The Cellar at Beecher’s: Underground Dining, Top Floor Food

With the floral arrangements and questionably humorous Hallmark cards of Mother’s Day still nipping at our heels, it seems only fitting to take a moment to talk about my own mother. I’ll just come out and say it: I’m a mama’s girl. As the youngest child and only girl in my family, I suppose it’s pretty understandable. Once my mother got over the mania that came with being able to finally buy dresses and Osh Kosh jumpers galore, and I got over my intense resistance to wearing anything without pant legs (I had three older brothers — a bout of tomboyism was inevitable), we settled into a strong relationship that has supported me and shaped me immeasurably ever since. Now I could go and explain how my mother’s work as a writer has enabled me to pursue my own creative projects, or how her openness and generosity (we rock a huge First Seder guestlist) has informed my politics and worldview, but let’s be serious. For this blog I’m going to talk about how my mom taught me to love food.

I am fortunate to have grown up in a family that strove to eat dinner together every night. Because of this, my relationship with food has always been deeply connected to the ideas of unity and community. As we’ve all grown up, exploring new foods and restaurants has become almost a tradition in my household, from tasting menus to new sweet shops (my mother is an unrepentant chocoholic, and my father loves ice cream — surely this explains a lot about me). Not to mention the fact that when all her children were fully grown, my mom finally got the chance to cook dishes outside of the Venn Diagram of hot dogs/tuna fish/taco night. While I’ve certainly enjoyed some of the more refined dishes she’s made for my visits home, but I’ll always have a special place in my heart for the classics that graced our table while I was growing up.

One such staple was macaroni and cheese. Very, very occasionally we would have the Blue Box Kraft version, which I appreciate for its place in Americana (and for its blatant ploy to ensnare dino-obsessed kids like myself with its mascot Cheesasaurus Rex). But my mother’s homestyle mac is a different beast, and much preferred, in my opinion. First things first, my mother employs the larger penne or rigatoni noodles, to better soak up the cheese sauce, which combined Velveeta, American and cheddar cheeses. On top went a few single slices of American cheese, baked to a deep brown crust that nearly verged on burnt. Presented in the same ceramic bowl on each occasion, my family became immediately divided into two camps — those who preferred a serving with the crunchy top, and those who desired the softer bottom layer. My mom’s mac and cheese was tender, saucy rather than gooey, and to this day is my optimal version of mac and cheese.

In all my years of mac and cheese consumption, I have tried plenty of excellent varieties, from lobster to buffalo to truffle. But I had never encountered anything similar to my mother’s rendition. That is, until last week, when Jacob, Mike and I made our third Cheeseplorational inquiry to Beecher’s Handmade Cheese in the Flatiron.

Aw yeah, it’s time to talk about cheese again.

First Impressions:

The entrance on the corner of 20th and Broadway.

The entrance on the corner of 20th and Broadway.

I used to work in the Flatiron District, so I’d passed Beecher’s many times before ever stepping inside. The top floor is occupied by the cheese store, where you can try samples of their cheeses and accompaniments, as well as purchasing smaller snacks and takeout versions of the mac and cheese varieties they sell in their restaurant. There is a small cafe upstairs with seating, which offers views down into the industrial metal vats where some of the cheese is made. This glass-enclosed area takes up nearly a third of the store, and can even be viewed from the windows outside, so passersby can see Beecher’s cheesemongers hard at work.

Inside on the first floor -- you can see the huge metal cheesemaking vats on the left.

Inside on the first floor — you can see the huge metal cheesemaking vats on the left.

Downstairs in The Cellar

Downstairs in The Cellar

Down a quick flight of stairs near the entrance you’ll find The Cellar at Beecher’s, the small lounge and restaurant that offers lunch and dinner menus. The overall atmosphere of The Cellar is restrained yet playful. At the back of the room is a small bar that offers beer, wine, and specialty cocktails (whimsically named for historical personalities connected to the building Beecher’s is housed in). The rest of the tight space is taken up by armchairs with low tables, a larger communal table, and the more common two-tops and four-tops. It’s dimly lit, except for the highlighted paintings on the wall which feature animal and cheese related puns. Much like Murray’s Cheese Bar, I appreciated the sense of whimsy to balance out the intensity of the hip-lounge vibe.

Nothing like a good food pun to whet your appetite.

I like my animal themed paintings like I like my cheese — slightly nutty.

There are only a dozen or so tables in total, and despite our dining on a Monday night, the place was full and bustling. Although I had my eye on one of the neat booths built into the wall, the three of us squeezed into a table technically meant for two. As I glanced behind me, I suddenly realized the brick walls of the lounge were broken up by glass cases of cheese wheels on display. It turns out The Cellar is also where Beecher’s ages its “Flatiron Cheese,” a variety exclusive to the New York location. Talk about a good omen.

Close enough to touch.

Close enough to touch.

The Food:

Both Mike and Jacob had already been to Beecher’s several times (in fact, Jacob lives right around the corner, and one can only resist the siren call so often), so they warned me to stay away from the wine list. Luckily, I was in the mood for something lighter, since I was about to coat my tongue in curds and whey, so I opted for an Allagash White, one of my favorite summer beers. It ended up working perfectly with the meal, refreshing without being assertive and clashing with the food.

Jacob had been talking up Beecher’s “World’s Best Mac and Cheese” for months, so obviously that was the first item we ordered. We then made our way through the small but diverse menu, picking the Burrata & Anjou Pear Salad, the Mushroom Tart, and the Cheesemonger’s Five Cheese Plate. When the food arrived, our waitress had the unexpectedly Tetrise-seque challenge of finagling all the plates onto our already crowded table of glasses and cutlery. While Beecher’s certainly gets credit for cutting down on our wait time by squeezing 3 people into a two-top, it ultimately made things more difficult for the service and our dining.

The Burrata and Anjou ... Salad? Questionably named but certifiably delicious.

The Burrata and Anjou … Salad? Questionably named but certifiably delicious.

The Burrata & Anjou Pear Salad came with sprigs of basil, sea salt, and several pieces of toast. I’d call it more of a deconstructed crostini than a salad, since the bread and burrata dominated more than the basil greens. (Or maybe I just have an overly provincial definition of salad in these wild days of culinary experimentation.) Regardless of naming practices, I found Beecher’s take on burrata to be much more successful than the one we tried at Murray’s Cheese Bar. The plate was presented with alternating slices of pear and burrata, which made it relatively easy to assemble (it would have been even easier if the kitchen had just done the work themselves, but I understand the impulse to avoid toast soggy with fruit/cheese juice. Gross.) The cheese was a little firmer, largely keeping its shape when lifted onto the bread. and the interplay of the crisp, sweet pear with the burrata cut through some of the richness of the cheese. The basil and sea salt worked to keep the dish savory, leading to a real progression of flavors across the tongue with each bite.

The Mushroom Tart -- handcrafted for the umami faithful.

The Mushroom Tart — handcrafted for the umami faithful.

The Mushroom Tart proved to be the unexpected hit dish of the night. Again, the menu’s description was a little misleading — Beecher’s seems to like deconstructing traditional presentations, so what actually ended up on our table was basically a stew of shiitake, crimini, and portabella mushrooms slightly overlapping a singular piece of pie crust. The stew was so intensely mushroomy, I was in fungus heaven, with rich wine-infused flavors that verged on a Marsala sauce. The mushrooms were tender but still had some heft to them, reminding me of the base for a mushroom bisque just before it’s been pureed. As for the crust, it was actually most reminiscent of a biscuit in texture, more crumbly than flaky. I liked the crust, but I would have been just as happy with just a bowl of the mushrooms. I went back for seconds and thirds, and found that the flavors were even more heightened when combined with the creamy sweetness of the sauce from the mac and cheese.

The lady of the hour -- "World's Best" Mac and Cheese.

The lady of the hour — “World’s Best” Mac and Cheese.

Speaking of, the “World’s Best” Mac and Cheese, although sporting a rather ostentatious name, turned out to be pretty damn delicious. As I mentioned earlier, I was struck by how similar Beecher’s approach to the dish was to my mother’s — using penne over elbow macaroni, with a white cheese sauce that was creamy rather than sticky. Beecher’s didn’t fully broil the top, which I was perfectly fine with, as a lifelong member of the pro-mac-underside club. I believe Beecher’s uses their flagship cheese, a cow’s milk variety of white American cheddar, mild with just a hint of tang that is barely detectable in their Mac and Cheese. It was served in a basic oval dish, and I appreciated the homestyle approach, not only for nostalgic reasons, but for how it fit into the overall vibe of The Cellar — down to earth but still informed. Based on the few cheese-centric restaurants I’ve been to, it seems like the each of the waitstaffs really love working at their restaurants. I can’t blame them, I’m pretty sure I’d be plenty happy surrounded by cheese and wine all day.

The Cheesemonger's Five Cheese Plate -- a strong showing with some highs and lows.

The Cheesemonger’s Five Cheese Plate — a strong showing with some highs and lows.

Last, but far from least, was the Cheesemonger’s Five Cheese Plate. In the chaos of trying to fit all of our dishes on the table, our waitress accidentally neglected to tell us which cheeses had been monged for our enjoyment. We managed to flag her down a few moments later for the full details. While I grabbed a takeaway menu on my way out of Beecher’s (including the cheeses offered at The Cellar), Artisanal still holds top prize for literally giving us a guide to our cheese plate. So based on my slightly hazy memories and the menu, here are the cheeses I believe we tried, clockwise from the top right: Pt. Reyes Cheese Co., Original Blue, cow, CA; Vermont Creamery, Bijou, goat, VT; Holland’s Family Cheese, Marieke Gouda, cow, WI; Cowgirl Creamery, Red Hawk, cow, CA; VT Shepherd, Queso del Invierno, sheep & cow, VT.

Like Murray’s the cheese and accompaniments were set out on a slate board, separated by pairing. I really liked the attention to detail that came with the pairing of each cheese with specific item, rather than giving us “some things that generally go well with lots of cheese.” The only general addition was the crackers, which were perfectly pleasant if unremarkable in flavor. Of the cheeses, the only one I’d tried before was Cowgirl Creamery’s Red Hawk, during a vacation in Napa a few years ago. I was very excited to see it on the menu, since it was one of the best cheeses I tasted in California (yes, my vacation involved a lot of cheese — no one is surprised), and remains one of my favorites to this day. I’ve had trouble finding Cowgirl’s products here in NY, so discovering that Beecher’s carries at least Red Hawk was fantastic news. Here’s hoping they have some other varieties as well.

Red Hawk is a rich cheese, smooth and soft to the point of being somewhat spreadable without being runny. It has a salty, earthy flavor, it was paired excellently with a grapefruit marmalade.

As with my previous cheese posts, I was happiest with the really funky cheeses, so I thought the Original Blue made a strong showing. This cheese is a pretty bold blue, so I’d recommend delaying your hot makeout sessions unless pairing it with Listerine. Perhaps in acknowledgment of a blue cheese lover’s likely singledom, Beecher’s chose to pair itwith fig jam, which showed up twice on our cheese plate (more successfully here than with the gouda).

The Marieke Gouda was a nice compromise between the attributes of young and older goudas. It had the buttery, caramel flavor of and older gouda, but was slightly softer than the chunky, dry and hard aged variety. Apparently, this cheese just won top prize at the 2013 US Championship Cheese Contest, and while I enjoyed it, I think I personally prefer the super-aged, crusty crystallized and crumbly type of gouda. The Marieke was also paired with the fig jam, which I didn’t think did much for the cheese.

The Queso del Invierno was my least favorite — I found it too mild in flavor. There was nothing bad about it, but I thought it really worked best as a vehicle for the candied nuts that were paired with it. I’m a little surprised, because it was the only cheese made of blended milks on our plate, but I could see it working best grated into a salad, or even to bolster the flavor of a macaroni and cheese.

My favorite cheese of the night was the Bijou Goat Cheese. It’s semi-soft to soft cheese, similar in texture to Red Hawk, holding its overall structure but featuring a paste-like interior. It had that grassy, goat cheese flavor with a good tang and some underlying sweetness, and came with honey with some honeycomb mixed into it. The honey perfectly complemented the cheese, heightening the sweetness while allowing the pungent goaty taste to still shine through.

Final Thoughts:

Now that I’ve been to a handful of cheese shops and restaurants in New York, I feel like I’m starting to zero in on the features that matter to me the most. While I still think that Artisanal had the best cheese plate and service, my meal at Beecher’s was more enjoyable on a dish by dish basis. A common thread in my most positive restaurant experiences (at least on this blog) is the low-key tone of the restaurants. I’d rather have a fun dining experience at a place with mediocre food than feel uncomfortable at an overly pretentious restaurant that serves the best Chilean Sea Bass you’ve ever tasted. The Cellar at Beecher’s took the cute milk-puns on the wall at Murray’s Cheese Bar and filled their lounge with it. The best part is that they’re not immediately apparent — a glance at the paintings might lead you to think they were generic art prints, but if you stop and actually look at them, you realize how silly the content is. The Cellar has the veneer of cool and classy, but underneath is the soul of the cheese nerds who want to share their curdly passion with you.

I’m bound to go back for the mushroom tart alone, but Beecher’s also offers a few more adventurous types of mac and cheese on The Cellar’s menu (curried cauliflower anyone?), so I’ll have to try out these parallel universe versions of my mother’s dish. If you’re game for a little tongue-in-cheek humor with a strong menu of cheesy delights, check out The Cellar. After all, I can’t invite everyone to my mother’s house for mac and cheese, so you might as well get the next best thing.

The Cellar at Beecher’s Handmade Cheese

Corner of Broadway & 20th St.

http://www.beechershandmadecheese.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.