Georgia 21

Looking for something other than a $ 20+ meal at Tatiana on the boadwalk, we ventured in to Brighton Ave looking for a mid-​range sit down meal. I have no comparison as of yet to the other neighboring Russian and Georgian joints, but I had a pretty fantastic meal at Georgia 21 — in part for the food, in part because of the quirkiness of the experience.
Our waiter apologetically gave us the one English menu in the restaurant, which did little to tell us what was what since most of the items were just the Russian name in quotes. Thankfully our waiter kindly sat down and helped us select dishes that might be to our liking. He also suggested we order some cheesy bread, which turned out to be basically a deep-​dish cheese pizza sans tomato sauce. It took 30 minutes for it to arrive out, but it was delicious and nearly spoiled my appetite for the 6 enormous dumplings that arrived for my main dish. Very similar to Shanghai soup dumplings, our waiter explained that it’s customary to eat them with your hands so you can slurp out all the juices. Good tip. My friends had some kind of stewed lamb and potatoes and a BBQed sturgeon, the latter of which was fantastic. Both heavily garnished in dill.
The wait for our food and then our check was a bit much, but as we were in no real hurry, we remained entertained by a heavily makeup-​ed woman singing Russian tunes a little off-​key along to a track on a small stage near the kitchen. All in all, a memorable meal.
I will second Danny O’s comment about the lemonade on the menu — it seems to be their misinterpretation of «soda» and comes in tarragon and pear flavors, which would be better labeled «licorice» and «bubblegum» respectively. Not quite what we expected.

Great Georgian food. Probably best in NYC. Only reason why I put 4 stars instead of 5 — it is small place and better to take food at home. But once again if you want to try real and delicious Georgian food this is only place.

I can honestly say that this may have been my worst dining experience ever. Sit back, children, while I bestow a tale of terror and nausea upon you. To preface, I like to think of myself as a somewhat adventurous eater — I’ve eaten many things with eyes attached, congealed blood, tripe on a few occasions– even bull penis. All of those dishes paled in comparison to this evening’s cuisine.
Let me rewind and set the mood. I sat down to my table where both the tablecloth and napkins were filthy (I later saw a waiter drop utensils on the floor and place them back on the table). During the 25 minute long wait for a menu, I was entertained not only by the Rubenesque woman singing Georgian opera on the big-​screen at the far end of the room, but also by some guy who managed to sneeze no less than 30 consecutive times before drunkenly passing out in front of his meal.
So I finally get the «English» menu — which is just phonetically spelled words in Georgian — sans explanation. I had a tough choice to make between Mudjudji, Budjnina and Basturma. Heaven knows my last experience with Basturma was a terrible one *cough*, so I defaulted to the waiter’s recommendation of Mudjudji and a «Lemon» soda.
Turns out Mudjudji is cold pork skin and fat. «Veddy veddy good,» my ass, comrade. I ate two bites — and in an attempt to not be rude, asked them to wrap it up. After being berated for using a credit card on a 13 dollar bill, I ran out — gasping for some fresh air — and proceeded to dump my meal in the closest garbage can.
It’s been well over an hour and I’m still nauseas.
The one edible part of the meal was the lemon soda — which was actually pear flavored.
I’m considering becoming a health inspector, just so I can legitimately shut this place down.

Once in a while you have to venture into uncharted territory so that others after you can learn from your lessons. I did this for you, dear reader.
Some friends and I went to Brighton Beach last weekend looking for an authentic Russian experience, and that’s exactly what we got, just not in a good way.
So let’s begin. What started out alright, we were greeted by a friendly host and offered any table in the house, turned red very quickly. The dcor was a bit shabby, but table cloths and patrons abounded, so we sat down. The poorly made menu card did have the options in English, great for my non-​Russian friends.
After carefully planning our selection, we proceeded. I went first, warming up our waitress by ordering a Chicken Kiev in Russian. «Net» They seemed to have run out. Ok, how about Shish kebab? «Net,» came again. And so it continued something straight out of the USSR circa 1919 – 1989. I was feeling back home by the minute. At least the items came with sides. «Ris, jarenaya kortoshka, ili varenaya kortoska.» «Huh,» wondered my non-​Russian friends. [I forgot to explain, that if you want to eat in a Russian place you also have to speak Russian, duh!] The waitress quickly got mad as she was forced to repeat the items to my poor non-​Russian friends, who still didn’t understand.
«To drink?» Tap water, please. «Net.» Something about the water not being filtered, and don’t we want to [spend more money] get the Poland Spring? Bread [costs extra]? Actually, that one was rhetorical. She caught herself mid sentence and decided for us that we were having bread.
So the water never came, until another waiter was bothered to bring it. But at least the Borscht (traditional Russian soup) was pretty good. As to our 3 Beef Stroganoffs (they were out of three quarters of the menu) and my pilaf, they were awful.
Check and peace. How do you say, «Never again» in Russian?