Sneakeater

I'm sure this has been said here before, although I don't remember seeing it. The problem with the Times's restaurant reviewing is a problem they (and most publications) used to have with film criticism but no longer do: they don't seem to view food as "a beat", requiring special expertise, experience, and knowledge. Rather, they seem to see it as something anyone who's a skilled writer can write about. As I said, that used to be the way film criticism was handled: the movie reviewer's job was handed to people who proved their writing abilities elsewhere and had no demonstrable expertise in the history and esthetics of film; they just liked going to the movies. That's no longer the case, and people like Manola Darghis (sp?) are now hired precisely for their film expertise. The Times would no longer dream of giving a film critic's job to someone without such demonstrated expertise. But the Times doesn't yet accord food the same respect it has now come to accord film. The last two principal restaurant reviewers -- Grimes and Bruni -- were people with no apparent expertise in food and the food industry. The paper just doesn't take appear to take food seriously enough. I suspect that will change with time, as the paper's approach to film did. This is why, BTW, I was so much more appreciative of Amanda Hesser than everybody esle seemed to be. To me, her knowledge of food and experience in the industry made her reviews much more illuminating than Grimes's had been. No matter how unfairly she might have favored Jean-Georges Vongericthen.

I'm not gonna say it's the "best", but the brisket in coffee barbecue sauce at Ouovo is terrific.

I'm somewhat surprised by this review, because the one time I ate at Mas, I thought there was a sort of flavor deficit in most of what I had. I can't remember what I had (it was a while ago, right after Mas opened), but perhaps I ordered poorly.

I have a feeling Oakapple isn't a lawyer. (The only good thing about that job, IMO.)

To clear up all this geographical disputation, both the River Cafe and Grimaldi's are closer to the St. Ann's Warehouse than most recommendations that are actually located in DUMBO proper. (Also, since both the River Cafe and Grimaldi's are downhill from the bluff on which Brooklyn Heights sits, I personally consider them part of DUMBO rather than the Heights [since to be in the Heights it seems to me you have to be on the Heights].) Superfine has always been the most highly touted place in DUMBO proper (i.e., excluding the River Cafe and Grimaldi's), but I've always found the food pretty ordinary, although the place itself is pleasant enough. There's also a branch of the Noho (I think) restaurant Rice in DUMBO, if you're in the mood for rice dishes. (In fact, Rice runs the lobby concession at St. Ann's Warehouse.) Speaking of branches, there's also now a branch of Bubby's (from Tribeca) in DUMBO. I haven't been.

But that's the thing about all those places (I'm talking about ones in NYC, which are the ones I know) -- Megu and Matsuri (where I've eaten), Ono (where I haven't but know people who have). The food isn't terrible. They all have name executive chefs; that's part of the selling point. The food just isn't very fine. But that's because the food isn't the point. The food is just a lure. The food can't compete with -- or even survive -- the scene. So should we applaud these places for not being terrible, or just ignore them (even you agree they're not aimed at us)? Seems like an easy call to me.

FWIW, I strongly disagree. It's a colorful detail he observed that he believes is telling in the context of this particular restaurant. We now think reviews can't be colorful?

Could anybody possibly make that wrong guess? This place seems like PR central.

My understanding, from people within the JGV organization (and my supposition is that this place, owned by nightclub operators, works the same way), is that they have a list of "acceptable" people (not just, or even mostly, known customers -- it's mainly supposed trendsetters or people who can pull them in) that they check when they get reservations requests. Primetime tables are held for those people (at least during the period the restaurant is establishing itself). Of course, they also have the "secret" reservations number -- and if you don't use it, you've got a strike against you to begin with.

Ditto. And I'm a complete gringo.

I tried the downstairs restaurant. I didn't much like it -- but a lot of that might have been attributable to how pissed off I was at their pretentions. When I called for a reservation, they asked me my name before telling me whether a table was available. After hearing (and not recognizing) my name, they told me nothing was available before 10:30 p.m. on the day I wanted, but asked for my number so they could call me that day if there were any "cancellations" during what most of us consider dining hours.* Having been through this drill with the JGV juggernaut, I knew that meant that a table would be available when I wanted one. And lo and behold, the day I wanted, one was. Now, to be fair to the La Esquina people, when I was seated, at least the place was packed. That is almost never the case when JGV Enterprises puts me through this charade. The thrill of eating in the downstairs restaurant is that you go through a metal door marked "Employees Only -- No Admittance", down a flight of stairs, through the kitchen, and then -- wow! -- you're in this dark, "exotic" restaurant. It's hard not to view the upstairs taco stand as a front, to make the restaurant seem more esoteric. It's such an obvious, contrived fake that you -- or at least I -- naturally feel resentful. The food is uneven. The grilled corn is delicious -- but have you ever had a bad rendition of that dish? Bux described the tacos -- what I had were small appetizer-sized taquitos, in my case filled with the Yucatecan pork dish pilbul -- as being pleasently "juicy", but I'd call them too wet. The pork ribs I had as an entree were frankly disappointing. I found the glaze simply too cloying, and the ribs themselves a bit dry. The tequila list is impressive. Service is very friendly (surprisingly), although overstressed and not very professional. I'm not going to fall into the trap of saying, "why go to a place like this when you can go to Tulcinga del Valle on Tenth Ave. or the taco counter behind the deli a block north of it?" I remember what Bond Girl said about 66, that you need places of all kinds of cuisines that are nice enough to go to on dates and that women appreciate places without scarily disgusting bathrooms.** So I get that a place like La Esquina's basement restaurant fills a different need than those other, far superior places. But I will ask why you'd go to the La Esquina when you could get a much better meal at Centrico in Tribeca. Centrico is nowhere near as "cool" as La Esquina -- if you're the kind of person who's impressed by going through a door marked "no admittance" down a staircase through a kitchen into a fake-distressed dining space -- but the food is immeasurably better. And (unlike, say, Maya) Centrico isn't at all uptown and stuffy. So, to me, La Esquina's street-level taco stand is fake (although it may be pretty good) and the restaurant is obnoxiously fake. The cafe seems nice enough, but the rest of the enterprise just pisses me off. It is very convenient to Room 4 Dessert, though. ______________________________________________________ * Ironically -- and this is what gets me into all the JGV outposts with no problem at all -- I'm usually more than happy to eat at 10:30 p.m. Just not the night in question at La Esquina (or some nights at the JGV places). ** OTOH, I have to say -- without going into Bruniesque detail -- that La Esquina has the single worst men's room that I have ever encountered at any upscale restaurant in New York. It's not dirty or anything -- just uncomfortably tiny and amazingly badly laid out.

(I should add that the Nolitella really caused a remarkable recovery. Much later on, after some ministrations, I mentioned that my favorite Mexican restaurant in New York is Tulcinga del Valle. "That place on Tenth Avenue near 46th Street?!" the women who had been unable to leave her bed exclaimed. "You know it, too! Hey, do you think they're still open this late?")

Back to Room 4 Dessert. What I'd like to focus on this time is how, in addition to serving superb food, this place is very conciously attempting to build a client base by being nice to customers. Will greeted me as I walked in, remembering me from a couple of days ago. He asked where my dining companion, a neighborhood girl, was. He remembered that she had been fighting a cold the last time we were there and asked if she was better. In fact, she was home in bed, deciding if she could get out to meet me for dessert. While I was waiting, I had a glass of Chocobubbles and the suggested pairing of a dark sweet sherry. If you like chocolate, you'll love Chocobubbles. Olive oil biscuits (well, they're not really biscuits, but what do I know about French patissiere?) may not spring into your mind as the most obvious things to put into a chocolate drink -- but that's why Will Goldfarb is a genius dessert chef and you're not. Sherry and chocolate, on the other hand, is hardly a new concept. But there's a reason people have always liked it. I asked one of the French guys/owners about a Slovenian riesling on the wine list, and a complimentary glass appeared in front of me. It was very good: Austrian-tasting, as the French guy/owner himself remarked. My dining companion called and said she didn't think she could get out of bed, and asked me to come over to her nearby apartment to, um, minister to her. There went the dessert "tasting" plate I was planning to have when she got there. Will insisted I take her a brioche and a jar of Nolitella (their housemade nutella), again complimentary. The brioche and Nolitella proved to be sovereign. My sick friend opened the jar and shrieked, "Nutella!!!!!!!!!" I know Will is reading this, and I'm sure he'll want to know that after my friend finished dipping the brioche (she wasn't getting out of bed to get implements), she attacked the remaining contents of the jar with her fingers. If the jar were bigger, I'm sure she'd have done a Winnie the Pooh. It only took a few minutes for the jar to be empty. I'm not saying the Room 4 Dessert crew are miracle workers, but they can make the sick to eat.

That depends on how drunk you are when you go there. The food is drastically less tasty at 6 pm as it is at 6 am. ← That's funny. You're right, I wouldn't know how the food tastes when you're completely sober.

Continuing on the Turkish tangent, is Bereket on E. Houston and Orchard (I think) a "secret"?

On behalf of a friend, I'm going to post Le Tableau, on E. Fifth St. in the East Village.

Speaking of that area, I guess the Pakistan Tea House on Church around Chambers is sort of a "secret" (even though it gets mentioned here every now and then). I'd say the lunch buffet at Darbar, too -- if Bond girl didn't post about it a couple of weeks ago.

Wow. I used to go to eat at Delphi before Tribeca had a restaurant scene. Maybe even before Tribeca was a neighborhood. Remember when the only places around there were like Delphi and Teddy's?

There's an excellent pizza place on the north side of East 60th Street between Madison and Park. It's called Bella something. Their by-the-slice pizza is very good. So, surprisingly, are their pastas. Best of all, though, is their tavola calda/tavola fredda (OK, I give up: what do you call an Italian lunch table with cold food?). A real standout for its type.

Oooo ooooo (waving hand up high like Horschack in Welcome Back, Cotter). I've got one! Rocco's in Borough Park in Brooklyn. Fantastic southern Italian (Campagnian, I guess?) seafood bar.

(I guess Al Di La isn't much of a secret these days.)

Is Chimichurri Grill (9th Ave. btw. 43rd & 44th) a secret? Also, I recently stumbled upon this really great sushi place on East 43rd between 2nd and 3rd . . . .

The fresh-kill chicken dishes are great. The kung pao (sp?) chicken, for example, is not just the best version of this familiar dish I've ever had, but so far beyond the others that it could just as well be a different thing entirely.

If you are willing to forgo the Frenchness why not just head over to Blue Ribbon? ← Geez, I was trying to elegantly keep everything within a block or so. (No . . . NOT Mexican Radio.)

Sure. Appetizer: a foie gras special, served with an unidentified sweet wine (OK: I could have asked but didn't) that I don't think was a sauternes (that's not meant as a criticism; just a factual statement). It was good, as foie gras generally is. But it didn't tell me much about the kitchen. Main dish: Let's set the Wayback Machine for the 1960s and have a plate of boeuf bourguignon. Now if that dish is prepared well, it's incredibly satisfying, if not incredibly complex or innovative. But that's what you go to a bistro for: satisfying, but not complex or innovative. The catch, though, is "if that dish is prepared well." Here, the raw materials were not good: the meat was tough and fatty at the same time, and not very flavorful. And neither was the preparation: the flavors in the thin gravy were unassimilated, as if the ingredients had just been introduced to each other. It was just not very good cooking.