health conscious and incredibly indulgent (sometimes within the same day), and that’s why KOOL BLOO is GOOD FOOD FOR EVERY MOOD.” Sure I haven’t woken up, let alone eaten breakfast, before noon in over a decade. And I’m not going to disagree that I try to stay healthy, and get some physical activity in every day (even if it’s just leaving my bed for more than to go to the bathroom) meanwhile eating as much as I can possibly fit into my body. But is Kool Bloo good for every mood?

Well try this mood; feverish, home in bed by 6:00 pm despite having nothing to do the next day, and barely staying awake long enough for the food ordered to arrive? It may not be every mood, but it certainly is just about the worst of moods to consume food. When the food arrived the pea-soup was slightly tasteless, albeit being sick, the taste-buds are barely effective. A little cracked pepper livened things up a bit, but in the end the thick, and overpriced sauce-like soup might have been too much for this already weakened eater. By the completion of the soup there wasn’t enough energy left to start on the sandwich, so by the grace of God, the sandwich and I ended up where we belonged, in the refrigerator, and in bed, at least for the night.

When morning came so did the hunger. The hunger that never truly left. The original plan was to heat up a bowl of soup. Some black-bean, vegetable nonsense, but then memory served and the sandwich was rediscovered where it had been left. Maybe, just a bite since it was only 10:00am. Maybe if it’s really good, I can heat it up. Well as one bite turned into two, and before it became possible to bake, or even microwave the stack of products it was already mostly consumed. It would be unfair for one to critique a sandwich based on the merits, of it being a day old, and eaten by a taste-bud-less consumer, and cold, but one must do what one must do, and do it fairly.

A completely different sandwich. Courtesy of NYCfoodguy.com

When I ordered the sandwich I asked the gentleman “what is the difference between the crab-cake sandwich and the crab-cake, mac & cheese, and mashed potatoes platter.” His response was of course “You get different variety of sides with the platter… and only one crab-cake. On the Sandwich you get two. And Tomato. And Onion. And Tartar sauce.” At this point we all know which I opted for. “Okay, and would you like the Tomato, onion, and tartar sauce on the sandwich?”

“Yes. Please.” Upon visual evaluation, it seemed like most of the tartar sauce didn’t even make it on the sandwich. Taking it apart I muttered to myself “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The lettuce, tomato, red onion, and two crab-cakes all seemed to be in tact, and in proper placement, however the tartar sauce seemed to be completely bereft. Yet in eating the sandwich, I noticed no such void. Tartar sauce always runs the risk of being too tangy, in this case there was a perfect amount to cut the acidity of the onion, and add it’s own level of flavor. A little bit ended up on the hand, but of course that could also just have been the collateral damage from the intense ravenous eating that took place over my kitchen counter. Perhaps it was the sickly-delusions that lied to my eyes because munching through this sandwich, that the God of Sandwiches, himself, may have made in his own image, delight was served with every single bite.

Now to the onion, after all it is just a slice of onion. NO, it isn’t just a slice of onion. Most sandwiches have a nice faint piece of white onion. One you might have picked up from any grocer. Well that is meaningless. This onion is not meaningless. This onion, like the tomato, is a 1/3-1/2 inch thick honking slab of red onion. This is a bold decision, not just because of color but because of flavor. This is why even after explaining to me that the sandwich came with tomato, onion, and tartar sauce and I decided I wanted the sandwich, the man on the phone had to repeat “do you want it with tomato, onion and tartar sauce?”

Finally, the crab cake. About the size of a flattened golf ball, any restaurant could easily get away serving one such patty. The choice was to serve two. A choice that ratchets the sandwich up a couple of dollars to its home of $12.95, but meanwhile prevents you from feeling cheated, or disappointed. Now part of me half expected when ordering a crab-cake sandwich to get food poisoning. Just assuming that it’s almost definitely a frozen cake; how long has it been frozen? Where was it frozen? At what temperature was it kept at? Well if this cake was left out for 6 days in the sun before being frozen on the cold floor of an old, Alaskan, gymnasium, and then shipped to New York in an old sock where it was finally de-thawed and deep fried, I would eat it again in a heartbeat. The batter was light, the crab taste was subtle, and the texture was divine. If Sebastian only knew, than he too would be jealous of life, or death, above the sea.

The sandwich sang, and so did my belly. In regards to every mood? The jury is still out, but as far as the most unlikely of moods, I concede, and will order Kool Bloo again.

Also recomended: Mac & Cheese, Chipotle Chicken Wrap, and the Nachos.