ewindels

Both nymag and the Times reported that Compass' chef, John Fraser, is opening a new place on 77th and Col. called Dovetail some time this month. It doesn't say that he's actually left or given up Compass, which if he has is going to seriously, severely depress me.

And I still say Compass.

The above surtitle is the reaction I received from various friends, who were appalled at the idea of spending that amount any restaurant above 86th Street. (Mind you, said group of friends are generally appalled at the idea of spending that amount at any restaurant anywhere, but that's a whole different thread). It was beyond comprehension that anyone expend spend such an ungodly amount of money so far north of Manhattan, which I guess is associated with all-you-can-eat Chinese/Cuban or worse. Being just a once-a-year visitor to this 'hood (and then usually only to shop at PJs, not really to eat), I can't comment on the socio-economic apppropriateness of this expenditure. I can say that, in my humble opinion, it was totally worth it. The place is not large, and once the cold weather has eliminated the option of sidewalk seating I'm not sure where people will sit (the interior space is pretty limited), but while the good weather holds this is a great visit. There being only two of us, we couldn't do much justice to the extensive and far ranging menu (see their web site here, though I don't think this is nearly as extensive as what we got at the table.) There's a large and (for this 'hood) impressive cocktail and wine list. We both went with mojitos. The house version, with tamarind, wasn't as quite as tart as the description would lead you to expect, and was easily outshone by the berry version my companion had, which rocked. The arepitas were delicious, two with queso fresco and chorizo, and one with a tangle of slow braised pulled meat. My companion's grilled salmon over yuca arepa and asparagus w/piquillo corn saffron pepper sauce, served with the "Mamajuana Paella", was luxurious and creamy (though I don't actually recall any asparagus). Prompted by the blurb in last week's Times, I undertook an order of the perquito, described by the Times as a "pork shoulder marinated in wine, bitter oranges and spices, then roasted for 10 hours. It’s big enough for a family." Folks, they ain't kidding: this sucker could easily feed six and do them in. Must have been at least 10 lbs. of meat on the plate, not counting the bone, and all of it spectacularly delicious. And the skin was perfection: half crispy, half gooey fat. (I'm still eating the leftovers, four days later, and savoring every morsel). Not surprisingly, we couldn't face dessert, though the selections sounded pretty tempting. Service was swift and polished, and if you're in the mood to enjoy the social parade on Dyckman Street (and what a parade it is), the outdoor seating on a mild early autumn night is terrific. Three drinks, one app and two entrees came to $52 a person with tax and tip. And yes, absolutely worth it.

It gladdens my heart to see that an honest, subjective and generously offered opinion can still engender such scalding vitriol on the gullet! I was wondering where all the bitter disputation had gone to. Markk, I'm sorry your experience at Landmarc was such a dissapointment. I should perhaps revise my previous post and change "excellent food" to "perfectly good". Those of us who've been devotees of the Tribeca property since it's opening have undoubtedly developed a biased view that I can easily understand must be puzzling to novices. There is a general admission, I think, that the food at the TW property is a notch or two below the downtown location, and the service certainly is. (In the countless trips I've made since it opened in March, only once have I had bread delivered without repeated requests, and getting one's server's attention can be challenging.) That said, the wine policy remains revolutionary, whatever you may think of the selection (and I agree that, as my own tastes in wine have progressed since the original's inception, I have found the list occassionally limited and disappointing). So you don't go there. Someone mentioned Telepan, which I haven't been to. There's the revamped Picholine, of which I've heard raves. There's always Jean Georges / Nougatine, if you're willing to shell out. And if the Grand Tier really is currently under new management, by all means have at it and let us know. It can only be an improvement over the previous.

Mr. Kinsey is being generous: the Grand Tier aspires to mediocrity. Bear in mind that the majority of their clientele are primarily interested in two things: not being culinarily challenged in the slightest, and convenience. Both of these considerations play to the median age of said clientele, which is, to put it politely, advanced. The offerings are at best predictable: sodden crab cakes, overcooked fish, rubbery filets and chicken drenched in sauces, boiled-to-death veggies, etc. And a thoroughly undistinguished and laughably overpriced wine list.At least this was the situation back in April when I dined there prior to "Meistersinger" with a particularly ancient cousin, who was quite happy with the results. Read that as you like. The Grand Tier used to be run by Restaurant Associates: if they are now under different management (meaning this season?), I sincerely hope that at least a few inroads will be made to the current antediluvian offerings. That said, the Lincoln Center area now has a host of options within easy walking distance, all of which far outshine the Grand Tier. Compass (W. 70th) would be my first choice. Cafe Gray at the TW center is still offering incredible food despite the questionable setting, and I'm pretty sure I just read that they're offering an amazing prix fixe 3-course dinner (booze not included). Landmarc in the same building is more downscale but with terrific food (bistro / steakhouse) and the city's most revolutionary wine policy. Bouchon Bakery is delicious if you don't mind sitting out in the hallways of the mall... er, scuse me, vertical retail space. And Gabriel's on 60th St. is always reliable and dependable. Daniel Boulud's wine bar is supposed to be opening sometime in the very near future directly across the street from Lincoln Center and will no doubt become as tough a ticket as much of the Met's season.

I'm in the middle of the most incredible case of fraud with 67 Wines & Spirits in New York City. My boss registered with them for her wedding some months ago. Unfortunately, being a trusting person and never having done this before, it did not occur to her get a contract or written agreement of any kind. Now six weeks after the wedding, it has taken untold hours of calling, faxing, emailing, threatening and pleading to get even one shipment of the registry out of them. Fifteen bottles at a value of almost $2,000 remain undelivered, and the store refuses to respond to inquiries, and has taken to hanging up on us when we inquire about status. While we consider legal options, I would warn anyone else any where to take the following steps if they're contemplating the same thing (which, on a generic level, I think is a terrific idea, depending on the store): - GET A CONTRACT, SIGNED BY BOTH PARTIES - Define whether items will be sent as soon as they're purchased, or in a group (e.g. once there's a full case) - If an item has become unavailable, the store or vendor should notify the purchaser immediately and ask them to choose an alternative, or offer something comparable in quality and price - Define that, as soon as something is purchased, the giftee receives immediate notification, preferably digitally, about the item and who it's from Hopefully futue giftees will learn from our very unhappy experience. And New Yorkers, beware this store. You heard it here.

A friend has just returned from his honeymoon in Thailand, where he became enamored of this rum. Cursory researches have proved fruitless. I'm guessing this a small local (or regional) brand that probably doesn't make it out of Southern Asia, but can anyone elucidate and if possible provide a source for it in the U.S.?

Agreed: the fries, in American steak fry mode, were quite good, but not at all what I would call Belgian frites, unless there's been a serious metamorphosis in Brussels as to what constitutes a frite, which, from what I recall of the Belgians, I highly doubt.

Encouraged by the recent blurb in the New York Times, six of us essayed this place on Saturday, spurred largely out of curiosity in a restaurant trying to position itself as higher end, of which there remains a lamentable dearth on the West Side above 72nd Street. The crowd (of a healthy size for a holiday weekend) was an interesting mix of Seriously Decked Out local denizens and the curious plainly from other neighborhoods. What experience the combined crowd anticipated I can’t say, though I wager they, like us, found the experience that night wanting. An outbreak of that sudden and mysterious illness to which so much of the service industry seems to fall prey on long holiday weekends, particularly when the weather is nice, had left the River Room with a skeletal staff who struggled noticeably and with minimal success to handle their responsibilities. The result was long waits for everything, vestigial experience, miscommunication, and not a little frustration on all sides. The restaurant is easily accessible by bus, by subway and a short walk, or by personal vehicle (though if you park at the facility there is a mandatory valet parking fee). There is seating both inside and outdoors. If seated between 7PM and 9PM on weekends, parties are subjected to a mandatory “music cover charge” of $5 per person for the jazz groups that play in the room, which proved to be onerously loud during trips to the washroom but provided a subtle, distant, pleasant backdrop to the outside terrace. A 20% service charge is automatically added to parties of six or more. The menu on the restaurant's web site, which had generated so much excitement and anticipation within our party, turned out to be obsolete: a new chef has been in command for six months and has largely dispensed with the previous offerings, though retaining the idea of a high-end gloss on soul food. A printed wine list doesn’t exist, and the three options each of red and white were recited by our server, without being able to provide either vintage or vineyard names. All are $34 a bottle. My guess is that the primary clientele at this place is more interested in the cocktail menu, a cursory glance at which suggested it was heavy on the overly-sweet, brightly colored variety. These various setbacks and issues, which our group found slightly off-putting, are a shame: the venue has real potential, and the location provides without question one of the top three views in the city, if not the top. I can happily report that at no time is one aware of the facility which the restaurant surmounts. The indoor room, if somewhat utilitarian, would require minimal effort and expense to dress up a bit and live up to what seem to be the ambitions of the management. As for outdoors: It doesn’t get much better on a mild, cloudless late-summer evening than relaxing on the broad, tree lined terrace on the side of the restaurant with a breathtaking, unobstructed view north up the Hudson, which only improves as darkness falls and the George Washington lights up like a Harry Winston display, with a broad iridescent shimmer on the river reflecting the lights on the bridge. To top it off, the food is quite good, or certainly better than our initial reception led us to expect. Baskets of fresh-from-the-oven corn muffins and rolls are warm and welcome. The fried clams and calamari were perfectly crisp and dark golden brown, accompanied by piquant mayonnaise-based sauces. The Buffalo wings were fine, almost overshadowed by the zesty red cabbage slaw underneath. My bourbon glazed ribs were as good, if not better, than any ribs I’ve had around town, and the accompanying eggy, mustardy potato salad was a perfect counterfoil. Creole shrimp on top of grits were seriously creamy and luxurious. I didn’t get to taste the chicken, but was told it was very good. The seafood burger was pronounced inedible, though I confess to have scant sympathy for someone who orders a seafood burger at a soul food restaurant. The three desserts recited to us were neither interesting enough to tempt us or for me to recall, and we left off there. I’m sorry we didn’t get to sample the previous menu, which from the web site looked like a creative and playful take on soul food. The current menu is somewhat less inventive, although the results were perfectly fine. The wine list could benefit from a little expansion and a diversity of prices (and actually being printed out). I would definitely go back, perhaps for an early autumn lunch when the leaves are starting to turn out on that incredible terrace. No doubt by then the staff will have recovered from its collective malady and service won’t be an issue.

Love this place! We had: - The devilled eggs on pork toast: seriously bland, not sure what all the hysteria in the various media is about this dish - The bitter ballen: expertly fried, and on their own a bit bland but redeemed by excellent aoli - a special salad of utterly perfect ripe heirloom tomatoes, onion, and bacon from someplace in Vermont so incredible that it would easily convert the most radical kosherite - The mussels with guanciale, chili flakes, onion and garlic: perfectly fine and correct - The carbonnade: oh yeah, baby, though in contrast to Azianbrewer I thought this could use a hair more salt - The burger: kinda miniscule (at first I thought it was a slider), and with one of those mushy supermarket buns which I realize most people consider to be de rigeur but I prefer something hardier. The meat however was excellent and beautifully grilled. The frites are not at all what I recall from my childhood in Brussels, more like American steak fries, and a bit over salted even for my saline-heavy tastes. Still they were excellent and a perfect foil to all three of our mains, and the house-made mayo that came with the mussels order was terrific. Dessert was a warm, crisp, nutty waffle with creme chantilly, simple and a nifty way to end the meal. We shared a terrific bottle of a young, chewy Spanish mourvedre, don't ask me what. The wine list could definitely use a handful more options under $40. Still, overall, I loved this place and would happily go back if I was in the area. If the food didn't quite merit some of the hysterics generated in the press, overall it was very good, and at $62 a person with tip (covering three bar drinks, a bottle of wine, three apps, three mains, and a shared dessert), is absolutely one of the best bangs for the buck I've had in a long time (Landmarc isn't this cheap). The slightly oppressive music level was instantly reduced when we asked, the service was terrific.

Couldn't agree more, one of my favorite spots and my top go-to, especially because for those of us from the northern climes Flatiron is a little easier to get to than Pegu. And no, it hasn't received the sort of buzz or PR in the general media as a Serious Cocktail Joint that Pegu has, so you do tend to get the crowds of local workers who aren't even aware there's a list and who grab the quickest bottled beer or vodka-based drink. Pity, cuz there's a lot of enthusiastic talent behind the bar capable of really dazzling.

Hit HC last night with 3 friends. Generalities: The sides rock, and in general far outstrip the handful of other 'cue joints I've tried (Dinosaur, R&S, Daisy Mae's, Pies N Thighs, RUB). The corn pudding is a thing of beauty, and actually tastes like corn. A law should be immediately created to mandate the bourbon sweet potato mash on every Thanksgiving table throughout the country -- and I don't even like sweet potatoes. The cucumber salad is a fresh, crisp, slightly acidic counterpoint to the others. The coleslaw could have used a little more tang for my taste, but was fine. But I easily vote the mac and cheese as my new desert island food: just the right balance of goo and chew, seriously deep cheesy flavor, a sprinkling of (I think) parmesan on top for a little toasty crunch -- I would categorically go out of my way for a tub or two of this to take home. NYC's new best comfort food. The meat, on the other hand, I found overall unremarkable. Now as a meeskite from the Heights (Brooklyn, that is), I don't pretend to know buttkis about what is or isn't authentic 'cue, though from what I've read this probably qualifies as a really pure specimen. As far as I could tell it's just slow smoked meat, no seasonings or nothing (or if there were, you sure couldn't taste them). With all due respect, brisket is IMHO the world's most boring cut of beef, and begs to have something serious done to it. Just slow smoking doesn't cut it, or last night's sampling's didn't make the case. The sausage was also fairly meh. My friend's chicken was juicy and crisp, but nothing to go out of your way for. Didn't get around to any of the ribs. And probably won't: the whole shtick with having to stand on line (20 minutes last night), the slightly overwhelming ferocity of the actual meat counter (we were all soundly abused for not knowing exactly what we wanted and how much), the paucity of waitstaff for the tables (it took another 20 minutes to place drink orders), and the final 15 minutes to stand in line to turn in our tickets, which it then turned out we hadn't needed to do: none of this coupled with the blandness of the main attraction encourages me to go back. At least, not for a sit down visit. The mac and cheese, however, is going to an obligatory stop any time I'm within 15 blocks of this joint.

Allow me to humbly suggest a perusal of my own recent trip to my new favorite city here, and also to recommend that you book any potential restaurants NOW.

Hateful... evil... torturous... WHERE"S MY NEXT SHIPMENT? *salivate uncontrollably*

OMG, yes, Schneider's: the doughnut holes are works of art. You have to go early, though, they sell out by 9AM. Dining at the Otessaga tends to be of the large block of protein smothered in gluey sauce variety.

There were several stands selling rhubarb last Saturday, so I would imagine there'd be at least one on Wednesday.

In which case, Metro Diner on B'way @ 100th: grease grease grease, and genug already.

Very true, I keep forgetting that, probably cause I do tend to go early when you don't need them and because the one time I tried early on no one answered the phone and when we showed up they said something about only taking reservations in person, but I'm sure by now that's been rectified.

Celeste is fine, but a) its on Amsterdam at 84th, so might be a bit of a trek, b) it's teeny and quite popular, meaning that like Gennaro there's frequently a long wait. Regional is in every way it's equal, IMO, and being almost twice the size there's rarely a wait (at least I've never had to wait, but then again I tend to go early, not at the crunch time of 7PM ->).

Regional. All the way. Easily superior to Gennaro's, IMHO, and Gennaro's can routinely be an hour wait. Pampa has sadly plummeted in quality over the last few years. Just tried Pio Pio on 94th and Amsterdam. This latest outpost of the fast growing Peruvian rotisserie chicken chain is nifty, and if you stick to the chicken (which was juicy and flavorful) and a side of the patas fritas (french fries), I can't imagine this would be considered exotic. Alouette: has anyone been recently? A visit when it first opened was so awful that we swore to never return, but that was a good six or seven years ago (I think).

I'm not sure it is prix fixe any more, we ordered a la carte and the whole menu was priced per item. Then again, we ate at the bar, not in the dining room, I don't know if that makes a difference.

Finally got around to Varietal last night. First off, the location isn't happy: hidden away on a nondescript, sunless street with nothing to drive traffic. That's a shame: the list of wines by the glass at the bar is worth the trip, and the wine flight idea is, I think, terrific. (I didn't avail myself of it, though.) Not surprisingly, at 6:30 on a warm, beautiful Monday night the place was deserted, which hadn't really changed by the time we left around 9 -- only 4 people at the bar and no one in the dining room. Not having been during it's earlier, Adria-outpost days, I can't compare the previous food to the current offering. The present menu skews heavily on fish, which I still prefer to avoid on Mondays, urban myth or not. Happily there were no mishaps. Starters were the escargot lasagna, a deconstruction featuring a long thin strip of fresh pasta topped with a melange of escargot, mushrooms, and stuff. Nice, rich, well executed idea. I had the rabbit schnitzel: three disks of breaded meat fried to a perfect crisp, topped with a poached quail egg and accompanied by dots of dijon mustard. A real winner. Entrees were the quail with latkes, and my salmon. The fish was a good deal pinker than i would have liked, but as i was never asked how i wanted it done it never occurred to me mention it. Again, no mishaps, but an interesting point. I basically don't get quail: teeny tiny birds that are a lot of work for little result. These were perfectly fine, no more flavor than you'd find in a standard chicken, nothing about the dish to change my opinion. The little triangles of latkes were nicely done, very crisp on the outside, chewy on the inside, good flavor. For dessert we split the molton chocolate pudding cake. This thing has Nigella Lawon written all over it: oozing and unctious and luscious and basic and simple -- a little too simple for my taste. I would have preferred a higher grade of chocolate, and darker. This was essentially kiddie food, but fine for what it was. $90 a person with tax and tip. The bar is definitely worth going to if you're in the neighborhood for the range and quality of wines by the glass, and the food is certainly a fine accompaniement, but nothing I'd recommend going out of your way for.

Couldn't agree more. Absolutely not worth making a special trip, unless, like my friend, you care more about who's been or might go there than you do about the food. You never know: Pastis remains a zoo how many years after it's opening? Granted, that may partially be due to MPD location, but still... I was just there in November early on midweek night and the place was bedlum. It will be interesting to see in a year or so how Morandi fares.

As I get older and therefore less easy to impress, I’m increasingly perplexed about restaurants like Morandi. What is it that drives people, particularly in large urban centers like New York, to flock to these zoos for food of varying quality (Morandi’s, to kill the suspense, I thought was pretty good) where the noise level is dizzying, the seating and atmosphere generally uncomfortable and the crowd all desperate for some indefinable validation, which they then ignore or forget about by getting sloshed. I’m not sorry I went: it was interesting, like watching insects in a terrarium, but I’m in no hurry to go back (at least for dinner: the bartenders admitted that lunch is an infinitely more relaxed and pleasurable experience, the innuendo of which was not lost on me). Despite very mixed reviews from several friends who had already been, including complaints about tiny and torturous tables and bizarre service, I went last night with two friends, one still rabidly obsessed by mingling with the SHTy set (that’s Smart, Hip and Trendy for those of you blissfully uninterested in such things). I still don’t understand what excitement there is to garner from the possibility that your bottom is gracing the same seat as Paulina Porizkova or Ryan Gosling or whoever this minute’s bold-faced name of interest is, but hey, whatever bakes your cookies: I’m game as long as I can get a fairly decent meal and booze. Morandi, happily, provides more than decent food and booze, though other aspects of the experience need work. The good news first: our meal was pretty good. Focaccia on its own was nicely crispy / chewy, and while the zesty cherry tomatoes and bocconcini were impossible to actually balance on it, they made a nice accompaniement. Salumi were nondescript and at $16 for a meager portion not something I’d repeat. Fried artichokes were properly done and satisfying. All this washed down with a terrific prosecco, Malvasia Frizzati, $12 a glass. The girls both ordered the branzino, which was perfectly fine, though the accompanying wilted escarole actually outshone it. My fresh tagliatelle were by no means al dente, a bit disappointing in what’s obviously striving to be a better-than-average Italian restaurant, but the Bolognese sauce that topped it was terrific, heavily redolent of nutmeg, which might be off-putting to some people but I loved it. A nifty bottle of a Sardinian merlot, $33, was ripe and rounded and juicy. For dessert we spent our carbs on one slice of superb chocolate torta and more hooch, a bottle of the moscato d’asti. Considering the unseemly amount of booze we dispatched, $125 a person with tip was not surprising. That said, the service needs improving. The staff is either all actually Italian or pretending hard to be, and while this shtick probably comes off better in Italy itself, in the Village I would prefer a little backing off. Our particular server spent much time flirting with all three of us, when he wasn’t pushing us hard to order. Staggering the order was not permitted: we were instructed to place everything at once. Food flew to our table almost before the previous plates had been cleared, and we lost track of how many times we were asked if we were done yet. 90 minutes after sitting down we were actually asked to vacate the table. Lingering, even if one wanted to amidst the din, is openly discouraged at Morandi, which left a bad taste in all our mouths. Summary: I wouldn’t go back for dinner, but if I happened to be in that area on a warm summer day at lunchtime, there are worse things you could do than get an outside table and order a dish or two.

I had the opportunity to sample Waterworks this past Saturday night on the occasion of my aunt’s birthday. Overall I was impressed, with a few minor caveats. First the good news: the food generally was excellent (and this coming from an admittedly jaded food snob from Manhattan). I would agree with philadining that there’s nothing particularly remarkable or eye opening about the menu, which is by no means a put-down. Everything was very nicely done and perfectly satisfying. Apps were: the caramelized three onion soup with a gruyere churro (nice idea, though the churro could have been just a hair crunchier on the outside); baby arugula salad with goat cheese and pear slices; and foie gras with sea scallops. This last, fairly standard and classic, could have used a sauce or condiment or something to offset the richness of both ingredients. Entrees were: rack of lamb (nicely done, though the meat didn’t seem to me to be the highest quality); something-crusted salmon with spinach and crisp fingerling potatoes (slightly overcooked, but otherwise perfectly satisfying); and a truffle-and-boursin stuffed breast of chicken (a real winner). Desserts: panna cotta with raspberry coulis (as dull as panna cotta always is); three different ice creams (dulce de leche, yogurt and smoked chocolate), all perfectly acceptable; and the chocolate beignets with ouzo ice cream. This last is a major winner, a take-no-prisoners treatment for serious chocolate lovers like myself. The little ebony spheres are perfectly fried and just slightly gooey in the center, and if there was any sweetener involved I couldn’t detect it, leaving nothing to impede the no-holds-barred dark chocolate flavor. The ice cream was a great compliment. I would go back just for this dish alone. The wine list is fairly impressive, including the wines by the glass. As a Manhattanite, I must of course quibble: the main dining room, where we were seated, is not a happy space, at least as presently configured. The tables float in the vast vaulted room, which is a slightly discomfiting experience. Acoustics are not ideal, though we were seated next to a particularly loud and boisterous table who must have easily sampled every cocktail on the menu. Under different circumstances the noise level may be less unpleasant. The water feature parked obtrusively in the middle of the room is not a happy idea, and the wall sconces are too small, too high up on the walls and don’t fit the room. Service overall could stand a little polishing. The mandatory valet parking strikes me as a bit much. The whole bottled-water shtick is a bit silly. Also off-putting was the apprisal by our server, just prior to our departure, that the restaurant operates on a request basis and we should feel free to ask for him on our next visit. Overall, the restaurant could back off a little and polish a little, both to great advantage. And take some cues from Eleven Madison in New York, which has much the same type of space but has designed it beautifully.