Jean Georges

It took me a while to become a fan of Jean Georges. It’s not that I disliked it; but I didn’t quite get the case for four stars. After my fourth visit, last night, I’m smitten. It’s not that every course was uniformly superb: a couple of items wobbled a bit, and wouldn’t earn four stars on their own. But the experience on the whole is among the best that New York City has to offer.

Although no one goes to a four-star restaurant seeking bargains, it’s worth noting that the four-course prix fixe at Jean Georges ($98) is lower than that of Daniel (three courses, $105), Le Bernardin (four courses, $112), Eleven Madison Park (four courses, $125), or Per Se (nine courses, $275). And Jean Georges was available on OpenTable at 8:00 p.m. on a Tuesday evening with under a week’s notice. The others weren’t.

Vongerichten’s cuisine at its best, interpreted nowadays by Chef de Cuisine Mark Lapico, marries sweet and sour flavors in ways that make you smile. It’s not that no one else has a good crab cake, but no one pairs it with a pink peppercorn mustard and exotic fruits that make such a vivid impression.

I was gratified to see a smattering of wines under $50 — not a ton of them, but you often don’t see any at a place this expensive. At a restaurant like Jean Georges, you are pretty much assured that nothing they serve is plonk. A 2006 Trousseau Lornet from Jura was only $46, and it was one of the most enjoyable wines we’ve had in quite a while. The Jura wines are practically always worthwhile, and because few patrons order them, they’re usually a bargain.

I’m going to keep the food comments to a minimum, and let the photos do most of the talking.

First up was a trio of amuses-bouches (above left) — I believe a black truffle fritter (12:00), fluke sashimi (4:00) and a hot cucumber soup (10:00). Our appetizers were the Santa Barbara Sea Urchin (above right) with jalapeno and yuzu on black bread; and a Jean Georges classic, the Foie Gras Brulee (below left) with fig jam.

As it was my birthday, we sprang for the White Truffle Rissoto ($35pp), which was as intense as any truffle dish I’ve had.

The fish courses were perhaps the best examples of the kitchen’s talent for flavor combinations: the Turbot (above left) with château Chalon Sauce; and the Crispy Crab (above right) with pink peppercorn mustard and exotic fruits.

Parmesan Crusted Organic Chicken (above left) with artichoke, basil, and lemon butter, was just a shade on the dry side, but nevertheless very good. Maine Lobster ($15 supplement, above right) came with perfect black truffle gnocchi and a fragrant herbal broth.

Jean Georges may have the best dessert program of the four-star places, given that each dessert is actually a quartet. We had the Late Harvest (above left) and Chocolate (above right).

The “birthday cake” (more like a flan) was obviously a comped extra; but beyond that was a blaze of petits fours and house-made marshmallows that a party double our size couldn’t have finished.

We were seated at one of the two alcove tables, which the restaurant generally reserves for VIPs or special-occasion guests (I think we were the latter) — clearly the best place to sit, if you can get it. Service was superb.

Jean Georges (1 Central Park West at 60th Street, Upper West Side)

Cuisine: Modern French with Asian accents, beautifully executed
Service: Elegant and luxurious
Ambiance: A comfortable room in soft biege with views of Central Park

Rating: ★★★★

MPD

Note: MPD closed in 2012. The space is now Bubby’s High Line.

*

Here is one big hint that the new restaurant MPD probably wasn’t built for guys like me: I thought the name stood for Meatpacking District.

Florence Fabricant of the Times set me straight: it’s Mon Petit Déjeuner, which is French for my breakfast. The restaurant does not currently serve breakfast (the website indicates it eventually will), and how many of its likely patrons knew that anyway?

Perhaps the name is meant to be taken ironically. After a night of club-hopping, regulars will feel like breakfast, and MPD will be there for them.

MPD’s backers, Derek and Daniel Koch, are known mainly as nightlife mavens. They also have an investment from the Ginza Project, the Russians behind Mari Vanna. A French bistro might not be what you expected from this crew.

MPD is a much better restaurant than it needs to be. It won’t put Pastis out of business, although perhaps it deserves to. It serves solid bistro fare in a pretty room that that, unlike many in the area, doesn’t seem over-built. Service is civilized. You can carry on a conversation, you won’t be sitting in your neighbor’s lap, and you won’t be overrun with tourists.

Those things are all worth cheering about.

Prices are in a wide range, but a shade on the high side, with appetizers $9–19 (caviar service, $215), entrées $19–38, and sides $7–9.

I am assuming the bread basket was outsourced, but the dinner rolls were just fine, served with a plate of olive oil, into which the restaurant’s name had been “drawn” (see photo).

Both dishes I tried were what you want French bistro food to be: hearty, flavorful, solidly prepared. I loved the pork confit ($14; above left) with pickled cauliflower—nothing complicated, but the pork was nicely done. Crab Cakes Benedict ($27; above right) were offered as a special; perhaps another pun on the breakfast theme. I don’t remember seeing that before as a dinner entrée. I would be happy to have it again.

At 6:30 p.m. on a Friday evening, the restaurant was practically empty, except for the small bar up front. There were only three or four parties seated by the time I left, but it was clearly a very early hour for the area. Service was attentive, but it is not difficult to look after the only customer in the restaurant. There were a lot of staff on the floor; presumably, the “party” gets started much later on.

In a neighborhood where restaurants tend to be more functional than useful, MPD is a worthy addition. You’re not likely to find me there to sweat off a hangover. As a drop-in place after work, I’d be happy to add it to my rotation.

MPD (73 Gansevoort Street at Washington Street, Meatpacking District)

Food: ★
Service: ★
Ambiance: ★★
Overall: ★

Salon Millesime

Millesime is the French seafood restaurant that will take over the old Country space in the Carleton Hotel. The fine dining room on the gorgeous second floor is slated for a vague “fall” opening (which means anytime in the next year). The former Café, now called “Salon Millesime,” is open now.

The challenges here are enormous, starting with a name nobody can pronounce (roughly, it’s MEEL-eh ZEEM-eh). And these aren’t the best times for high-end French food, which most of the city’s critics don’t understand, especially coming from a chef (Laurent Manrique) who made his name on the left coast. New York is tough, tough, tough, on outsiders.

The location is problematic too, a dead-zone for foot traffic. With enough buzz, you can attract an audience just about anywhere; getting noticed is the hard part. The “Salon” was sparsely populated at 6:30 p.m. on a Friday evening. Perhaps it gets more lively later on. Then again, maybe the word simply hasn’t gotten out.

The spectacular bi-level space that David Rockwell designed for Country is mostly intact, except that the bar in the middle of what was the café, has been removed in favor of a raised platform with a piano, where live music will be heard many evenings. (The space still has two other bars.) On Friday night, the band was just getting set up at around 7:30 p.m., when we were getting ready to leave.

The menu downstairs consists mainly of sandwiches and bar snacks, none more than $16, and they are much better than one has any right to expect. We tried five items, and there wasn’t a dud among them.

Crispy bacon ($4; left) was one of the best bar snacks I’ve tried all year, baked like a hard cracker, loaded with spices, and served in a basket.

 

Tuna tartare ($15; above left) comes with Moroccan spices, dates, almonds, and lemon, which the server mixes tableside. It was just fine, but probably the most pedestrian dish we tried. Pork Belly Lollipops ($14; above right) come on skewers with a bracing red pepper relish.

 

The menu didn’t identify the mix of seasonings and spices that elevated a Foie Gras Terrine ($16; above left), well above most others served in town. It was served with warm, toasted country bread and the two craziest spreading knives you’ll ever see. Profiteroles (above right) were wonderful, and at $7 the bargain of the evening.

The wine list is nothing to write home about, as the Salon no doubt expects to make most of its money on mixed drinks. A recent vintage VdP Syrah was fine, but at $58 over-priced for the space. Service was much more attentive and polished than I expected in lounge environment.

The menu at Salon Millesime is too limited to warrant a full review, but everything we tried was top-notch, and that does not happen by accident. If the staff can do as well in the main dining room, Millesime ought to be excellent. The question is, who will notice?

Salon Millesime (90 Madison Avenue at 29th Street, Gramercy/Flatiron)

Initiale

We chose Restaurant Initiale for our second big meal in Quebec City. Like le Saint-Amour, which I wrote about in a previous post, Initiale was at or near the top of every Quebec dining guide I looked at.

Located in a former bank, the forty-seat dining room is decorated in sedate earth tones, with plenty of space between tables. The website describes it as “sobre [sic] and classical.” In New York, Per Se is perhaps the closest thing to it, but here there is no panoramic view of Central Park (or of anything).

A couple of weeks ago, New York Times critic Sam Sifton featured a letter from a clueless twit named Brian who criticized restaurants like Eleven Madison Park and Momofuku Ko because, “when a restaurant is too focused on food you lose passion and soul.”

Brian is full of crap, starting with his false dichotomy that a focus on food is inconsistent with “passion and soul.” I lost him at “foodies,” as in: “by catering to ‘foodies’ these restaurants have become boring. Foodies as diners are way too concerned with the food.”

I don’t want to spend any more time on Brian’s limitations, except to say: Initiale isn’t Brian’s kind of restaurant. But it sure was ours. We didn’t spend our whole meal reverently “studying” the food. But each course in our long tasting menu commanded attention, as exceptional food should.

At dinner, there is a choice among three “thematic menus” (three courses plus amuses for CA$69): Le Maratime, Produit Volaillé, or Le Goût du Chef; or, a long tasting menu at $125.

The cooking here was more precise, technical, and elaborate, than at le Saint-Amour. The chef, Yvan Lebrun, has a particular knack for integrating fruits and vegetables into a dish, rather than just serving them on the side, or as a garnish. As in the earlier review, I’m going to quote from the menu and, for the most part, let the photos speak for themselves.

 

1. Amuses bouches (above left)

2. Princess scallops three ways: red pepper-gremolata and nougatine (above right)

 

3. Turnip and armillaires mushrooms; char et broth aux pousse de sapin et garlic flower (both above)

 

4. Lobster and veal escalopinette bolognaise; pasta, tuile of coral, and lobster vinaigrette à la diable (both above). We were especially struck by the pairing of lobster and veal, which is one of those “you wouldn’t think it would work, but it does” kind of dishes.

 

5. Warm escalope of duck liver; beet crumble, apples, touch of buckthorn berry and leaves of tetragone (above left)

6. Roasted lamb from le Bas du Fleuve; grilled pepper and spinach, épigramme with mustard and yellow haricot beignet and haricots coco (above right). The cigar-shaped packet above the lamb chop itself is the chef’s take on a spring roll with lamb confit inside of it.

 

7. Cheese from Quebec: a) Rutabega velouté, pieces of Blue Elisabeth and leaves of sage (above left); b) Green bread-onion and Cap-Rond, wild ginger parfait glace and buckwheat (above right)

 

8) Dans les pommes (above left); 9) Mignardise (above right)

The service was just about flawless. After the 12,000-bottle wine cellar at le Saint-Amour, the wine list here seemed more pedestrian—certainly more than adequate for the surroundings, but not notable in itself.

Were it in New York, Initiale would be one of the city’s top handful of restaurants. It is remarkable that a much smaller city can keep such a place in business. Gastro-tourism alone can’t explain it, given that the city’s peak season is rather short. One must assume that the locals know fine food and aren’t shy about paying for it. Good for them!

Restaurant Initiale (54, rue St-Pierre, Quebec City)

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

Restaurant le Saint-Amour

A recent weekend trip to Quebec City presented a dilemma: with just two evenings available, where to dine? Compared to Montreal, where we’ve been twice, the options here are more compelling, and it was difficult to choose.

Restaurant le Saint-Amour caught my eye due to the focus on foie gras and seasonal game. I had not realized there was a 12,000-bottle wine list, mostly French, which stole the show. This must surely be one of the top handful of French wine lists outside France itself. Offering detailed maps of each wine-growing region is not a new idea, but the level of detail here went far beyond anything I’ve seen. I would return for that wine list, even if they served only breadcrumbs to go along with it.

The menu is expensive; there is no getting around that, with entrées running from CA$42–53. (A Canadian dollar is worth only slightly less than a U. S. dollar.) The “Discovery menu,” with eight courses for CA$115, seemed like the way to go. The food was excellent, with one exception, to be covered below. For the most part, I’ll give brief descriptions and let the photos speak for themselves.

 

1. Mise en bouche trilogy: caviar, oyster, and snowcrab.

2. Duck foie gras: “classic” terrine with armagnac; “natural” candied with paradixe pepper; blackcurrant reduction from Île d’Orléans. (Note: The à la carte menu has a foie gras “fantasy” dish, prepared seven ways, for $36.)

 

3. Lobster bisque: sliced scallop; corral and vanilla sabayon. This was the one dud, as the soup tasted chalky, and it was an odd decision to serve lobster for two courses in a row.

4. “La Gaspésie” lobster: grated crackling fennel, citrus cream sauce.

 

5. Piglet from Turlo farm: seared girolles; white truffle oil sauce.

6. Fine Québec cheeses: Anicet honey, dried fruit and nuts

 

7. Cocoa Grand Cru: flexible ganache, chocolate consommé, raspberry and lemon iced yogurt.

8. Crème brûlée (not pictured)

The main dining room resembles an art deco garden, with a soaring 35-foot ceiling and bright painted wood panels. The service was excellent, save for a couple of minor glitches (silverware not replaced; that sort of thing) that did not detract from the experience. The wine list is a Francophile’s wet dream, and the food very nearly lives up to it.

Restaurant le Saint-Amour (48, rue Sainte-Ursule, Vieux Québec)

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

Lina Frey

Note: Lina Frey closed in October 2012.

*

The gritty block on Houston Street that is home to Katz’s Delicatessen, is not where I would expect to find a new French bistro. Lina Frey (named for the owner’s grandma) opened there in June. With late hours and a menu designed for snacking, it’s perfectly situated for revelers to stagger into after pounding the club scenes in the East Village to the north, or the Lower East Side to the south.

If you show up sober, and at a civilized dinner hour, you will find Lina Frey uncrowded, the French food surprisingly good and amazingly cheap. Dinner and drinks came in at under $100, including tax and tip. There isn’t a thing on the menu over $12; most items are $8 or less. What’s surprising is not that there would be a cheap eats joint on Houston Street, but that it would be French, a cuisine that does not usually come to mind when you envision such a place.

When you see these prices, you quickly realize that these plates can’t be full-size, a fact the server didn’t disclose. Nevertheless, it’s not the usual tapas gimmick, where seemingly cheap prices are offset by the need to order double the amount. Six plates to share was ample for us, but even if we’d ordered a few more—the server made no attempt to upsell us—the meal would have remained shockingly inexpensive.

New York Journal’s camera is on the fritz—quelle domage!—so we’ll have to make do with a verbal description. Frisée aux lardons ($6) was a lovely salad. Zucchini & carrot ($5) was slightly more pedestrian, with a cilantro lime honey vinagrette.

Lamb chops ($12) were thick and hearty, with a tart honey mustard glaze. Marinated hangar steak ($9) was just a shade on the tough side, probably due to the source, not its preparation, which was just fine. Haricots vert with caramelized shallots ($4) was the best green bean dish I’ve had in a long time. The same price fetched a bucket of addictive hand-cut fries.

There were three flavors of excellent house-made sangria (pear, mango, and the traditional red), and that’s all we drank. The wine list, as you’d expect, is just functional.

All of the dishes were presented at once, which seemed like an odd service choice: the salads, which required no cooking, should have been delivered earlier. The kitchen here marches to the beat of its own drummer. We asked for an order of the Gratin Dauphinois, and the server said, “It isn’t ready yet.” We wondered, at 8:00 p.m. on a Saturday evening, exactly when they thought it ought to be ready? There were a couple of other minor service issues—earnest and friendly, but occasionally forgetful—that aren’t worth mentioning at a place where the vibe is so casual.

There is plenty of space in the dining room, but it wasn’t close to full. We suspect that their rush comes much later in the evening. (They’re open for breakfast, lunch, and brunch too.) The post-industrial décor is of a piece with the neighborhood. On nice evenings—there may not be many of those left—the front windows are wide open, as they were on Saturday. There is also a huge retractable skylight, which was closed.

This is by no means destination cuisine, but it is very well done, especially at the price: an unexpected little gem.

Lina Frey (201 E. Houston St. between Ludlow & Orchard Streets, Lower East Side)

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

Café Boulud

 

Last week I paid a return visit to Café Boulud, my first since a renovation last year that brightened up the main dining room and added a cocktail lounge called Bar Pleiades.

As it has been from the beginning, the menu is in four sections: La Tradition, La Saison, Le Potager, and Le Voyage, as well as a separate printed list of daily specials. After two prior visits (here, here), I finally learned my lesson:

Order Anything but Le Voyage!

The only really disappointing dishes I have ever had here, have been from Le Voyage. Avoid them and you will have a happy experience. This was the best meal I have had at Café Boulud.

Full disclosure: my mom and I received a version of the VIP treatment, with a triple amuse-bouche (left), a comped mid-course, and a comped dessert. Perhaps the staff recognized my name, but I have never received extras at any of Boulud’s other restaurants.

For whatever the reason, service was superb—practically clairvoyant—but no amount of pampering could create excellent food unless the kitchen is already capable of it. Which it clearly is.

 

To strart, my mom had the oysters ($21), while I had the Jersey Corn Agnoloti ($18), with flavors wickedly fresh and vibrant. The kitchen comped a bright, colorful Heirloom Tomato Salad (below).

 

I love the wine list at Café Boulud. You can spend a whole paycheck, if you want to, but there is more variety under $100 than at just about any other restaurant in its class. There is still a whole page of wines under $60, but I decided to spend a bit more than that—a 2002 Bernadotte, a comparative bargain at $80, but still more than we normally spend. Not many restaurants right now have any 2002 Bordeaux at that price. We ordered it before the food (the only reliable strategy), and the sommelier offered to decant it for us, giving the wine time to bloom.

 

I can’t begin to describe the excellent and beautifully plated entrées in detail—they were far too complex for that, and the joy of being an amateur blogger is that I don’t have to. (If I were Sam Sifton, I’d need to call the chef and write down every ingredient, for fear of misstating one.) So go, and order them: cherry-glazed duck ($38; above left) and rabbit three ways ($37; above right).

 

Goat’s milk sorbet ($10; left) was a fulfilling, uncomplicated way to end the evening. The kitchen comped an extra scoop for my mom, along with a “fruit soup” (above right) that was somewhat underwhelming. We did our best to lay off of the traditional beignets that come as petits-fours, but resistance was futile.

Frank Bruni once said that Café Boulud was his favorite of the Boulud restaurants. It took me a while to see why. Daniel, the flagship, is a formal dress-up evening, and I’ve never quite had the feeling that it lived up to its price point. The other three (DB Bistro Moderne, Bar Boulud, and DBGB) are all very good, and I enjoy them, but they are casual, quick-bite places. (Two of the three are dominated by pre- and post-theater business.)

Café Boulud is fancy enough to make you feel special, but casual enough that you don’t need an occasion to dine here. The restaurant used to be booked solid weeks in advance, virtually precluding an impulse visit, unless you were a regular. They’re still doing fine, but the reservation book has loosened up, and there’s even the occasional 1,000-point booking on OpenTable. We should go more often.

Café Boulud (20 E. 76th St. between Fifth & Madison Avenues, Upper East Side)

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

Taureau

One-dish restaurants are all the rage, so why not all-fondue, all-the-time? As of three months ago, you can have it at Taureau in the East Village.

When we say “all-fondue,” we’re not kidding. To paraphrase W. S. Gilbert: fondue for starter, fondue for entrée, fondue for dessert—to have it supposed that you care for nothing but fondue, and that you would consider yourself insulted if anything but fondue were offered to you—how would you like that?

Well, you might expect fondue’s charms to wane over the course of a meal, but chef Didier Pawlicki mines enough from the theme to keep it exciting—at least for one visit. I cannot imagine it becoming anyone’s neighborhood go-to place, but for occasions ranging from romantic twosomes to large parties, it is already a hit. There’s nothing like cooking raw meat in a shared pot of boiling oil to bring people closer.

Like the same chef’s La Sirène, it’s the barest slip of a space, seating only 38. Each table has a built-in convection burner, leaving very little room to spare.

It is also BYOB, and at least for now, cash-only. If you don’t know the policy or forget the wine at home (as I did), the liquor store and Citibank are only a few blocks away.

The most straightforward ordering strategy is to choose one of two prix fixes, at either $37 or $57 per person, with a minimum of two. (Practically everything served here requires at least two people.) Either way, you get cheese fondue to start, meat fondue as the main course, and chocolate fondue for dessert. There’s still a dizzying array of choices (more offered at the higher price)—which cheese? what kind of oil? what chocolate? You could certainly eat here half-a-dozen times without exhausting the menu.

All of this (and a lot more) is available à la carte, although if you order three courses it will cost you considerably more than the prix fixe. We ordered the $57 menu, which comes with enough food to sate almost anyone.

We started with Perigord Cheese & Truffle Mushroom fondue, which comes with a choice of four “sides” for dipping. We chose the white asparagus, hot chorizo, slab bacon, and fingerling potatoes. It also includes a forgettable green salad and croutons, also for dipping. (The lower-priced prix fixe offers only the salad and croutons.)

The melted cheese itself was rich and luscious. The bacon was the best side dish, and the potatoes also worked well. The asparagus didn’t really pair with the cheese, while the chorizo (cold and clammy) simply wasn’t that good.

For the main course, there’s a choice of oils—we chose peanut—plus four house-made dipping sauces. Our prix fixe came with two meats: we chose pork tenderloin and filet mignon. You can probably guess the drill: dip the meat into the oil, where it cooks in about twenty seconds. Dip in sauce, and repeat. Simple pleasures.

The main course comes once again with the same forgettable green salad, which the chef might want to consider omitting. We didn’t touch it the second time.

Dessert is similar: your choice of chocolate, with a tray of fruits for dipping, and on the side, bowls of shredded coconut, almonds, and walnuts. It’s a can’t-miss dish, but we especially liked the frozen bananas (above, foreground).

The service team consists of the chef himself and two very busy servers, who manage to keep things moving briskly. It helps that the kitchen has very little actual cooking to do. The whole production takes around two hours, though you might spend the first twenty minutes of that just puzzling over the unfamiliar menu.

Pawlicki’s mission here may not be complicated, but he does it very well, and in New York he has the idea all to himself. It’s not food you can eat every day—it’s too rich and too monotonic for that—but it’s loads of fun and thoroughly worthwhile.

Taureau (127 E. Seventh St., West of Avenue A, East Village)

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

Plein Sud

Note: Plein Sud closed in August 2013. This is a review under chef Ed Cotton, who left the restaurant in October 2011. Reviews were mostly unfavorable, but Cotton lasted for quite a while afterward, so there may have been other reasons for the split.

*

Hotel Restaurants have rules all their own. Practically all hotels must have a restaurant, so they bring in an established operator, who can be guaranteed—at least, as much as anything in this business can be—to run a reliable operation.

The operator gets a subsidy, which limits his downside risk. In exchange, he must offer room service and serve three meals a day. The menu can’t be anything so terribly challenging that guests will find it off-putting. Of course, what works in the Four Seasons would fail in the Holiday Inn, but the principle remains the same.

The Thompson Hotels, a boutique chain with five New York City properties, offer an eclectic mix of restaurants: Kittichai at 60 Thompson, Blue Ribbon Sushi Bar & Grill at 6 Columbus Circle, The Libertine at Gild Hall, Shang at the Thompson LES, and now Plein Sud at the Smythe. I suspect that at least two of the five (Shang and The Libertine) would be doomed as stand-alone restaurants.

Plein Sud adheres to the pattern of the other Thompson hotels, in that it has an operator with established credentials: Frederick Lesort of the now-shuttered Frederick’s Madison; along with a chef, Ed Cotton, who worked at (and was fired from) three-star Veritas.

The South-of-France cuisine seems calculated to meet the hotel’s requirements, with safe choices that won’t offend any guest. Even those who didn’t take French in high school will guess the contents of Le Burger Royale au Fromage, Coq au Vin, and Pasta Printemps. The menu does not stray far beyond these brasserie standards.

Over the course of half-a-dozen visits (the first chronicled here) I’ve found the cooking always at least competent, though singularly lacking in ambition. One wants to think that Cotton, who has worked at much better places (and is a current contestent on Top Chef), is not content to stop at this.

There’s a range of appetizers in various categories to satisfy bar grazers. On another visit, I tried the Tart Flambé, an oven-baked flatbread with smoked bacon, onion, and cheese. It’s a perfect snack, though better for sharing, as it wears out its welcome. (Gael Greene has a photo on her blog.)

We tried the large charcuterie board ($21; left), which allows you to choose five of the six meats on the menu. They were all just fine, though served with not enough bread. Dozens of places in town offer the same.

We wondered: if all you have are six selections, why not just give slightly less of each, and serve all six? Figuring out which one to leave out—we chose the air-dryed Wagyu beef—seemed odd. (There is also a small charcuterie board that offers three of six for $15.)

Steak au Poivre ($32; above left) was clearly better than the average non-steakhouse New York Strip, though well short of Minetta Tavern level. The fries were perfect. Pasta ($21; above right) with Merguez sausage and goat cheese was another solid effort.

Over the course of my visits, I’ve found a mixture of considerate and clueless service—never offensive, just sometimes aimless. Having now seen the AvroKO décor from every angle, I am inclined to be less charitable than before. Like everything else at Plein Sud, it won’t offend anyone, but it seems to be a retread of ideas the firm has used before, with filament bulbs hauled in from the company store room.

What we have here is a solid and reasonably priced neighborhood restaurant that seldom disappoints but never wows. I freely admit to a bias in favor of this type of cuisine. Most of the New York City critics will be bored by such a place. Do the owner and the chef aspire to anything more? Or are they happy to serve hotel guests and curiosity-seekers who happen to just wander by? That’s an open question.

Plein Sud (89 West Broadway at Chambers Street, TriBeCa)

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

First Look: Plein Sud

Plein Sud is the new Southern French-themed brasserie in Southern Tribeca, in the swanky Smythe Hotel. It has top-drawer names behind it, including restauranteur Frederick Lesort (who previously ran the now-shuttered Frederick’s Madison mini-chain) and design firm AvroKO.

The chef here, Ed Cotton, has a blue-chip background, with stints at Veritas and BLT Market on his resume. He’s also a competitor on the coming season of Top Chef. If he survives deep into the season, Plein Sud could start to get a lot of attention.

The restaurant has been open since May, but it only received its liquor license yesterday. In honor of that event, they were offering wine on the house. Where the alcohol is free, New York Journal is on the case, so I dropped in. Service at the bar was a bit inattentive, but considering that they didn’t even have a bar until yesterday, it is too soon to reach any judgment.

The space is easy on the eyes, as you’d expect from an AvroKO production. The only food I sampled was an excellent Duck and Foie Gras Terrine that could withstand comparison to anything served at Bar Boulud, the city’s charcuterie capital. The young lady seated next to me at the bar offered me a taste of her Loup de Mer entrée, which had a nice crisp skin and a medley of roasted vegetables.

This is a take-no-risks menu, but if you love French classics, you’ll like Plein Sud. There are more pâtés and terrines to be tried, charcuterie, and baked flatbreads, along with the usual appetizers and entrées. It’s the kind of focused menu that David Bouley’s failed Secession, nearby, should have had.

Cotton was fired at Veritas, probably because he was serving two-star food in a three-star restaurant. Plein Sud doesn’t aspire to three stars (and won’t get them), but it doesn’t have Veritas’ high prix fixe. That terrine was just eight dollars, and most entrées are in the twenties. If he can keep serving food this good, he’ll do just fine. If he wins Top Chef, he’ll do even better.

Plein Sud (89 West Broadway at Chambers Street, TriBeCa)