Trestle on Tenth

The Chelsea restaurant Trestle on Tenth opened this summer with a “press juggernaut” behind it, but early reviews were mixed. I was intrigued enough to give it a try, but after a dismal performance, I won’t be back.

Lesson #1: Sometimes, you should just trust Frank Bruni. He described an oxtail and pig’s foot terrine as “gelatinous and unfocused.” I thought it tasted like a slice of supermarket head cheese. It comes with what purports to be housemade mustard, but might as well be Grey Poupon.

Lesson #2: Sometimes, you just can’t trust Frank Bruni. He loved the saddle of lamb, and I must admit it looks terrific, with a generous lobe of fat surrounding the meat.  But my friend’s lamb was cold, and mine was barely lukewarm. We sent them back. They returned at the correct temperature, but the dull gravy was about what you’d expect at a diner—except that a diner would include mashed potatoes and would only charge you $8.95 for it. The greens it came with were inedible. I found my plate had too much salt, while my friend found too little of it.

Another Bruni recommendation was the side dish of gratinéed pizokel, with onions and gruyere. It also came lukewarm, and tasted like cafeteria food. We sent it back too for reheating.

Not everything misfired. My friend liked the salad of butter lettuce, bacon, and buttermilk dressing. The bread service was also good, with a vat of soft butter, though alas no butter knives to spread it with. The wine list has been much praised, and we were pleased with a cabernet franc at around $40.

After all that went wrong, a restaurant serious about service would offer to comp a dessert or an after-dinner drink. Perhaps a manager would come over to apologize? Truthfully, we were eager to get out of there, but it would have been a show of good faith. However, nothing further was said. We paid up and headed out to Room 4 Dessert, and a far more pleaseant experience.

Trestle on Tenth (242 Tenth Avenue at 24th Street, Chelsea)

Food: dismal
Service: mediocre
Ambiance: sue the decorator
Overall: dismal

Room 4 Dessert

Note: Room 4 Dessert closed in June 2007, after a spat between Will Goldfarb and his investors. Goldfarb originally stated that he would re-open elsewhere, but for now he seems to be content with consulting engagements without having a place of his own.

*

Will Goldfarb has made a name as the mad scientist of desserts, cooking up kooky but delightful sugar rushes at such restaurants as Papillon and Cru. Neither the Times nor the Post liked his creations at Cru, but he took some time off, had a baby, and resurfaced with his own dessert bar in SoHo, Room 4 Dessert. And this time, the Times was smitten.

The wonderful thing about it is that Goldfarb doesn’t have to subsume his vision to somebody else’s concept. The drawback is that diners have to get there from someplace else. So far, it seems to be working. My friend and I dropped by after dinner Friday night at nearby Peasant, only to be told there was a 40-minute wait at 10:00 p.m. The next night, after a dismal meal at the much-farther-away Trestle on Tenth, we gave it one more try, and luckily there were a couple of seats free.

The restaurant occupies a long, narrow storefront. Signage is subtle, and you could easily miss it. Inside, it’s probably 100 feet deep, but so narrow that an NBA player could stretch his arms and touch both side walls. All seating is at the bar. On the menu, which changes regularly, every category begins with “Room 4,” as in “Room 4 Dessert Glass,” “Room 4 Alcohol,” “Room 4 Sweet Wine,” and so forth. 

Desserts at R4D have funky names like “indecent proposal” and “laissez pear.” Individual desserts are $10 each, while tasting plates of four selections are $14 each.  My friend tried “choc ’n’ awe,” a four-dessert tasting of white chocolate cake, cacau mousse, sucree safranee with chocolate cream, and chocolate ice cream. I had bites of each; the mousse and the cake were particularly decadent.

I had “virtual mauritius,” which came with a brown sugar creamy, little pieces of green mango, a iogurt biscuit, and whipped frozen carrot puree. (I am using Goldfarb’s spellings in each case.) The connection to Mauritius was lost on me, but the “iogurt biscuit” was the best of the bunch, closely followed by the creamy brown sugar. The pieces of green mango were cut too small and were rather annoying.

There’s a variety of wine and hard liquor pairings recommended for every dessert. I had a drink called mar.ti.ni ($15), which is what it sounds like, and my friend had champagne ($14). Other drinks have names like “who says cali can’t age” and “hey man, nice priorat.”

Goldfarb prepares most of the desserts himself. When he came over to serve us, I introduced myself by my eGullet handle, and we had a nice chat about the restaurant. When I told him we were turned away the night before, he replied wryly, “You should have complained to the owner.” We talked about his baby girl too, and he brought over a stack of photos. Later, he comped us  a “tootsie roll” (warm chcolate praline mousse, truffled streusel ‘sex panther’, raisins, and tequilla fluid), which was terrific. You couldn’t make this stuff up.

Room 4 Dessert is an expensive indulgence. With two tasting plates at $14 each, and drinks at $14–15, the bill was $57 before tax and tip. For the record, individual desserts have gone up by $1, and tasting plates $2, since the Times review came out in February. The liquor is particularly expensive. We found it a luxury well worth it—but a luxury nonetheless.

Room 4 Dessert (17 Cleveland Place between Spring and Kenmare Streets, SoHo)

Dessert: **
Service: **
Ambiance: *½
Overall: **

Peasant

The Italian restaurant Peasant is charming and delightful. Open kitchens are no longer a novelty, but no open kitchen contributes more to a restaurant’s atmosphere as the one at Peasant. The raw, rustic aroma of its wood-burning stoves make you forget you’re in New York City.

The menu is entirely in Italian, and even seasoned diners will need a translation. (Anyone know the Italian word for cuttlefish?) The knowledgeable server (from New Zealand!) happily explained the menu all night long, but it’s a lot to keep straight in your head. We wondered why they don’t just print the translations on the menu itself, which would save both diners and servers a lot of trouble. The menu is printed on distressed paper, meant to look like it’s an ancient relic.

To start, I did indeed have the cuttlefish, which came in a super-heated cast-iron skillet. Bathed in vegetables and spices, it was delightful. For the main course, I tried an off-menu special, the suckling pig liver, which was tender and expertly prepared. My friend had the osso buco, of which I had a taste. It was about as flavorful as any osso buco I’ve tried.

The bread service came with an overflowing bowl of soft ricotta (but we had to use our appetizer knives to spread it with). It took plenty of self-control to limit ourselves to one slice each.

Dinner for two, with a moderately-priced bottle of wine, came to $133 with tax, before tip.

Peasant (194 Elizabeth Street between Spring and Prince Streets, NoLIta)

Food: **
Service: *½
Ambiance: **
Overall: **

Petrarca Cucina e Vino

The restaurant Arqua has been dishing out solid rustic Italian fare in east TriBeCa for almost twenty years. Bryan Miller’s two-star review, dating from 1990, comes right out of a time warp:

Arqua is out of the way for most fans of Italian food, unless you have business at City Hall or are prosecuting drug dealers in Federal court. Speaking of courts, that artichoke lasagna alone is reason to volunteer for jury duty.

Nowadays, TriBeCa restaurants no longer depend on prosecutors and city contractors to stay in business. Indeed, traffic must be better than ever, because earlier this year Arqua opened a casual cousin across the street, Petrarca Cucina e Vino, an informal restaurant and wine bar.

Miller found Arqua’s wine list over-priced, but Petrarca has an ample number of reasonable selections by the quartino, many priced at $20 or under. You can nurse two glasses out of a quartino, so that’s not bad by today’s standards.

After I ordered some wine, the bartender offered me a selection of bar snacks. I should have been suspicious, because it was clear the other patrons weren’t touching them. Indeed, they were cold, dull, and about ready to become cat food — except that most cats would have the good sense to give them a pass.

The décor is rustic chic, with broad windows, wine bottles on floor-to-ceiling shelves surrounding the room, and comfortable bar stools. There are tables for dinner, but I didn’t examine a menu. I won’t rate a restaurant solely on stale bar snacks, but would note that Frank Bruni wasn’t smitten.

Petrarca Cucina e Vino (34 White Street at Church Street, TriBeCa)

Sushi-A-Go-Go

Note: Sushi-A-Go-Go closed in the fall of 2011.

When you want a quick bite before a concert at Lincoln Center, Sushi-A-Go-Go is certainly worth a look. The brightest spot on an otherwise dreary-looking block, Sushi-A-Go-Go offers perfectly respectable sushi at a price that won’t bust the budget.

Their version of the omakase, a Sushi and Sashimi Tasting for Two ($38), came with at least a dozen different kinds of raw fish and fish rolls, with a minimum of four pieces each (sometimes six). All were competently prepared, and at $19 a person, probably one of the better sushi deals going for the money. Don’t ask for any substitutions, though. A glass of Sake Sangria ($7.50) and a Go-Go Cocktail ($8) were also bargains in a town where any cocktail under $10 seems like a misprint.

Sushi-A-Go-Go is designed to turn tables in a hurry. It seemed like we waited a long time for our sushi platter, and our server was sometimes hard to flag down when we needed her, but in the end we were out of there in about 40 minutes. As one of the few Lincoln Center restaurants you can always get into without a reservation — and also one of the better bargains of the neighborhood — Sushi-A-Go-Go is usually full, as it was last night. The bright orange interior is the perfect antidote to a gloomy autumn evening.

Outdoor dining is available in the summer, but while Sushi-A-Go-Go had already closed its outdoor tables for the season, we were surprised to find them open at other restaurants on the block. It shows what you sometimes have to endure for a pre-theatre meal across the street from Lincoln Center.

Sushi-A-Go-Go (1900 Broadway between 63rd & 64th Streets, Upper West Side)

Food: *
Service: Okay
Ambiance: *
Overall: *

Moskin at the Morgan: A New Standard for Irrelevance

This week, as Frank Bruni recuperates from his Roman Holiday, Julia Moskin filled in with a two-star review of the Morgan Dining Room.

I suppose that if one is going to review a restaurant so far off the radar, the least one can do is award two stars — otherwise, why bother? But the Morgan Dining Room is open only for lunch six days a week, and for dinner just one day a week (Fridays, 5 to 9). And of the recommended dishes…

Green salad, beet salad, ricotta and Swiss chard tart, mussels, striped bass on squash risotto, salmon with baby carrots and parsnips, lobster salad, fruit cobbler, cookie plate

…most are salads or desserts. Of the mussels, striped bass and salmon, all we’re told is that they’re “successful.” All in all, if this is a two-star restaurant — and I’m not saying it couldn’t be — Moskin’s case is rather limp.

Steve Cuozzo of the Post says he doesn’t write reviews any more, but in a piece today called “Messed Western,” he seems to do exactly that, dropping the hammer on Ted Turner’s Montana Grill and Tim Love’s Lonesome Dove Western Bistro. The original Lonesome Dove carries the Zagat #1 food rating in Dallas, so Cuozzo’s review, if true, would be a significant fall from grace. Undeterred by Cuozzo’s review, I’m keeping my reservation at the Lonesome Dove a week from Saturday.

The Little Owl

Note: Click here for a more recent visit to The Little Owl.

*

The food press and the blogosphere have been raving about The Little Owl since it opened in the the West Village in late May. We gave it a try last night, and while we had a thoroughly enjoyable casual meal, we were a tad less enraptured than others who’ve written about it.

I started with an Ahi Tuna appetizer ($10). A seared two-inch square of tuna was served atop a mixed green salad. One cannot complain about the price, but I found the tuna a bit too dry. The dish was missing something. My friend found French Onion Soup ($9) competently prepared.

We both ordered The Pork Chop ($20) that everyone has cheered about. It must be an inch and a half thick before cooking and is served with permesan butter beans and wild dandelion. We were impressed with the powerful seasoning (“cayenne, curry, coriander and cumin” in Frank Bruni’s description), the tenderness, and the impressive swagger of that massive pork chop—probably a custom cut for The Little Owl, as I don’t recall seeing anything like it elsewhere.

News of The Pork Chop (capitalized thus on the menu) has spread far and wide, and I saw plenty of them coming out of the kitchen during our visit. Gravy meatball sliders ($9) are a popular appetizer, but as I knew a heavy pork chop was coming, I didn’t have the appetite to try them.

There are many things to love about The Little Owl. The servers do a terrific job of navigating the small space. Most entrées are under $25, most appetizers under $14. The wine list has plenty of fine bottles under $50 (always my litmus test at this kind of restaurant), as well as a good selection of half-bottles. Despite the constant rush for tables, there were no sign of hints for us to leave, even though it was clear we were done ordering and just wanted to linger over the wine. The check was delivered only after we asked for it.

But the space is awfully cramped. The restaurant allegedly accommodates 28 diners at tables and 5 at the bar, but we saw only 2 at the bar (sitting rather cosily), and couldn’t conceive of where 3 more could go. Our table was more like a cocktail table, and we needed every square inch of it. The bread service was a dull French bread probably made the night before and a dish of olive oil. The décor is fairly plain. Though no reservations were available, a few tables are always available for walk-ins. The receptionist advised that we would probably be seated right away if we arrived at 6:00 p.m.—and we were. Had we arrived a short while later, we probably would not have been.

Frank Bruni awarded two stars to The Little Owl. I suppose one cannot come down too hard on Bruni, as Adam Platt did the same in New York (albeit on a five-star scale). But it still seems to me, as I noted in my Dressler review, that ratings entirely lose their meaning if the same two stars are awarded to The Little Owl and Café Gray. Although I award one star to both Dressler and The Little Owl, we actually liked Dressler a little better.

The Little Owl (90 Bedford Street at Grove Street, West Village)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: Satisfactory
Overall: *

Gigino at Wagner Park

I live quite close by Gigino at Wagner Park, and have always been aware of it. But I was never motivated to go there, perhaps because I assumed there would be nothing special about the food. A friend suggested lunch there today, and I was more than happy for an excuse to check it out.

There are indeed plenty of Italian restaurants in the city that are at least as good as Gigino. But Gigino turns out quite respectable dishes, such as fried polenta on a bed of risotto and chopped sausage, or hearty seafood stew, or a dessert of bread pudding. All of these are available on the three-course prix fixe ($25.99 at lunch, $29.99 at dinner).

The unobstructed view of the Statue of Liberty and New York Harbor is stunning. Although it is almost mid-October, the weather was nice enough to eat outside. The indoor tables face wide picture windows, so the scenery should be worth looking at even after the weather turns.

We were happy with the efficient service.

Gigino at Wagner Park (20 Battery Place at West Street, Financial District)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: *½
Overall: *

STK

The Meatpacking District is surprisingly light on the commodity it’s named for: red meat. There’s the Old Homestead, which has been in the nighborhood since the streets were lined with prostitutes, and Craftsteak, which technically is in Chelsea. Frank’s, a mediocre Italian steakhouse nearboy, is also technically in Chelsea. That leaves the new STK (“ess-tee-kay”) as the only Meatpacking District steakhouse that actually feels like the neighborhood.

A look at the website will have you quickly doubting whether STK is at all serious about, you know, steak. The splash animation begins with the word “SCENE” in white letters on a fucsia background. The word “STEAK” fades in and out; then “SEAFOOD”; then “SALAD.” On the main page:

The bustling bar scene is the centerpiece, the menu is inspired, the DJ creates the sexy vibe and the atmosphere is relaxed.

Party rooms are called “Lillie St. Cyr,” “Do May,” “Tempest Storm” and “Candy Barr.” The design renderings (here, here, here) suggest a restaurant with everything but steak on its mind. All three feature lithe twenty-somethings in short skirts, in what appears to be a moody nightclub setting. From the pictures, it’s not even clear that there’s any actual dining tables. The opening invite does nothing to dispel this impression. It shows a leggy model in a red micro-dress, from behind, holding a cleaver and a steak on a meathook. The caption reads, “Not your daddy’s steakhouse.”

For all that, STK’s menu (PDF) offers much to be thankful for. Steaks come in three categories: small ($18–26), medium ($29–59) and large ($49–74). It’s a welcome change from the typical steakhouse, where your choices are limited to large and humungous. There’s also an ample selection of non-steak entrées ($24–46). By far the most expensive of these is a funky-sounding dish called Surf, Turf & Earth, which includes tuna, black truffles, and foie gras. Salads ($10–18) and appetizers ($11–20) include most of the usual suspects, but foie gras french toast ($20) and shrimp rice krispy’s ($14) sure seem worth a look.

I ordered the bone-in rib steak ($36). It had a strong flavor and was cooked perfectly to the medium rare I’d requested. If it wasn’t the best rib-eye I’ve had, it was certainly superior to the one I had at Porter House NY last week. You can choose from among six steak sauces, such as salsa verde and blue butter, but I chose the house STK Sauce, which added a commendable bit of spice to an already good steak. Although listed in the menu’s “medium” section, at 24 oz. this rib-eye is an impressive hunk of meat. You had better be hungry if you order the Cowboy Rib-Steak (36 oz., $49). The hefty steak knife, by the way, is one of the more impressive specimens I’ve seen. “Be careful,” the server said as he dropped it off.

Side dishes ($9) include many of the usual suspects, but Parmesan Truffle Fries were intriguing enough to be worth a look. They came stacked like lincoln logs, with each fry about half-an-inch square, and about four inches long. I thought perhaps they’d be better if they weren’t quite as thick, but I suspect they’ll be a hit with many diners.

The wine and liquor list is very reasonably priced, with an ample number of bottles under $50. A glass of 10-year tawny port was only $10.

I would normally end my review here, but I want to report on the drama that took place a couple of tables away. A married couple that looked about twenty years too old for the restaurant had both ordered the sirloin ($38). They asked to speak to a manager. “This is the worst steak I’ve had in my life,” the man said. His wife concurred. They practically shoved their plates in the manager’s face, declined her offer to re-do the steaks or send out something else, and asked for the check.

I assumed that was the end of it, but a few minutes later out came the chef, Todd Mark Miller. He introduced himself, explained that he was “new to the project,” and did all but get down on bended knee and beg the couple to allow him to re-do their steaks. Miller also offered to comp a foie gras appetizer, which the couple would not accept. But they did finally agree to accept new steaks, which Miller said he would cook himself.

A short while later, out came Miller with a parade of busboys, with two freshly cooked sirloins (which he again reminded them he cooked himself) and extra side dishes. Miller insisted on waiting till the couple had tasted the steaks, to ensure they were done correctly. For the first time, the man smiled and nodded his head. His satisfaction must have been sincere, because he did finish the steak, and his wife left only a little behind.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a chef do more personally to try to please two difficult customers. It impressed me even more because—well, it seems indelicate to say so, but this couple seemed so out-of-place in the neighborhood. They could tell all their friends to avoid STK, and it wouldn’t really make a difference, insofar as the management’s intended demographic is concerned. But the restaurant was determined to make it right, when they could just as easily have given the couple their check, and forgotten about them.

As the publicity photos suggest, STK does have an unusually large bar space, but there are also two dining rooms and an upper level with four private rooms and a private cocktail area. A rooftop café with a separate menu will open next summer. The rock music sound track is not unreasonably loud. The clientele is generally young. The two women at the table next to me, both about 30, each ordered a blue iceberg lettuce salad and steaks from the “small” portion of the menu. They’re the kind of diners who will love STK, but probably wouldn’t choose a conventional steakhouse.

If my dining experience wasn’t transcendent, it was perfectly solid. Much more of the menu looks to be worth exploring. The scenery is easy on the eyes, and the service is just fine.

STK (26 Little W. 12th Street between Washington & Greenwich Streets, Meatpacking District)

Food: *
Service: *½
Ambiance: *
Overall: *

Return to Aquavit Cafe

My friend and I were wowed by our dinner at Aquavit Cafe in April. The kitchen sent out a bunch of free food, and everything we had was first-rate, so we decided to try it again on Saturday night.

We both decided on the prix fixe ($37), choosing the herring sampler and the Swedish meatballs. I chose the Arctic Circle for dessert. I described these dishes in two earlier reports (here and here), so I won’t repeat myself. This time, there was no free food—not that I had any right to expect any. Service was somewhat less efficient than before.

A $20 wine pairing is available with the prix fixe. The herring sampler came with beer and potato vodka, as in the main dining room. It’s a Swedish tradition, and I can’t complain. But the meatballs came with the most bitter Merlot I’ve ever been served. Didn’t these guys see Sideways? This was an uninspired choice, to say the least. Happily, fizzy dessert wine with our third course washed away the Merlot’s acidic taste.

I continue to like Aquavit Cafe for an offbeat casual dinner. It’s also an excellent date place, as you can actually hear yourself talk—an increasingly rare luxury in Manhattan restaurants.

Aquavit Cafe (65 E 55th St between Park & Madison Aves, East Midtown)

Food: *½
Service: *
Ambiance: **
Overall: *½