Birthday Humble Tart: Dinner at Narcissa

The entrance to Narcissa, tucked back behind the hotel's more casual restaurant.

The entrance to Narcissa, tucked back behind the hotel’s more casual restaurant.

 

I’ll hit a month at my new job this week, and one of the biggest lessons so far has been how little I actually know about food. I suppose it’s all relative (aren’t most things in life?), since I probably know far more about the ins and outs of animation than my new coworkers. But here I am, very much an amateur enthusiast, surrounded by people who have worked in kitchens and front of the house, who can list grape varietals like the names of their nieces and nephews, and could discern a julienne from a brunoise simply by touch. It can be a little intimidating at times, but I generally try to operate with an awareness of my own ignorance. I’d rather be surprised and delighted by something new, rather than rely on incomplete information to make decisions that may prevent discovery.

 

This all came to mind when thinking back on my recent birthday dinner at Narcissa, a popular farm-to-table restaurant in the Standard East Hotel. When I mentioned to my brother where I would be dining, he said “oh, I guess California cuisine is your favorite, then?” I hemmed and hawed (I hate picking favorites), trying to qualify what appealed to me about Narcissa’s menu (the emphasis on vegetables, the seasonal quality, the unconventional flavor combinations), claiming that it was somehow totally different from the delightful birthday dinner I had at Barbuto last year. But what I really should have said was “maybe.” The truth is I didn’t know the definition of California cuisine (here’s what Wikipedia has to say), and even with a bit of Googling I wouldn’t put all my favorite eggs in that particular basket.

 

Eh, enough dithering about known unknowns (ain’t that a timely idiom?). Regardless of categorization, I had another fabulous birthday dinner with my parents. Narcissa is certainly a buzzed-about restaurant in NYC right now, and it was lovely to have it live up to, and then exceed the hype.

 

First Impressions:

 

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A view into the open kitchen at Narcissa.

As I mentioned above, Narcissa is located in the Standard East Hotel, which reopened last year after extensive renovations. The entrance to Narcissa is tucked back behind the more casual restaurant, Cafe Standard, which has sidewalk seating. Narcissa has outdoor seating as well, but it’s made up of a small patio behind the dining room, creating a little oasis from the bustle of the city. I imagine it’d be lovely to sit out there in the sunshine (especially now that the restaurant is serving brunch).

 

The unexpectedly angular dining room at Narcissa.

The unexpectedly angular dining room at Narcissa.

Once you make your way past Cafe Standard, you’re greeted with a doorway surrounded by greenery and topped with a placard that reads Narcissa on a background of rolling farmland. The restaurant sources many of its ingredients from the farm Locusts on Hudson, where the eponymous cow Narcissa lives. Step inside and you’ll find a large open kitchen immediately to your left, maybe half of the size of the whole dining room. I beat both of my parents to the restaurant, and enjoyed watching the cooking and prep in action. To the right is the bar and dining room, decked out in soft white, golds, light woods, and blue-and-yellow striped banquettes. There seemed to be a prevalence of diagonals, from the square space of the room distorted by acutely angled windows, to our table which was not round, but actually octagonal. This lends a modern air to the casual elegance of the decor, which otherwise is kind of rustic chic — wooden/wicker chairs, no tablecloths. The bar area is sizable in itself, taking up about a third of the dining room space, staffed by at least two bartenders at a time to handle the orders of the dozen seats at the bar, collection of tables nearby, and the customers in the dining room.

 

The staff was friendly and charming from the get-go, offering plenty of advice on cocktails, and ever ready with refilling our (perplexingly tiny) water glasses or fetching us more bread. Throughout the meal our waiter explained each dish to us, even identifying components when we were confused, and even snuck us a few extra treats by the end. My mom was intrigued by the Buttermilk Ice Cream included in the Summer Sundae, but we passed on ordering it, so our waiter brought a tiny sample of it with dessert, alongside the Sundae’s pineapple sorbet. This, combined with the speedy, yet never pushy, service (we were out of there within 2 hours), helped to set a festive and exploratory mood. Plus, I always get a little bit of a kick out of dining at places where they refold your napkin for you — it’s the type of silly decadence that makes eating out an “experience.”

 

 

The Food:
After doing my requisite research and soliciting suggestions from a coworker, I came to my dinner at Narcissa armed with a post-it note crammed with dishes. The bad news is that, as a restaurant focused on seasonal ingredients, many of those items hadn’t made the transition from the Winter to the Summer menu. The good news is the ones that really mattered did, and with a little deliberation and negotiation, my parents and I settled on a repast covering a whole host of both highlighted dishes and unknowns. We decided to start with the Rotisserie-Crisped Beets, the Crab Salad, and the Potato Gnocchi, then I ordered the Lacquered Duck Breast, my mother got the Maine Scallops, and my father chose the Steamed Black Bass, along with a side of Supergreen Spinach for us all to share. Dessert (aside from our ice cream/sorbet sampler) was the Bittersweet Chocolate Tart and the Apricot Tart Tatin.

 

Complimentary bread served as a boule already sliced into quarters. Fresh butter that is barely needed on the fresh herbed sourdough.

Complimentary bread served as a boule already sliced into quarters. Fresh butter that is barely needed on the fresh herbed sourdough.

Our dinner began with a small boule of complimentary herbed sourdough bread, sprinkled with rosemary and served with a side of soft butter. The bread was crusty and crackly on the outside, with a whole wheat interior that was airy and chewy. I was more than happy to eat a piece on its own, though I have no complaints about the creamy fresh butter accompanying it. The bread was also exactly the right type of solid dough to sop up the remaining sauce from the gnocchi after we’d torn through the appetizer’s contents.

 

 

Potato Gnocchi -- delicate bundles of starch just begging to be popped one by one.

Potato Gnocchi — delicate bundles of starch tucked underneath shaved parmesan.

Speaking of, the Potato Gnocchi (fava beans, ramps, parmesan) was a solid, straightforward dish, perfectly fine but paling in comparison with our other hors d’oeuvre. The individual pieces of pasta were excellent — delicate little pillows of potato that managed to be chewy without being gummy — and I felt these were the best component. The rest of the pieces were certainly fresh, with the whole fava beans adding a summery brightness, but the broth and the cheese proved a bit too salty for me, and brought down the overall impact of the combination.

 

 

The Crab Salad -- a case for the value of hearts of palm.

The Crab Salad — a case for the value of hearts of palm.

If I hadn’t been told to try the Crab Salad (blood orange, hearts of palm, hazelnuts), I probably would have made the mistake of passing it by on the menu, simply because up until this point in my life, I’ve never met a heart of palm I liked. Now thanks to Narcissa, I think I might give them another go. This is a salad in the sense of chicken or tuna salad — hunks of shredded dungeness crab meat stuffed into a petite pot with an overhanging lip, mixed with sliced hearts of palm, pieces of chopped blood orange and hazelnuts, and plenty of sliced basil and parsley on top. The crunch of the nuts and the hearts of palm paired well with the softer textures of the crab and blood orange, and the addition of citrus acidity is always great with seafood. This dish was not a flavor bomb by any means, more about the combination of the ingredients than a hearty slap of crabmeat. My mother was underwhelmed by it, but I thought it was a light dish with a combination of acid, herbs and briny seafood flavors to wake up my palate before the heavier entrees.

 

 

Forget Boston Market's chicken, Narcissa's Rotisserie Beets prove rotated roasting is hardcore delicious.

Forget Boston Market’s chicken, Narcissa‘s Rotisserie Beets prove rotated roasting is hardcore delicious.

Although I enjoyed the Crab Salad, the Rotisserie-Crisped Beets (bulgur salad, apples, creamed horseradish) were one of the best things I’ve eaten in a long time. This is one of the dishes that has gotten a tremendous amount of buzz, so I went in with fairly high expectations, only to have them blown to bits by the real McCoy. Now I should be up front and offer a disclaimer: because I’m an old lady at heart, I’m really into beets. Like eggplant level of love for them. So if you’re not a beet fan, you might not have the revelatory experience that I did, but I would be shocked if you still didn’t enjoy the crap out of this appetizer. As the name implies, this dish shows off the rotisserie oven that Narcissa is known for, with the beets roasted to a blackened crisp on the outside. From the photo you might think they’re crusted with something, but it’s actually just the charred exterior, creating a crunchy shell that holds a supple, deep violet beet flesh inside. Not surprisingly, the flesh is super-giving, your fork gliding through it. The bulger, apples and herbs add some bulk to the dish, all of which is served on a pool of creamed horseradish sauce. Once again, I found myself face-to-face with an ingredient I largely avoid. Horseradish means one thing to me — maror (bitter herbs) at Passover, where it’s sandwiched between two pieces of matzoh in an obligatory ritual I’d otherwise opt out of. But here the bite of the horseradish was softened by the cream, retaining enough power to counter the sweetness of the caramelized beets and raw apples chunks. Overall, it was a great showcase of the skill of the kitchen — taking something as mundane as beets and elevating it through basic techniques. This is actually a perfect example of what I love about the recent turn towards giving vegetables their due — maybe it’s because I’m becoming a lame-o adult who actually loves eating well-prepared veggies, but I think people in general would change their minds about brussels sprouts or beets if given the opportunity to have dishes like this one (or simply being exposed to better cooking options than just the pile of steamed vegetables sitting on your plate at Outback).

 

 

The Maine Scallops with somewhat muted lobster butter.

The Maine Scallops with somewhat muted lobster butter.

There was only a little bit of downtime before our entrees arrived. I had been tempted by both of my parents’ choices, since the dish I had eyed from all the reviews, the lamb loin, had not made it onto the summer menu. So once I had that out of the way, I zeroed-in on the Maine Scallops (asparagus, green garlic, potato puree, lobster butter), but that was my mother’s top pick, so I went with my other menu kryptonite, the duck breast. Her dish came with four sizable scallops, seared to an exquisite golden-brown on top, but still a pale off-white on the sides and interior. They were melt-in-your-mouth smooth, not really seasoned beyond basic salt and pepper. The lobster butter, which my mother had been especially excited about, seemed to be located in the sauce underneath, and had a surprisingly subtle flavor. I had expected it to be more like a bisque with a real lobster tang to it, but I can understand the restraint given the delicacy of scallops — you don’t want a taste as recognizable as lobster to overpower the main component of a dish. This entree seemed to be the most classically executed and plated dish, so the vegetables were straightforward but well-cooked, with shaved slivers of asparagus and a silky potato puree, and greens that the menu lists as green garlic, but I thought looked like fiddlehead ferns. Then again, what do I know, I’ve never actually tasted fiddleheads, so I couldn’t discern a difference based on flavor.

 

 

Our side of Supergreen Spinach, which cannot be accused of false marketing.

Our side of Supergreen Spinach, which cannot be accused of false marketing.

We also shared a side order of the Supergreen Spinach (potato chips). You can’t see it in this picture, but the dish totally lives up to its name — we’re talking Incredible Hulk bright green. The potato chip topping was a cute play on the common steakhouse sides, and I definitely enjoyed it, but I think it wasn’t particularly memorable outside of its gamma-irradiated hue. Just solid creamed spinach, and nowhere near as innovative a use of potato chips as the incorporation into the Cod Brandade at Picholine.

 

 

The Steamed Black Bass -- so good it inspire musical theater references.

The Steamed Black Bass — so good it inspires musical theater references.

My father’s Steamed Black Bass (french curry broth, eggplant, toasted almonds) also looked great to me because of the accompanying items (as I believe Julie Andrews sang, curry, eggplant and almonds are a few of my favorite things). I thought the plating of the dish was just gorgeous, with the fillets sitting firmly atop the little hill of vegetables, just slightly bowing to show how soft the flesh was. You don’t think of steaming as a particularly exciting cooking method, but here it prevented the skin from becoming too soggy while the fish meat was easy to flake away with your fork. Unlike the scallops, I thought the sauce defined the taste of the dish. The curry had a strong flavor without real heat to it, and the fish and eggplant pieces soaked it up easily. The toasted almonds mirrored the nuttiness of the curry, and gave a nice crunch to an otherwise pretty soft dish. I think I would have been plenty satisfied if I had ordered this dish, but having now tasted the duck, I’m going to struggle to try other entrees if I return to Narcissa.

 

 

The Lacquered Duck, a dish now in my lifetime hall of fame.

The Lacquered Duck, a dish now in my lifetime hall of fame.

The Lacquered Duck Breast (parsley root, melted leeks, rhubarb) was hands-down my favorite dish of the night, and no joke, I’ve been actually thought about this dish several times in the weeks since my birthday dinner. I adore duck, and this might truly be the best duck I’ve ever eaten. First things first, it was a massive duck breast — this duck had Double D’s, and was clearly very well fed. The “lacquered” crust (which Google tells me just means a sweet glaze that lends itself to caramelization and the appearance of a lacquer-like sheen) was shiny and gave the skin a crunchy, crackly texture, and its sweetness enhanced the gamey flavor of the duck meat underneath. There was a much appreciated hint of tartness from the rhurbarb, which was echoed by the acidity of the melted leeks, which were almost like a puree in texture. I’m not sure how great my breath smelled after finishing the leeks, but I thought they served a similar purpose to the horseradish sauce in our beet appetizer — the bite of the ingredient softened by its preparation. Cutting into the breast revealed a cross section of medium rare and bloody meat topped by a full layer of fat sitting just below the crust. I felt like I do when there’s a bit of fat on steak, and I tell myself I should just cut it off and avoid it. But what can you do when it’s an integral part of the duck breast makeup? So I demolished it. The dish also came with what I thought were parsnips, but now realize was actually parsley root, which looks similar but is less sweet, again a very interesting and intelligent strategy when paired with the delicious but sugary glaze on the breast. This dish was relatively simple in its components, but really unlike any preparation of duck I’ve had before, and I can’t get over how addictive the combination of the duck meat and that glaze was. I would seriously go back to Narcissa for the beets and the duck alone.

 

 

The Apricot Tart Tatin, visually stunning but too sweet for my taste.

The Apricot Tart Tatin, visually stunning but too sweet for my taste.

The desserts certainly didn’t lower the overall level of the meal, but they were just more pedestrian compared to the earlier standout dishes. I think my dad was a big fan of the Apricot Tart Tatin (goat milk ice cream, pepper caramel), but I ultimately found the dessert cloyingly sweet. I enjoy the traditional apple tart tatin, and I do like apricot and apricot-flavored things generally, but here the apricots were almost like ovals of marmalade in their consistency, completely cooked down and syrupy. The best part of the dish was the pepper caramel, which I’d vouch is superior to salted caramel. Rather than enhancing the sweetness through salt, I think the pepper provides an interesting contrast that confused my tongue a bit. Not to harp on one point, but it was the same deal as the horseradish sauce and the melted leeks, where a bit of savory flavor made me stop and think for a second about what I was eating, how all the components came together.

 

 

The Bittersweet Chocolate tart, an exercise in tempered sweetness.

The Bittersweet Chocolate tart, an exercise in tempered sweetness.

No surprise that the Bittersweet Chocolate Tart (curry-roasted bananas, espresso ice cream) was a little more up my alley. The outer shell was crisp, looking almost bruleed on top, and inside was a dark chocolate mixture somewhere between a molten lava cake and mousse. The sweetness was tempered in every element of this dessert, from the selection of a darker chocolate base for the tart, to using the bitterness of the espresso to tamp down the gelato’s sugar, to adding curry as a savory element to counter the caramelized bananas. Despite my prior misgivings over espresso gelato at Osteria Morini, I really liked Narcissa’s version, which I felt has less of a burnt tone to it. Add in the Oreo-like cookie crumbles strewn throughout the dish, and I was more than happy to blow out the candle and let this dessert cap off a remarkable birthday dinner.

Final Thoughts:

 

What impressed me most about Narcissa was the deft handling of a variety of preparations, from the more classical techniques and flavor profiles of European cuisines to more unusual takes on American dishes. My parents and I had three radically different entrees and all of them were stunning in their own regard. They really ran the gamut, from the playful and elegant plating, to the provocative pairings of savory and sweet — themes that were echoed in every course of our meal. With a lovely atmosphere, attentive service, interesting cocktails, and a progressive menu of fresh, seasonal farm-to-table food, I would strongly recommend Narcissa to anyone looking for an American restaurant with a global eye. Perhaps that’s even one definition of Californian cuisine?

 

Speaking of, I owe my brother an apology — on Narcissa’s own website, they claim to “marr[y] the clean flavors and impeccably-sourced ingredients of California cuisine with new techniques of roasting, rotisserie and slow-cooking.” So count that as yet another reason to keep my mouth shut and my ears open. Or rather, to stop talking and start eating.

 

Narcissa

21 Cooper Square (between 5th St. and Bowery)

http://www.narcissarestaurant.com/

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Hooked by Seattle’s Seafood: Dinner at Ray’s Boathouse

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Just before Christmas I headed back to Seattle, ostensibly to visit my brother and his fiancee, but really to get a sobering look at just how big my hair can get in the unending mist of the Pacific Northwest winter. If it wasn’t abundantly clear from my previous posts about Seattle, the city has a great food scene, especially when it comes to seafood, so I couldn’t help but jump at the chance to dig into at least a fish or two. My parents were along for the trip to see Dan and Leah’s new home city, so on my first night out we made our way over to Ballard to Ray’s Boathouse.

 

First Impressions:

Wait, tell me again -- who's boathouse are we going to?

Wait, tell me again — who’s boathouse are we going to?

Ray’s Boathouse is located in Ballard, an area historically known as the center of Seattle’s Scandinavian fishing and sailing community. The neighborhood even has a Nordic Heritage Museum, and on my previous trip Dan and I visited the annual Ballard Seafood Fest (remember, right before we ate D’Ambrosio gelato … which sounds gross in abstract, but was perfectly logical and delicious at the time). It should therefore come as no shock that Ray’s is located right on Puget Sound. It was dark by the time we arrived for dinner, but the back of the restaurant is lined with huge windows, allowing us to see the lights of a trawler passing by during our meal, its lights shimmering off the water and giving the barest glimpse of how beautiful the view must be during the warmer months.

Reverence for the past with photos of historic fishing crews ... and a giant ceramic fish.

Reverence for the past with photos of historic fishing crews … and a giant ceramic fish.

It’s impossible to miss Ray’s, due to the giant neon sign spelling out R-A-Y-S, a touch I initially thought was retro until I found out the boathouse dates back to 1952, and Ray himself built the sign. The interior still features authentic elements of a boathouse, with wood paneling all around, pictures of fishermen lining the walls, and even a giant ceramic fish at the top of the stairs. The first floor holds the main restaurant and bar, while a more casual cafe takes up the second floor.

The view from our booth, looking over towards the massive center bar.

The view from our booth, looking over towards the massive center bar.

Ray’s main dining room is grounded with an enormous bar in the center, blocked off from the rest of the restaurant by waist-high dividers. The design is casual, but refined, made up of leather half-moon booths along the inside wall and dark wood tables with deep brown leather chairs around them. You can’t help but feel a certain sense of timelessness — a kind of comfortable confidence that comes from a restaurant that’s been around the block a few decades.

 

The Food:

Ray’s Boathouse is a traditional seafood restaurant, offering the typical proteins based on seasonal, local fare, but updated to reflect current trends. But before we dive into the menu, that big ol’ bar in the middle of the restaurant lived up to expectation, at least from the drinks we ordered. My mother and I were boring and ordered glasses of Riesling, but the rest of our table went a little more off the beaten path, with Leah ordering a sparkling rose, Dan getting a cocktail called the Lido Deck (Aviation gin, cardamom, grapefruit, lime), and my dad going for the Anchors Away (Goslings Black Seal, Crème De Cassis, lime, ginger beer). You gotta love the nautical-themed cocktail list, and all the drinks were well-mixed and refreshing. I’m usually not a big gin person, but the combination of the acidity of the grapefruit and lime and the cardamom in the Lido Deck was really intriguing, at least for the small sip I had.

Now when my family goes out to dinner, especially if it’s a vacation dinner, things can get a little out of hand. After conferring with our very friendly and helpful server Jennifer, we decided to get two orders of the Warm Rosemary Gougeres for the table to start. My mother and I split the Chiogga Beet & Goat Cheese Salad, my father got a bowl of Ray’s Pacific Northwest Chowder, Dan started with the Local Albacore Poke, and Leah had Ray’s Seasonal Salad. Then, for our entrees, my dad and I got the Smoked Sablefish, Dan got the Sablefish in Sake Kasu, my mom chose the Wild Cedar Plank Salmon, and Leah got a vegetarian version of the Housemade Tajarin Pasta. Oh, and you know there’s dessert — we finished the meal with an order of the Peanut Butter Bomb, belatedly in honor of Dan’s birthday.

Our complimentary bread basket, playing coy with a few errant crackers sticking up.

Our complimentary bread basket, playing coy with a few errant crackers sticking up.

The complimentary bread was presented as a wrapped package, with a row of flatbread crisps arrayed upright in stegosaurus-style down the middle. Beneath the napkins were a few soft white rolls, along with fresh butter. The bread was standard, but not particularly memorable, especially when compared to the more robustly flavored gougeres to come.

 

The Warm Rosemary Gougeres, bite size pastries with unreal gruyere dipping sauce.

The Warm Rosemary Gougeres, bite size doughy pillows with unreal gruyere dipping sauce — cheez whiz for an individual with refined taste.

When the Warm Rosemary Gougeres (Housemade pastry puffs with melted gruyere dipping sauce) arrived, it immediately became apparent that we didn’t need two orders — there were probably ten little puffs in each bowl. The gougeres themselves reminded me of miniature popovers, airy and flaky on the inside, with a crusty exterior. They were buttery and sweet, with just a hint of rosemary. But the real standout portion of the dish was the gruyere sauce, a rich whallop of pure nutty gruyere flavor. My father described it as “elevated cheez whiz,” and it was almost a midway step to fondue, a smooth, creamy spread that managed to remain room temperature without congealing. I asked Jennifer how it was made, and she explained that it’s really just gruyere melted down (with a little bit of butter), then kept stabilized in pressurized canisters (like the ones they use to dispense whipped cream). Simple as that might seem, the cheese sauce was one of the best elements of the dinner for me.

 

The Chiogga Beet Salad -- delicately composed, but held back by clumpy goat cheese.

The Chiogga Beet Salad — delicately composed, if held back by clumpy goat cheese.

The Chiogga Beet and Goat Cheese Salad (mixed baby greens, white balsamic, Laura Chanel goat cheese, Oregon hazelnuts) turned out to be pretty similar to the salad I had at Fulton a month back. Not that I mind — I obviously love the combination of ingredients, or I wouldn’t order it over and over. I did like the plating more at Ray’s — the thin slices of beet on one side, and the dressed greens on the other, topped with a few clumps of goat cheese and sprinkling of hazelnuts. I love fresh goat cheese, especially in salads, but the sticky properties of the cheese make equal distribution across a dish difficult, and I found myself wishing for a bit more cheese. Still, this cheese had good flavor, and it was probably good to have only a small amount, considering the whole of my dinner. The nuts added a little crunch, especially useful paired with the beets, which were moist and mild, serving as a vehicle for the white balsamic.

 

The Local Albacore Poke -- a new dish for me that might have changed my mind about raw tuna.

The Local Albacore Poke — a new dish for me that might have changed my mind about raw tuna.

I’d never had poke before, but after Dan gave me a taste of his appetizer, I actually asked him if I could have a second bite. Poke is a Hawaiian raw fish salad, usually made of tuna marinated in a soy/salt/sesame/chili mixture. While I was a big tunafish sandwich fan growing up, I’m still hit-or-miss on the raw sashimi form, but the fish in Ray’s Local Albacore Poke (Sesame crackers, cilantro, lime) made me rethink my previous hangups. Again, Seattle knocks it out of the park on baseline, sea-sourced protein. The chunks of tuna were soft without being mushy, and I loved the acidity imparted by the cilantro and lime (and of course I’m always down for a great cracker). This dish made we want to seek out poke at other restaurants.

 

Ray's Pacific Northwest Chowder, with pillars of tempura fried clams rising out of the broth.

Ray’s Pacific Northwest Chowder, with pillars of tempura fried clams rising out of the broth.

I didn’t get to try Leah’s Ray’s Seasonal Salad (Sherry vinaigrette, radish, pumpkin seeds, aged cheddar), but I think she enjoyed it. I did have a chance to taste my father’s bowl of Ray’s Pacific Northwest Chowder (Tempura razor clams, smoked salmon, thyme, fingerling potatoes, fennel), which was a punch in the mouth of excellent seafood. The tempura-fried clams were an interesting addition, sticking up out of the bowl so the majority of the pieces stayed crunchy. Coming from the northeast and our endless iterations of New England Clam Chowder, it was cool to see a variation that played to the strengths of the West Coast.

 

The Wild Cedar Plank Salmon, cooked to my mother's specifications and a fine specimen of fish.

The Wild Cedar Plank Salmon, cooked to my mother’s specifications and a fine fish specimen.

Our entrees were all solid, satisfying contenders, although some dishes stood out more than others. I tried a bite of Leah’s Vegetarian Tajarin Housemade Pasta (mixed vegetables, mushrooms, Tutto Calabrian chiles, arugula, sherry sauce), mostly because I was curious about what “tajarin” looked like. It turned out to be a noodle somewhere in between fettuccine and linguini, and was well-made, soft but not too starchy. I also only had a small taste of my mom’s Wild Cedar Plank Salmon (White bean cassoulet, baby carrots, broccolini, garlic confit), since I’m still not a salmon convert. Like my previous experiences with salmon in Seattle, I could tell this was a great piece of fish, even if the flavor is not appealing to me. My mother had asked for the salmon to be a little more well-done than the barely medium it is usually served at, and was pleased by the way it arrived, fully cooked but not too dry. She also really loved the white bean cassoulet, especially the consistency of the beans, which still had a bit of snap to them. I enjoyed the vegetables, but personally fall more on the creamy-style beans, so I thought that here they detracted from the cassoulet.

 

The Smoked Sablefish, served with an addictive cilantro pesto.

The Smoked Sablefish, served with an addictive cilantro pesto.

While I enjoyed my dish as a whole, the most memorable elements of my Smoked Sablefish (roasted baby carrots, coriander, cilantro pesto, sautéed rainbow chard) were the accompanying vegetables (wow, I’m a boring adult, getting all excited about vegetables. Thank god I have dessert to talk about in a bit). That being said, this was again a high caliber fish, the flesh supple, gliding off with a swipe of my fork, and melting on the tongue. The smoked flavor was subtle, a little sweet rather than the harsher, ashy smokiness you get with barbecue sometimes. As with my mother’s salmon, the large cut of sablefish rested atop the accompaniments, in my case a bed of sauteed rainbow chard, cooked down to a velvety consistency, like a lighter creamed spinach. On the side were baby carrots, sweet and soft without falling into mush, resting in the cilantro pesto. The cilantro was prominent but not overwhelming, and I couldn’t get enough of the sauce, wanting to pour it over every piece of the dish. I ended up leaving a bit of the fish uneaten, but I literally scraped the pesto off my plate to get every last drop.

 

The Sablefish in Sake Kasu — tinged with Eastern flavors, but still grounded in Seattle’s local fish market.

The Sablefish in Sake Kasu — tinged with Eastern flavors, but still grounded in Seattle’s local fish market.

My overall favorite bite of the night was Dan’s Sablefish in Sake Kasu (jasmine rice, gingered bok choy, honey-soy). It was the only fish entree we had that was plated differently, this time in a large bowl, layered with the sake sauce at the base, followed by the rice, the bok choy, and the sablefish on top. The mix of honey, ginger and soy really woke up my tastebuds, and at least for the small taste I had, I found the powerful mix of salty, sweet and acidic highlighted the fish more than the smoked take I ordered. It’s hard to say how I would have felt eating a whole portion, but Dan polished his off and declared it his favorite plate as well.

Obviously this dessert was meant for Dan. Even if he didn't actually eat any of it.

Obviously this dessert was meant for Dan. Even if he didn’t actually eat any of it.

So we had to get dessert, right? I mean, how can you celebrate someone’s birthday (coughthatwasinNovembercough) without a candle-topped indulgence and some awkward staff/family singing? Dan was actually least invested in the dessert, which was mainly taken down by Leah, my mom and I. The surprisingly under-described Peanut Butter Bomb turned out to be a chocolate-coated hemisphere of peanut butter mousse with a graham cracker crust on the bottom and crushed peanuts on top, accompanied by a concord grape sorbet with chocolate sauce and crushed peanuts underneath it. The mousse itself was delicious, with a strong peanut flavor and a consistency close to cheesecake thickness. Despite not being that big of a “grape-flavored foods” person, I actually really liked the sorbet. Here it succeeded in evoking the nostalgia of a PB&J, providing a palate-cleansing freshness against the richness of the mousse and chocolate shell. Since it was a sorbet it had a light texture and was sweet, but not tooth-achingly so (don’t worry, the chocolate sauce on the bottom helped put the sugar over the top). The only disappointing aspect of the dish was the crust, which didn’t have much flavor and got soggy over time, eventually becoming lost among the more assertive elements of the dessert.

 

Final Thoughts:

I guess I should just say this once and for all, since presumably I’ll have the good fortune to visit Seattle many times over the next few years — Seattle just has amazing seafood. No bones about it, it brings serious game on the gill front. My dinner at Ray’s Boathouse was a satisfying, well-rounded meal, but I think as a visitor I’d rather go back and see what new innovations are being concocted at Tanglewood Supreme than go another round with Ray’s. What made the meal memorable was really the quality of the fish, like in Dan’s Poke and Sablefish, and the eye towards regional influences, like the Asian-inflected chowder. None of the dishes were showstoppers, but it was a comfortable environment with a courteous staff and a unique cocktail list. Looking at their cafe menu, I actually think I’d be more inclined to come back for a visit to the counter upstairs, to check out how the kitchen deals with more casual pub grub, like fish and chips or crab cakes.  Much like a classic steakhouse in New York, I think Ray’s Boathouse is the kind of restaurant to have in your back pocket — not necessarily a bucket-list destination, but an establishment where you know you’ll get a high grade meal and be treated right. Now if they’d only start selling that gruyere sauce separately, I’d keep the place in business single-handedly.

 

Ray’s Boathouse

6049 Seaview Avenue NW

Seattle, WA

http://www.rays.com/

Restaurant Week at Spice Market: Eastern Quotidian by Highly Trained Hands

2013-07-28 18.49.46

I’ve always been fascinated by fusion restaurants. They take a big risk by combining disparate cuisines, since it’s pretty easy to end up simply highlighting the worst parts of your original food cultures. Fusion is also one of those trends that many argue has been overdone, nearly guaranteeing a raised eyebrow if not a full-on eye-roll when you mention the hottest new fusion spot — oh right, we really needed someone to mash together Ethiopian and Ecuadorian food. (Wait, does that exist?)

I know that poorly executed fusion restaurants are out there, but I’ve yet to encounter one that truly disappointed me. I spent a number of birthday dinners in high school at Ruby Foo’s in Times Square, marveling at their takes on Chinese food made with a quarter of the grease used by my local takeout place. I even liked the few times I went to Roy’s Hawaiian Fusion Cuisine, first in Tampa, and later in Philadelphia. I’d never had Hawaiian food before, and I thought the Asian twist (logical, I suppose, given the geography and cultural heritage of Hawaii) worked as a great entry point into Hawaiian ingredients and preparations. I’ve been eager to try more traditional Hawaiian food since then (maybe even spam fried rice?), so if anyone has a recommendation for a spot in New York, I’d be very grateful.

When Summer Restaurant Week 2013 rolled around, I already had my eye on visiting one of Jean Georges Vongerichten’s restaurants. The man is a legend in the New York and world food scene, and what’s the point of Restaurant Week if not to briefly make reachable to the plebeian masses the haute cuisine of the upper crust? However, part of what made my Winter Restaurant Week meal at Kutsher’s Tribeca so satisfying was the way they reinvented familiar dishes (reuben spring rolls, anyone?), so rather than pick the more conventional Nougatine, I thought Vongerichten’s Spice Market might prove a more thrilling culinary adventure. And lucky for Jacob, his cousin Carolyn, and I, our Restaurant Week supper there last Sunday was exactly that.

 

First Impressions:

The modest exterior of Spice Market belies its intricately designed interior.

The modest exterior of Spice Market belies its intricately designed interior.

Spice Market is located in the heart of the Meatpacking District, caddy-corner to the Gansevoort Hotel. Walking up to the restaurant, I realized I had passed it a number of times, but never connected the space with the name. This is in part because of how unassuming the outside of Spice Market is — it’s housed in one of those nondescript Meatpacking former warehouses, built mainly of brick and wrought iron.

I'm pretty sure every multilevel restaurant needs to add a tower at the top of their staircase.

I’m pretty sure every multilevel restaurant needs to add a tower at the top of their staircase.

The interior, however, is a completely different story. Inspired by his experiences traveling through Asia, the aim of Spice Market is to apply classical French cooking techniques to popular Asian street food. The decor focuses mainly on this Eastern influence, blurring the lines between chic temple, nightclub, and opium den. The space is dominated by dark wood, vaulted ceilings, and Asian architectural features, from the multilevel, narrow staircase topped by what appears to be a bell tower (actually holding a lamp inside), to the draping of dark red and orange curtains all around, to the intricate wood carving that encloses the bar. The staff is dressed head-to-toe in orange Buddhist-esque robes, except for the white-and-orange-decked busboys (and the general manager, who wore a suit). Asian lanterns lend a soft glow to everything (hence my fuzzy photos), but at the same time you have the familiar exposed ceilings and pulsing music, leaving behind a zen setting for the louder tenor of the NY dining scene.

The full bar is encased in finely carved wood.

The full bar is encased in finely carved wood.

 

I was first to arrive, so I made my way over to the bar and ordered a cocktail. Spice Market has a full bar with domestic and Indian beers and a variety of speciality drinks, created using housemade syrups and sodas. After conferring with the bartender, I went with the Passion Fruit Sangria (Gewurztraminer, Gran Gala, Blackberry, Orange). Jacob and Carolyn arrived soon after, and chose the Whiskey Passion Fizz (George Dickel No. 12, Passion Fruit, Chili, Ginger Ale) and Cucumber Chill (Dill-infused Aylesbury Duck Vodka, Cucumber, Lemon), respectively. I found my sangria light and refreshing (I’m obviously an ardent fan of the drink in general — Calle Ocho, anyone?), the white wine laying a more delicate base, and the Gran Gala (an orange liquer) mixing smoothly with the fruit components. The passion fruit itself wasn’t particularly prominent, aside from lending an overall tropical flair. I’d recommend it as a great drink for brunch, if you’re in the mood for something fun and fruity.

My Passion Fruit Sangria on the right, and Jacob's Whiskey Passion Fizz on the left. You can see a small glimpse of our orange-bedecked bartender in the background.

My Passion Fruit Sangria on the right, and Jacob’s Whiskey Passion Fizz on the left. You can see a small glimpse of our orange-bedecked bartender in the background.

Jacob’s Whiskey Passion Fizz had more of a kick to it than I expected (both in spice and strength), but I enjoyed it despite a dislike of both ginger ale and whiskey. Carolyn’s was my least favorite drink, although she was happy she picked it. She said it tasted like a pickle, which immediately made me wary, but when I took a sip I found it lacked the harsh vinegar quality I dislike so much, coming off more like cucumber water with a bit of a kick, with no real flavor of vodka at all. But let’s stop dilly-dallying with discussions of alcohol — the main attraction awaits.

The Food:

We were seated shortly after our set reservation time, and in general the staff was fairly attentive. Our waiter was happy to answer any and all of our questions at first, but he only appeared a few times to take our orders and check in at the entree stage. However, I saw the general manager walking around multiple times throughout the evening, scanning the floor and checking with tables, even adjusting a place setting once to make sure everything was aligned and straight. The food itself came very quickly, served family-style so that at one point we were almost overwhelmed by the influx of dishes. I was also happy to note the frequent refilling of our water glasses, a pet peeve of mine that pettily can strongly influence my overall impression of a meal.

Bowl of complimentary pappadum chips and spicy tomato dip.

Bowl of complimentary pappadum chips and spicy tomato dip.

Our meal started with a complimentary bowl of pappadum-type lentil crackers. I found the pappadums at most Indian restaurants to be either too bland and soft, or too burnt and smoky, but these were a different breed altogether. They were like lentil tortilla chips, thicker and crunchier, and more capable of scooping up the hot tomato chutney they were served with.

Both Jacob and I opted for the Restaurant Week menu, but Carolyn was more interested in Spice Market’s regular offerings. At first I was concerned, since some restaurants make everyone at the table opt into the RW menu if any diner chooses it, but our waiter quickly confirmed that Carolyn was fine ordering a la carte.

Carolyn chose the Spicy Thai Fried Chicken Wings and the Spicy Thai Slaw to start, and then the Pearl Noodles with Smoked Tofu as her entree. Jacob selected the Salmon Sashimi, followed by the Kimchi Fried Rice, and I ordered the Spiced Shrimp Broth, followed by the Wok Charred Daikon Cake. We all split two of the Restaurant Week desserts: the Black Sesame Cake and the Malted Chocolate Parfait.

The Spicy Thai Slaw Salad: not so spicy, but a refreshing way to start a meal.

The Spicy Thai Slaw Salad: not so spicy, but a refreshing way to start a meal.

The appetizers came out in a steady stream, starting with Carolyn’s salad. The Spicy Thai Slaw (with Asian pear, crispy shallots, and mint) was one of my favorite dishes of the night. A refreshing shredded cabbage salad, it had just a hint of heat that was balanced by the coolness of the mint and the sweetness of the Asian pear (similar in flavor to a mild apple). The crunch of the cabbage and the crispy shallots kept it interesting texturally, although by the time you reached the bottom of the bowl the salad was a little soggy from all of the pooled dressing.

Spicy Thai Chicken Wings -- these aren't kidding on the spice, but they'll put up a good fight against Buffalo Wild Wings.

Spicy Thai Fried Chicken Wings — these aren’t kidding on the spice, and they’ll put up a good fight against Buffalo Wild Wings.

The Spicy Thai Fried Chicken Wings (with sliced mango and mint) lived up to their name a little more. I’ve never been into wings, so this dish didn’t impress me all that much, but even as an outsider observer I could tell that the breading was truly crispy, and the meat was very tender and juicy. Much like the inclusion of the mint in the salad, here it worked with the mango to cool down the heat of the wings, which I found a little too spicy for my liking. If you are a wings fan, I’d definitely recommend giving this dish a go — it was lightly fried so that the crust gave great texture without veering into the extremes of either too crunchy or mushily falling off the meat.

Although Jacob and I were attempting to experience the majority of the Restaurant Week menu by splitting the dishes, we both found ourselves drawn to appetizers the other wouldn’t like. We tried to find common ground in the other two appetizers, but the Mixed Green Salad and Beef Satay just couldn’t stand up against our respective love of salmon and shrimp. So we gave each other a pass on the starters, and in retrospect it was a strong strategic move.

The Salmon Sashimi, delicately layered and covered in a creamy sauce.

The Salmon Sashimi, delicately layered and covered in a creamy sauce.

Jacob seemed to really enjoy his Salmon Sashimi (with Golden Garlic and Lemon Soy), which arrived in small slivers drizzled with a creamy sauce. I tried a piece (I’m trying to get on the raw fish bandwagon, one leg at a time, folks), and like my Seattle salmon encounter, I could tell the the fish was of a very high quality, even if the flavor didn’t do much for me. The sauce reminded me of scallion cream cheese — perhaps a vaguely Japanese nod towards bagels and lox?

The Spiced Shrimp Broth -- this photo doesn't do the depth of flavor of this soup proper justice at all.

The Spiced Shrimp Broth — this photo doesn’t do the depth of flavor of this soup proper justice at all.

Now I could go on and on about my Spiced Shrimp Broth (with glass noodles and herbs). If you’re a fan of shellfish, this was a mindblowingly good preparation of it, and has stuck with me out of all the dishes at Spice Market, even several days later. Truth be told, after being in New England this weekend, and Seattle just a few weeks ago, I was prepared to come back down to earth from shellfish heaven and relearn to be satisfied with New York’s pretty solid fish scene. But as an eternal shrimp lover, I couldn’t overlook this appetizer once I spotted it. This soup is like a punch in the mouth of shrimp — pure, luscious, somehow achieving the kind of deep flavor you usually have in a dense bisque, though this broth was very light (and bright pink). The bowl contained mostly long strings of the glass noodles with small chunks of shrimp at the bottom, making me think of pho but with a seafood twist (is there some Thai or Vietnamese non-coconut soup that I don’t know about? Please let me know, I will order it always). On top of the broth floated leaves of cilantro and basil, adding an herbal brightness to the natural umami of the shrimp. I legitimately could have had a gallon of this soup and left a happy camper.

 

The simple components of the Kimchi Fried Rice: beef, rice, kimchi. Still a solid dish, though.

The simple components of the Kimchi Fried Rice: beef, rice, kimchi. Still a solid dish, though.

However, this was just the beginning — next up, our entrees. Jacob’s Kimchi Fried Rice with Korean Beef came out first. You can see from the photo that the dish was heavier on the rice aspect than the beef. I found this especially disappointing, because the Korean beef was melt-in-your-mouth good. The shortribs were presented in a small rectangle lightly dusted with sesame seeds atop the rice, the individual strands of meat visible to the naked eye. Sticking a fork in, little chunks flaked away beautifully, like long-braised brisket. I can understand the restraint given how rich the beef was, but when you come across well done shortribs, it’s just hard to stop and savor the flavors laminating your tongue. The rice was nicely chewy, and had a bit of the pop from sour kimchi. It was much more subtle a taste than I expected, given my previous experiences with heavily pickled kimchi. The dish worked as a whole, but it was much more muted overall than I had anticipated, especially considering the limited and straightforward components of rice, beef, and slices of kimchi.

 

Pearl Noodles with Smoked Tofu -- intriguing and new, if a little much for a full entree.

Pearl Noodles with Smoked Tofu — intriguing and new, if a little much for a full entree.

Carolyn’s Pearl Noodles with Smoked Tofu in Black Bean Sauce lingered with me a bit more. Carolyn and I agreed that the tofu had a deep, smoky taste, but Jacob thought the tofu was only mildly flavored. Although I think smoked food can be hit or miss, I liked that the kitchen had achieved a burnt flavor for the tofu without altering the texture too much — this wasn’t charred to a crisp, but still the soft squares of tofu you find in miso soup. The pearl noodles were thick like udon, but not quite as long, and were tender from soaking up the moisture from the black bean sauce. The sauce had a great earthy flavor, full of fermented beans and infused with soy, coming off as just slightly sweet. I enjoyed the small bites I had, but I wouldn’t order it for my main course. I think a full bowl of it would end up being too cloyingly sweet and decadent.

 

The Wok Charred Daikon Cake -- redefining the idea of "cake" and unexpectedly addictive.

The Wok Charred Daikon Cake — redefining the idea of “cake” and unexpectedly addictive.

Last, but certainly not least, was my Wok Charred Daikon Cake (with scallions and peanuts). I was on a roll with my menu selections, because this ended up being my second favorite dish of our dinner, sliding in right behind the Spiced Shrimp Broth. I wasn’t sure exactly would arrive when I read the words “daikon cake” on the menu, and our waiter unfortunately didn’t give clarity. Knowing that daikon is a radish, I had to wonder if it would be some sort of tower of slices? The bowl of food that eventually arrived at our table was far from any definition of cake I’ve ever heard of — it looked more like a curry with a thick sauce, cubed pieces of unbelievably soft radish, slices of red chiles, scallions, and whole peanuts. Digging a little deeper while writing this post, it seems like (at least from Google image search) daikon cake is usually made from radish cooked and compressed into a square or rectangle. Spice Market’s take seemed to then deconstruct that cake, chopping it up into chunks, and folding it into a stew of sauce and vegetables. This gave the daikon pieces an almost eggplant-like texture, soft and succulent. While the rest of the dish verged on smooth and squishy, the peanuts were moist but still crunchy, which kept the texture from being too monotonous. The Thai theme comes out again in this dish, which I found reminiscent of a Thai curry in terms of the deep, layered flavors, and inclusion of peanuts. Salty, sweet, with just a tiny kick from the chile peppers, I just kept ladling more and more onto my plate.

I know this must sound highly suspicious coming from me, but dessert was kinda an afterthought for our dinner. After the stream of new exotic flavor pairings that had steamrolled across my tastebuds, I found our two desserts perfectly adequate, but far from showstoppers. I felt that the Black Sesame Cake (with green tea mousse and yuzu) was the lesser of the two dishes. Truth be told, I’ve had sesame desserts before — ice cream flavors and other versions of cakes, and I’ve never really gotten the appeal. I like sesame in savory dishes, but as a card-carrying chocoholic, it’s just never been sweet enough for me in a dessert setting.

 

The Black Sesame Cake -- with tasty shards of sesame brittle.

The Black Sesame Cake — with tasty squares of sesame brittle.

The cake arrived in a small bowl, a deep green square seated upon the green tea mousse, and topped with yuzu ice cream, shards of sesame brittle, and a sprinkling of black sesame seeds. The cake itself was a little dry, but the mousse and the yuzu ice cream added brighter flavors and a bit of moisture. Overall it just read too savory to me — I know green tea is not an unusual flavoring for Asian desserts, but I really only think of it in the context of a beverage, and while the citrusy taste of the yuzu was pleasing, I’m arbitrarily picky about fruit-based desserts.

 

The Malted Chocolate Parfait -- a delicious, if oddly American dessert.
The Malted Chocolate Parfait — a delicious, if oddly American dessert.

The Malted Chocolate Parfait (with caramel crumble and summer berries) was much more in my wheelhouse, and so it’s no surprise that I dug right into it. The malted chocolate came in the form of a mousse as the bottom layer of the parfait, topped with blackberries, strawberries, and raspberries, then the “caramel crumble” (basically a streusel topping), and finally vanilla ice cream and chocolate crunchies. I didn’t get much of a malted flavor, but as I’m not a fan of Whoppers, I wasn’t complaining. It was served in a small bowl, and I appreciated the modest portion size. Combined with the lightness of the mousse and ice cream, it was a good way to end the meal, with pure, fresh-tasting ingredients that didn’t weigh you down. After the variety of Asian-influenced dishes of the night, it was a little odd how All-American this seemed, from the fresh berries to the crumble. Overall the dessert was comforting, and I was glad I had it to contrast against the more exotic black sesame cake.

 

Final Thoughts:

My Restaurant Week trip to Spice Market was a fantastic dinner that had me trying new flavors, while still enjoying some well-executed combos I was familiar with. It’s a great bang-for-your-buck spot for Restaurant Week, since the menu doesn’t skimp on portions, and offers both dishes that appear on the regular menu, as well some RW exclusives. And when you take into account the caliber of the chef behind Spice Market, it’s pretty affordable in general (they offer a $25 lunch “bento box” prix fixe, and the tasting menu at dinner is only $48). I’m eager to go back and dive into the menu a bit more, since there were plenty of dishes that appealed to me, across all the categories, from appetizers to dessert (Ovaltine Kulfi — what is that, and can I eat it now?).

All in all, Spice Market gets a strong recommendation from me for good service, a trendy and fun vibe, and for offering genre-bending dishes that challenge more staid palates without pushing too far into exotic ingredients or spice levels. To me, that’s one of the best goals for fusion restaurants — to offer a smooth entryway for diners into new flavor combinations and cuisines through more well-known techniques. At Spice Market, Jean Georges gently coaxes his diners to step through those orange curtains and sample some street food from worlds beyond the NY dirty-water dogs and a bag from Nuts-4-Nuts. Sure, you’re missing the hustle and bustle of humanity from the markets of Asia, but maybe if Jean Georges does his job right, you’ll want to pay a visit someday and see just what inspired him in the first place.

 

Spice Market

403 W 13th St

New York, NY 10014

spicemarketnewyork.com

Sans Mystery Meat: Dinner at Cafeteria

In the arts there is a concept known as the “Rule of Three,” which basically posits that information grouped in threes is more effectively communicated than in any other number. This is why there are Three Little Pigs, three ghosts in A Christmas Carol, and three Star Wars films (in my universe). The power of a triad comes from the creation of a progression — the audience is shown two similar items that set up an expectation — followed by the subversion of that progression by the final piece. We delight in this surprise, in having our foregone conclusions flipped on their heads. I find that same wonder when I encounter new takes on traditional food, when my preconceived notions of taste and texture are counted on, and then thrown out the window. It’s what made the Salty Pimp at Big Gay Ice Cream so appealing, and what makes me desperate to visit Peanut Butter & Co. for their spin on a PB&J.

My dinner at Cafeteria this weekend was an exercise in expectation subversion, and I mean that in the best way possible. When you decide to get whimsical with well-known recipes, you better deliver on quality, and thankfully, my meal at Cafeteria was far beyond lunchlady ladling.


First Impressions:

Cafeteria sits on the corner of 17th St. and 7th Ave South.

Cafeteria sits on the corner of 17th St. and 7th Ave South.


This was actually my second time at Cafeteria, but my first visit was for a first date a couple of years ago, so let’s just say the restaurant itself was not the center of my attention. This time I was hosting my college roommate Megan for a weekend visit, and the two of us were meeting another friend for dinner, so I got to appreciate the venue a bit more. Cafeteria is located in Chelsea, and features an aesthetic that walks the tight-rope between modern restraint and self-aware winking. The decor is chic, black and white, and featuring lots of cut outs and gleaming surfaces. It appears about as far from the average dumpy cafeteria as you can get. Megan commented that it actually reminded her of Jones, one of our favorite Stephen Starr restaurants in Philadelphia (where we went to school). Jones has a similar take on down-home American food — it’s like gourmet IHOP (I highly recommend their chicken and waffles if you’re in Philly).

The chic interior of Cafeteria, with it's front windows open for sidewalk seating.

The chic interior of Cafeteria, with it’s front windows open for sidewalk seating.

However, Jones does not venture into camp the way Cafeteria does. Megan and I arrived early, so we got drinks at Cafeteria’s small lounge area downstairs. The drink menus featured a shirtless man posing seductively with a cheeseburger, which some could take as a heavy-handed cypher for the restaurant’s goal of making comfort food sexy. Fortunately, this was Cafeteria’s most over-the-top moment, well, that and the names of the cocktails.

Our alluring drink menus.

Our alluring drink menus.

Speaking of which…

The Food:

My cocktail -- "Liquid Passion"

My cocktail — “Liquid Passion”


Cafeteria offers an extensive drinks menu, from beer and wine to some playfully named cocktails. Megan and I decided to embrace a girly stereotype or two and ordered off of the champagne-based section of the cocktail menu. Inspired by my fruit-and-vegetable adventures in Israel, I had the “Liquid Passion,” composed of prosecco, passion fruit juice, and “edible flower.” I really enjoyed the cocktail, which was pretty much a passion fruit bellini, although I couldn’t tell you what the edible flower added to the experience, in taste or texture. But I would consider bringing along some passion fruit juice instead of OJ or peach to my next brunch picnic.

Megan's drink, the "White Peach Classico"

Megan’s drink, the “White Peach Classico”

Megan got the “White Peach Classico,” made up of prosecco, “artisanal peach bitters,” Gran Classico and burnt orange zest. This cocktail was well balanced, and both Megan and I commented that the peach flavoring was subtle — more natural than the Del Monte peaches in syrup cloying sweetness. Again, there was no real indication of where the burnt orange zest was, except for some lingering pieces of peel at the bottom of the glass.

When Jacob joined us he branched out beyond the bubbly beverage, choosing the “Cafeteria Cosmo” — Svedka Clementine, cranberry and passionfruit juice. Tasty and dangerous, since it was one of those cocktails where you’re not sure if you’re actually drinking alcohol.

The waiter suggested Jacob get the "Cafeteria Cosmo" on the rocks, so it appears slightly manlier here than it actually was.

The waiter suggested Jacob get the “Cafeteria Cosmo” on the rocks, so it appears slightly manlier here than it actually was.


As with most of my meals with Jacob, we decided to go family style on dinner, and fortunately Megan has similar priorities about trying as many dishes as possible. We ended up ordering an assortment of appetizers and sides and one entree to share, which ultimately verged on too much food for the three of us, but we were troopers and took one for the team … and then walked down for dessert at Big Gay Ice Cream (I wasn’t letting Megan leave New York without trying the Salty Pimp).

The meal started with complimentary cheddar biscuits and honey butter. The biscuits were warm from the oven, soft and doughy, with just a hint of cheese, and did a great job of putting me in the spirit for some well-executed comfort food. I actually preferred them on their own, finding the addition of the honey butter a little too rich. I also appreciated the presentation of the biscuits in a newspaper-lined basket, immediately setting the tone of elevated familiarity.

These delicious biscuits were one of the highlights of the night.

These delicious biscuits were one of the highlights of the night. You can see the cheese flecked throughout the dough.


For our appetizers we chose the Crispy Green Beans, and a Cheddar and Fontina Macaroni and Cheese. Cafeteria actually has four types of mac and cheese on its menu (or the fifth option of the “Mac Attack” tasting of three), but Jacob is a seasoned Cafeteria vet and guided us towards the more classic two-cheese option.

It's still considered healthy if you can see some green beneath the frying, right?

It’s still considered healthy if you can see some green beneath the frying, right?

I have little love towards green beans in general. As a child they were one of my least favorite vegetables (along with peas and broccoli), but I’ve come around to them depending on how they’re prepared. Basically, add enough butter to any previously-loathed vegetable and I’ll dig right in. The Crispy Green Beans were lightly fried in a delicate batter, with their green skins still visible through the crust. As advertised, they were crispy without providing a real crunch, so you still had the vegetal flavor as dominant, heightened by the salty, buttery coating. The dish came with a grilled lemon and a soy-based sesame ginger dipping sauce, although again I thought the beans were better sans sauce. Adding soy on top of the salted, fried strips was too much salt for me. Despite my negative history with green beans, this dish was actually one of my favorites of the night.

A two-cheese mac and cheese, so ... a mac and cheese cheese?

A two-cheese mac and cheese, so … a mac and cheese cheese?

The mac and cheese was a strong contender, but I didn’t find it innovative enough to stand out. Perhaps my disappointment is unwarranted, considering we went for the more classic take on mac and cheese, over the truffle oil or buffalo blue cheese, but my feelings for the dish are largely “delicious, but not something I would order again.” The portion would have been enough for someone’s entree, but split between three people it was a reasonable appetizer. There was a defined crust that gave way to a cheesy roux and al dente noodles, and there’s no arguing with a pairing like fontina and cheddar. I definitely enjoyed it more than the dishes I’ve tried at S’Mac, but compared to the interesting interplay of texture and taste with the Crispy Green Beans, the mac and cheese felt a little “old-hat.”

For our main course we shared the Black Kale Salad, the Zucchini Parm Latkes, and the Pecan Crusted Catfish.

The Black Kale Salad -- a one two punch of spice and bitter -- not my cup of tea, unfortunately.

The Black Kale Salad — a one two punch of spice and bitter — not my cup of tea, unfortunately.

The Black Kale Salad is a new seasonal menu item. It seemed like Cafeteria rotates a significant number of dishes each season, as Jacob’s favorite dessert is no longer being offered (a homemade Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, curse the cruelty of fate!). In fact, if you’re mildly obsessive like me, you will note that the kale salad described on Opentable’s Cafeteria menu page is different from the one we encountered at dinner. This brand spanking new salad boasted black kale (naturally), with pine nut gremolata, mint, ricotta salata, and a jalapeno grilled lemon vinaigrette. All three of us are wimps when it comes to spicy food, so we opted to have the dressing on the side. However, after a few forkfuls into the salad it became clear that the bottom of the plate had been lightly coated with the jalapeno vinaigrette, leading to some impolite grimaces as we tried to put on brave faces. I’ve also yet to fully get onboard the kale train, so I was hoping that the rest of the items in the salad would balance the bitterness of the greens. The mint and jalapeno did offer up some strong punches of flavor, and the ricotta salata worked to cool things down a bit, but overall I was looking for a light and refreshing dish to counterbalance the heaviness of the rest of the meal, and I just found the salad overwhelming, jumping back and forth from bitter to spicy.

Zucchini Parm Latkes win points for presentation in their tiny cast iron skillet.

Zucchini Parm Latkes win points for presentation in their tiny cast iron pot.

The Zucchini Parm Latkes sounded like an interesting meshing of Eastern European and Italian food, so I was eager to see how they would pan out. To be honest, I didn’t taste the “parm” part, but the pancakes were fried to the perfect point of crispyness, and I appreciated that they were not thick patties of starch. My pancake had good crunch to it, although I missed the biting contrast of an onion (you know how I feel about onions in my latkes). I could have sworn I detected an herby, almost mint taste running through my latke.  At first I thought it was just the kale salad lingering on my tongue, but Jacob agreed that he tasted mint or chives of some sort, which threw off the buttery, warm flavors of the latke. The best part of the dish was the apple sauce — basically a thick apple compote, nearly the density of apple pie filling, fresh, sweet, and chunky with a real crisp apple taste. I could easily imagine it on the table at Thanksgiving.

My personal winner of the night -- the Pecan Crusted Catfish.

My personal victor of the night — the Pecan Crusted Catfish.

My favorite dish of the night was the Pecan Crusted Catfish, despite the fact that I’ve never really liked catfish. It’s an unreasonable excuse, but whenever I see catfish on a menu I immediately think of the live fish and get a little bit grossed out. Something about the whiskers throws me off. I mostly pushed for ordering this dish because of how I imagined the combination of a pecan crust and the included sides would work together. The dish came with a sweet potato hash, smoked Cipollini onions, and a red pepper emulsion. The fish was tender and flaky, providing a nice contrast with the crunchy pecan coating. It will come as no shock that I loved the sweet potato hash. The smoky onions and bright acidity of the red pepper sauce helped to tame the sweetness of the pecans and sweet potatoes. Looking back on it, the catfish itself was pretty much just a vehicle for the other flavors in the dish, since I can’t say anything specific about the fish’s flavor. However, the fish did nothing to detract from my appreciation of the rest of the dish, so I’d happily order it again. Like my other favorite of the night, the Crispy Green Beans, it was a sophisticated take on a comfort food standard, elevating a commonplace fish like catfish with a novel crust and sides that worked together to create an unexpected starring element.


Final Thoughts:

The word “cafeteria” generally conjures up such appetizing phrases as “hairnet,” “glop,” and “mystery meat.” But thankfully Cafeteria the restaurant is well aware of those standards and is happy to toy with them for your benefit. They’re encouraging you to engage your expectations and hope that they’ll be twisted and turned around — that your order of steamed, limp green beans will be battered and crisply fried, that you can choose between meatloaf, biscuits and gravy, or chicken paillard any time of day, and that you’ll see nary a plastic tray nor lunchlady in sight. I really enjoyed my dinner at Cafeteria because it took advantage of my curiosity. I wouldn’t normally order green beans or catfish, but I was intrigued by the way Cafeteria was reimagining them. Sometimes that leap of faith fell flat on the floor, but in other cases I discovered a new appreciation for foods I’d written off.

Maybe what we’re forgetting is that the root of the American cafeteria is the idea of communal dining, of taking a break from work or school to sit down and press the pause button on everything but the food in front of us. Yes, Cafeteria is about as far from my middle school lunchroom as you can get, but even without the little cartons of chocolate milk, I couldn’t help but think of the sheer joy of breaking free from classes and responsibilities and getting to hang out with my friends. For that aspect, Cafeteria happily hits the nail straight on the head.


Cafeteria

119 7th Ave (Corner of 17th St)

http://www.cafeteriagroup.com/

Review: Kutsher’s Tribeca, or What Would Your Mother Think?

I owe you all an apology about missing last week — trust me, there are some lame excuses (blah, blah bad cold, blah, blah crazy work week). I tried to make it up to you by writing a super huge review of my recent dinner at Kutsher’s Tribeca. Hopefully the high level of detail is informative, rather than snore-inducing.

Despite nearly two decades of Four Questions experience, my love of a good discount (3/$5 Progresso Soups? score!), and my ability to drop “oys” like Jay-Z drops rhymes, I have a complicated relationship with Jewish food. Sure, I love a good New York bagel, but I prefer mine with plain old cream cheese — none of this whitefish salad or scallion nonsense, and heaven forbid lox enter the equation. I’m pretty much the black sheep of the family due to my distaste for salmon in any form, and I’ve never liked pickles, kosher or otherwise. On the other hand, I have a real appreciation for some of the more calendar-specific elements of Jewish cuisine — Rosh Hashanah gives me an excuse to stuff my face with kugel, Chanukah means it’s acceptable to eat the equivalent of Waffle House hash browns for 8 days straight, and Passover, while generally forcing me on a low-carb diet, also means that my mother will bust out her lifechanging Matzoh Ball Soup recipe.

So it was with a bit of trepidation that I made a reservation for a Restaurant Week dinner at Kutsher’s Tribeca. The restaurant pays homage to the famed Catskills resort, where I imagine many of my grandparents’ Borscht Belt brethren literally loosened their slacks over some beet soup. As a girl who will generally order turkey breast over chopped liver at a deli, I was concerned about my options. But I had read some reviews of Kutsher’s that suggested reinvention was the name of the game. With my trusty foodie crew in tow (Jacob and Mike of Murray’s and Big Gay Ice Cream fame), I decided to let my Bubbe Flag fly. After all, it was Friday night, and my mother would be glad I was having a nice Shabbos meal.

The rather unassuming entrance to Kutsher's Tribeca

The rather unassuming entrance to Kutsher’s Tribeca

First Impressions

Kutscher’s Tribeca is located, unsurprisingly, down in Tribeca. I’ve always enjoyed walking around the area, but I’ve done it so infrequently that the neighborhood remains pretty anonymous for me, all former industrial buildings and empty dreams of running into Robert DeNiro. From the outside, Kutsher’s has a fairly generic appearance — a little modernist white palette, some darker tones on the oak entrance, a window that lets you peer into the sleek bar area, again largely shaded in black and white. Once you head into the restaurant, you get a better sense of the space. The medium sized bar gives way to a somewhat narrow front dining room, separated by a half-wall of suspended metal strings into the wider back room.

The inside of Kutsher's, just by the bar: synagogue chic.

The inside of Kutsher’s, just by the bar: synagogue chic.

The resounding impression I got from the decor was “upscale synagogue.” Gold plating, metal sculptures, and bright white granite surround you. If Kutsher’s was trying to evoke some nostalgia for the heady days of bar and bat mitzvah season, they definitely succeeded. It was as if by stepping into the restaurant, you were suddenly embroiled in a war between the aesthetics of a Hebrew school kiddush and the contemporary New York dining scene.

Food and Drink

Our "bread basket" of whole wheat and white challah and herbed butter.

Our “bread basket” of whole wheat and white challah and herbed butter.

Our meal started with a complimentary slate of small slices of white and whole wheat challah, with a herbed butter of some sort, maybe scallions or chives? When paired with the challah, it reminded me most of scallion cream cheese, and definitely pushed my palette in the right direction (ie, the Jewish one). Jacob and Mike had ordered cocktails while waiting for me, so I joined them and ordered the Poached Pear Bellini. It was sweet but not cloying, with a surprising lack of champagne flavor, and a bit of a spice kick when you got to the bottom. If you’re in the mood for a girly, fruity drink, I would recommend it.

Our cocktails -- my bellini is in the champagne flute to the right.

Our cocktails — my bellini is in the champagne flute to the right.

During Restaurant Week you can only order off a prix fixe menu, so this review may cover items that aren’t generally offered (although I think Kutsher’s actually did a good job of representing their usual menu). Socialist foodies that we are, Jacob, Mike and I agreed to do the meal family-style, in order to make our way through the majority of the prix fixe options. We did go off-menu for one item: the Challah Grilled Cheese, which is normally only offered at lunch, but seemed too good a dish on paper to pass up.
We started with the Pastrami Reuben Egg Roll, Mrs. K’s Matzo Ball Soup, Crispy Potato Latkes, and Challah Grilled Cheese. You know, just to whet our appetites. Here’s a quick breakdown of the appetizers:

The Pastrami Reuben Egg Roll, hands down my favorite dish of the night.

The Pastrami Reuben Egg Roll, hands down my favorite dish of the night.

-Pastrami Reuben Egg Roll (house-cured pastrami, emmentaler, sauerkraut and spicy duck sauce): How can you go wrong with a perfectly fried egg roll? I almost want to always eat Reubens this way — you have the wonderful contrast of texture with the crunchy outer shell and the tenderness of the deli meat and sauerkraut. The filling was salty without overwhelming my taste buds, salted just to the point of enhancing the creamy cheese, although between the richness of the pastrami and the dough, the specific flavor of the emmentaler was hard to detect. I wouldn’t really call the duck sauce spicy, but it paired better than expected with the pastrami. Overall, this actually ended up being my favorite dish of the entire night.

Mrs. K's Matzo Ball Soup -- c'mon, just one matzoh ball?

Mrs. K’s Matzo Ball Soup — c’mon, just one matzoh ball?

– Mrs. K’s Matzo Ball Soup (egg noodles, carrots, celery, chives and dill): Now as I mentioned above, I have extremely high standards when it comes to matzoh ball soup. My mother makes a simple, classic soup — just broth and balls, made with real chicken shmaltz (chicken fat skimmed off the stock, for the goyim out there). Perhaps because of this background, I found Kutsher’s iteration pretty disappointing.  The broth was very good — clearly made from real stock, with underlying notes of chicken and herbs. I would buy the broth just to use as cold medicine. The egg noodles were also great, and looked like they were freshly pulled. Generally I don’t think of egg noodles having much flavor, so I appreciated the homemade quality that actually lent them a presence in the soup. But then we come to the supposed star of the show, the matzoh ball, and here’s where Kutsher’s let me down. The matzoh ball was just plain bland. You could almost tell just by looking at it — stark white and too smooth. To Kutsher’s credit, it had a better texture than I expected, neither so soft as to fall apart once you scooped out a piece, nor requiring a chisel to cut through. While definitely better than the from-frozen glop you get at the local diner, to me, this soup fell short. If you’re going to go the traditional route (no fried wonton here), you better bring your A-game in quality.

Crispy Potato Latkes -- they suffered from some of the same issues as the soup, but fried stuff always tastes great.

Crispy Potato Latkes — they suffered from some of the same issues as the soup, but let’s be honest,  frying anything will make it taste pretty damn good.

– Crispy Potato Latkes (local apple compote and sour cream): Once again I come up against personal cooking experiences vs. a restaurant dish. I recently made my own latkes for Chanukah, and while these were certainly quality pancakes, I’m partial to my my own recipe’s proportions of potato and onion. However, I thought that Kutsher’s kitchen has more native latke talent than matzoh ball skills. Maybe it has something to do with their frying, since the egg roll also shined. The latkes were not too thick or overwhelmingly starchy, and had a nice brown cook on them. I don’t like sour cream on latkes, so I didn’t try it, but the apple compote had a fresh flavor to it. It seemed closer to homemade applesauce in texture, and not as sweet as I tend to think of compote being (probably because my knowledge of compote stems from college cafeteria waffle toppings — mmm, berries in heavy syrup).

The Challah Grilled Cheese -- amazing in concept, less so in execution.

The Challah Grilled Cheese — amazing in concept, less so in execution.

-Challah Grilled Cheese (cheddar, fontina, house-cured veal bacon & roasted tomatoes): As I mentioned earlier, we ordered this dish specifically because of how good it sounded. The description sounds like a beautiful smorgasbord of buttery, yeasty challah griddled and overflowing with cheese and bacon. Considering my last trip with this bunch was to Murray’s Cheese Bar, it comes as no shock that we had high hopes for a cheese-based entree. Alas, the reality was a far cry from our cheesy fantasies. The slivers of challah that had graced our bread basket were replaced with what appeared to be half of a loaf of thick, barely toasted challah. I personally prefer my challah from Zomicks, which falls on the eggy side of the challah-flavor spectrum (if this doesn’t exist, I’m patenting the concept), as opposed to the white Wonderbread type challah you also find at Fairway. Kutsher’s was more on the whitebread side of the spectrum, somewhat bland in flavor and almost too fluffy. There was just way too much challah and too little filling — I felt as thought if we had taken the sandwich apart, we would have found one slice of cheddar, one slice of fontina, a thinly sliced tomato and some bacon bits. This meant that the overall flavor was pretty much challah. I am a self-professed carbavore, but when you promise me meat and cheese, I’d expect them to have some sort of presence in the sandwich. The dish also came with fries, which were certainly well-made, but not particularly memorable.

Of course, despite my complaints, we managed to polish off all of our appetizers. I remember thinking “oh no, there’s still two more courses?” Unlike a lot of Restaurant Week menus, Kutsher’s definitely doesn’t skimp on portion size.

Our options were a little more scaled down for the main course: we opted for the “Flanken” Short Ribs, “The Delicatessen,” and the Friday Night Roast Chicken, leaving out the salmon entree, which my compatriots did out of deference to my cultural palatal inadequacies. Now if there’s one thing that Jewish mothers know how to do, it’s how to make sure their little puddins have enough to eat. In that regard, Kutsher’s gets a gold Star of David. Let’s just say they don’t skimp on the butter here.

"Flanken" Short Ribs-- unctuous, tender, and with a killer side dish.

“Flanken” Short Ribs– unctuous, tender, and with a killer side dish.

-“Flanken” Short Ribs (baby carrots, Brussels sprouts and mushroom barley): This was my favorite of the entrees, mostly due to the side items of the barley and vegetable medley. It appeared to be stewed in the rich beef broth, and continued to absorb the juices from the short ribs on the plate, leaving the grains and vegetables infused with a strong meaty, earthy flavor. Plus, mushrooms are just one of my flat-out favorite foods, so it’s no surprise I was all over this dish. The barley added a bit of textural contrast, soft but not mushy. The ribs themselves were tender, but were far from the falling-off-the-bone quality I had expected. I’d say I’m more of a brisket gal than short ribs (once again, Mama B makes a mean brisket), but I certainly enjoyed the entree, especially when taken as a collective dish with the sides. And surprisingly, this dish was not nearly as heavy as the roast chicken.

Friday Night Roast Chicken -- pretty good, but a bit of a gut bomb.

Friday Night Roast Chicken — pretty good, but a bit of a gut bomb.

– Friday Night Roast Chicken (pletzel and mushroom stuffing): I had initially anticipated liking this entree the most, and in fact had picked it out as my order before we decided on a family-style dinner. The week before I had gone to another Restaurant Week dinner at Alex Guarneschelli’s Butter and had a really lovely roast chicken thigh, which though slightly small in size, had been very moist with a robustly herb-crusted skin. Unfortunately I didn’t realize that this would set me up for an immediate comparison between Butter and Kutsher’s, and I consequently couldn’t help but be disappointed by Kutsher’s take. The chicken did have a nice crispy skin on it, but I wouldn’t say it was any better cooked than what I could make at home, and it certainly paled in comparison to Butter’s herbacious offering. As for the “pletzel stuffing” — a little Wikipedia research reveals that “pletzel” is an onion and seed covered cracker, so whatever made up the stuffing for this dish was playing fast and loose with that definition. The stuffing seemed to be your average cubes of regular chewy, soft bread (perhaps challah not used for the grilled cheese?), but since they were smothered in mushroom sauce, a definitive classification was nigh impossible. Obviously I enjoyed the mushroom aspect of the stuffing, but whereas the flanken ribs allowed the mushrooms to stand out amongst the barley, here I found them to be lost in the heavy, almost marsala-type sauce.

The Delicatessen -- I loved the plating, if not the contents.

The Delicatessen — I loved the plating, if not the contents.

– The Delicatessen (pastrami, smoked veal tongue, spicy salami & duck and chicken liver with rye and pickles): No shock that I was least interested in this dish, although I ended up liking it more than I anticipated. The Delicatessen gets top prize for plating, with the thinly sliced meats arrayed delicately (see what I did there?) across the wood board, bookended by condiments, thinly sliced rye crackers, and pickled vegetables. With the heavy weight of obligation to my heritage on my shoulders, I did my due diligence and tried everything on the plate. The pastrami stood out (though I really just wanted it in another egg roll), and the pate spread on rye was pleasant if unmemorable, but you will never, ever get me to voluntarily order tongue. At least I wasn’t face-to-face with the full on muscle at a deli counter (a disgusting consequence of my love affair with the sandwiches of Koch’s Deli near UPenn’s campus — check it out next time you’re in West Philadelphia, I promise it’s worth it) — but considering I’m not much of a cured meat person in general, tongue is about as low on my list of sandwich fillings as you can go.

Now if the contents of this blog haven’t made it abundantly clear, most of my life is a mere prelude to dessert. Kutsher’s pulled a bit of a classic Restaurant Week move on the dessert front — offering only two options: an assorted Cookie Plate, and the Black and White Cookie Ice Cream Sandwich. I’ve yet to find a fine dining restaurant with a mindblowing cookie plate, so we got 2 ice cream sandwiches and one cookie assortment, just to make sure we were covering our bases.

The Cookie Plate -- your standard bakery fare, miniaturized!

The Cookie Plate — your standard bakery fare, miniaturized!

– Cookie Plate: As expected, the cookie plate was pretty lame — a cute selection of miniaturized bakery mainstays like elephant ears and chocolate chip cookies, but everything was basically dry and brittle texture-wise, except for my favorite piece, the coconut macaroon. The macaroon was thankfully far from the sad contents of those tins of Manischewitz kosher for Passover macaroons. it was tender and flaky without being crumbly, offering just the right amount of resistance when tearing. Alas, the rest of the cookies lacked any semblance of moisture, and we all know how I feel about thin, crispy chocolate chip cookies. I don’t think I need to say anymore.

Black and White Ice Cream Cookie Sandwich -- you had me at ice cream + cookie.

Black and White Cookie Ice Cream Sandwich — you had me at ice cream + cookie.

– Black & White Cookie Ice Cream Sandwich (with salted caramel ice cream): To give proper context, I don’t like Black and White Cookies much (geez, this whole post is just me complaining about food, isn’t it?). I find most B&W Cookies far too cakey and dry on the cookie side, partially because the ratio of icing to cookie is far too small, and partially because often the icing’s texture is reminiscent of bathtub grout. In what may be an indication of a new dessert trend, my dessert at Butter was also an ice cream sandwich — a gingerbread cookie/vanilla ice cream concoction with candied pecans, which I couldn’t have been happier to stuff my face with. Unlike the main course, I’d put Kutsher’s iteration on nearly the same level as Butter‘s. As a fan of all things mini, I adored the tiny B&W cookies. Perhaps because of the smaller size and the fact that they soaked up the ice cream, I thought the cookie base was much moister, and paired with the icing better. However, Jacob seemed to get way more salted caramel sauce, leaving me with pretty much vanilla and chocolate as the only flavors (not that I mind vanilla and chocolate, but a little salt in a sweet dessert can often elevate all the flavors). The decadent piece de resistance was a small pot of homemade chocolate sauce to dip or pour over your sandwich. Obviously I had no complaints about additional chocolate.

Overall, the ice cream sandwich was definitely the more successful dessert, not only because it was more inventive in plating and concept, but also because it employed a variety of textures, from the liquid chocolate and caramel sauces, to the semisolid ice cream, to the firmer cookies.

Final Thoughts

Um, is there anything I haven’t already covered in this monstrosity of a review? Looking back on the meal, I would likely recommend Kutsher’s, although I think there is a special insider wink if you happen to be Jewish (my film professors would call it being a “knowing audience”). The food was high quality, abundant, and rich, so definitely don’t go in looking for a light salad. But I found enjoyable dishes in each of the courses offered on the Restaurant Week menu, which can often give a subpar impression of a restaurant, so I have to believe that Kutsher’s standard menu has a number of worthy options. Kutsher’s also wins points for whimsy and presentation. Aside from the few tasting menu experiences I’ve been fortunate enough to have, I haven’t been to that many restaurants that take the idea of fusion beyond the Asian realm of sushi pizza. So if the Pastrami Reuben Eggroll is any indication, Kutsher’s has some wacky ideas about Jewish cuisine, and I’m game to explore what else they might bring to the seder plate.

Kutsher’s Tribeca

186 Franklin St  New York, NY 10013

kutsherstribeca.com

I ... have no explanation.

I … have no explanation.

Snackshots

In the spirit of mixing things up (slash a thinly veiled attempt at proving I am actually taking more pictures when I eat/make things), I thought I would use this post as a brief retrospective of some of the delicacies from December and January that didn’t quite make it into the spotlight. Consider this a tour of the minor league, if you will.

Mulled wine from Radegast

Mulled wine from Radegast

I discovered my absolute favorite type of warm cocktail this winter — mulled wine. I used to be all about spiked apple cider, but as my beverage tastes have moved away from sweeter drinks, I found myself ordering mulled wine (and making it at home) more and more often. I’m a sucker for autumnal/wintry spices — cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, I find myself constantly cold, and I’m hoping to expand my taste for red wine, so you really couldn’t give me a better drink than mulled wine. This particular glass came from Radegast Hall & Biergarten in Williamsburg, and was a great combination of citrus, spice, and slightly sweetened red wine. I really recommend checking Radegast out — it’s the first beer hall I’ve been to in NY, so I don’t have much to compare it with, but I enjoyed my wine, the hefeweizen I also ordered, and the German-esque food on the menu. As for space itself, the hall appears to be a converted factory, so for once in NY there’s actually plenty of space. One side of the hall is dominated by an enormous bar and smaller surrounding tables, and the other side holds the kitchen/grill and a dozen or so picnic tables.  I could see it getting a little crowded on weekend nights, but on a Saturday afternoon it was bustling without being raucous, and you can’t really argue with a Bavarian band providing the soundtrack for your daydrinking.

Momofuku Milk Bar in Williamsburg

Momofuku Milk Bar in Williamsburg

That same day I finally got to go to one of the Momofuku Milk Bar locations — albeit the one in Williamsburg, not the ones closer to me in the East Village or the Upper West Side. Milk Bar is known for its wacky takes on dessert — most famously for its Cereal Milk (yes, like the stuff left over in your bowl) and its Compost Cookie, which is a bit of a kitchen-sink type cookie with potato chips, cereal, coffee grounds, and other unexpected ingredients.

The almost overwhelming menu at Milk Bar -- where to begin?

The almost overwhelming menu at Milk Bar — where to begin? And yes, they do offer “pretzel milk” as well.

Although this was my first time actually inside of the store, I’ve had the opportunity to try some of the Milk Bar specialties like the Crack Pie and the Compost Cookie before. Still, there were an enormous number of options available, so I ended up falling back on my comfort zone of ice cream, and got the Oatmeal Creme Pie soft serve. I enjoyed it, but found it very mild in flavor, reminiscent of the way your milk tastes after you dunk an oatmeal cookie into it a few times. The texture of the soft serve was probably the best part — smooth and creamy in the way you want every Mr. Softee order to be. I wish they had given me a spoon instead of the nostalgic Dixie Cup wooden stick. I am eager to try out the pretzel shake at some point, not to mention the “fancy shakes” (aka spiked) shakes offered at the bottom of the menu, so I’ll probably make a trip back, although perhaps to one of the other locations.

The visually appealing, but somewhat lackluster oatmeal creme pie soft serve.

The visually appealing, but somewhat lackluster oatmeal creme pie soft serve.

2012-12-16 15.19.02

The next port of call was Vegan Divas, an Upper East Side vegan bakery and cafe. I stopped in to pick up some holiday goodies for vegan coworkers. The shop was quaint but not cutesy — the focus was happily on the baked goods themselves.

I picked out a bunch of the mini donuts for my coworkers.

I picked out a bunch of the mini donuts for my coworkers.

Vegan Divas has been praised for its donuts, so combined with my weakness for miniaturized things, there was little else I could pick out as gifts. I got myself a lemon-raspberry muffin, mainly to see how their baking fared. Sometimes vegan baking leads to incredible dense, lumpy cakes, so I wondered if all the wrinkles in the substitution scheme had been ironed out. Muffins can be very hit or miss depending on the baker, so I thought it would be a good test of the caliber of Vegan Divas’ desserts.

My small, but heavy muffin

My small, but heavy muffin

Unfortunately, I did find the muffin lacked the air-pocket-laden lightness of a great breakfast pastry. But texture aside, Vegan Divas succeeded in creating a healthy muffin (less than 100 calories) that didn’t taste like “health food.” The lemon and raspberry flavors were bright and very present, and I would be willing to go back and see what else the bakery has veganized, although I might opt for something more traditionally dense in makeup, like a brownie.

Chicken and Vegetable Ramen from Minca

Chicken and Vegetable Ramen from Minca

I’m pleased I was able to scrounge up at least one photo of a savory item from my recent gastronomical adventures. Shown above is the fabulous bowl of ramen I had from Minca in the East Village. I opted for the veggie-packed ramen, which to Minca‘s cooks apparently meant including an entire head of lettuce. Fortunately, beneath all that roughage was a deeply rich chicken broth with a hardboiled egg, an assortment of vegetables, and pieces of thinly sliced chicken. It was an umami-bomb, and I mean that in the best way possible. This was probably one of my favorite meals in the past month or so — simple fare but cooked expertly, and pretty inexpensive to boot. Although I personally prefer non-pork based ramen, Minca offers a wide range of soups from vegetarian to all the pig a person could want. Heads up, though — like a lot of ramen joints, Minca is cash only.

2012-12-30 19.14.56

Much like my love for the miniature, I also have a deep affection for holiday-themed versions of food. So despite it being well past Christmas when I baked this, I had to pick up the Nestle Holiday Baking Bits (aka red and green semisweet chocolate chips) that were on sale at Stop and Shop. C’mon — Christmas themed AND on sale? How could I resist? The monstrosity above was made for a New Year’s Party: Magic Bars/Seven Layer Bars/Munchies — whatever you want to call them, they involved graham cracker crumbs, sweetened condensed milk, chocolate, butterscotch and white chocolate chips, shredded coconut, and Heath bar pieces. Let’s just say they were well-received.

Last, but not least, a picture from my recent visit to Salvation Taco. Although I decided to enjoy the meal sans compulsive photographing, I just had to share my last cocktail. Salvation Taco is the latest project from April Bloomfield and Ken Friedman, the people behind the restaurant in the Breslin Hotel (great, but expensive brunch) and the Spotted Pig (supposedly a fantastic burger, but I’ve yet to make it there). Salvation Taco is a lounge/restaurant in the Pod 39 Hotel in Midtown, and although its over-the-top “hip” vibe is a little out of place in the mild-mannered just south of Grand Central neighborhood, I found the food and drinks to be playful and innovative. My favorite taco by far was the least taco-ish on the menu — ground Moroccan lamb served on a tiny piece of naan. My first cocktail was the “Fly By Night,” a mixture of “gin, lemon juice, cinnamon-vanilla bean, orange blossom, sea salt,” and came in a normal glass. But when I ordered the “5 Island Horchata,” which is listed as “5 island rum, coconut horchata, cold-brewed coffee, fernet-vallet, cinnamon and vanilla,” the waitress neglected to inform me of how my cocktail would be delivered:

Yup, in a parrot.

Yup, in a parrot.

It was a great drink, if a little on the heavy side. It ended up tasting mostly like a rum and coffee flavored slushy, which I was happy to slurp down, but left a bit of a snowball-esque lump in my stomach afterwards. Regardless, it was worth it, if only because I can now say, “why yes, I have had a cocktail out of a ceramic bird.” You know, in case that ever comes up.

I leave you with one last tidbit from my kitchen. Between Winter Restaurant Week and the Superbowl, there seems to a lot of serious eating in my near future. Of course I’m trying to be virtuous and eat salads and veggies where I can, but I did just get a cast iron skillet, and there’s really only one way to properly break that bad boy in:

2013-01-27 14.35.00

AW YEAH, GIANT SKILLET COOKIE. And yes, those are some leftover Nestle Holiday Baking Bits. Like I said, they were on sale!

 

Radegast Hall & Biergarten

113 N 3rd St, Brooklyn

radegasthall.com

Momofuku Milk Bar

Various locations in Manhattan and Brooklyn

milkbarstore.com

Vegan Divas

1437 First Avenue, (between 75th and 74th Street)

http://www.thevegandivas.com

Minca

536 E 5th St.

Salvation Taco

Pod 39 Hotel, 145 E 39th St

salvationtaco.com