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Babbo (First 6 Years)


macrosan

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We had dinner at Babbo on Friday evening. Normally I would have made every attempt to harass, insult and confuse our servers to ensure that they knew that we were connoisseurs who wouldn’t accept the slop that they keep for the tourists. In the past I have insisted on standing in the kitchen to ensure that Batali personally plates every last spring of parsley. I also make it quite clear that I expect only the finest wines from Bastianich’s personal cellar, sold to me at cost. However, on this occasion we were with friends who, technically speaking, were tourists, so we just ordered things that sounded good on the menu and asked the sommelier for a recommendation. Given this risible approach to fine dining, it was a small miracle that we had a thoroughly enjoyable meal.

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Heh.

"I've caught you Richardson, stuffing spit-backs in your vile maw. 'Let tomorrow's omelets go empty,' is that your fucking attitude?" -E. B. Farnum

"Behold, I teach you the ubermunch. The ubermunch is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the ubermunch shall be the meaning of the earth!" -Fritzy N.

"It's okay to like celery more than yogurt, but it's not okay to think that batter is yogurt."

Serving fine and fresh gratuitous comments since Oct 5 2001, 09:53 PM

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I have spent considerable time (six point five seconds in fact) considering whether I should report Professor Johnson's post to a Moderator on the basis of its clearly demonstrably heresy.

In the circumstances, I have concluded that Professor Plotnicki's post is punishment enough.

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we just ordered things that sounded good on the menu and asked the sommelier for a recommendation. Given this risible approach to fine dining, it was a small miracle that we had a thoroughly enjoyable meal.

I did the same thing last Monday with the same outcome, but my standards are very low :wink:

Aside to Jinmyo: In the interest of research I had the Mint Love Letters and IMHO they could certainly be considered pie :smile:

Sometimes When You Are Right, You Can Still Be Wrong. ~De La Vega

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Wilfrid, but how do you feel about them when eating them?

"I've caught you Richardson, stuffing spit-backs in your vile maw. 'Let tomorrow's omelets go empty,' is that your fucking attitude?" -E. B. Farnum

"Behold, I teach you the ubermunch. The ubermunch is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the ubermunch shall be the meaning of the earth!" -Fritzy N.

"It's okay to like celery more than yogurt, but it's not okay to think that batter is yogurt."

Serving fine and fresh gratuitous comments since Oct 5 2001, 09:53 PM

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Interestingly, there's no way to know right now. It was a "privileged experience", in the sense that all we have to go on is my memory of how I felt, and we have no criterion by which to judge its accuracy - or possibly what I said or wrote at the time. Of course, given the well-known slippage of the signifier, I am hesitant to place too many eggs in those baskets.

:blink:

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More I think about the mint love letters, less I think I liked them.

I think they're filled with a pea puree but when I had them the mint overwhelmed any pea flavor. That may have been deliberate since this was a few weeks ago and the peas would not have been at their best. The lamb sausage ragu is great, though.

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What a difference a week or so makes. On our first visit I found the m’d’s attitude condescending. But on Friday night, so relieved to arrive early as walk-ins with our friends and get a table in the bar, we were greeted with utmost friendliness by the m’d. Maybe one has to get to know him.

After thinking about a tasting menu, we stuck to the regular menu due our chums’ jet-laggedness. I began with a glass of Ca’del Bosco (described as the only Italian sparkling wine that is of Champagne quality). As mentioned by others, Babbo’s measures are very generous. The Spiegelau champagne glass—more bulbous than most-- was filled very nearly to the top. (An aside: it makes me laugh to see champagne bars offer you the smallest of small flute.) My lamb’s tongue (small pieces interspersed with mushrooms) with a 3 minute egg was a little greasy for my taste, and I swapped half-way through for my husband’s salumi which were superb, along with were pickles—reminiscent of Branston’s.

G. and I shared a special pasta, flat and quite wide (fettuce?) with rabbit. A lovely winter dish speckled with carrots. I had a taste of pappardelle bolognase, the meat was nice and rich, though much like the mint love letters the herb, in this case, thyme, was overstated.

Next, I had grilled branzino with fennel and a lemon jam. The fish was very white, soft yet meaty, and the skin crispy, though the sauce (came in a ramekin) was on the sweet side and overpowered the fish. The main dishes are big portions especially after antipasti and primi, so by this point I was struggling a bit.

Once again, the sommelier was helpful (once he got over our friend somehow managing to dismantle the entire wine menu from its hinges) and recommend a Sardinian Terre Brune 97.

Others finished off with grappa, and once again I had the delicious walnut cake along with a walnut amaro.

A very fine evening in my current favorite restaurant.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Last night, 5 intrepid eGulleteers (Jason and Rachel Perlow, SobaAddict70, 201, and Suzanne F) plus the also-intrepid He Who Only Eats set out on a mission: to determine once and for all, The Truth about Pasta – whether in fact it IS the most overrated food. Well, to be honest, we didn’t set out on that mission initially; at first it was just to have dinner at Babbo, where only Soba had eaten before (the rest of us were very willing initiates). But given certain recent threads here, and the fact that Jason refuses to eat any organ meats, we ended up getting the Pasta Tasting Menu. Jason, HWOE, and I also got the accompanying wines (Rachel tasted, but didn’t inhale.) On a personal note: my deepest thanks to whomever it was whose place HWOE and I took. I hope your cancellation was for a non-problem reason.

Let’s get this out of the way: yes, there was butter in way too many dishes. However, that did not seem to stop anyone from wiping every plate clean with the excellent bread with which we were well-supplied (a good, crusty country white, a little singed on the crust as from an artisanal oven).

The amuse was a chick-pea bruschetta, an unexpected surprise instead of the more common white bean version (although is anything common at Babbo?). Soba told us that the recipe is in one of Mario’s books. Gotta get me that one! The chick-peas (surely freshly cooked dried ones, not possibly canned, we agreed :wink: ) were in a somewhat sweet-sour sauce that reminded a few people of barbecue sauce. But in a good way.

First course of the tasting, the Black Tagliatelle with Parsnips and Pancetta, with shavings of ricotta salata on top, drew immediate gasps of pleasure. The taste of the pasta itself was subtle, and between the sweetness of the parsnip and the meatiness of the pancetta (to me it looked as though there were tiny cubes of prosciutto as well) was well-contrasted. It gave me an instant crisis: if the first course is this good, how can the later ones get better? I needn’t have worried. The accompanying “Pinot Plus,” Bastianich, 2000 was a great match: very fruity but with strong acid. In truth, all the wines worked splendidly with their dishes.

Second: Fennel and Potato Ravioli with Opal Basil and Brown Butter. “Irish ravioli” according to Jason; reminded Rachel of pierogies. Earthy in flavor, but in a good way. This time they came around offering to grate cheese on top, unlike the tagliatelle that came already showered. (What cheese was this, guys?) Supposedly the Toscana Sauvignon “Con Vento,” Castello del Terriccio 2001 had notes of fennel – no one tasted them, though. It had a gewirtztraminer-ish bouquet, and it was yummy.

Third: Garganelli with Funghi Trifolati. The funghi were sliced porcini, ahhhh. Cheese grated at table was (I think?) a parmigiano reggiano. This was as close to a “favorite of the table” as any one dish came. Definitely my favorite – the mushroom flavor was so strong in the sauce. Unfortunately the plating was uneven, so some of us got lots of mushrooms and some only a few. We tried to even it out. The wine with this was a piemontese Ghemme Riserva, Dessilana 1996. 75% Nebbiolo. I found the bouquet a little floral, but in a good way.

Fourth: Alejandro’s Pyramids with Butter and Thyme, stuffed with shredded braised short ribs; cheese added was an aged goat from Coach Farm – the only non-Italian cheese source used there. Who, we asked Susan our waiter (whom I recognized as having seen before – at Montrachet, as it turned out), is Alejandro? “The guy who makes the pyramids,” she responded. Oh. Well, he does a great job. My second-favorite, because the meat and the thyme were so tasty. “Tastes like pot roast,” Soba said. Yeah, but infinitely better than my mother’s, and hers was pretty damn good. It was at this point that I marveled at how the filled pastas had been perfectly cooked – not undercooked at the points where they joined, nor overcooked on the rest. How do they do it? Art? Craft? Anyway, they do, and kudos to them for it. More butter on these (wipe, wipe). So what? The Montefalco Rosso, Arnaldo Capri 2000 was a blend of Sangiovese, Sagrantino, and Merlot. I thought it was fabulous with the goat cheese; not bad at all with the pasta, but I just loved how it held a conversation with the cheese.

Final pasta course: Pappardelle Bolognese (plus pecorino?). Very straightforward. Quite delicious. At this point, Rachel said something about the noodles seeming not to be noodles, but something more otherworldly. They just tasted better than one could ever imagine flour and eggs together could taste. Yes: with all due respect, Steve P and others, the truth about these pastas was that they were consistently interesting and exciting. And not only because of their saucing; these guys each had CHARACTER. So we all disagree with you. What else is new? :laugh: As for the mostly-Sangiovese Rosso di Toscana “I Pampini,” Fubbiano 1998 – this was my least favorite, only because it was still quite tannic and didn’t open up until after my last bite. (Rachel made quite an interesting face upon tasting it; I think she agrees.)

At this point, while we weren’t looking, they cleared the table and removed our bread. :angry: Maybe we were focusing too hard on the sparkling Moscato d’Asti “Clarté,” Elio Perrone 2001 – I even made the never-drinking 201 take a sniff. Very sweet but very clean and not at all syrupy. We missed our bread, though, because we all agreed that the “pre-dessert” of Apricot and Carrot “Marmellata” with Goat Milk Curd would make THE best breakfast, spread on bread. Or on a bagel (Jason) or brioche (HWOE). The tiny slick of XVOO on the plate almost went unnoticed, but definitely added something.

Finally: the tasting menu offers Saffron Panna Cotta with Kumquats and Blood Orange Sorbetto. Yes, we got that. But they also served us: apple-walnut torta with maple cream (garnished with a paper-thin slice of dried apple), AND cranberry tart with vanilla ice cream and some sort of intensely fruity, gooey sauce. Two of each, so we didn’t have to fling the plates too far across the table. Good idea, considering all the wine some of us :blush: had consumed. Personally, I was glad, because saffron and kumquats are not high on my list of favorite flavors. A good rendition of panna cotta, but VERY saffron-flavored. The blood orange sorbetto, on the other hand, was great. The cranberry tart was great – bitter/tart/sweet fruit in a cookie crust – and whatever that sauce was, it was terrific. The apple-walnut torta had the advantage of a strong walnut flavor without having yucky bits of soggy nuts, and was well-spiced. Reminded me of my grandmother’s honey cake, but in a good way. The wine was from Friuli, a Picolit, Giovanni Dri 1999. It was described as off-dry, and honeyed. All I can say was, by then, it too was yummy.

Petits fours were miniature fig-and-something (Rachel? Help!) biscotti, teeny tiny nut macarons, and itty bitty oblongs of some very moist cake topped with a thick layer of chocolate ganache. Excellent espresso, and the mint tea smelled lovely.

So: as far as we were concerned, The Truth about Pasta is that in the hands of a master, it is food fit for gods, goddesses, and other assorted eGulleteers and hangers-on.

PS: as HWOE and I were walking home, I noticed the Master himself, St. Mario, standing on a corner across from Washington Square Park, talking on his cell phone. I kept hoping he would hang up soon so I could genuflect to him and babble in adulation. Alas, no such luck.

Other participants, I turn it over to you for additions, corrections, etc. And Tommy, you may delete your post now. :wink:

Edited by Suzanne F (log)
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