Sneakeater

Thanks!

This is a little off-topic, but just to give a concrete example of what I'm talking about (even though it doesn't involve Richard Sandoval): Last year, Zarela Martinez's son, Aaron Sanchez, opened a haute(ish) Mexican restaurant called Centrico in downtown New York. One of the items on his menu is a pretty strictly traditional Cochinita Pibil. When the restaurant was reviewed in the New York Times, the restaurant critic, Frank Bruni, described that dish (without even naming it) by writing that "Sanchez takes a pork shoulder" and does this and that to it -- as if this classic Yucatecan dish were something that Aaron Sanchez came up with himself. That's the level of knowledge about Mexican food that the most influential (although, most New Yorkers would agree, not the best credentialed) food critic in New York has. I think a chef must be able to create with more confidence when he's cooking for a clientele he can assume has knowlege of the premises of his cooking. I also think it must be a bit of a burden when the chef knows he must educate his clientele along with pleasing it.

Just to be clear, I don't want to say that Sandoval's "captiluated" to anyone, in the sense that I don't think anyone is forcing anything on him. I just think he must be aware of his audience, and of their expected incomprehension of the food he is cooking. And that that must affect what he ultimately does. (Thanks for the kind words, BTW.)

This is going to be much more general than what Ruth probably meant to ask for; if I can put together some more specific comments about the food at Richard Sandoval's restaurants in New York, I'll do so -- but it's been a while since I've eaten in any of them. Mexican food is very problematical in New York. Until fairly recently, there didn't seem to be as significant a Mexican population here as there is in, say, Chicago, to say nothing of LA. Even now, the Mexican population (or at least that part of it that operates and patronizes restaurants) seems to mostly be from Puebla, so most of the "authentic" Mexican restaurants are limited to that region. It's not that I don't love Pueblan food -- I do -- it's just that I don't think you can easily get a broad familiarity with authentic Mexican cooking in New York. On the other hand, there have long been a bunch of imitation Tex-Mex tequila mills in New York, to which young people go to get drunk and eat gloppy food. But they have few culinary pretentions -- although the glop they serve is probably what most non-Mexican New Yorkers think of "Mexican food" as. Since there isn't a long-time tradition of high-quality "authentic" ethnic Mexican restaurants (and to be clear, by that I mean cheap places, mainly aimed at the immigrant community), most non-Mexican New Yorkers lack the kind of deep familiarity with Mexican food that they have with, say, Chinese and other Asian cuisines or Italian or even Cuban. This makes it difficult for us to appreciate, much less to judge, any attempts at Mexican haute cuisine in the City. Several restaurants have tried. When Richard Sandoval -- an Acapulcan who first attracted notice when cooking at a non-Mexican restaurant here -- opened Maya maybe 10 or so years ago, it was far and away the best such attempt yet in New York. Over time, Maya has gotten a little tired, though, as some restaurants do. Sandoval's second restaurant here was Pampano, a so-called haute Acapulcan sea food place backed by Placido Domingo in a space where a previous Domingo-backed attempt at haute Mexican had failed. If anything, Pampano, at opening, was even better than Maya when it was new -- although, again, neither I nor most of the clientele have the culinary experience to really judge what Sandoval is doing there. I haven't been back recently, so I don't know how well the quality's been maintained. The thing to say, though, is that the best haute Mexican -- nueva cocina, I guess you guys call it -- in Mexico City pretty much blows Maya and Pampano away. But a large part of the reason for that, it has seemed to me, is the confidence with which the DF restaurants grow from (and play with) tradition. This kind of confidence is precisely what Sandoval is denied here in New York -- not because of anything lacking on his part, but because he cannot assume a knowledgeable clientele (in fact, he can pretty much assume the contrary). He has to worry about toning down elements New Yorkers unfamiliar with Mexican food might find weird, he has to work on the assumption that most of his clientele's expectations of Mexican food are of gloppy versions of dishes like enchiladas suissas, and so his food has to sort of explain itself to the eaters (if you know what I mean by that). So Mexico City is going to be a truer test of Sandoval's capabilities than New York, because there he'll be cooking without restraint for a knowledgeable clientele. You know, now that I think of it, I really can't wait to try his restaurant there.

That was a great piece. Ivy can write like crazy. But if I don't get to Au Pied du Cochon like immediately, I'm going to burst with frustration.

An important indication of johnder's personality and attitude toward life.

(Looking at the menu:) Oh man, I am THERE. Definitely the anticuchos. Thanks again!

Thanks! (This is funny: I was just by there and didn't notice it.)

Maya used to be very good but has slipped a lot over the last few years. Pampano was very good when it opened; haven't been since. I'll be curious to see what people in Mexico City think of Sandoval's cooking. I always thought it was sort of "great [Mexican] for New York", but not "great absolute." I personally don't think that Maya at its best was a patch on, say, Aguila y Sol -- although I admit my perceptions may be colored by the two restaurants' respective locations.

Cachaca Dave had this promo event at LeNell's yesterday, and it appeared to be a fabulous success for him (who moved a lot of product) and me (who got introduced to a great product, had some delicious cocktails -- tip of the hat to Donbert here -- and had more grilled meat than was healthy). Congratulations, Dave!

Where is it?

I don't know, but I'd guess they originated somewhere near a police station.

GREAT ENTREE ALERT There's an entree that's been added to the Cafe Gray menu within the last week or so that I really really recommend. I think it might be the best entree I've ever had there. It now appears at the bottom of the menu under the heading "Summer Specials", but it's as autumnal a dish as you could imagine, and the bartender confirmed that they are trying it out for permanent inclusion on their fall menu and that, based on the response so far, it should be available at least through the winter (with variations for availability of ingredients). The menu calls it "Rabbit and Foie Gras Stew", but that doesn't really describe it. It's a loin of rabbit with a slab of foie gras on top of it and a rack of rabbit to the side, in a gewurtztraminer reduction with bacon, chanterelles, and some vegetables. The rabbit was cooked perfectly: not a bit of the dryness to which that meat is subject. The rich rich foie gras complimented the mild-tasting rabbit brilliantly (I'm surprised I've never had that combination before). The gravy added a kick, but did not overpower the other constituents of the dish (which is really my only criticism of the food at Cafe Gray: the sauces, gravies, glazes, etc. sometimes tend to be overspiced and end up being all you taste). Actually, the "Summer Special" appetizer I ordered also avoided that Cafe Gray pitfall. It was a similarly misnamed "shrimp salad", which actually consisted of a few grilled(?) shrimp on a bed of braised endive with a "Thai spice" sauce. This dish is really what we all love Gray Kunz for: the tasteful combination of European and Asian flavors and techniques into a dish so well integrated you can't really even call it "fusion". And again, the "Thai spices" complimented rather than overpowered the other constituents of the dish. I'm sorry that summer is ending, but Fall is looking to be pretty good at least at this one restaurant.

I'm so glad you liked this place. I just wanted to highlight the above passage because it says something about the pizza at Franny's that I've tried to say to various friends but could never quite articulate. I don't really look at Franny's pizza as being comparable to other pizzas. I almost don't think of it as "pizza". It's never a choice to me, for example, whether to go to Franny's or Grimaldi's: I'm either in the mood for one or the other, and I view them as being quite different things. And, as someone in New York Magazine once remarked, Franny's isn't really a pizzeria, but rather a typical New Brooklyn Restaurant that serves pizza. I'm also glad to hear you say you think Franny's is on a par with DiFara, since that's a thought I've had but have never had the guts to express out loud. It's always great to read a review that says things you've thought be could never organize into expressions. Thanks again.

I guess they didn't do so when they opened (no license), as many of the early reviews made it a point to mention this. Thanks for correcting me. That's great news. This will now conclusively answer the eternal "where do you eat after 92nd St. Y concerts?" question. E.g. (just so you know I'm not crazy):

I have a BIG problem with their not serving wine.

I think it's silly to deny that DuFresne, Aschatz, Adria, Liebrandt, etc. are cooking in a style that's different from the way other people cook. And I think it's silly just to give that style a blanket dismissal. I mean, it's entirely possible to like one restaurant that has the best quality ingredients, painstaking preparation, attention to detail and solicitous service more than another, right? You might even actively dislike a restaurant that has the best quality ingredients, painstaking preparation, attention to detail and solicitous service, if you don't like the style of the cooking. In fact, I would say that the best quality ingredients, painstaking preparation, attention to detail and solicitous service pretty much describes Gilt. But you could still have either liked Gilt or disliked it, on the basis of the style of the cuisine. Certainly, the best quality ingredients, painstaking preparation, attention to detail and solicitous service weren't enough to keep its initial iteration in business.

The problem is that in the arts, say, you can be avant-garde and ignore the desires of the audience. But restaurants are (and pretty much have to be) commercial enterprises. Even in the field of what would normally be considered pop music, the "no wave" bands of the late 70s/early 80s clearly abjured any notion of popular success -- and were able to do it, because the fixed costs (and necessary time commitments) of their enterprises were so low. Jamesbchef said above that "it's hard to be a starving artist forever." But the fixed costs of running a restaurant are such that you can't be a starving artist, ever. It's not like painting or forming a band. I think I said once that I'll believe in avant-garde cooking when I see someone getting a day job to support his restaurant. Jamesbchef has now pointed out that people like Adria may actually be doing that. Anyway, to echo something Fat Guy said in the Liebrant thread, it may be that in a city like New York the only way truly avant-garde (or hypermodern, as docsconz better puts it) could work economically would be in Brooklyn. Sort of like the way the avant-pop music scene has moved there, and much of the avant-jazz scene. I've often gloated that Manhattan is over, because the incredibly high fixed costs there have made it impossible to do anything there that isn't nearly completely mainstream. Fat Guy argues that the Brooklyn model would ultimately fail, however, because not enough Manhattanites would come to Brooklyn to eat. I think that if a restaurant were good enough -- I'm talking Alinea quality -- and also marketed as sufficiently distinctive (think BAM), and if it were reasonably accessible to mass transit, and if its investors were patient enough, it might be able to eventually lure patrons from the Evil Empire of Manhattan as regular commuters, as BAM was ultimately able to do. I tend to agree that the Gilt model was bound to fail from the start, and it might be true that even Tribeca couldn't support a truly avant-garde luxe restaurant (although I'd be interested to see the attempt).

You're right: if you put a lot of Xanax into all your dishes, the judges will love them.

You can really -- I mean, REALLY -- taste the difference in tannins between the Earl Grey MarTEAni and the Green Tea Collins.

They have a Green Tea Collins at Chinatown Brasserie.

I had dinner here again last night and, just as a data point, I for one don't notice any significant slippage (even with a change in the chef de cuisine since last year). The arctic char remains one of my favorite NYC entrees.

Yeah, the cilantro-infused martini is fabulous.

Picking up on FFB, I think the cocktails there are fabulous.

Ya know, I wish you lived here so you could write these great local reviews all the time.