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Everything posted by ewindels
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Fellow denizens of the perpetually restaurant-challenged Upper West Side were no doubt as excited as I at the prospect of a crop of new properties mentioned in the fall previews. Bloomingdale Road, which I visited some weeks ago, was too depressing an experience to comment on here. West Branch, Tom Valenti's new joint in the space formerly occupied by Fishes Eddy on the southeast corner of Broadway and 77th, proved two nights ago to be not much of an improvement. The low ambitions of the proprietors are announced when you enter the crowded bar area, crowned by a giant flat screen TV. The inner rooms are not much better. The décor suggests the input of Home Depot: cheap generic paneling and light fixtures, and paintings from an Artist Warehouse Sale. The noise level, by the time we left, was clamorous. None of which would really matter if the food took your attention away from all this. Which it doesn't. Gougeres were pale, flaccid coins, though a little longer bake might have enhanced the wan cheese flavor. In my sleep I can make better. The bread basket consists of two oblongs of a doughy, yeasty type of roll, which was fine. I didn't give the wine list a thorough perusal: what I skimmed looked like the sort of generic, wide-ranging offerings probably considered mandatory at mid-level restaurants these days. A 04 viognier from South Africa turned out to be a very decent pick, particularly at $32. Haricots verts with button mushrooms tasted solely of the crème fraiche in which they were dressed. A pate de campagne, served with crisp toast triangles and properly nose-searing mustard, was one of the blandest things I've ever had, devoid of any hint of liver or spice or anything other than bland pork. The entrees range from the mid-20's to the mid-30's, and come mostly unadorned: sides are extra. Trout was slightly overcooked, and any inherent flavor it might have had was masked by the bright caper sauce. A blanquette de veau was correct if unremarkable. At the table next to us, we watched a man sawing away at the steak au poivre in a manner that suggested less sanglande than cement. The fries with it were big chubby American steak fries, a disappointment. The dessert menu didn't strike any interesting notes, and the most seasonally appealing offering -- an apple beignet -- turned out to be a small hard puck tasting exclusively of grease, accompanied by some diced sautéed apple and floating in a wan apple water. To make up for it we had a glass each of the Pol Roger, at $18 a pop. As its early days, service is still being fine tuned. Other than frequent demands from the busboys as to whether we were done, there were no major glitches, though a server who doesn't know how to pronounce viognier gives one pause, and twice we had to wave him down to get refills on said wine. Total for two with tip came to $200, for which money you could wander 10 blocks south and have an infinitely better experience at Bar Boulud.
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The Man has tracked me down and I'll likely be stuck down there for two weeks minimum (Grand Jury duty). The only way to survive the ordeal is looking forward to sublime lunches. Many suggestions, please, especially Chinatown.
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The inane geshrei going on upthread about Café Benoit, which has only just barely opened and in which it seems the majority of posters haven’t yet set foot, seems to me a huge waste of time which could be much better spent reveling in what is hands down without question the greatest deal currently available in Manhattan, at least until Benoit’s liquor license comes through (which, as of last night’s visit, was expected the end of this week.). Four of us had a dizzyingly fantastic experience, made more dizzying by being able to bring our own hooch, so we were able to splurge on both quantity and quality that the typical restaurant mark-up will unquestionably make prohibitive. And the food is killer. Breads are crusty slices of rustic sourdough and mini ficelles, plus a tray of warm gougeres. Starters: luscious discs of foie gras served with an individual mini brioche and onion marmalade. Epitomic onion soup drowning in gruyere. And a charcuterie plate that is the summit of overindulgence and ought to come with a warning from the surgeon general: two helpings each of foie gras, various salume, prosciutto and jambon, pate en croute, country pate, and lucullan style veal tongue, which was definitely the topper: thin slices of braised veal tongue sandwiched together with lard and then sliced in blocks. Where has this been all my life?! Entrees: sole quenelles that were impossibly light and ethereal; cassoulet that was a little thinner than I’m used to but so stuffed with the regulation panoply of meat and meat products and beans that it didn’t matter; a trio of lamb (chop, loin and medallion) that smelled almost as good as it tasted, which was amazingly good; and text-book steak tartare, though I would have liked a little more kick to it. This latter came with a small plate of frites “à la L’ami Louis.” Having just visited this renowned joint in Paris in December and being a little puzzled by all the fuss about it, the designation for the fries didn’t impress me much, and like their Parisian counterparts I would have preferred them a little darker. My friends, being longtime devout fans of L’ami Louis, were tickled by this gimmick, and even more by the prospect on the next Benoit visit of the same-style chicken, numerous examples of which kept floating by us with their siren aromas. Dessert was the tarte tatin “for two,” but which four of us couldn’t finish: it’s a hefty 6” wide disc of thick, plump, darkly caramelized apples on a crisp biscuit, and accompanied by a disgustingly large crock of crème fraiche. Total: $60. Per person. With tip. For an obscene amount of food of high quality, and a few coffees. Service was fine, especially once the meal got under way and our server got over the need to hover. Whether or not it’s an exact or even close facsimile of the Paris property or how it relates to Adour: who cares? Instead of making suppositions, you could find out for yourself already.
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Likewise last week. Meh. And the chopped liver was a little bland, and left my stomach rumbling for the afternoon, for what that's worth, though that might have been the gribenes, which were delish. At home I can make better.
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Thanks, FFB. Yes, delivery a must: she's literally bed-ridden, and the whole point is to eliminate as much of the work as possible, i.e. have the food delivered to their door step. I'll look into that option you mentioned.
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A colleague at work has just had back surgery and is bed-ridden for the next 3 - 4 weeks. She lives in Bedford Hills / Croton-on-Hudson. We'd like to send her and her family dinner at home every night next week, but so far the options are pretty grim: A&P, Basco's, Shop Rite. Would locals be able to recommend a high-ish end food store, or a good local restaurant, or catering company, who could deliver dinner for two adults and two kids for five consecutive weeknights?
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For what it's worth, I was just there last March, and it was my first trip too.
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If by butcher you mean general vendor of a wide variety of dead animal products, my never-fail store is at 122 Mott Street between Grand and Hester. It's on the east side of the street. If it has a name I've never found it, and probably couldn't pronounce it even if I did. Excellent quality, a huge range of offerings, including what looks like killer pork belly. Also a great place to go for chicken and beef parts for stock: big ags of wings and necks and backs for ¢50 - ¢75. Plus a big selection of pre-made dumplings and such, and a big offering of cooked items up front.
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Hi doc!Strictly food-based, divorced from settings or companions, I'd have to say Chez Denise. Chez George was a terrific experience, but much of that was wrapped up in the convivial atmosphere and companionship. Divorced from all other considerations, across the board Chez Denise was, with a few exceptions, the next most satisfying meal after Comptoir. And I say that despite having been this close to passing out at the table from jet lag, a smoke-choked atmosphere which can potentially affect the tastebuds, and portions that could have fed a regiment. But I absolutely look forward to going back and having that pate du chef and the onglais.
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I say essentially because the last visit was 25 years ago on a student tour, and since I remember nothing about the culinary side of that trip, this was to all intents and purposes like a first time visit. Some general observations: • Choosing amongst the absurd number of restaurants in Paris -- and in doing so avoiding the tourist traps – is a patently overwhelming experience, much more challenging than any other location I have ever visited. I nearly considered cancelling the trip because of decision anxiety. • The advantage, however, is that if you can't get in to the place you intended, comparable or better alternatives are unlimited. • If you do have a list of places you're determined to visit, I strongly recommend whenever possible booking ahead of time (no matter how out of the way or obscure you may think they are), either directly or via your concierge or whatever. As in most large cities around the world, including if not especially New York, I very much doubt that there is any longer an off-season in Paris (except possibly August, when France shuts down completely), and the city was packed with tourists the week between the holidays. With a number of the destination restos closed until New Year's or later, getting in to the alternatives proved quite a challenge. Bottom line was that I didn't get to any of the places I intended to, but see point 2 above. • In preparation for which: before you go, get yourself a full size map of Paris, or one of the books of maps by arondissment, and mark out your destinations. This includes food stores, charcuteries, frommageries, boulangeries, patisseries, and other places of culinary interest. Finding them otherwise can be a futile experience. Parisians, who I'm sure in general don’t think about these things, were of little help in this regard: our concierge and people in the various arrondissments themselves had rarely heard of the stores and places I wanted to visit. A certain amount of pre-travel preparation can save you much frustration and fulfill your expectations. • I do not recommend seeing how much one can stuff oneself during one's stay, especially if, like mine, it's a relatively brief one. • It does help, however, to travel with friends of the above determination, which allows one to sample more than one might otherwise. • Apropos, bring some Pepto. Better yet, Imodium. I am deeply indebted to my traveling companions D&J who, owing to their being partisans of a certain other New York-based foodie web site, I will not fully name for their own physical protection. Their innate good humor, love for Paris and unflappable conviction in their intestinal capacities, made the whole trip a terrific treat. And D was kind enough to do all of the photography. I am also grateful to the Parisian and Francophile gulleters, whose thoughtful posts and recommendations provided the dizzying array of options we worked with. Enfin, les restos, en ordre chronologique! The choices were a bit hit-and-miss. We had vaguely discussed a starred option or two, but the appalling state of the dollar didn’t make that a priority. And I apologize for the lack of information on wines, but in all honesty, almost nothing we drank stood out enough to be worth writing down. Chez Denise, 5, rue des Prouvaires, tel: 1 4 236 21 82 We hit the ground running after dropping our bags at our hotel (the Brittanique in the 1st, Ave. Victoria, a nifty, quaint and relatively inexpensive place across the street from the Theatre du Chatelet) by lunching at this renowned and venerable holdover from the original location of the Les Halles market. The restaurant is lively and bustling and convivial, and a good launching point into Parisian eating -- if you're prepared. The beefy workers and managers of the market may have decamped, but you’d never know it from the dizzyingly hearty fare this bistro continues to offer, and unless you have the constitution of a longshoreman, I strongly recommend caution and prudence. Dazed by hunger and / or jet lag, we dove right in with both appetizers and entrees, none of which we came close to finishing, while the few Parisians around us, sensibly sharing a dish or two between four or six people, eyed us with pity. My chicken liver pâté du chef, a thick slice of rustic terrine, was superb and hearty. Escargots were fine, particularly the ambrosial butter which is their principle raison d'etre. A frisee salad with croutons provided a nice and seemingly healthy contrast. For entrees we had hachis parmentier, a sort of shepherd's pie crowned with beautifully crusty parmesan-laced mashed potatoes; steak tartare, which I agreed with J was a bit on the wan and underseasoned side; haricots mouton, a casserole of white beans and big chunks of on-the-bone mutton in a thick tomato sauce, braised to a symbiotic beauty; and an onglais with frites – easily the best of the lot, the meat possessing a true, tangy beefiness that one rarely finds in the States. A dessert that looked like some form of bread pudding heavily crowned with whipped cream was briefly considered, but after the above we were starting to feel ill. And of course the great thing about Paris is that, having eschewed dessert at the restaurant, you can always swing in to a patisserie on your way back to the hotel for an alternative before passing out from jet lag. L'Ecluse (Grands Augustin) Not (or barely) withstanding the mammoth lunch, we were loathe to waste a precious mealtime during such a brief trip, so a wine bar for dinner seemed like a good option, liquids being generally easier to consume in (and after) large quantities. This 6th arrondissement location of a chain of wine bars was recommended by our concierge, and turned out to be the perfect restorative after the pigout at Chez Denise. It’s a teeny little boite right on the Seine with a nice list of options by the glass, and a small menu of comestibles. My friends shared the platter of excellent charcuterie, accompanied by a slightly underseasoned warm potato salad with mache, while I salved my stomach with the soupe a l'onion, which I would have preferred not be deconstructed (the croutons and shredded cheese served as separate accompaniments rather than melded under a broiler), but which was delicious all the same. Creperie Sarrasine et Fromentiere, 5, ave. gregoir de tours, 6th Not to be denied dessert on their first day in Paris, my friends marched further in to Saint Germain, and we wound up here for crepes. I managed a good half of my Tartin: sautéed apples, caramel and crème fraiche J went for the Tarantais (raclette, potatoes, ham and crème fraiche), and D for the one with bananas, chocolate and whipped cream. We washed these down respectively with cider, cotes du rhone and coffee. All perfectly fine: I don't have enough experience to say whether they were outstanding or authentic or whatever. Le Dauphin, 176, rue St. Honoré, 1st This charming little brasserie one block north of the Louvre is a great place to lunch if, as I was, you’re spending the day at the museum. The crock of olives surrounded by house-made saucisson is a great pastime while you contemplate the menu. My terrine of pork and duck livers with onion marmalade was delicious, and the creamy pumpkin soup, gilded with a few chunks of foie gras, was a warm, smooth treat. The fine cassoulet was enough to feed the three of us on its own, particularly with its buried treasures of duck and pig parts and products. D’s bowl of macaroni with jambon and cheese in a cream sauce was a little blah. My rabbit stew, in a thin but excellent broth with various winter and root vegetables, was very satisfying. Angelina, 226 rue de Rivoli, 1st What's a hearty, completely satiating lunch without following it up by visiting one of Paris' most renowned tea salons? Located about a five block walk from Le Dauphin, across the street from the Tuileries, this charming old world tea / pastry shop with its creamy boiserie and gilt mirrors conjures up images of elegant Parisian grandmothers taking their immaculately dressed and gloved granddaughters for a special Sunday outing. Naturally we had to try their famous hot chocolate, which our waitress swore consisted of nothing but milk and high quality bittersweet chocolate. It is mind-bogglingly rich and delicious and should be taken in small and cautious doses. It seemed a shame to miss out on the dazzling array of pastries displayed at the entrance, so I forced myself to try a madeleine, while D bravely went for a Mont Blanc: a disk of meringue crowned with a dome of sweet chestnut mousse so rich that one bite made the room spin. One bite is pretty much all she could muster. If your stomach is not otherwise pleading for mercy, this is a lovely spot to while away the late hours of a dark, grey Parisian winter afternoon, especially if you're lucky enough to be tucked in to the big comfy sofa in the back room. Vincent et Vincent, 60 rue J&J Rousseau, 3rd I suppose it should not have entirely surprised me that, with this surfeit of la cuisine francaise, my companions demanded a break by way of Italian food. This is a small, barebones spot, though food-wise it can hardly be considered real Italian, but it made little difference as I was too stuffed to do much more than nibble. The wan antipasti plate would be right at home in New York’s Little Italy (for those of you unfamiliar with New York, this is not a compliment), as would the linguine Bolognese: over cooked and undersalted pasta with a pallid sauce. The shells with cheese and cream were, not surprisingly, as fine they sound. L'ami Louis, 32 rue du Vertbois, 3rd This storied little brasserie is a long-time favorite of my traveling companions, so I was happy to try it out. Small and dark and wood paneled, with its white jacketed waiters, the restaurant exudes a certain old world, 1950’s charm which is enhanced if the weather is cold and you’re sitting near the little pot bellied stove up front. Portions here – at least the ones I saw – are behemoth. A single order of côte de beauf, requested by a few of the tables around us, could easily have fed the entire restaurant -- the copious leftovers must make the staff very happy. {Note: there are pictures of this meal, but since ImageGullet has been down for a week now, I gave up on trying to include them.) Our three torchons of foie gras, served plain with thick slabs of toasted bread, were almost indecent in their size. I am perhaps too spoiled at expecting additions or contrasts to my foie gras: a little sel gris or contrasting accompaniment or something would have been welcome to offset the fatty blandness of the foie gras. My friends then split the poulet roti, about which they had been raving for weeks:and I got the cote de veau grillée, a monster slab on the bone healthily limned with fat and crowned by a substantial wedge of oozing herb butter. With this came a tall tangle of almost needle-thin frites. We had a half bottle of a white something with the foie gras, and a full bottle of a red something with the mains. Total came to approximately €360. Make no mistake, I enjoyed myself. My companions are so fond of this restaurant, and enjoyed their meal so much, that it was impossible not to share their enthusiasm. Remove this factor, however, and based solely on the cuisine and price point I can’t say as I’d return. Ironically, the food was along the lines of what I’d been looking for as an alternative to the heavier brasserie cuisine: good ingredients prepared straightforwardly with minimal additions and fussings and sauces and such. I just found the portions slightly indecent, and the prices considerably so. The food was well prepared, but given the same raw ingredients of chicken and veal, I could have produced the exact same results in my miniscule kitchen at home, and for that price I expect more (a plain chicken roasted in goose fat is a plain chicken roasted in goose fat, and the exact locale or ambiance doesn’t necessarily warrant charging an arm and a leg for it.) You might think after this Brobdingnagian meal we couldn’t possibly contemplate, much less consume, anything else. Foolish mortals. But we took advantage of a long, slow stroll from the restaurant to the Ile St. Louis to give us breathing room before parking ourselves at Berthillon, 31, Rue St Louis en l'ile, where I limited myself to a few bites of my companions’ outstanding chocolate ice cream. Defniitely merits a visit. Au Sauvignon 80, Rue Saints Pères, 6th In search again for someplace to try a range of wines by the glass and a little nibble, our concierge sent us here (our first options being either fully booked or closed). It’s not some place you have to go out of your way for: the wines offered were fairly unremarkable, though the platter of tea sandwiches filled with saucisson, rillettes, and something else unidentifiable made just enough of a dinner after our huge lunch. I will just mention that my indomitable companions, not in the least daunted by the enormous lunch, proceeded on after this for pizza and pasta, about which they were very complimentary the next morning. Le Comptoir, 9, carrefour de l'Odéon, 6th. Paydirt: after the previous grotesquely heavy meals of cuisine bourgeois, here at last was something not only manageable size-wise, but quite possibly the best meal of the visit. The place is tiny and you’re all but sitting on top of the people around you, but it’s worth it. Not being a big lentil soup fan, D’s bowl of it made little impression on me but delighted her. Her hubsand’s hefty salad of hearts of romaine with foie gras, haricots and artichoke hearts was a meal in itself, but split nicely between the three of us. My boudin blanc was softer and fluffier than goose down and delicately flavored. D had a tournedo of duck confit -- a compressed disc of luscious, just rich enough shredded duck meat -- and J the braised pork belly. All three came with portions of the insanely silky and velvety potato puree. Even the house wines here outperformed the stuff we’d had elsewhere, and the bread was superb, particularly in contrast to the almost ubiquitous – and to my taste dull – Poilane offered at our other meals. Mark Bittman’s article in The New York Times about steak frites restaurants had been the subject of much excited discussion during the planning of our trip, and our choice for numerous reasons finally fell on Le Relais de Venise in the 17th, for which we set out early in order to take no chances, as they don't take reservations. Thanks to a first cab driver who imprisoned us in traffic for 40 minutes, and a second who couldn’t find the restaurant, we arrived to find a line of at least 50 people stretching down the block. Happily, Bittman’s alternative recommendation of Chez George 273, Boulevard Pereire and right across the street from Venise, turned out to be, I suspect, a much happier way to end our trip. This is a charming, warm, old world brasserie. The service was lovely, and the food, if not mind blowing, was terrific. Champagne to start and to accompany the little dish of rillettes which was so good we would have asked for more if our apps hadn’t shown up. My friends both had the frisee aux lardons, essentially a monster bowl of lardoms with a few crisp leaves of frisee and a perfectly poached egg. Balance-wise it may not have been correct, but was it delicious. My crème de pomme de terres was velvety and rich, with foie gras in the blend: a magnificent example of a classic velouté. The entrecôte that Bittman had enthused about didn’t seem to be on the menu, so I opted instead for the filet, which was fine: filet hasn’t much flavor, no matter what country you’re in, but this was beautifully cooked and presented. The accompanying fries interestingly enough were of the consistency and cut you would find in a New York diner – a bit on the thick side, crooked, cooked a little darker than we’d had so far. We certainly polished them off. J’s sole béarnaise was a lovely piece of fish, for which the utterly bland and flavorless béarnaise did nothing. D’s lamb however was perfect pink and juicy and luscious, accompanied by braised beans. A bottle of red sancerre with the mains. This being our last night, a final course seemed imperative. The tarte au poire was a classic example on absurdly ethereal pastry, though I thought the filling was a bit mushy and would have preferred more definition and texture to the fruit. My two cheeses (I have no idea what they were) made a perfect ending. The kicker, of course, was the profiteroles, the picture of which I trust speaks for itself. Equally as enjoyable as the food was the atmosphere: the staff were lively and friendly, and everyone in the restaurant was clearly enjoying themselves, including if not especially the table next to us of three elegantly turned out septuagenarian couples, whose appetites put our own to shame. Bottom line: I would say that one ought to visit Paris at least once a year. It may be a hazard to your arteries and / or waistline, but its good for the soul. Can’t wait for the many subsequent trips!
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Hello, rice krispie treats! Either the good ol' standby original (http://www.ricekrispies.com/Display.aspx?kic=1&recipe_id=1605), or a chocolate ganache version (http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/236697), or Martha Stewart's Confetti Squares (http://marthastewartliving.com/recipe/confetti-squares?autonomy_kw=krispie&rsc=header_2) which uses all different kinds of cereal. Or make all three for variety!
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Hit BB last night, with a friend. As they've only been open for two days, the service and operation still need a touch of polishing, so I won't go in to that side. The long, deep, slightly narrow space with its vaulted ceiling is just a little reminiscent of a subway station, but not oppressively, though Nathan's right about the general ascepticity. A shout-out to my fellow foodies, who were much in evidence by their manic neck cranings and the occasional flash of their camera-phones. Otherwise the demographic, as pointed out by Nathan, skewed heavily towards the retired and older. (Mind you, this was at 6, the crowd may get younger as the night gets older.) There was much grumbling at the tables around us about the soft lighting, which made reading the menu a challenge, and the long flight of smooth marble steps down to the lower level restrooms was viewed with dismay. From the timing exhortations to the staff, it was clear that many people were trying the place out before making their way across the street for their habitual naps at the Met or the Phil. As also noted previously, for a wine bar the wine list is at present miniscule, and the four options I tried were pretty disappointing, particularly the glass of Valle d'Aosta pinot noir, which my unsophisticated palate found completely lacking in any flavor or character. When I admitted this to the (one of the?) sommeliers, he generously offered to exchange it without charge for a glass of the cotes du Rhone, which was a definite improvement. The sparkling "Beaujolais" is just as dull as regular Beaujolais, but my companion's chardonnay (M. Boulud's own cuvee, thank you very much) was quite decent. The menu is pretty much all brasserie, with apps in the $10+ range, and mains in the $20 - $30, tho more of the latter. There are no less than two pates, one grandmere and one grandpere. Interestingly, the latter "masculine" one with foie gras and truffles was very delicately flavored, to the point of not registering with me at all, while the latter, heavier on the liver, was much heartier and more satisfying. (What this says about French grandparents in general, or Chef Boulud's in particular, could make an interesting thread....). My companion's artichoke soup was very nice, a creamy veloute with chunks of heart and bits of tender leaves in it. With fond memories of all the earthy, cumin-accented morcilla I had in Spain last spring, in comparison the restaurant's boudin noir came off as pallid and wan, though very light and airy. The potato puree and lozenges of caramelized apple provided nice contrast. The standard bread's decent, though not as good as the thick, toasted multigrain you get with the pates. Four glasses of wine, two apps and two entrees came to $60 / person with tax and tip. Portions are modest, but this easily satisfied us. I very much look forward to revisiting the place in a month or so when the operation's fully up to speed, and trying out the rest of the menu. This will definitely be a valuable addition to the Lincoln Center area.
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By way of clarification, Dovetail seems to me to be aiming for the level of Perry Street or Alto in both sophistication of menu and ambiance. Since neither Telepan nor Compass are above 72nd Street, they wouldn't fall in to the criteria I outlined in my original post, and while I've enjoyed the few meals I've had at Ouest, it's boisterous atmosphere and hearty offerings, for all their accomplishment, put it into a different category.
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John Fraser, of whose recent tenure at Compass restaurant I was a major fan, has launched his own place, Dovetail, on 77th Street just west of Columbus. The new joint is a serious kick in the stylistic tuchus of the neighborhood, which remains obstinately and proudly devoid of what the rest of Manhattan would term “stylish eateries.” Located in what I think was formerly an Ethiopian restaurant, the space has been gutted down to the brick walls and then minimally and coolly accented to produce a sleek, masculine space, with panels of maple veneer and slate-grey upholstery and low, slightly flat lighting. Clubby lounge music murmurs in the background, but never obtrusively. The soft-spoken staff is uniformed in ties and crisp cream jackets, the linen and table dressings are all pretty high end, and the whole presents a level of sophisticated dining above almost any other offering I can think of north of 72nd street. This sort of high style ambience seemed to abash many of the patrons as they walked in. I suspect that both the menu and the pricing had the same effect. At least two parties came in, eyed the place warily, allowed themselves to be seated, shared one or two dishes, and then hightailed it before the bill got any higher. Dovetail only opened a few weeks ago, and the menu and operation is still undergoing a little polishing. (The much publicized wine and sherry list is still under construction, and limited options were available). One of the glories of Compass used to be their list of extensive, excellent and affordable wines by the glass, and I very much hope Dovetail will repeat that. The options last night were not extensive and the pricing was noticeably higher (e.g. a single glass of Pol Roger for $21, for which price I have bought an entire bottle). The sherry list currently consists of a fino and an amontillado, and there are few bottles on the wine list for under $50. As the menu is still being tweaked, and since I can’t remember all of it anyway, I’ll confine myself to our own choices. (The much bruited starter of Brussels-sprout salad with serrano ham, manchego, and cauliflower purée was not offered last night). Portions overall are small and elegantly plated. The amuse was caviar, fried capers, and a vodka gelée with a tiny swirl of some sort of mayo. I didn’t get it. Our starters were blue point oysters with arugula and tissue thin little potato crisps, and pork belly with a poached egg and spinach. Not being a huge oyster fan, this dish didn’t do much for me, though I felt that the oysters got lost under the other ingredients. My pork belly is a dish of which you can find many variations these days, and this one was perfectly fine if not particularly outstanding or memorable. We both had the sirloin steak with a lasagna consisting of braised oxtail between sheets of crisp celeriac. As good as it sounds. Desserts were a chocolate fondant financier number, and a banana caramel bread pudding, in both of which fleur de sel played a leading, and IMO slightly overpowering, role. The above, with a bottle of Columbia Valley Cabernet Sauvignon ($42) and two glasses of the amontillado, tax and tip, came to $112 a person, which struck me as on the high side for what most locals prefer to pay (which, given their druthers, would be nothing). Overall, I found the food a bit precious and wan, and missed the more straight forward and steady handlings at Compass. That, combined with the high-style ambiance and ambitions of the place, might make it a bit of a long shot for the neighborhood, and explain the reaction of some of our fellow diners mentioned above. I’d like to go back in the spring when fresh local ingredient will give Chef Fraser more of a chance to show his talent.
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John, and Parisians in general, regarding Severo: since the publication of Mark Bittmans' steak frites article in the New York Times earlier this year extolling this restaurant as his favorite steak frites place in Paris, the gist I've gotten from blogs and other web sites is that a) the place is now all but impossible to get in to and b) management has taken an antagonistic approach towards the streams of Americans herding there on account of the recommendation (of which and I my friends were, quite honestly, soon to be a part). Would Parisians consider it worth going "out of their way", especially given that steak frites is not an umcommon dish in Paris and can be found in any other number of locations? If not, Entrecote? Other recos? Curious for the opinion of locals.
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Cher gulletieres, I'm visiting the city of Lights 12/26 - 30 with a couple, four lunches and dinners, we each get to pick one of each. One of their insistances is L'ami Louis, which from what I'm reading (both here and on other venues) is going to be old, heavy, dusty food drowned in demi glace. (For reference, one of their faves here in New York is Le Veau D'or, if you've ever even heard of it). As a counterfoil to this, I would love recommendation from gulleters acquainted with both New York and Paris to go someplace analagous to NYC's Cookshop, or Market Table: hearty-ish, but with a focus on the ingredients, not masking them or drowning them in sauces and gunk. Any thoughts or suggestions? I've been reading and reading, but my head is now spinning. I would also love a reco for a lower priced place where one could sample a variety of really good, or at least interesting, wines (2-3 glasses a person). Doesn't have to have a huge list, but as long as I'm in France... And yes, I realize that with the current exchange rate, "reasonable" is an extremely mercurial term, but maybe where we could sample a bottle or two with food for... E100s each? Less? Thanks in advance for any suggestions!
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RAH, this looks terrific and perfect! Thanks so much. Now I just hope they get done in time to enjoy it.
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Bouchon Bakery's croissants, when they first opened, reminded me of what I very vaguely and dimly remember of Parisian croissants, in being so absurdly, gossamer flaky that almost half of it dissolved into the air before you could eat it. The dumb American in me prefers something just a little sturdier that doesn’t waft away like milkweed spores. I also think Dryden’s comment about Jacques Torres holds true all over: quality for a proper croissant will vary according to how long they’ve been out of the oven. That said, recent visits to Amy’s Breads on Ninth Avenue have secured me croissants probably sturdier than connoisseurs would prefer, but incredibly flaky and buttery and delicious (especially when gently reheated in the oven). Doesn’t hurt to grab a slice of one or two of their cakes either… just cuz you’re there.
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Sfoglia. And a shout-out for my 'hood, Regional.
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RAH, thanks so much for these, the Crab House looks like an option. Alternately, they're staying at the Marriot NW at 200 Interstate North Parkway in Marietta, if that broadens the scope of options or gives you more ideas. But thanks again.
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A group of my colleagues will be in Smyrna, right near the base, for some research groups on Monday, Dec. 17, and I was wondering if locals could recommend someplace near by (they won't be done till 9PMish) where they could get good food in a relaxed, casual setting. Thanks in advance.
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Today, ze Upper Vest Zide. Tomorrow...
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Based on the Times' recent review, I ditched a reservation at Anthos to revisit this property last night, which I had very much enjoyed when it first opened (see upthread). The space is showing tiny signs of wear (notably the continually flickering and fluctuating sconces behind us, which was irritating), but remains a handsome and attractive property with sleek, masculine décor. This was not much reflected in the general clientele last night, which consistently almost entirely of grim suited, cadaverous-looking captains of industry collectively suggesting a convention of funeral directors, and whose general mien gave little indication of enjoying much of anything in life, particularly what they were eating. The revamped menu under chef Michael White seems designed to appeal to the tastes of such gentlemen. Gone are the carefully, delicately conceived and calibrated dishes of Scott Conant, based on the cooking of north-western Italy, which I’d heard described, pejoratively I think, as a bit effete. In their place are much more straightforward, hearty (in comparison with their predecessors) options which show a much broader range of Italian influences and suggest a preference for Emiligia Romana. The portions are certainly larger, and devoid of the foams and gastriques and emulsions and such. As there were only two of us, our sampling of the menu was admittedly limited, but gave what I think is a fairly accurate idea of the new ethos. There are three ordering options: a la carte, a four course for $79, and a 7 course for $150, all with lots of extra incidental charges depending on what you’re ordering (truffles black or white, foie gras, certain seafood, etc.). The white truffle risotto alone is $150, which isn’t surprising given what I understand is the scarcity of the item this season. My aunt’s salad of frisee and arugula, topped with parmeggiano slices, was huge and could easily have been a meal unto itself, but was pronounced very nice. I started with a miniaturized version of cotecchino with lentils, which I suppose is an interesting reimagining of an ordinarily hearty, rustic dish. The sausage was under-spiced for my taste, but the dish on the whole was pleasant. I followed this with the meat-filled agnolotti, and my aunt with the duck confit ravioli with duck consommé. Hers was pretty wanly flavored, mine hearty and napped with a slick, thick brown gastrique suggestive of much demiglace. And since hearty meats seem to be the thing at Alto now, we followed up with lamb for her and venison for me. Neither was as flavorful as I anticipated or have had elsewhere, and I swear my venison was sauced with the exact same thing as the agnolotti. The lamb portion was certainly substantial: two large double-chined chops at least 2” thick. but again the meat didn’t sing to me Both entrees came with a vestigial slick of potato puree and a spoonful of something else (chanterelles, in my case). Desserts were a pear “mondarlo” for me (a sort of financier) and a hazelnut semifreddo for my aunt, both fine, neither mind blowing. The extensive wine list remains breathtakingly expensive, with the preponderance on options of $100 or (usually) much more. I was intrigued by a Fruilian Cabernet Franc, which I’m pretty sure was the cheapest option amongst the reds (or at least the ones I read through). The sommelier, sensing fiscal conservativeness, didn’t really challenge the idea, which is probably more my fault than his, though I wish he had: for all the enjoyable pepper and upfront bite, the result overall was a bit thin and didn’t harmonize as much as I’d have liked with the meats. Service could use some polishing: the staff on the whole tend to be somewhat short and squat (my aunt likened it to a Hispanic pro wrestling audition), making for some clumsy maneuvering among and between the tables. There was a little more asking about how everything was, etc., than was really necessary. At least, I think that’s what was being asked, though the issue of the incredibly thick accents verges into politically incorrect territory which I’ll avoid, but which nonetheless left both my aunt and I nodding helplessly during most of the conversations since we couldn’t understand what was being said to us (the bread boy, in particular, was completely incomprehensible and reduced us to just pointing). There was a 25 minute delay between our starters and pastas, due to the order not being placed or having been dropped, which no doubt explains the slight under-doneness of my agnolotti and the appearance of our entrees almost before the pastas had been cleared. This was recompensed by a glass each gratis of fragola with our desserts, which while a nice gesture didn’t complement either of our selections (a proper moschato d’asti would have been more appropriate and welcome). With an order of decaf and tip, the damage came to $272. I can’t say as I think it was worth it. Shoulda stuck with Anthos. Oh well—next time.
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Dinner at Anthos this past Wednesday night left me and my two companions speechless, it was that good. We could only laugh helplessly at what an amazing meal we'd had (the chef's tasting menu, 7 courses with wine pairings, with slight variations for individual tastes). I don't remember every course or ingredient: after the fourth glass of wine you just lean back and enjoy the ride, and what a ride it is. My friends were both of the firm opinion that Anthos equals, if not surpasses, Per Se, which they found fantastic if somewhat ethereal and overly precious, whereas Anthos was considered just a little more down-to-earth. Service was impeccable, top to bottom, and the space is lovely. The lack of the three stars for Anthos is a crime, though given Bruni's general preferences none of us was terribly surprised (but that's another thread). Gulleters should make this a must-go destination. Not to be missed.
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What a bummer.