…Yankee Stadium, which added a slew of better food options when it opened in 2009. Skip the dogs and get meatball subs from Rich Torrisi and Mario Carbone at Parm, fried pickles from Brother Jimmys BBQ, juicy steak sandwiches from Lobels, and candy from Dylans Candy Bar.
“Skip the dogs and get,” you know, whatever is fair advice, though it should be said that there is nothing — often including the baseball team — at Yankee Stadium that is worth the trip. Over all, I admit, the food is much improved in the new ballpark. Unfortunately, to acquire any of the most-interesting,-though-not-really-tantalizing comestibles mentioned in the Eater review, you have to descend to the field level. And that means you will be out of your seat for multiple innings. (Unless, you are sitting down there in the first place, of course; but who besides [expletives deleted] does that?)
A journey like that might be worth it if Yankee Stadium was heaped on top of something like Eataly, but it isn’t, of course, and the fact is it takes long enough to simply queue in the upper deck for a plain Famiglia personal pizza ($8) and souvenir cup of Miller Lite ($11). (Not recommended, by the way; whatever charms a regular Famiglia slice may hold for you, the Yankee Stadium version is a lukewarm, spongy-crusted, weakly-sauced imposter.)
There is plenty of choice on the 300-level concourse, of course. And though all of it is uninspiring, if you keep walking you might find something that you, literally, can stomach.
The smarter play, though, is to surf the delis and ethnic restaurants outside the ballpark, because you can bring in your own food so long as you leave out the plastic bottles and have it all in a clear plastic sack. Gerard Avenue, a block to the east of River Avenue, has along a bustling stretch from E. 158th Street to the broken-elbow of E. 162nd a full-on New York diner, a fried-chicken joint, a Caribbean place and an Indian restaurant. Tucked in there on the east side (across the street from the back end of Yankee Tavern) is the Bleachers, a grim bodega that caters to the lottery-ticket-and-beer-can-in-a-bag crowd. But there is a bare-bones deli inside, and the sandwiches are fat and cheap.