ewindels

Some initial, general observations: • If anyone offers you ham, eat it. Ask for more. • Book your restaurants in advance. I mean now. While it’s heartening to read about other gulleters walking in to the high-demand spots on the spur of the moment and instantly being seated, local acquaintances assure me that this is a rarity. • Order the ham, no matter where you are. • Try as many things as possible, no matter how unfamiliar they may look. There’s a whole world of new gustatorial wonders to be had if you just close your eyes and dive in. • English is not widely spoken. No reason it should be, more power to them, but just be prepared. • In which case, order the jamon. • In Barcelona, do not go to any of the major old city markets, and particularly la Boquieria, unless you are possessed of serious fortitude. I personally wept at the thought that there is nothing in New York to remotely compare with this market, particularly the massive variety and quality of the fish. (And no, all you argumentative New Yorkers, there isn’t: even Chinatown, which on any given day reeks, barely comes to the level of this market.) • There is next to no markup on wine at the restaurants, so drink for God’s sake! • Have you ordered the ham yet?? So, my restaurants: The perceptive gulleter will have guessed from the above that I didn’t get in to most of the places I would have liked to, owing to this trip being kind of last minute and me being one of the world’s biggest procrastinators. Here’s where I did go: Barcelona • Tapaç24: what a great way to start the trip. Of the umpteen dishes I tried, the ones I can remember (there was a lot of cava involved) were the jamon (of course), though I think what I had was actually pernil (and here someone will no doubt disquisite on the difference); the bikini, basically a toasted cheese sandwich with tissue thin bread, jamon and truffles, for which the place is renowned, and which will forever spoil you for regular toasted cheese sandwiches; the morcilla, a much more elegant and carefully prepared rendition than I’ve had before or had on the rest of the trip, with just a hint of cumin; crisp fried baby salmon, which when I was finally shown how you de-bone them were terrific. • Pinotxo: this bar at the front of the Boquieria market comes highly recommended by my local colleagues, and understandably so. The croquetas were superb, a small dish of stew with patatas was hearty if not overly memorable, and the chickpeas with baby squid were terrific. I can’t remember what I spent, but with two glasses of white wine it was nothing. • Moo at the Omm Hotel: In a nutshell, you could find this restaurant in any large-ish city around the world. Fashionable decor, hushed and polished service, high quality culinary concepts, but there was nothing about it that particularly linked it to Barcelona for me, though I gather from my colleagues that this is to some extent its appeal for the locals. I was instantly reminded of Thor at the Rivington hotel. I can’t remember what I had – it was all tastefully done and beautifully executed, but not particularly distinguishable from most other high end shishi hotel restaurants around the world. • Bar Mut: Dropped in here one afternoon for a glass of Ximenez and a plate of jamon, though I seriously eyed the canalones con trufa on the menu, but I was between meals and couldn’t face it. A nifty little place just off the Avenida Diagonal. • Torre d’Alta Mar: this fairly new addition to the local scene is up in an old control tower on the waterfront and offers a spectacular panorama of the city and the water. Our local office had booked it for our big group dinner, and one can understand why: The view is spectacular, service and presentation lovely. Sadly, the food is thoroughly mediocre. I can’t remember a single thing we ate, except that the main fish course was flabby and soggy. Given the quality of what the city’s markets has to offer, this was a real disappointment. • Botefumeiro: faced with a Sunday night, when the entirety of Spain is more or less closed, and a colleague to entertain who’d just flown in that morning with a cold and therefore needed an early evening, this was the best our hotel could do for us. If there was still a Luchow’s in New York, this would be the Barcelona equivalent. Old world in a slightly dusty, starchy manner, I doubt if the kitchen has rethought anything in the last 30 years. The place has clearly been around forever, and is covered with celebrity photographs (always a dubious sign, in my opinion). Well, you can’t go wrong with a plate of jamon, and the local thick white asparagus was superb with both mayonnaise and vinaigrette. My colleague’s paella was quite respectable, from what my limited knowledge could tell. My goat, on the other hand, could have done serious damage to either people or furnishings if I’d had a mind: it was tough to distinguish between the bone and the meat. • Lasarte: With Ca L’isidre closed for Easter, and every other place impossible to get in to, this was the only “high end” restaurant I could manage. It was worth it. Beautifully and sleekly designed, very spare and minimalist and elegant. Service was impeccable, and when I asked for a wine suggestion for the four of us, I was not steered to the most expensive options, but quite the contrary, which was a real refreshing change from the standard policy in New York. And when one of my colleagues explained his strict vegetarianism, the restaurant didn’t blink an eye and produced three courses for him, about which he raved. I started with the renowned milles feuilles of foie gras, eel, and caramelized apple: not something you’d want to eat every day, but delicious. The sweetbread sausage left me speechless. A chocolate soufflé was gooier than one traditionally finds, but all the more luscious for it. My three colleagues all raved about their meals, the details of which now escape me, except I do remember a dish of gnocchi with baby squid, and a roast rack of lamb that was perfection. With nothing else in the city to compare it to, I still highly recommend adding this to the list of musts. Madrid I am deeply indebted and grateful to Kathleen Berger for sacrificing so much of her time, finances and health to furthering my culinary education during my visit to the capital of Spain, and being so delightful about the whole thing. • Tapas: I am also deeply indebted and grateful to Rogelio Enriquez for his gracious and generous offer to conduct us around a few of the hot spots Cava Baja. (specifically, Casa Lucas, Taberna el Tempranillo, and Orixe) Of the seemingly endless dishes we went through (a lot of cava was involved here, too), the standouts were a plate of sautéed pork cheek strips with a tangle of teeny shoe string fries; jamon (duh); and a tortilla that had my head reeling. Every-day food just shouldn’t be this good. • El Lando: is conveniently located a five minute walk south of the Palacio Real, which makes it a great lunch place prior to a quick wander through this largely unedifying monument. A fun, below-ground old world place, beautiful coffered ceilings and paneled walls lots of waiters in starched white coats who’ve clearly been therefore. And how nice to have big plates of pan con tomate and jamon and tomato salad given to us as soon as we sat down, though to be perfectly frank it would have been nicer if they gave you the option since they’re going to charge you either way (including the tomato salad, which we actually declined and which showed up on the bill anyway). Not that it wasn’t all delicious, but still. From there we went on the huevos patatas, which is basically a big platter of steak fries sloshed with soft-boiled egg, a dish that is just every kind of wrong (or would be if they added chorizo to it). My prawns with garlic were fine, with lots of tasty melted butter to sop up with bread, and the beef solomillo Kathleen had was terrifically sizzling and juicy. • Asturianos: this favorite neighborhood joint of Kathleen’s has been mentioned before in various threads. There’s probably not a lot I can add. As Kathleen is known there, we were treated pretty nicely, though I can’t imagine you wouldn’t be on your own. My take was that it was perfectly good local grub, nothing outstanding or necessarily worth going out of your way for (I would imagine there are many places like this around the city). Memorable dishes were the morcilla (although the patatas were sadly undercooked), and the chorizo en sidra. I was also impressed by the properly crusty rustic bread here, whereas otherwise the bread in both cities was generally disappointing (at least to a spoiled New Yorker). • Citra: Faced again with a limited number of high end choices, I left the location of our last meal, a big blow-out, to Kathleen and her local sources. Citra was a terrific choice, though, much like Moo in Barcelona, there was not a lot about it that spoke to me specifically of Spain. (Kathleen may want to correct me here.) This being our Last Meal, we went for the full tasting menu with wine. Lamentably, the copious email notes I took have vanished irretrievably. The whole meal was thoughtfully conceived and beautifully executed; the wine pairing was very effective if not memorable. But this is definitely a place worth visiting. Final summation: how can you not love a country that begins most evenings with sparkling wine and a plate of artisinal cure ham? Hello!

Coincidentally, I just dined there with three friends last night. In a nutshell, everything was fine, though I was not as wowed as I remember being on my first visit a few years ago. Service was fine timing-wise, though otherwise it could use some polishing. Our captain was a sepulchral figure right out of Charles Addams who looked like his previous career was selling coffins and who was barely audible. Water was slopped on the table repeatedly, and the busboys had some serious acrobatics to get our dishes on the table. Minor quibbles. The food was all perfectly good and correct, but again, didn’t engage me the way I remember from my first visit. For starters we had: the grilled octopus salad (excellent); the chicken livers and foie gras (very good, though could have used a contrasting something to offset the overwhelming richness of the dish, which the little slice of confited quince didn’t provide); and a special of shrimp something served in a hollowed out onion, which bizarrely tasted like warm deli shrimp salad. For entrees, we had: the duck for two, which my friends raved over, even though the skin was not crispy like the Peking duck they prefer; braised beef cheeks and short ribs over a bed of “smoked mashed potatoes”, which was exactly as luscious as it sounds; and a special of raviolini stuffed with capon and foie gras in a butter / sage sauce with fresh truffles grated over it. As decadent as this sounds, it was actually a bit bland, though certainly rich and filling. Desserts were coconut and strawberry sorbets (neither particularly outstanding, you can buy better in many higher end stores); ricotta cheesecake (terrific); and a special of fresh ricotta from upstate served with a host of toppings and biscotti. This might have been better appreciated if we hadn’t been so gluttonous in the earlier rounds. With two bottles of wine and tip, the damage came to $108 a person. I was happy to reacquaint with Felidia, but no rush to go back any time soon.

Questions about bringing jamon (serrano, iberico, whatever) back to the U.S.: - Do locals in either Barcelona or Madrid have specific locations / vendors that they feel sell THE best, in either city? I've personally sampled a variety of quality here in Barcelona, and been given a deluge of recommendations, and my suitcase will only hold so much, so I need really strong recommendations. - Now that cryovacced packages are generally and easily available, does anyone have advice or warnings about going through customs in the States? Thanks.

I would second that - although those braised short ribs are pretty damn good. I amazed that I still remember how really good the food was, even though we asked to change tables midway through our meal (due to some screaming me-me's at a table no more than 8 inches away from ours) and still had problems conversing over the din of the cackling clientele. ← Here I think someone needs to make a firm definition of "annoying" as it pertains to this thread. I'm the first to agree that Cafe Gray is one of the most unattractive restaurants in the city, and the waste of that view is criminal. But that doesn't equal annoying to me, the cooking remains superlative, and the service has always been top notch. Yes, there's music, and frequently bewildering choices, but when I've been there it's never been obtrusive, nor has the noise level. (Mind you I tend to go quite early in the evening, not at high tide.) For my definition of annoying restaurants, see... oh, pretty much any place in the MPD these days, and don't even get me started on STK, which was so awful I couldn't bring myself to post about it.

Compass. Veritas.

For those looking for a solid, well-executed, well-considered and un-gimmicky meal, Little Owl's definitely worth a visit. It's basically a highish-level neighborhood joint (well, higher than the general level in my neighborhood), which in its emphasis on simple straight forward preparations of high quality ingredients reminded me of Cookshop. I strongly echo the reservation recommendation: having been told that on a Sunday a walk-in for two before 6:30 would be no problem, my companion and I arrived at 5:15 to find the place completely packed with an hour wait. Turned out to be closer to 90 minutes, but when we returned after an hour at EO (very disappointing), they comped us some cava for the rest of the wait, which was nice. And it was worth it. Those meatball sliders are really a meal in themselves, light and luscious and with just the right amount of fennel (the recipe is in this week's New York Magazine). The gnocchi with bolognese were just as good as you'd get at Lupa. My companion's monkfish was just as hefty and juicy and satisfying as the my pork chop, which lived up to all the praise I've read about it. Simply grilled and served with its juices, its a lesson in understatement and letting the quality of the product shine. We split the beignets for dessert, which are a nice idea (filled with raspberry jam and served with a puddle of melted bittersweet chocolate to dip in), but they seemed kind of heavy in comparison to other examples of memory (I'm thinking in particularly of Calle Ocho, which used to serve superlative beignets, I don't know if they still do). Both our wines were also a little disappointing: a little wan and not able to stand up to the food. Minor quibbles, though: it's worth a trip, if not an immediate one, and by all means get a reservation.

What a nifty addition to the lower Harlem area. The subtly decorated and lit space is a great example of less is more, and provides just as great people watching as any of the downtown zoos. Last night the crowd was evenly split: groups of crunchy frizzled-hairs from the Colombia area, their wardrobes bespeaking long tenures in academe, enthusing about their latest sabbatical in Abu Dhabi and wouldn’t Charlayne Hunter-Gault just love this place. The other were more local denizens, taking a break from Melba’s and Charles’, albeit it seemed with some skepticism. Particularly entertaining was the young lady at the table next to us, poured into the clothes she wears and expecting A Night Out. When informed that utensils would not be forthcoming for her meal, the look on the face of this demoiselle, whose tablecloth trailing Veronica Lake coif and elaborate manicure suggested expectations of a less exotic dining experience, was priceless. After risking both hair and nails by dutifully and gingerly essaying a few tenuous morsels from her combination plate, out she marched, glumly trailed by her date whose expression left little doubt that he’d abandoned any hope of gettin’ him some. Boy did she miss out: the food is terrific. It’s been a while since I’ve had Ethiopian, so I won’t compare to previous experiences, which comprise dim memories from the places in my neighborhood, catering largely to students of extremely limited means: small dark sticky boites serving rustically spiced and heavily greasy food, guaranteed to leave some part of your interior rumbling the next day. Nothing like that at Zoma: the food is carefully and elegantly presented and cooked. In fact, the elegance and subtlety of the flavorings caused much amazed and happy comment from the more experienced Ethiopaphiles at my table. Steven has given a thorough and accurate of the general atmosphere and presentation above. We started with the Azifa, a spiced lentil salad served on endive leaves. I don’t know how authentic endive is to Ethiopia (no doubt a long and spirited discussion on this subject will help clarify this issue), but it’s a great pairing, the slight bitterness of the endive acting as a great foil to the elaborate spice combination of the salad. Also phyllo triangles, feather light and flaky, filled with a mildly spicy ground beef mixture. Both winners. We then shared the two hefty combination platters, and everything on them was superb, not a single disappointment. The injira was spongy and immediately replenished when requested. Despite being four very hungry people, the above-mentioned left us thoroughly stuffed us and unable to contemplate dessert. With two bottles of honey wine and tip, damage came to $30 a head. A few nitpicks (because as a New Yorker one has to): • Service, while charming and solicitous, was a little slow (the place was fairly packed at 7PM), and it frequently required some jumping up and down to get anyone’s attention. They could use a full time busboy to augment the two slightly harried young ladies who had ca. 15 packed tables and a full bar to handle. • Not being a big fan of honey wine, beer, or painfully sweet cocktails, I would ideally like to see the generic and uninspired wine list revamped, particularly as I can’t imagine most of what was offered working with the food. • This is hand-eaten food, and therefore requires napkins. Lots of them. Only one a person was doled out, and that only after repeated requests. Stacks on the tables may not look as elegant, but would be infinitely more practical and welcome. This is absolutely a place worth making a trip for. Can’t wait to go back.

That's it!! So much for my memory.... I just love the gullet.

Red Delicious are, I believe, renowned for not being great apples to cook with. That said, they would probably work in an apple crisp, and what doesn't work under a layer of quick butter topping? See this recipe from cooks.com, to which you could always add a little freshly grated nutmeg, cloves, or allspice to jazz it up.

Some time in mid or late September, the Food Stuff section of the Wednesday Time's Dining and Wine section mentioned that one of the Union Square vendors was now carrying chicken liver... mousse? pate? terrine? Something like that. I even forwarded the link to several friends. I now cannot find mention of this anywhere (including on the Times' site), and when I asked at the market this past Saturday no one (including the market managers) had any idea what I was talking about. Anybody?

Oh yeah, Moshe's. Messy and marvelous. 46th street just east of 6th, on the north side.

COMPASS!!!208 W 70th between Broadway and West End Avenue. Accept no substitutes! See also the Compass thread. You will not be disappointed.

I'm currently working in the Hell's Kitchen area, and it requires no small amount of determination and will power not to visit Amy's Breads every day. I haven't really delved into the breads there yet, but the cookies and cupcakes are a serious treat, and their sticky buns are just wrong. 672 Ninth Avenue (Between 46th & 47th Streets)

A length of baguette, soft sweet butter on one half of the inside, dijon mustard on the other, thick slices of pate and cornichon in the middle: paradise in your hands.

What a spectacular thread, and long overdue! If I could only eat one foodstuff for the rest of my life, it would be, without hesitation, cheese. In order to expand my knowledge of and appreciation for cheese, I have undertaken to try every single variety stocked by Murray's Cheese Shop in Manhattan (http://murrayscheese.com). Which is a lot. I've done 13 so far, and top favorites have been: - Fiore Sardo - Sottocenere - Hoch Ybrig So many cheeses... so little time to do the exercise to work them off *sigh*

I couldn't agree more: this was a bit that I left out of my screed... er, rant... er, post. These places are keeping a lot of people employed and generating what I would assume/hope are significant amounts of revenue for the city, so I say mazel tov. And no one's forced to go to them (though I am occassionally pressured by friends and colleagues). So I say, the more the merrier! Nathan, I wonder about Grimes and Bette (had Bette opened during his tenure, when there was so much else going on, I really can't see him spending his time on it, but that's just my impression). My own experience there left me highly unimpressed, and I didn't even pay! I will however happily concede that the truffle fries are a shameful and decadent thing that everyone should sample at least once.

Sneak, no offense taken in the slightest: I relish these lively and frank exchanges! I think you may have misunderstood the point of my rant… er, post. I don’t think the people visiting Freeman’s, or the MP district, or Park Avenue South, are concerned with the quality of the food. Nor can I comment on the quality of the food at Freeman’s over Landmarc (or any place else), as I abandoned my party to their wait and went home. (The wait also is not my issue). I don’t think they’re concerned with the food at all. This is just as true a herd mentality, no matter what location or demographic it’s aimed at. The party who invited me to Freeman’s was much more concerned with what they understood to be a high celebrity quotient (Maggie Gylenhaal! Vince Vaughan! Zoe someoneorother!) then with what was on the menu, or whether there was a menu at all, and that was patently the case with majority of the rest of the crowd waiting to get in. And it is just this demographic, which ranges across an enormous spectrum of ages and cultures and personas, from glitz to grunge, whose attention the Times seems to be desperate to capture. Hence the recent focus on restaurants and venues where the quality of the food is way down the list of priorities, although I think this is also due to the fact that a lot more of these sorts of places seem to have sprung up recently. It makes no difference whether it’s the siliconed and botoxed crowds in the meatpacking district or the carefully calculated down-market look of the LES: what these folks want from a night out is validation, affirmation, a boosting of their personas from a concept of glamour (which takes many forms). I say unequivocally that you could serve the majority of customers at any of these places Styrofoam dredged from a sewer, but as long as it’s overpriced (a relative term depending on the place), served in an aggressively distracting venue with the appropriate soundtrack pummeling in the background, and enough booze to sufficiently stun the brain and the palate, not only won’t they care, they’ll rave about it. The reason people go is not for the food, but because of the frisson they expect from the venue and their fellow diners. You may or may not be able to get a good to excellent culinary experience at some of these places (e.g. you can eat quite decently at Spice Market), but they’re not there to eat – they are there to be there. Bruni’s review yesterday confirmed that. It just seems a shame to me, as I used to view the Times as catering to more “serious” tastes (I cannot conceive that William Grimes would have reviewed Bette). Maybe that’s an illusion on my part. I’m probably not expressing this as clearly as I’d like. The very memory of some of these places gives me migraines… But let the vitriol flow!

Nathan, very true, though the night I was at Freemans (or more accurately attempted Freemans -- the wait became absurd) the place was full of people who looked like they more properly belonged at Megu, which surprised me. In the few recent instances that I've been able to stomach such ventures I can't say as I've noticed so much one type of crowd or another (i.e. I won't claim much recent in-depth expertise), so much as one generically vapid herd desperate to be validated by their surroundings and what they perceive to be the cachet thereof. Or more to the point here, what some media outlet has told them has cachet. What little reading they may be doing is largely in search of the next Holy Grail (read, Hot Spot), and this is exactly a market or demographic I think the Times is desperate to get a foothold in (on?), in order to boost advertising revenue. Depth or quality is of little interest to these folks, on that I can speak reliably. In most cases you could serve them styrofoam, and as long as it was impressively priced they'd rave about it. Jaded? Me? Naw...

A factor that seems to me to be missing from this discussion (or at least this page of it) is the changed demographic the Times is aiming for, IMO misguidedly. The expansion of the Styles section etc. bespeaks a perceived need on the Times' part to attract the shishi wannabe crowds pouring money into the meatpacking district and lower Park Avenue, whose primary concern is facades over content. This would explain today's review, a venue I can promise you remains high on the list of this crowd, as well as those for such other pointless properties as Bette, Barbounia, and all the "Japanese" aberrations. Bruni, I suspect, is under pressure, directly or otherwise, to make these places a priority, despite the fact that the demographic in question doesn't really read the Times, or newspapers at all. Of the examples I've had the misfortune to meet few were, I suspect, even literate. Catering to them, therefore, strikes me as a singular waste of time.

It bears remembering that Alto's location in an area light on residences (Trump Tower notwithstanding) means that Saturday night traffic, particularly the weekend after Labor Day, would not be substantial. This probably applies to the rest of the year as well, as there's nothing else around there to draw business on that night. My understanding is that during-the-week traffic remains quite healthy.

I was there in late July, and yes, it was still terrific. Go. Now.

Agreed.

Just came back from lunch, and as always I'm blown away at how superb the food is here, if not better than I remembered. We shared a starter of celery root fleurettes toping a crabmeat salad over a celery root puree -- who knew celeriac could be so luxurious? My aunt then had the above mentioned rabbit and foie gras stew, which is a satanic thing and should not be served to anyone trying to maintain their sanity, as it easily obliterates any coherent thought. Run, do not walk, and order it now. For the sake of variety I had the short ribs, which remain as absurdly delicious as ever. A glass of a Faugeres from the Languedoc was gorgeously funky and just right. I'm happy to say that the overwhelming quality of the food and the charm of the service helps one put out of mind the unhappiness of the decor. Would it really be such a big deal for them to take a month off and blitz the place? (Of course, it kind of looks right now like it's been blitzed, or at any rate glitzed -- my aunt, a first time visitor, gaped when we sat down and said it reminded her of some cheap hotel on Lake Erie). It continues to bother me that one always has to recommend it to out-of-towners with that caveat.

A perfect description. If you're anywhere even remotely in the vicinity, make a point of hitting Sfoglia, but it's not someplace you need to go hugely out of your way for. Between three of us we had: The plate of mixed house-made salume, all spectacular; the clams, ditto; and the garganelli with pesto; ibid -- the pollo al mattone, which is the first time in years anywhere in this country that i've tasted chicken that actually really tastes like chicken, and how do they do that??; the parpadelle bolognese, sumptuous; and my suckling pig, pink and perfect and moist and succulent and redolent of rosemary, tho I've two caveats: only one teeny piece of skin, and it cost $28, which I thought was a little much. A bottle of San Giovese and a shared chocolate semifreddo were terrific. And that bread!! Total was about $65 a person, with tax and tip.