Staten Island Restaurant Tour, Part XVIII: Phil-Am Kusina (Clifton)

Iconic view.

Yes, that is indeed the Freedom Tower rising proudly over New York Harbor. I would venture to say that the Lower Manhattan skyline has never looked better, however tragic the circumstances leading to its remodeling. We are viewing it from Clifton, where I’ve traveled for Filipino milkfish on the latest episode of the Staten Island Restaurant Tour. Without the magic of digital zoom, it would look more like this:

Still not too shabby.

The name Clifton dates from 1817 and much of its acreage is former Vanderbilt property. Its housing stock runs the gamut from late 19th century Victorians on Vanderbilt and Norwood avenues to a housing project troubled in the 1990s by crack addiction and more recent conflicts between Liberian immigrant and African-American youths. That project appears to have had a fascinatingly varied history, transitioning from goat pasture to golf club to private middle-class apartment housing to public housing. Here is the Freedom Tower again, viewed from the war memorial:

WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, spelled out here, but of course, there are more.

Please take a moment to remember Matthew J. Buono, the 39th Staten Island native to die in Vietnam. He was almost 26. Without the sacrifices made by the men who fought in our wars, both the lost lives and the traumatized veterans, there might be no Freedom Tower, or indeed, no freedom.

Just a moment. Right now.

Homes in Clifton range from grand to modest. These stand in contrast to the more grandiose homes of the South Shore, some of which I admired, some not.

The common theme on this block is harmony.

If these folks in these federal-style houses invited me over for BBQ, I wouldn’t say no.

Alas, I am not well connected in Clifton.

Clifton and nearby Stapleton have some colorful work-of-art graffiti. This specimen is the frontage of an event space that, judging from objects seen just inside the front door, had recently hosted a Barbie movie themed event.

Local color.

You can’t see the messages on the planters, but they read: Love. Friends. Happy.

Always encouraging when nice people announce their presence.

Walking can be an adventure in Staten Island, good or bad. Here in the older and more densely populated North Shore, sidewalks are more reliably present than in the more recently developed South Shore and East Shore. I felt honored to walk on these venerable slate walkways as I cautiously picked my way through them on restaurant-rich Bay Street.

It was a kind of mindfulness exercise.

We have arrived. The restaurant is in homey quarters farther inland, literally a converted home, it appears.

Phil-Am Kusina of Clifton, Staten Island, New York.

View from my table on the left side, including Most Terrific Child Day Care across the street.

It’s the red-on-yellow sliver sign in the middle.

View of my table. It’s at far right.

Stood up and walked back to grab this shot.

Looking right, to the front door from which I’d entered.

Fan art for art fans.

Looking back, toward the counter. The color scheme was warm and comforting. Note the two skylights on either side of the building’s peaked roof. I’m guessing an attic floor was removed to unify and light the space.

Not a home, but homey.

The facilities included a request not to discard anything, including TP, in the toilet. Full disclosure: I wipe myself after I pee. Fortunately the spotted square landed on porcelain, not water, and I was able to relocate it to the trash bin before washing my hands.

The soothing avocado tropical decor made me want to be a good citizen.

It has arrived: The fried milkfish, its two eggs, and rice.

The fish was thin but the eggs added protein to the dish.

A closer look at the fish. Milkfish is similar to tilapia, except that its habitat is brackish water, as opposed to fresh water, and it is said to be a little less nutritious.

Pickles add a slight probiotic enhancement.

The milkfish arrived with a cup of white vinegar and onion. Already on the table was a bottle of Knorr Liquid Seasoning, spiked with MSG, loaded with sodium, and sweetened with corn syrup…

Alongside the lotus.

…as it says below. Never shall this foul substance pass my lips, I declared to myself.

On the other hand…

It was, however, a “product of the Philippines,” and when products of the Philippines have entered my life in human form, I have tended to fall in love with them. So I figured it couldn’t hurt to dot the garlic rice with a half-dozen dabs of the stuff. Flavorings won’t hurt you if you don’t overuse them. It did add something pleasing, though the rice still would have been perfect without it.

I enjoyed the rice with and without enhancement, but mostly without.

My verdict on the milkfish can be judged from its rapid demolition. As I was getting the check, exercising my solo diner who chats you to death when the place is empty privilege, I asked the nice lady (I never know whether to say server or manager or owner) about a chicken curry mayonnaise dish served to me by a Filipino with whom I had fallen in love a few years ago. I had expressed skepticism at the time but the dish eventually won me over.

As did the magical man who served it.

She had never heard of it, and expressed incredulity about the mayo, but pulled back a little to note that the remarkable ethnic diversity of the Philippines (with numerous native tribes mixed with bloodlines from the Spanish and various East/South/Central Asian nations) allows an equal diversity of cuisine. When my friend and I visited the Metropolitan Museum, occasionally he would nod toward someone and say, Filipino. Filipino.

I never would have spotted them.

On the way back to the train I passed the Garibaldi Meucci Museum, a tribute to a man who allegedly invented the telephone (or a precursor to it) before Alexander Graham Bell. As a person of one-quarter Scottish descent — my paternal grandmother had nine children during the Great Depression, of whom four survived to adulthood — I have my doubts about this. But I will give it my full attention if I should do a Staten Island Museum Tour, which might be a fun project when the Staten Island Restaurant Tour winds up probably sometime this year.

The Garibaldi Meucci Museum.

I should also stop by the Alice Austen House, a federal, state, municipal, and LGBTQ landmark where the woman who documented NYC’s immigrant history in 7,000-plus photos lived with her partner through the end of World War II. With the Freedom Tower and the Verrazano having been added since then, the views are even better today. Can you spot the bridge?

A last look at the FT.

Jutting up past modest homes and infrastructure.

Previously on the Staten Island Restaurant Tour:

Part I: Angelina’s (Tottenville)

Part II: Fina’s Farmhouse (Arthur Kill)

Part III: Laila (Richmond Valley)

Part IV: Il Forno (Pleasant Plains)

Part V: Breaking Bread (Prince’s Bay)

Part VI: Woodrow Diner (Huguenot)

Part VII: Il Sogno (Annadale)

Part VIII: Riva (Eltingville)

Part IX: Marina Cafe (Great Kills)

Part X: Do Eat (Bay Terrace)

Part XI: Canlon’s (Oakwood Heights)

Part XII: Prince Tea House (New Dorp)

Part XIII: Inca’s Peruvian Grille (Grant City)

Part XIV: Colonnade Diner (Jefferson Avenue)

Part XV: Baci (Dongan Hills)

Part XVI: Chinar on the Island (Old Town)

Part XVII: Cinco de Mayo (Grasmere)

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