Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Dec 28

Barbuto

Do you care what I ate for Christmas? No, I didn’t think so. (Minimizing the number of photo-centric this-is-what-I-ate posts is a goal for 2011) But I’m bored and house-bound; cut me some slack.

Normally, I cook over the holidays even if it’s only for a small number of people. This year I just wasn’t feeling it, next year I need to get out of the city.

What prix fixes were to be had? Many seemed perfectly nice, but dull and like hotel dining (not these hotel restaurants, of course). Maialino was on my radar, especially once I learned they were serving egg nog (why so scarce?) but they were fully booked. Barbuto didn’t seem like a bad second choice. The $65 family-style meal turned out to provide variety (I thought you’d get to pick from each course, but you got everything) and generous portions. Rustic and hearty makes sense on Christmas.

Antipasti included toasted bread with sheep’s milk ricotta and pannetone with chicken liver pate. The sweet slices combined with the rich spread was perfect. I also like using pannetone to make mustardy ham and swiss sandwiches that evoke cubanos.

After the salads of chickpea and Maine shrimp and beets and burrata (I don’t think I’ve ever eaten the soft oozy cheese twice in one month—then again, I rarely eat Italian food) I was already getting dangerously full.

I preferred the linguine with bay scallops, chiles and Meyer lemon over the black-truffled risotto, if only because I like strong flavors and more texture. I feel the same way about rice pudding and especially pudding puddings.

I know Jonathan Waxman is known for his roast chicken, and this crispy version with salsa verde was great. How do you compete with porchetta, though? Roast pork and polenta will always win. The only way the tender meat could’ve been any better would be if pieces of crackly skin were included. Mashed pumpkin, cauliflower with anchovies and a potato gratin were on the side.

Ok, I just said that pudding is boring, but serve it with whipped cream and biscotti and call it a budino and I’ll shut up.

Barbuto * 755 Washington St., New York, NY

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Nov 6

Lotus of Siam NY

1/2 Assessing a restaurant like Lotus of Siam, which popped up out of nowhere in a shocking I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant style, is problematic. Do you compare it to the Las Vegas original even though it’s a different beast? I prefer the strip mall version. Do you match it against the existing Thai restaurants in the city? I still favor Chao Thai or Sripraphai in Queens.

Based on the opening week tasting menu—yes, I’m curious to see the variety and pricing of the regular entrees—Lotus of Siam presents Thai food that ranges the gamut from regional Issan specialties to fancified inventions. And they’re most successful when focusing on those two ends of the spectrum. The most disappointing dish turned out to be a generic green curry, something I wouldn’t normally order anywhere of my own accord even in Thailand.

Tuna koi soy, a tartare, was the dish I was most concerned about when looking at the menu online, and it ended up being one of the most distinctly Thai flavored things I ate all night. Herby with vegetal lime leaf undertones, toasted rice powder chalkiness and a powerfully hot chile punch, this was a promising start. If this was what they could create with done to death tuna tartare (I really hope there’s not a molten cake on the menu) my fears would all be misplaced.

Two of the four starters–nam kao tod and koong sarong–were things I’d eaten before in Vegas, so that was also a good sign. The tangy crispy rice with sausage that’s really more like cubed ham was fun and so were the tiki-esque fried bacon-wrapped shrimp enrobed in wonton skins with sweet-chile dipping sauce.

The satay was perfunctory (it’s also one of those items I never order because it’s rarely exciting and well, Malaysians and Singaporeans just do it better because they own it) and the pik kai yao sai, crispy chicken stuffed with its own meat and vegetables was solid, if not a bit Chinese in nature.

The rest of the tasting menu, two choices per course, was arbitrarily dispensed. I sampled both but only took photos of what was put in front of me first. Oddly enough, in nearly every case I was given the dish I would’ve chosen for myself.

The tom yum koong was appropriately salty, spicy and funky. I was pleased to see the shrimp head bobbing in the amber broth. It adds a welcome bitterness.

The soft shell crab yum using julienned green and red apples instead of shredded papaya is where they started to lose me. I might’ve been sold if the dish had heat to balance the fruit’s sweetness but there wasn’t even a speck of chile, fresh, powdered or flaked. If someone presented this to me as a nice salad and didn’t say it was Thai, I would’ve liked it more.

Scallops krathiam prik thai were an interesting diversion that came across as refined in presentation yet still Thai in flavor. The swamp green sludge was a viscous paste of cilantro, garlic and black pepper that was pungent but didn’t overwhelm the seafood.

I’m glad they incorporated Thai apple eggplant (I wouldn’t been ecstatic over those little pea-shaped ones) and that’s the only nice thing I can say about the kang khiao wan. It was like a bowl of water with stuff in it and even the stuff tasted like water. Then again, I just really dislike chicken breast. (This didn’t even come close to the anger-inducing chicken breast I was served at Spoon Thai in Chicago, though.) Tofu would’ve had more appeal. The packet of (unopened) curry paste I bought at Aw Taw Kaw eight months ago and rediscovered in my fridge’s crisper drawer the night before this meal made a better curry. The red curry beef, the other option for this course, was much more robust so I am not completely writing off Lotus of Siam’s curries.

Thankfully, we were served a nice traditional scoop of coconut ice cream topped with strips of coconut meat, mango and “red rubies,” a.k.a. water chestnuts coated in gelatinous pink tapioca starch and not molten cake. The common street vendor dessert might seem out of place on Fifth Avenue, but it brought me back to what Lotus of Siam is about.

Lotus of Siam is also a wine conscious restaurant, one of the strongest differentiators from NYC Thai, and I was happy to drink a few glasses of Reinhold Haart Riesling with my meal. There is also an on trend cocktail list, which I don’t think exists in Vegas.

I have not tried Kin Shop yet, but it will be interesting to compare it to this experience since I think Lotus of Siam is closer in intent to that restaurant than most of the existing Thai venues in NYC.

Lotus of Siam * 248 Fifth Ave., New York, NY

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Oct 27

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Preview: Graffit

There’s still a lot of hubbub surrounding Spanish food (or have we moved on to Scandinavia?). Yet, for such a de moda cuisine, there are many swaths of the city lacking a single Spanish restaurant, modern or traditional. I can’t believe it took until last week for South Brooklyn to get a tapas bar (no, La Mancha doesn’t count).

Maybe I’m geographically biased, but the dining diversity on the Upper West Side has always felt a bit bleak. That’s why it’s surprising that Spanish chef, Jesús Nuñez, has decided to open his first New York restaurant on W. 69th Street. Known for deconstructions, playful presentations…and a penchant for graffiti art (hence, the name, not to be confused with Jehangir Mehta’s Graffiti) hopefully his vision will translate in this staid neighborhood.

This is a preview of what Graffit will be serving when they open in November. As this dinner was hosted at Compass, chef Milton Enriquez contributed dishes, as well. Free food clouds one’s judgment so this is by no means a review. Just the facts. I will say that I would likely return on my own. Mercat, Txikito, Casa Mono and countless other tapas bars are justifiably popular, but I would say that we haven’t had a creative full-on Spanish restaurant since Ureña.

Sangria in Six Textures

Fuji Apple, Endive Salad
Greek yogurt, manchego, tangerines, pistachio vinaigrette

Carabinero, Langoustine and Prawn Carpaccio
Saffron Cream, Sauce Américaine, Olive Oil Gel and Sea Dust

I wasn't going to editorialize, but this was my favorite–so much color and flavor crammed into such small surface areas.

Potato + Onion + Egg = Tortilla de Patata

Hudson Valley Foie Gras
Meyer lemon curd, brussels sprouts, porcini mushrooms, toasted pinenuts, 50 -year old balsamic

Pan Roasted Dover Sole
Sunchokes two ways, poached hen egg, white truffles, parsley beurre blanc, osetra caviar

Bacalao in salsa verde, kokotxas, traces of bell pepper

I also like the use of mauve and bisquey earth tones, which aren't intuitively appetizing.

Braised Veal Cheeks
Celeriac, chanterelles, cipollini onions, mustard asian pear salad

Venison
Chestnuts, Wheat Risotto, Lentils and Pumpkin

More of those flesh tones–and lavender micro cauliflower. Yes, I'm a sucker for unnaturally colored food.

"Orange Julius" jasmine granite

Piña Colada
Curry scented pineapple sorbet, coconut bubbles

Molten chocolate buñuelos on a canvas of colors, flavors and textures

More lilac hues. A fitting send-off.

Graffit * W. 69th St., New York, NY

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Oct 26

Wall & Water

When asked what made me decide to try Wall & Water (it had already been determined that I wasn’t a hotel guest, but worked up the street–really those are the only two reasons someone would be dining in this nowhere edge of the city) I didn’t have the heart to admit that it was a Village Vines 30% off promotion. Normally, I’d shy away from $14 cocktails, “house-pressed” ginger syrup or not. But a $9.80 dark & stormy? Sure.

The manager is painfully attuned to the service being described as “hot and cold” in the doubled-up New York Times review from August. Consequently, they’re kind of overdoing it now, falling hard into the ingratiating end of the spectrum. Not that I’m calling for more aloofness, just balance.

The food, however, hits all the right new American notes. Raw bar, charcuterie, artisanal cheese? They’ve got that too. Overall, the menu is a little pricey but good as opposed the little pricey but middling that plagues nearly every establishment in a ten-block radius (Setai excluded). I would return if I had an expense account type of job, and recommended it to someone I work with who probably does.

The salt-sprinkled hunk of butter drizzled with olive oil and goat cheese topped with cracked black pepper added variety to the bread basket.

The swordfish confit starter would’ve been better for sharing. It was hard to gauge serving sizes based on price. Fifteen dollars of seafood could be a few bites or it could be substantial like these three slices of mild, firm fish. The dish was appealing but not exciting enough to hold my attention. The smoked trout with pickles and beets might have been more my style.

It’s hard to go wrong with a pork chop, especially with such handsome grill marks. I enjoyed the slightly unusual pairing of meaty pinto beans and horseradishy slaw. Potatoes would just be too obvious and I’ve been trying to take a break from heavy starches, so this was perfect.

At its core, Wall & Water is at hotel restaurant in the Financial District. Lots of suits, and for nearly an hour I was the only female in the dining room. Eventually, a young guest was seated next to me who ordered swordfish (an entrée, not my appetizer) a glass of water and blew through his meal in minutes, sunglasses on, iPod buds in ears the entire time. This is what’s going to happen to all those kids glued to DVR players at the table when they grow up.

Wall & Water * 75 Wall St., New York, NY

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Oct 15

Hill Country Chicken

Hill Country Chicken really wasn’t what I had expected. The cute, ‘50s farmhouse décor, plenty of open seats and an abundance of choice, not a single item sold-out, were all pluses. My restaurant pessimism over newish restaurants was squashed flat.

I wouldn’t say that the heat lamp setup is kind to the fried chicken, though. Pre-Willie Mae’s Scotch House visit, I would’ve been fine with this dark, denser, paprika-heavy approach (the Mama El’s style with a crushed cracker crust is actually pretty tasty, but for me the skin is the whole point of frying poultry) but now I’ve been spoiled by a lacier, golden version that will satisfy after only one thigh. Of course, Hill Country would certainly fix a Manhattan fried chicken craving if New Orleans isn’t in your immediate future.

Sides are perfunctory. I’d rather fill up on the fried pimento cheese sandwich, shown wrapped in red-and-white gingham paper in the back. The crisped treat is salty, gooey and not greasy in the least.

Cut into quarters for sharing.

I think I liked the pies more than my tablemates, as it came out that they are cake people. I like pies of all sizes; shrunken ones with more crust to filling ratio don’t even bother me the way it does others. Then again, I also like more cupcake than frosting and more bagel than cream cheese. My choice, the bourbon pecan, didn’t have much whisky flavor or sick corn syrup sweetness that I want in my southern-style desserts. The peanut butter chocolate and special of the day, a mash-up of chocolate and butterscotch chips, walnuts, coconut and condensed milk like an Eagle magic cookie bar in a pie shell, more than made up for the pecan pie’s relative austerity.

The only true downer was the lack of a liquor license. One-third of my group was very interested in the watermelon wheat beer listed on the menu, the other third doesn’t drink and me, I loathe melons but could’ve stood a beer or two. I will admit that the Boylan fountain drinks with unlimited refills (at least no one was monitoring return visits) was pretty cool even though I don’t drink soda. Never having developed a taste for pop, it’s the only food (is it a food?) I can be self-righteous about (please don’t take away my fat or alcohol) and probably why I don’t get the uproar over proposing no soda purchases with food stamps. Is fizzy fructose a want or a need? When I got food stamps decades ago, I bought crazy shit like smoked salmon and hot cross buns, so who am I to say?

Hill Country Chicken * 1123 Broadway, New York, NY

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Oct 5

The Hurricane Club

Both refined and junky—broccoli with Cheetos? Yams with homemade ranch dressing?—at Park Avenue Autumn, chef Craig Koketsu cooks the kind of food that I like to eat.

The food at Hurricane Club, a dark, glossy, multi-level restaurant that looks more '70s-art-deco-adaptation than Polynesian, is even more snacky. A few cocktails, a selection of pupu and a shared plate or two is more than enough. It’s a scene for nibbling not a multi-course meal.

In fact, you’re only presented with a cocktail and pupu menus when you first sit down. I would've preferred seeing the other dishes before making a choice. The Imperial Platter showcases a selection (not up to you) of five of the nine offerings ranging from Asian-ish fried, taro-wrapped shrimp to new American near-cliché in the form of beets, toasted walnuts and goat cheese tucked into cones (don’t let Andrew Knowlton and his hair hear about this). The finger sandwiches with peanut butter, guava jam, prosciutto and Thai basil were as distinct as the croque monsieur spring rolls were muddled. Devilled eggs, meant to be Samoan in some fashion, rounded out the set.

Not only are the drinks not particularly tiki (most of the rum is found on a separate list to be taken straight) they were surprisingly unsweet, so much so that it almost felt like they were making a statement with their bitters. Take us seriously, please. The only place I drink sweet, fruity cocktails is at Cheeseburger in Paradise because come on, garnishes a.k.a. garnimals wearing miniature sunglasses? I prefer a stiff drink yet my #17 (Montecristo spiced rum, coconut, lemon grass, kaffir lime and coconut nib bitters) from the Boat Drinks section, teetered so close to savory that I almost felt like I was drinking food. I’m not saying I didn’t like it.

The peking duck-style pork was decadent, an undeniable success—and pricey. Positioned right in the center of the menu like a bull’s eye, the not-so-subtle psychological nudge worked on us. Besides the awkwardness of trying to fit angled chunks into the fluffy steamed buns, the meaty + fatty + crispy skin combination made a more than fitting substitute for the more typical rich poultry. Ginger sauce was an interesting extra, but the traditional hoisin, cucumbers and scallions did the job by themselves.

Sides were a gut-busting mistake with the amount of food we already had ordered. The bean thread noodles with a Thai basil pesto were much heavier than I expected, thanks (or no thanks) to the parmesan.

I loved the Asian patatas bravas, though. I imagined there would be a red blanket of Sriricha to mimic the spicy, Spanish-style tomato sauce but these potatoes were completely unique, fried hard for an extra crisp exterior and cut thick enough to maintain soft middles. I worry about such stubby cuts veering into horrible steak fry territory. A mystery sauce (I couldn’t see it from where I was sitting) is poured over the potatoes tableside and is pure umami. All I know is that bonito flakes are involved and that the liquid is pale, possibly clear—maybe it’s infused oil? An ultimate bar snack, these would probably be even better with beer.

After I knew the score, I went straight to the Strong section of the cocktail list, no playing around with creamy and the fruity. The #88 (Patron Silver, kalamansi, cinnamon bitters and house made triple sec) was like a pleasingly sour, bone dry, margarita (I wasn't expecting a salted rim) with an extra cinnamon hit from the floating roll of bark. It actually paired well with the fatty and rich pork and potatoes. However, the woman sitting at the table next to me sent hers back to be sweetened up.

The Spanish-speaking gentlemen on my other side were sharing a bottle of Chardonnay, so obviously, not everyone was enjoying the cocktails. Much of the Friday evening crowd appeared to be kicking off their night, taking the club part of the name seriously. The wine drinkers, kind enough to offer us some of their sweet potato fries (those sides are heavy!), had Greenhouse in their future. Me, I was just trying to figure out how The Smiths snuck onto the bass-heavy play list. Sixteen, clumsy and shy? Not on Park Avenue South.

The Hurricane Club * 360 Park Avenue S., New York, NY

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Jul 6

T.G.I. Friday’s Union Square

I broke my no-new-restaurants-during-opening-week rule because world-famous chains are above the law. And the controversial without cause Union Square T.G.I. Friday’s (nothing new–NYC is already home to eight and the poor restaurant is a native New Yorker) was the perfect birthday setting for a fellow aging chain-lover. Luckily, I am blessed with a few (just a few, mind you) friends who can appreciate a Jack Daniel's steak and Electric Lemonade as much as a dry-aged rib eye and limoncello.

Community activists, take note. Try as they might, the gay pride promotions and DJ playing Bel Biv DeVoe and New Edition, weren’t exactly wooing the crowds. I’ve never seen a major chain so empty in the city or the suburbs, though most of the seats at the bar were taken. My theory has always been that more locals than tourists patronize these NYC chains, but I might have to rethink that.

While I’ve knocked back a few wine coolers in my day, the ultimate underage elixir, Long Island iced tea, has eluded me thus far. This was my chance, and oddly, I was carded despite being very much over-age. T.G.I. Friday’s not only claims to have invented the everything-in-the-liquor-cabinet-cocktail that doesn’t actually contain any tea, they also had a disproportionate amount of drinks revolving around tea and sugar: SoCo (that would be Southern Comfort) Peach Tea, Ruby Mo-Tea-To and Sun-Spiced Tea, for example. I hate sweet tea, Snapple, Arizona and anything resembling these beverages, so one Long Island iced tea was sufficient. It's off my bucket list.

Mini-burgers, no, not sliders, were inoffensive. Meat, bacon, melted cheese with a bbq dipping sauce are not the harbinger of Manhattan's demise.

Nachos done daintily, and traditionally, each chip a standalone hors d'oeuvres slathered in refried beans and fused with a thick layer of cheese. I kind of prefer a big gooey mess to pick through.

While it's not obvious at first glance, the menu at T.G.I. Friday's isn't terribly diverse. Most of the dishes revolve around chicken, shrimp and/or steak, and melted cheese is rampant. Applebee’s is more creative. Yeah, I just typed that. Oh, an Applebee's executive chef just won an award—the coveted 2010 Chefs of Grey Poupon—so you know it's true.

This is one of the classic Jack Daniel's combos: ribs and shrimp, and a two big scoops of mashed potatoes like starchy ice cream. The sweetish sauce and mildly spiced rub are a notch up from Dallas BBQ, and let's leave it at that. No one saunters into a T.G.I. Friday's thinking it's Hill Country.

A built-in wall shelf was completely bare minus a little reminder of the previous tenant. The bamboo didn't prove so lucky for Zen Palate.

T.G.I. Friday's * 34 Union Square E., New York, NY

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Jun 15

Xie Xie

Last year, when I was looking for worthy alternatives to the banh mi (which I still love), I kept waiting for Xie Xie to open. They took their sweet time, and so did I. Only now have I gotten around to sampling a few of their Asian sandwiches.

Part of the post-2007 high-end chefs going casual trend (I celebrated my birthday—not saying which—at Angelo Sosa's short lived Yumcha back in 2005 when he was still cooking "serious" food) Xie Xie successfully turns bread and filling into something exciting. Too bad they didn't even crack New York's Best 101 Sandwiches.

Both the bbq beef and the pork sandwiches contained meats that seemed very American despite all the accouterments. The tender short rib was akin to brisket despite the soy and sugar, basil mayonnaise bridged cultures while the carrot kimchi tasted purely Korean. The squishy sesame bun just made more sense than a baguette.

Rather than the pork belly slices you often see tucked into steamed buns, they used pulled pork, sweetened by hoisin and oyster sauce. Oddly enough, the addition of pickled onions and cilantro made this handheld meal taste Mexican. If you've ever eaten Yucatecan cochinita pibil, you'll recognize the flavors. Just swap buns for corn tortillas.

I am prejudiced against no foods except melon (yes, even watermelon) but I won't be able to tackle a 1,000-year-old egg for quite some time. The most violent stomach sickness I've ever experienced period (to be fair, I'm pretty sure I had flu the entire vacation and was not food poisoned) occurred after a big meal at the famous roast goose restaurant, Yung Kee in Hong Kong. The dark gelatinous center of the fermented egg was tough going, but Xie Xie's 1,000-year-old ice cream sandwich was a delight. I love how they approximated the same gooey blue-black color for their salted caramel center.

Xie Xie * 645A Ninth Ave., New York, NY

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Jun 1

La Nacional

I wouldn’t say that I’m one of those I’ve been going there since before you were born when things were better types. Yes, I remember Sripraphai when it was a single-room operation, and I’m suspicious of the new valet parking-and-reservations Tanoreen. Even though I believe there is no glory in gloating at newcomers, I feel a little sheepish about having never visited La Nacional till now. I’ll never know its grimy, pre-renovation beauty.

The new iteration is hardly shiny and modern, though. While commonplace in Mexico and Thailand—my last two foreign frames of reference—I never encounter the quaint please no paper in the toilet plumbing in the US. That’s charm! And bizarrely, I was faced with the exact bathroom situation the very next day at Ocean’s 8, a subterranean Prospect Heights pool hall/sports bar that appears to be in a former movie theater.

La Nacional’s tapas are derrière-guard and old-fashioned, relying heavily on garlic and olive oil, not spherification or food play. The dim windowless main room with a spruced up checkerboard floor, is crying out for a haze of cigarette smoke. Clean air is the most un-Spanish thing about the scene.

/p>We ordered enough tapas to constitute a meal: patatas bravas, garlic shrimp and oblong and round croquetas filled separately with chicken and shrimp. Shades of brown and orange dominated.

The patatas bravas were perfunctory, but lacking a super hot interior with seared edges. They could’ve been more golden. Huh, I have seven totally different patatas bravas in my Flickr stream, more than I thought. Maybe there is no universally agreed upon style.

These albondigas, a pork-veal blend, were very soft and springy. Meatballs are on trend, right?

The two men on stools with similar taste in hats were easily 35 years apart in age.

It turned out that we didn’t need to order any end-of-meal cheese. We peeked our heads into the art opening that was taking place upstairs at the Spanish Benevolent Society, and wine, Manchego and chorizo were for there for the taking. I did stuff a few bucks into the donation jar.

La Nacional * 239 W. 14th St., New York, NY

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May 23

The Breslin

Monday night I might've been unwittingly eating stoner food at The Breslin, however, I was merely tipsy on scarlet-hued drinks (I'll try cocktail called The Fashionista if it's free, ok?). Inebriation does help temper a wait—30 minutes around 9:30—but I appreciated that half-an-hour meant exactly that (sometimes it means nothing). At the precise moment when I started wondering if the hostess would remember my friend and I and if she'd find us in the fray (I am paranoid because relaxing has resulted in being passed over on the list more than once. My inner suburbanite understands why some need the security of those clunky plastic chain restaurant beepers), there she was, table ready.

I will return another evening for a full-on meal since these were really no more than shared snacks with a glass of Tempranillo. I need that pigs foot! I hadn’t expected going out to eat on this particular night so I didn’t have my SLR on me (I’m not so crazed that I lug one around daily). iPhone pics, not taken by me because I don’t have one, sufficed.

Scrumpets, a.k.a. breaded, fried lamb planks, almost made me wish you could find these boxed in the freezer case like chicken tenders. The mint dipping sauce was vinegary, not sweet or goopy like a traditional jelly, which helped balance the richness of the meat and coating.

The small (there's also a large) terrine board was filled headcheese, liverwurst, all sorts of spreadable, chunky meat products. I do recall that one was rabbit and prune, but didn't realize until after looking at a menu later that another was composed of guinea hen and morels. The mushrooms eluded me. Piccalilli, pickles and grainy mustard were the condiments.

Those earlier Fashionistas (can't believe I typed that twice) were downed with the help of fried pickles and buffalo wing lollipops, so we needed at least one low-meat, un-fried item. I wouldn't look to The Breslin for salads, but they did have three on the menu. The Bibb lettuce with bottarga and fennel sounded like the least traditional compared to a Caesar and a blue cheese walnut thing. It was crunchy and refreshing with a dusting of salty roe.

The Breslin * 16 W. 29th St., New York, NY

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Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Barbuto

Lotus of Siam NY

Preview: Graffit

Wall & Water

Hill Country Chicken

The Hurricane Club

T.G.I. Friday’s Union Square

Xie Xie

La Nacional

The Breslin

Featured

Occasional Instagramming

Yes, it’s come to this

My Other Blogs

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The Past Will Haunt You

Pigeonholing 101