Parea’s Spartan Delights

May 1, 2007

5 Best and 5 Worst at Parea Restaurant (www.parea-ny.com)

Kalos: The Good

1) Lush and Lusty Lamb chops: The classic Greek meat was a revelation. Rich and meaty as beefsteak without any of the usual heaviness. Cooked to specification, generously portioned and worthy of a second order.

2) Lickable lamb ribs with orange zest: The braised flesh yielded to gentle pressure, releasing far more flavor than I ever thought could be squeezed from Little Bo Peep .

3) Superlative Sweetbreads: Perhaps the most delicious dish on the menu. Richly roasted with smoky flavors, strong meaty mouth feel and wonderful seasoning. Better than Eleven Madison Park’s sweetbreads, better than Landmarc’s, better than Blue Ribbon’s.

4) Stellar Greek Whites: The native grape wine selections were resin free and flavorful. Priced well below expectation by Gramercy area standards, they delivered far more surprise and delight than I would have expected.

5) Friendly Front of House: Servers and maitre d’ were warm, honest (I don’t care for ouzo either) and flexible. They seated our incomplete party, brought appetizers to keep us busy while we checked Blackberries and generally helped ease a few awkward moments of thumb twiddling down time.

Kakos: The Bad and The Ugly

1) Octogenarian Octopus: A Greek place without fresh seafood is Eater Deathwatch-worthy. Our ancient creature of the sea was richly sauced, lovingly plated and godawful. I cannot accept gamy tentacles as anyone’s idea of haute cuisine, particularly at the peak of weekend service. Someone should have noticed the half-full platter we sent back and asked if there had been a problem. I fear they already knew.

2) Leathery Langoustines: When young and beautiful, langoustines look and taste good anywhere from raw to roasted. These old-man stenched, manky numbers were beyond repair and confirmed that the octopus disaster was a trend, not an exception.

3) Desultory Donuts: Much praised in print, ours were greasy and off temperature.  This is a common and delicious dessert item and could and should have been much better.  Greek coffee was a pleasurable counterpoint, but pricey for what it was, Turkish coffee with nationalist pretenses.

4) Off Atmosphere: Empty at eight upon our arrival and just filling as we left at ten. Parea feels like a lounge with food, not a restaurant. I don’t mind if the place goes disco late at night, but don’t make diners feel like they got to the party too early. This isn’t Madrid. Some of us do eat before nine. For a room to be loud and empty is merely a triumph of bad thinking.

5) Monochromatic Color Scheme: Three white sauces with white pita on white plates may work in a beautifully decorated flawlessly executed seafood restaurant on an intimate Greek isle. Here it felt like a platter of paint samples. Thankfully, the sauces, particularly, the feta and lemon, didn’t taste like High Gloss Benjamin Moore.

Takeaway: Stick to the turf and you’ll eat like a hero.  Venture into the surf and you may wake up feeling like you’re swimming with the fishes.

Posted in Favorite 5 Lists, Flatiron/Gramercy, Food, Overrated Foodie Finds | 3 Comments »

Comforted With Apples: Beating the Rainy Day Blues at Bouley

April 27, 2007

When it rains on Sunday morning, spend a few hours and a few dollars on the Times.  When it pours, spend the day and a few hundred dollars at Bouley Restaurant.  Grab a cab downtown, shake off the raindrops on your London Fog and take in the apple dappled walkway that carries you past Tribeca’s heaviest and most beloved wooden door. This is as far as you can get from Manhattan without jet fuel, and a lot better than what you’d find on the other side of the big puddle once you landed.        

Dodging a few little puddles and entering Bouley on such a day, you are instantly in an unimaginably different and delicious place, a country that you can’t quite identify but definitely want to visit–not far from where Eric Ripert found his accent.  This is a restaurant with a feel as distinct and pleasurable as Gramercy Tavern in the nineties.  And David Bouley will never host an infomercial for Sears masquerading as a Bravo tv show.    

On a recent rain soaked Sunday, I was surprised to discover Bouley far from full.  The maitre d’ indicated that half the lunch covers had been  canceled by gastro-pansies fearing a little pre-prandial precipitation.  It was a motley crew that remained, but a dedicated one.  At a nearby table, a dozen waterproof Frenchmen toasted someone’s business acumen.  Closer to the kitchen, a family of  intrepid South American adventurers rewarded their ambulatory derringdo—they’d walked two whole blocks outdoors with only a trio of golf umbrellas to protect themselves from the elements—with a mindblowing array of wines.   I would have been happy to have been their sommelier’s wine napkin!  Finally, a solo diner of uncertain national origin slurped and giggled his way through his meal like M.F.K. Fisher on her first solo trip through France.  This particularly devoted foodie had clearly arrived at the breakfast hour and seemed poised to eat right through to dinner service–an immensely superior alternative to a day of lattes at Starbuck’s.

I was out of my league in that crowd of puddle jumpers large and small, but I did manage six courses, a bracing bottle of Vouvray from Huet and a pair of mid-afternoon marcs.  As I wended my way from the first slice of olive bread to the last macaroon, I observed and enjoyed some of the most splendid and subtle service I’ve ever had in this country.  The food was exceptional, and worthy of a separate post, but on that particularly rainy Lord’s Day, my Oh Gods were reserved less for the Connecticut madman who’s given me four of the best meals of my life than for the little Swiss genius at the maitre d’s station who runs the tightest front of house in the City, shine, or, especially, rain.       

Posted in Favorite 5 Lists, Food | 4 Comments »

North Fork Table and Inn: Worth a Journey

April 12, 2007

If you have a baby or wish to make one, spend the weekend at the North Fork Table & Inn in Southold, NY.  In fact, if you merely wish to groan, gasp and exclaim, “Oh, baby!”, spend the weekend at the North Fork Table & Inn.  You could just stop by for dinner, but then you’d miss a great night’s sleep and, most importantly, the morning after. 

On any list of foodie fantasies, waking up to Claudia Fleming should rank high.  The woman has skin like a Dove Soap model, a body like a yoga instructor and breakfast treats that provoke reactions in the unspeakable zones.  To have her serve them in the early hours, as is the experience here is, well, a fantasy fulfilled.  To have her then ask “Would you like some eggs?”, is well, better than my meager imagination could have come up with, especially when the egg man is Aureole and Amuse vet Gerry Hayden.

Hayden doesn’t whip up scrams, sunny sides or poached eggs for the matutinal feeding, rather, he makes arguably the best omelette on Long Island, formerly the best omelette on Manhattan Island.  One day I had fingerlings, gruyere, chunks of bacon and ramps snuggled in Catapano Farm eggs.  The next brought just-in asparagus spears.   I won’t pick a favorite.  I will be back for more.

Oh, yes, dinner is pretty great, too.  In addition to Fleming and Hayden in the kitchen, there’s a rockstar front of house crew headed by wine director/innkeeper, Mike Mraz, who channels Flea by way of Josh Wesson, and his wife, Mary, who was arguably the best thing about service at Gramercy Tavern for quite a while.  More on them and the family-friendly atmosphere in an upcoming dinner post. 

In the meantime, I have a tidily wrapped leftover chive biscuit to eat while I ruminate on two of the most restful days I’ve spent so close to the City and so far from City life. www.northforktableandinn.com 

Posted in Family Foodie Adventures, Food, Weekend Getaways | 4 Comments »

Early Lunch at Lupa: A Bargain at a Price

March 30, 2007

Twice a day, I am Tim Zagat (www.zagat.com), though admittedly I lack the wiry frame and BBC-worthy voice.  Twice a day, no restaurant’s door is closed to me.  My secret is well-known: eating  off hours.  I can’t buy expensive meals, but I can buy free time.  In short, I can afford to eat out when others can’t afford to be away from their desks.   In the crepuscular crack between 5 and 6 P.M. and the late morning laze before 12:30 arrives and Manhattan feels entitled to eat, nearly ever place is happy for my business, or at least game enough to fake it.   Yes, if you can pick your time, you can pick your table.  And if these early meals don’t suffice, by all means do what I do, eat again at a more cosmopolitan hour.  That said, off hours eating can be an expensive bargain.  Feel is the first victim in a half-empty house: absence of diners spells absence of ambience. After feel, quality is often the second casualty.  At off hours, front and back of house drop orders and nurse and renew hangovers; leftover open wine from the night before gets poured for the marginal while new bottles await regulars diners eating at regular hours; finally, some items, as well as some chefs, just aren’t ready yet.  Many of these deficiencies don’t jump out, and I’m often happy not to know or notice.  Occasionally and inexcusably, the front of house does make it clear that the real game hasn’t begun yet or has already ended.  Yesterday at Lupa www.luparestaurant.com, for instance, my heretofore friendly waitress left halfway through lunch. She had me at hello but apparently felt no need for a goodbye as she scurried off to a more important engagement.   This was clearly not an important hour of service for her or the restaurant.  A replacement was perfectly competent, though the perfunctory dessert offer made it clear that  he and several colleagues preferred to return to their activities at the bar.  Over there, a jovial crowd of underoccupied servers slurped grappa with the furtive fervor of pre-schoolers set loose on Sippy cups of Kool-Aid.  Amidst these distractions, the food offered some pleasures, but not enough to restore the balance.  A small carafe of wine was the perfect amount and price for lunch, particularly on a day when I had to give up my customary dessert nap.  Unfortunately, the bottle of Sicilian red from which my carafe was poured had spent too much time enjoying the sunshine and open air on an unseasonably pleasant March day.  The warm flavors  in the glass were fine.  The warm temperature of the wine was not.      Vegetable offerings were the most adventurous part of the savory menu, particularly the beets with pistachio sauce.  Nonetheless they didn’t feel terribly seasonal on a warm proto-primavera afternoon;  nor did the odd combinations come to seem inevitable.  Instead, they simply felt strange.  I’d rather have the pistachio sauce on a dessert and the beets with just about anything else.  Charcuterie was good, but that’s not good enough in 2007.   When Yorkville (the flyover country Midwest of the UES)’s Uva and Spigolo serve decent testa and prosciutto, a place like Lupa needs to dig deeper to make its plate of salumi stand out.  Standards for high-end casual Italian have risen since 1999, and I’m not sure Lupa hasn’t been a bit too casual in keeping up with the market it created. More disappointingly,  the much trumpeted gnocchi simply didn’t live up  to post- or pre-millenial press.  They were utterly adequate and unsublime.  13 dollars is steep for a cup and half of paste and sauce that neither promises nor offers a hint of revelation; mediocrity is never cheap.Buttermilk panna cotta was an easy sell, and I bought.  The texture was perfect pap for infants and the infirm, or simply lazy chewers, but the liquor soaked fruit accompaniment did instill a little fun into a snoozy meal.In sum, Lupa remains a going concern but not one to concern those living outside the neighborhood enough to go.   It hardly merits a journey or even a detour from elsewhere on the island, even if you live on the Lexington line.   On the right night at the right hour, a good meal could be had, but my off hours forays will unlikely bring me or any friends of mine back.   I got, almost, what I paid for. 

Posted in Lads Who Lunch, Overrated Foodie Finds | 1 Comment »

Pie by the Pound…Beers for a Buck: A Decent Restaurant Grows in Yorkville

March 19, 2007

Like polar bears and sand fleas, Pie by the Pound www.piebythepound.com blends with its hostile environment—the tobacco row of slatternly ball cap bars that dominates the East Eighties—but also transcends it. Outside, it’s as nondescript as any of the neighborhood’s soulless swill houses. In fact, it’s even more bland than the area’s faux Irish bars and ersatz Southern barbecue joints. Inside, however, Pie by the Pound shrugs off the mortal boil that is Yorkville and shows its inner Barcelona chic.

Chairs are hiply modern and generously spaced to allow for double parked double wide strollers, extreme lounging and straightforward casual eating. An unexpectedly interesting magazine selection offers entertainment for solo diners and pacification for bored teenagers dragged along by parents. Flat screens add a nice take on the universal intergenerational opiate.

Of course, looks will only get you so far, even on this desperately unbeautiful block where beer goggles are the preferred eyewear. Fortunately, the pizza is hot and delicious. The serving format is innovative as well, a big step up on the dank slice joints down the block. For eat-in customers, a dozen freshly made tiles of pizza sit at the ready behind a thin sheet of glass. You simply indicate how much you want with a hand gesture to the knife wielding server. A moment later the appropriately sized swatch of pizza goes into the oven for a quick refire.

Most of the topping combinations are straightforward: fresh mozzarella, tomatoes and basil; a great white pizza that avoids the greasiness pitfall so common with this variety; and several mushroom mixes. For those seeking a little nutritional balance, a veggie combo offers all the sweetness and light one expects when six particolored fresh cut vegetables decorate a pie but none of the bitter overload of the classic chlorophyll laden pie. For a bit more fun and a lot more taste, the margherita potato chip pizza proves texture can be as important to toppings as it is to crust. The combo seems odd then inevitable: crunchy, salty, sweet and addictive. It’s easy to see why it sells out so quickly.

As if this bargain priced embarrassment of pizza riches weren’t enough, the beer selection is painfully cheap, not alcohol by the ounce but rather Buds by the buck. Yes, Budweisers run a dollar each here, as do Amstels. Only Heinekens push the price envelope at a princely two dollars apiece. Hipster artisanal sodas round out the selection and are perfect for family outings, but I keep my loyalties with St. Louis’ finest watery refreshment. It won’t distract from the pizza nor leave your wallet much lighter than when you came in the door.

So next time you’re thinking of Totonno’s Yorkville branch or, heaven forbid, a trip to Tony’s di Crapoli, do think twice, it’s not alright. Weigh your options then pick up the phone and order from Pie by the Pound. Better still, bring family or friends, or catch up on your magazine reading, tv watching and beer drinking over a solo slice or two. Pretty soon you’ll be a regular.

Posted in Baby Food, Family Foodie Adventures, Yorkville | 4 Comments »

King’s Carriage House: A Country Inn for a Night in the Neighborhood

March 13, 2007

It’s a hard knock life being a foodie in Yorkville. The good German and Hungarian stalwarts have long since been kudzued over by a tobacco row of dank bars and dangerously dirty slice joints. The new waves of cuisine, from nouvelle to molecular gastronomy leave us high and dry. Neither haute Paris nor ethnically savory Sunnyside, Queens, Yorkville is a little bit of everything and not much of anything. Nonetheless, a few brave souls are making meals worth a walk if not a cab ride.

Among the new breed, Spigolo, Uva and Café D’Alsace are the obvious well-publicized standouts. Several rungs lower, York Grill remains an adequate standby, unwilling to get better and unlikely to get worse. King’s Carriage House, according to my friends’ reports, falls somewhere in between, but closer to the former group than the latter. This past Friday I gave it a try.

After a single visit, I’d say this lovely little converted brownstone is much more about feel than food, but the feel is wonderfully warm and clubby and perhaps the perfect answer to the modest expectations of a Friday night’s repast. A favorite of many Carl Schurz Park volunteer gardeners and other Connecticut second home owners, its décor is delightfully country inn tweedy, from the hunt scene prints to the candelabra. It’s also surprisingly cosmopolitan.

During a leisurely three hour dinner I was treated to discourses on changing admissions policies at Choate, Taft and Princeton from one table of Rep tied brownstoners, Spanish judicial corruption from madrileño renters and something unintelligible with a German accent from unidentifiable tourists. Only the slouching Tigers were overbearingly loud, and they did provide some modicum of entertainment. Fortunately, so did the food.

Lamb was rare, beautifully seasoned and set off by surprisingly fresh braised greens. Venison sausage and sweet potato hash would make for excellent haute breakfast fare, but also tasted great at dinner time. Only Stilton and fruit with a missing glass of port failed to live up to its promise. The cheese was bland and the presentation a bit dated without being dated enough—no modern funky flavor, no old-school maggot spoon. A goat cheese terrine was antiquated but comfortingly filling and fairly tasty, perfectly suited to the place and the pace. Grilled salmon exceeded wedding banquet standards but not by much. Fortunately, a blackberry crumble redeemed the evening, and left me fortified for the short post-prandial stroll home.

This wasn’t food or drink to contemplate, comment, wax or whine about. It didn’t lift my eyes upward to the heavens with exalted gastro-joy nor the ceiling in exasperation. Rather, it made me smile and look at and talk to my spouse. A good time, an easy reservation, a reasonable check, and baby and babysitter asleep by eleven. Number four on the Yorkville standout list, check.

Posted in Baby Food, Food, Yorkville | 1 Comment »

Top 10 Tastes at C-CAP Benefit 2007

March 1, 2007

Here are ten Xs on my tasty treasure map from this year’s C-CAP benefit. Theme ingredients emerged as always, despite perennial attempts to diversify the offerings. This year Perigord trumped the porcine, as pickup Teams Truffle and Foie Gras replaced last year’s Pork Belly and Kumquat crews.

1. Foie Gras Rice Krispie with Fruit Accompaniment: Compass
Compass’s John Fraser proves once again that he’s the most creative chef on the Upper West Side. Captaining Team Foie, Fraser offered the standout treatment of the luxury ingredient and a glorious reminder of why New York will always beat Chicago—we ban transfats, they ban goose fat—when it comes to fine food. Surprise quickly yielded to sense that combination was inevitable. Of course, yesterday it wasn’t.

Oceana made good use of the fatty stuff in a wintery periwinkles and bacon ragout, and Café des Artistes turned a nice PB&J pun into a fun if unoriginal foie and wine reduction dish.

2. Fluke and Halibut Crudo: Esca
Pasternack’s crudo remains the best in the city. Most revisited of the savory stations and for good reason. Likely one of the more talked about offerings as well. Loved the bonus beverage (Spanish sherry) he kept on hand for those inclined to linger a bit by the windows while gazing at New Jersey’s shoreline.

3. Lime Custard, Flame-broiled Meringue and Candied Kumquats: Aureole
Amar Santana and Rachel Lansang have the best palates of any C-CAP alums, and watching the results of their collaboration was a pleasure. This sweet treat was a gourmet’s key lime pie. It also slyly evoked C-CAP of yore when kumquats were everywhere. A top contender for the clean plate club, i.e., no halfsies left on the cocktail tables.

Neighboring Modern’s Panna Cotta with Mangos, pistachio macaroon and fruit gelée was gloriously overambitious—Victorian trifle in a cocktail glass—but offered some beautiful color and bracing citrus that cut through some of the fat overload from Teams Foie and Truffle. Worthy of repeated attentions as well.

4. Wild Mushroom and Morel Flan, Truffle Oil, Mushroom Broth: Payard
A surprise winner for Team Truffle. Perhaps the richest dish of the night bite by bite. Tasted more luxurious than anything I’ve eaten in a long time. Long finish of truffle, earthy mushroom and general deliciousness.

5. Braised Lamb, Peas and Wilted Lettuce: Beacon
Waldy Malouf and Carmen Quagliata at Union Square Café were two of the few to take spring preview seriously in theming their selection. Both used peas brilliantly, Quagliata for a light salad and Malouf for a signature savory meat preparation. He’s always a top hitter at this event. Stop by on the way in and he’ll have you at “Hello.”

6. Chestnut Bisque, Fresh Black Truffles and Vin Jaune: Town
John Johnson’s restaurant may intimidate with its hyper-fashionable servers and almost too-beautiful setting, but out of house he offers unpretentious seasonal luxury. Part of Team Truffle, his easy to eat soup lingered on the palate like Payard’s Flan and made me far more willing to brave the full-Windsored waiters on a return visit to Town.

Gotham’s pigeon-broth ravioli offered similar Falstaffian fun. Great to see Portale inventing so effortlessly 20 years in.

7. Black Cherry Ice Cream Float: Olives
Alfred Stephens, another C-CAP hall of famer, brought this top contender from 2006 back to triumph again in 2007. People shamelessly ordered seconds and thirds for phantom dates or openly doubled and tripled down. Layers of flavor, layers of fun in the glass. Sad to know it will be gone by next year, excited to discover what Stephens comes up with next.

8. Beef Cheeks with Endive Salad and Beet Gelée: Aquavit
Marcus Samuelsson always brings a special treat—homemade infused aquavit— which makes the line at his station that much easier to bear. The food was worth a journey as well, especially for those who thought his creativity ended with fish. A colorful rich and complex bite best bookended by liquid refreshment (the shots aren’t full size anyway).

9. Morimoto Fishwich of Fried Cod, White Truffle Garlic Mayo and Cheddar on a Bun
Morimoto shows real humor with this fun spin on a McDonald’s delight. Cheddar was perfect sharp counterpoint to Portugal-worthy cod and punchy aioli. Another top player on Team Truffle. Pedantry-free food.

10. Steak Tartare and Herb Salad: Patroon
A surprise hit and the perfect portion for party eating. I was halfway down the center aisle with tartare well swallowed before I realized how good this plate had been. No fudge factor stunt ingredients, just perfect balance. Fortunately, circling round for seconds was taken as a compliment by the chef. Thirds were greeted with bewildered but generally benign tolerance.

Posted in Food | 4 Comments »

Take the Princess to Queens: Family Foodie Adventures at Sripraphai

February 14, 2007

Foodie moms and dads: 

Don’t reheat another Terrance Brennan Fresh Direct meal this Tuesday. Don’t rush through another early dinner at Gramercy Tavern to make it home by nanny quitting time this Monday. And please, please don’t order another barbecue sampler from Brother Jimmy’s this Saturday. Get off the island and take your little princess—or sweet prince—to Queens for ethnic adventure dining! Where else can a night of gastro-fun be had for far less than you’d spend on that Barnard babysitter and a first quartino of Barolo at Babbo?

Ethnic food may not always be easy on the baby’s digestion, but if your little one is still at the Simulac stage, habanero intolerance isn’t an issue. For our crowd, Queens is a gustatory EPCOT without the lines, giant mice and risk of sunburn. And you don’t need to book a month ahead. Ethnic restaurants may intimidate spontaneous solo diners and first daters, but they’re almost always friendly to families who just show up; we’re their mainstay clientele. In fact, I’d hazard to guess you get better service with baby in tow.

Of all the options on the 7 line, I’d start with for Sripaphai. It offers clean, articulate and utterly delicious food at an outrageous value. It’s also well-known and packed, so start early and stay late. Once you have a table, order one round of food and make subsequent selections only when supplies run low.

Don’t get lost in the vast menu. Just pick your usual Thai favorites and discover how much better they can taste off the island. Flavors pop here like they never will in the Siamese slophouses of Yorkville; and it’s not from MSG. Sripaphai simply uses better and fresher ingredients without flourish or fetish. Chiles, herbs and sauces come through in Surround Sound because they’re well-sourced and well-balanced.

Nota bene: Don’t order anything made from grapes, no matter how thirsty you get. The house-special “Burgandy” ($16/liter) clearly isn’t what has Jean-Georges Vongerichten coming back. This ethanol substitute might solve our energy crisis, but it tastes like ass in a glass. Neither grape nor place, it’s merely a misplaced state of mind. This isn’t Tabla or Shun Lee, restaurants that make a compelling, if costly, case for Asian food and wine, so stick instead to light lager beer. For the abstemious, Thai iced coffee and tea are two sensible non-boozy ways to beat the heat.

Drunken noodles are obscenely good, so double down on them for starters or for leftovers. Green curry is also a must, and will certainly help you put on a happy face. Of course, it will also give you the flushed face, copious spice sweats and fast running nose of a dedicated adventure diner. Don’t worry, these are well-earned and respected red badges of courage. Finally, fried tofu is definitely worth getting, but don’t start a Lord of the Flies fracas over the last piece. Soy beans are not scarce; preserve your hard-won connubial bliss by ordering more for you and your greedy bite-stealing spouse. Beyond that, eat just about anything, except cockles and frog legs. The former aren’t too fresh, and the latter are ground, yes, ground, into a reptilian Nestle crunch.

Desserts, like good cockles in Queens, remain a dream deferred. They’re just not what’s good to eat here. Durian fruit is stunt food, not fun food. The sticky rice treats are fine, as are the various gelatinous options made from grass and coconut, but baby pap is best left to babies. Enjoy a Thai Iced Coffee instead, then pay up, head home, put baby to bed, and kick back with a Calvados or two. You’ll be up at 7, so don’t make it three, and please, please don’t open a bottle of Burgandy.

Posted in Baby Food, Family Foodie Adventures | 6 Comments »

DB BISTRO MODERNE: Miracle on 44th Street

February 5, 2007

Welcoming warm intuitive service wasn’t what I expected in mid-town pre-theater dining, nor consistently excellent, well-priced food. Nonetheless, on a recent visit, DB BISTRO MODERNO raised the bar from greeting to goodbye.

My spouse and I arrived for dinner at the peak hour on the peak day of pre-theater rush with no reservation, no insider connections and no illusions. Nonetheless, the maitre d’ smiled, welcomed and accomodated us at one of two marble communal tables. This was precisely what we had wanted, and we got it with nary a sniffle or snort about failing to have planned ahead.

The table’s waiter (one worked all three parties) was fast on his feet but also unhurried, gracious and pleasantly non-Parisian French. In the course of the meal, he managed to adjust our wine order twice on the fly, get us the proper temperature on the foie and short rib burger while splitting it unasked, sequence an obscenely generous Marc after coffee on request and chat up a neighboring solo diner, all while serving other tables, dodging main room diners and otherwise making himself useful.

He also wrangled a pair of aggressive and obvious photo bloggers. In fact, DB seemed to be a bloggers’ paradise. When the maitre d’ observed the flashing camera and telltale notepad, he invited the bloggers to speak with anyone in the kitchen who might have insights for them. NB: Lose the notetaking at the table, and cut back on the flash photography! Blatant blogging is bad blogging and a desperate call for extra attention. Observe don’t alter the experience.

Fortunately, the food more than redeemed the ersatz amateur media frenzy. Fries were excellent, especially dipped in house mayo, where the French are many steps ahead of our Hellman’s/Miracle Whip red state/blue state divide. The burger on the other hand, was worth a detour not a journey. A bit on the boiled tasting side, it was more of a great idea than a thought-provoking act of deliciousness-making. Like Mario’s beef cheeks or Gray’s short ribs, it’s something to try and talk about. Unlike those dishes though, I wouldn’t come back for seconds. Messieurs Boulud and Tourondel, the French have a great cuisine, but let’s be clear, you’re not burger people. In the future, I’ll stick to Shake Shack.

More fun by far was the meal’s front and back matter, i.e., the appetizers, desserts and drinks. A torchon of foie gras was full bodied, full-flavored and full sized, easily enough for two. Tuna tartare was a bit CIA-level but by no means reproachable. Plus, it helped prevent a full on post-prandial crise de foie. A Banana chocolate tart and Baba au Rhum were superb takes on classics, especially the rum-soaked latter which served as a sort of digestif before the digestif. A surprisingly tasty Corey Vineyards North Fork wine, a powerful if pricey Chassagne Montrachet, and, again, that wonderful whopper of a snifter of Marc, all left me impressed by the beverage program.

Most of all though, it was the courtesy of professionally and personally adept service, from runners and coat checkers to servers and hosts, that made good food taste better. DB may not have wood smoke like Gramercy, nor flames like Landmarc, but it has the warmth of home on an otherwise cold stretch of 44th Street.

Posted in Food, Midtown | 2 Comments »

Gramercy Tavern’s Mid-Winter Renaissance: A New Voice Emerges

January 30, 2007

I went to Gramercy Tavern last night and had a wonderful dinner at Blue Hill at Stone Barns. New chef Michael Anthony is still finding his voice–he’s not quite ready to jettison that Blue Hill bag of tricks–but after one round of his Winter Tasting and Vegetable Menus, I’ll vote Gramercy a forward-thinking concern again.

Cooks, clients and servers alike seem relieved and recharged now that Captain Tom has finally moved on. Colicchio had a great run, but his inattention was beginning to show. The buzz is coming back now and so are the unforced smiles and belly pats of people eating above expectation.

On a first pass, and I plan to make more, I noticed Anthony’s degustation was a far lighter and less overtly luxurious affair than I’d encountered previously at Gramercy: comforting food without after-dinner discomfort. Little butter, no mushroom cappuccinos, no foie gras and no beef meant no late night fat sweats nor early morning Advil.

The vegetables, greens, herbs, and sauces accompanying this lighter fare were fresher, tastier and more colorful than I’d ever had in the City at this time of year, much less at Gramercy. Cilantro purée was beautifully colored, clean flavored and delicious. Beets, cauliflower and daikons were prepped summery even if they’re winter stalwarts. Citrus accents on scallops didn’t hide the Blue Hill connection; then again, Blue Hill never hid its respect for the Gramercy model, even down to their servers’ uniforms.

After five savories–fluke, mackerel, bass, bacon and lamb–I was still feeling peckish, and thankfully the cheese menu was there to lead me toward satiety. Two full pages of rarities, it’s a far bigger and better affair than on my last go-through. Though I missed the ceremony of the cart in the far backroom, I did appreciate the generous portions, appropriate varieties of bread and, yes, the cheese. All the taste but none of the Artisanal preciousness and portion chintzing. Vacherin slid off the plate into oozy, smile-making pools. A gouda of the fruity, funky high quality parm reg school was mimolette on meth, the kind that makes you proud to be Dutch. A Bayley Hazen blue was less exciting but irreproachable.

Wines were uniformly excellent, though 3AM headache (okay, some Advil was still required) makes me wonder about the Hungarian number. Still, beverage director Juliette Pope has a beautiful nose, so I’ll resist the urge to libel her selection.

Pastry Chef Nancy Olson’s desserts and petits fours were also exceptional. A chocolate multi-parter proved how versatile this ingredient is in the right hands, especially the almond joy riff. I wish I’d ordered a third selection for the table, mainly to find out how much more she can do. Best work since Claudia Fleming.

Would have done a Marc after coffee, but check was already on the table. Server was good, though a bit off on reading our sobremesa mood. Of course, I like to talk to servers and linger while my spouse wants to dine and depart in a veil of silence. I guess it depends on whom she read.

En cinco palabras: A great restaurant leaves you thinking and thinking about coming back. Gramercy: II is on the way. I’m looking forward to the Anthony’s spring creations. By then this place should be in full flower, not pushing up daisies as Mr. Bruni would have it.

Posted in Favorite 5 Lists, Flatiron/Gramercy, Food | 8 Comments »

« Older Entries
Newer Entries »