Absinthe Wine Bar

Absinthe Wine Bar opened in late January in the East Village, on a stretch of First Avenue that has become a dining Mecca over the last few years. It isn’t as splashy as some of its neighborhood peers, but we loved the quiet, civilized atmosphere, and the food is very good indeed, especially given the low price point.

Chef Nelson German’s cuisine is French–Mediterranean, with couscous and chickpeas figuring in several dishes, along with many French bistro standards. Snack plates are $3 apiece, appetizers $7–9 and entrées $11–16. Wines by the glass are $7–15, and most wines by the bottle are between $25–55.

The décor is described as “a synthesis of vintage Paris and contemporary New York, with a stop in Tunisia on the way.” A mural of Toulouse-Lautrec paintings and Tunisian fabrics dominate the small dining room. The space seats 50 between the tables and the bar, and there will be an outdoor garden when the whether gets warmer.

“Absinthe Wine Bar” was probably not the best choice for a name. Although Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec invented an absinthe-based cocktail called the Earthquake (or Tremblement de Terre), neither it, nor indeed any Absinthe at all is served here. It is, at least, a wine bar, though with a more ambitious menu than you’ll find at many places of that description.

Management should try to find a way to make their narrow storefront (a former deli) more conspicuous. If you were not looking for Absinthe Wine Bar, you could easily walk right by without realizing it is is there.

We started with a couple of snacks (both $3). Tomato Basil Croutons (above left) had a bright, lively flavor; I would have called them crostini. Crispy chick peas (above right) could become addictive.

We loved both appetizers. Absinthe Shrimp “Flambée” ($9; above left) was a simple pleasure, with fennel, garlic, white wine, and sweet butter. Here too, perhaps another name would be better. With “flambée” in the title, we expected something flashy, perhaps at tableside, but the flame stayed in the kitchen. Spinach Meatballs ($7; above right) were much heartier, but just as effective.

Both entrées were generous portions at $16. Chargrilled Steak (above left) would have been ample on its own, but it also came with short rib confit. The fries were perfect, but the steak was a bit tough. We didn’t expect dry aged prime, but it occurred to us that perhaps the kitchen would be better off serving hanger or skirt steak at this price.

We found no fault at all with a Trio of Lamb (above right), which came with two juicy chops, shoulder confit, and two spicy merguez sausages. Most restaurants would charge $10 more for this dish, and even then it would be a bargain.

In the interest of full disclosure, we dined here at a publicist’s invitation and did not pay for our meal. I can safely say that we are always happy to enjoy solid, inexpensive comfort food in a quiet, charming atmosphere. And that is exactly what Absinthe Wine Bar has to offer.

Absinthe Wine Bar (111 First Avenue between 6th/7th Streets, East Village)

Almond

[Kreiger via Eater]

At the risk of repeating myself, casual French cuisine seems to be making a comeback. It is all the more remarkable, given that most of the city’s critics don’t give a damn (“French = boring”).

This week’s exhibit: Almond, which opened about four months ago, cloned from a popular Hamptons restaurant. It occupies the cursed space that has been home to three Jeffrey Chodorow failures (Rocco’s, Brasserio Caviar & Banana, and Borough Food & Drink). Chodorow still owns the space, but as far as we can tell, he has no other role in this new venture. As long as he stays away, Almond should have a chance.

The critics have mostly ignored Almond, as you’d expect for any French brasserie that doesn’t have a well known chef (such as Ducasse, Bouley, or Boulud). Bob Lape awarded two stars in Crain’s, while Frank Bruni relegated it to Dining Briefs.

I was smitten the moment I arrived, and the hostesses offered to seat me, although I was twenty minutes early. It so happened there were plenty of empty tables, but in a Chodorow-run restaurant that would not stop them from shooing you to the bar, which at 7:40 p.m. was completely full. Later on, the restaurant filled up too—not completely, but better than most places we’ve visited lately.

The menu consists of French brasserie standards at recession prices, with starters $9–14 and entrées $15–29 (most $18–24). There’s a broad selection of side dishes ($7). Burgers and sandwiches are $15.

Both appetizers were wonderful: Duck Confit with creamy lentils and banyuls vinegar ($12; above left) and Salt Cod Croquettes with saffron aioli ($10; above right).

Aged New York Strip ($29; above left) was one of the better non-steakhouse steaks we’ve had in quite some time, and the fries were perfect. Daube of Lamb Belly ($23; above right) was competent comfort food; it tasted better than it looked.

The space is not especially charming or memorable, and it gets loud when full, but service was just fine. The wine list has plenty of decent choices below $50, including the 2005 Languedoc we had for $38.

Almond (12 E. 22nd Street between Broadway & Park Avenue S., Flatiron District)

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

Perle

Note: Perle closed in January 2009. The space became “1834 Bar & Burger.”

*

What is it with classic French brasseries these days? In the last year, they’ve been sprouting up all over town, admittedly with mixed success. Just when Adam Platt was ready to dance on the grave of French cuisine, it has returned with a vengeance.

So now comes Perle, deep in the Financial District, on the same row of Colonial-era townhouses as Fraunces Tavern. It sports one of the glitziest websites we’ve seen in a while and a bi-level renovation that cannot have come cheap. The upstairs looks like a Paris transplant, while the bustling wine bar and “boudoir” (a private party room) downstairs have a more “clubby” vibe.

  

There’s nothing original on the menu, but everything we tasted was executed flawlessly, from Poulpes [octopus] Provençale ($11; above left) to a Terrine de Canard ($11; above center and right).

 

Likewise a humble but thoroughly addictive Bœef Bourguignon ($19; above left) and a tender Magret de Canard ($23; above right).

Service was just fine for this type of restaurant. Butter was too cold, but everything else was as it should be. A vegetable side dish went forgotten. We were not charged, but given the large portion sizes it was just as well. An after-dinner drink was comped.

At first, I feared the downstairs wine bar was doing better business than the dining room, but our reservation was early. By the time we left (around 8:20 p.m.) the dining room was about 2/3rds full. A place like this will need word-of-mouth, because it isn’t quite important enough to be a dining destination, and most of the critics are likely to ignore it—not that they should, but it’s the cold reality.

If you like French classics, you’ll probably love Perle.

Perle (62 Pearl Street near Broad Street, Financial District)

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

Bar Breton

 

Note: Bar Breton closed in February 2012. It has been renamed La Quenelle with the same chef/owner, Cyril Reynaud. He has dropped crêpes and will serve a more traditional French menu. Fleur de Sel, his other restaurant referred to in the review below, has also since closed, so it is not surprising that he wants to use this space to do something a bit more elaborate.

*

Bar Breton opened about six weeks ago in the Flatiron District. It’s the casual sibling to Fleur de Sel, Cyril Renaud’s Michelin-starred place nearby.

Like many restaurants named “Bar X” these days (Bar Boulud, Bar Blanc, etc., etc.), there is a bar, but it’s beside the point. The menu offers a mix of French brasserie standards along with savory crêpes known as galettes. There are four of these ($12–18), along with small plates called niacs ($8–12), soups & salads ($10–14), mains ($16–26), sides ($5) and desserts ($6–8).

The niacs and galettes are in varying sizes. Some of the niacs are just nibbles, and others are full-blown appetizers. Some of the galettes are appetizers, and others can stand in for main courses. There’s a potential for confusion, but our server’s guidance was spot-on.

The whole menu fits on a page, and except for the burger, it stays true to Chef Renaud’s Brittany roots. It is also terrific food at a budget price. Our bill for two, including a bottle of wine for $32, came in below $100 (before tip). That isn’t easily done these days.

There is a $35 “restaurant week” menu, which I believe will be available at least through the end of February. You get four courses for that price, which is a great deal, though we chose to spend less than that by getting two courses each à la carte.

To start, we had the Salt Baked Potato with braised oxtail ($12; above left) and the Suckling Pig & Foie Gras Terrine ($11; above right). Both came from the niacs section of the menu.

I loved the Braised Lamb Shank galette with roasted winter vegetables ($18; below left). My girlfriend had the burger ($16; below right). I didn’t try it, but I did try the fries, which were perfect. Our theory is that no brasserie has any business serving fries unless it can nail them. Bar Breton did.

I have only one minor complaint. The back of the long, narrow space is separated from the kitchen by two swinging doors that let in a lot of bright light. It slightly mars the ambiance of what would otherwise be a nice room. Obviously it is a casual room, but a sturdier partition could have blocked out the kitchen light.

On a Friday night, the space was close to full by 8:00 p.m., which is always encouraging for a new restaurant. Service was fine, including a nice basket of fresh bread. In a tough economic climate for restaurants, this is one that deserves to succeed.

Bar Breton (254 Fifth Avenue between 28th & 29th Streets, Gramercy/Flatiron District)

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

Benoit

Note: Click here for a more recent review of Benoit.

After mostly horrendous reviews at Benoit, Alain Ducasse demoted executive chef Sebastien Rondier to chef de cuisine late last year. His new boss is Pierre Schaedelin, formerly of Le Cirque, who had been Martha Stewart’s personal chef for the last two years. We liked Benoit (earlier review here), but the negative critical reaction was unmistakable.

A friend and I had dinner at Benoit the other night, my first visit since Schaedelin’s arrival. In a brief interview for TONY last week, Schaedelin spoke about some of the new menu items. One of them is a choucroute garnie ($32), a weekly special served on Thursdays. It’s an enormous plate of sumptuous sausages and cured meats served over sauerkraut. We skipped appetizers, and I still did not finish it. My friend had the Cassoulet ($26), which she graded B+. A cheese plate ($17) was also quite good.

Business was slow. When we left at around 7:40 p.m., there were still tons of empty tables. Service was attentive, and managers came by several times to ask if we were enjoying ourselves—a trend I’ve observed at numerous restaurants lately. If they’re looking to make improvements, transferring bar tabs to the table would help. I asked, but the bartender shrugged: “It’s too late. I already entered it in my system.”

The menu has changed considerably, and it is no longer presented inside a picture frame that takes up half the table. We didn’t have French Fries this time, but I noted that they’re no longer served “L’Ami Louis style.” Given the disaster they were before, it has to be an improvement.

It’s still early in Schaedelin’s tenure, but I like what I see so far. Benoit deserves more attention than it is getting.

Benoit (60 West 55th Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, West Midtown)

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

Le Bernardin

Note: The photo above pre-dates a 2011 renovation of the dining room.

*

I hit a milestone this year. No, it’s not my 48th birthday. It’s that I’ve now visited every one of the city’s four-star restaurants at least once. Of the five restaurants currently holding that distinction, Le Bernardin is the one to which I’m most eager to return.

It’s not that Le Bernardin is the best of the bunch—though it very well may be—but that it’s the most versatile. I loved my meals at Per Se and Masa, but both are crazily expensive, and their long tasting menus don’t change much. Daniel and Jean Georges are both excellent, but neither one impressed me quite as much as Le Bernardin. On top of that, there are enough menu options to dine frequently at Le Bernardin without repeating anything. Based on the sustained quality of the Chef’s Tasting Menu we had, it appears you can’t go wrong here. If I could afford it, we’d be here once a month.

Le Bernardin is the oldest of New York’s top-rated restaurants, having won four stars from Bryan Miller of the Times in March 1986, when it was less than three months old. It was a near-clone of a Paris restaurant run by chef Gilbert Le Coze and his sister, Maguy, who watched over the front-of-house. They closed their Paris restaurant in December 1986 to focus on New York full-time. Bryan Miller awarded four stars yet again in February 1989. (In those days, the Times re-reviewed major restaurants far more quickly than it does today.)

Gilbert Le Coze died in July 1994 of a sudden heart attack. He was only 49, but a youngster named Eric Ripert, then 29, had already been in charge of the kitchen for over three years. Times critic Ruth Reichl took another look in April 1995, finding Le Bernardin still worthy of four stars. The paper’s most recent review came from Frank Bruni in March 2005. You guessed it: four stars.

How has Le Bernardin remained on top of its game for more than two decades? Few restaurants in its class would have survived the death of the original chef, and most seem to rest on their laurels after a while. Even fans of Jean Georges admit that the menu has hardly changed in ten years. But Vongerichten now leads a worldwide empire of almost twenty restaurants. Eric Ripert has taken on the occasional consulting gig, but Le Bernardin has his nearly undivided attention.

And he is still innovating. As Bruni noted, “Asian accents are scattered throughout a menu that bears scant resemblance to the one in 1995.” In a recent Feedbag post, Ripert noted that the staff have meetings every week to try new recipes, and “Maybe one in three dishes makes it onto Le Bernardin’s menu—if that.” Grub Street published a list of the maître d’s 129 Cardinal Sins for Waiters, an admirable opus that every new employee at Le Bernardin must study, and that ought to be mandatory reading at most other restaurants.

The atmosphere is lovely, but it certainly isn’t as romantic or as picturesque as the city’s other four-star restaurants. Frank Bruni exaggerated when he compared the dining room to “a first-class airport lounge.” I wonder what airports Bruni’s been visiting; I’ve never seen one like this. But the space certainly lacks the serenity of other restaurants in its class. On the Le Bernardin website, the background sound is the hubbub of diners chattering—accurate enough, but an odd choice. (I don’t like restaurant websites with a sound track anyway, but if you’re going to have one, why that?)

The format here is a four-course prix fixe at $109, nearly all seafood. The savory courses are in three groups: Almost Raw, Barely Touched and Lightly Cooked, with about a dozen choices for each. There’s also, “upon request,” squab, lamb, Kobe beef ($150 supp.) or pasta. It’s hard to imagine that anyone would come here for the steak, but Ripert told Grub Street that he sells 50 orders of it a night—an astonishing total at a seafood restaurant.

There are two tasting menus: seven courses for $135 or eight more luxurious ones for $185. As it was my birthday, we had the latter, along with wine pairings for an additional $140 per person. The wines were certainly very good, but in terms of real value you could probably do better by the bottle or half-bottle.

The amuse-bouche (left) was a mushroom soup of startling clarity, with hunks of succulent lobster at the bottom of the cup. The bread service was excellent, with several house-made varieties.

 

The first course was a remarkable thinly-pounded salmon carpaccio with a dollop of caviar tucked inside, all perched on a wafer-thin toasted brioche (above left). You don’t get much closer to perfection.

Seared Japanese blue fin tuna (said to be the world’s first of the species that’s “sustainably raised”) was beautifully balanced with parmesan crisp, sun-dried tomato, and black olive oil (above right).

 

The fireworks continued as the kitchen somehow managed to fill sautéed calamari with sweet prawns and shiitake mushrooms (above left). Lobster was paired with asparagus a hollandaise-like sauce (above right). As an aside, this was one of the few dishes that prominently featured a vegetable. Most of Ripert’s dishes put vegetables, if he uses them at all, far into the background.

 

The closest thing to a letdown was the Escolar, or white tuna, poached in extra virgin olive oil with sea beans and potato crisps (above left). It had a flat, bland taste. But crispy black bass (above right) was excellent, as was the surprisingly good parsnip custard that came with it (below left). Who knew parsnips could be so good?

 

Each dessert seems to revolve around a simple idea, beautifully executed. I loved the roasted fig with goat cheese parfait, hazelnut, red wine caramel, and bacon ice cream (above right).

 

A chocolate ganache (above left) brought approving nods from across the table, but I’m not fond of chocolate, so I asked for a substitute. They gave me a choice of anything on the dessert menu, and I chose the carrot cake (above right), which I’d be happy to have any day. You can’t read it in the photo, but that’s “Happy Birthday” written in chocolate in front of the tiny cake (below left). We concluded with the usual petits-fours (below right).

 

Service was first-rate: If any of the maître d’s cardinal sins was violated, we didn’t notice it. There are more romantic settings in New York, but everything on the plate was extraordinary.

Le Bernardin (155 W. 51st St. between Seventh Ave. & Broadway, West Midtown)

Cuisine: Modern French seafood, possibly the best in the universe
Service: Classically elegant
Ambiance: A slightly old-fashioned fancy room (remodeled since this review)

Rating: ★★★★

Picholine

  

Note: Picholine closed in 2015 after 22 years in business, due to a rent increase. The announcement was bittersweet, coming the very day that Picholine was awarded a star in the 2016 Michelin Guide. The chef, Terrance Brennan, said he would re-open it in a new location to be determined.

*

Picholine is 15 years old, and to “celebrate” they were offering a $50 gift card via the website. That’s a nice chunk of change, even for a restaurant this expensive. And I suppose the offer (which is no longer available) shows that it’s getting harder to find customers in these recession-challenged times. Sure enough, when my mom and I dropped in for a pre-opera meal, Picholine was as quiet as I’ve ever seen it—not deserted, but nowhere near full.

Apparently, chef–owner Terrance Brennan is not yet tempted to lower his prices. Since our last visit, earlier this year, the three-course prix fixe has risen from $85 to $92, while the tasting menu has risen from $110 to $125. A game tasting menu, offered only in the fall, is $145. I wouldn’t mind giving that a try at some point, but this wasn’t the night for it.

The mauve décor made a better impression than it did last time; perhaps it’s more successful in the front room than in the rear. Just about everything about the service and ambiance seemed pitch-perfect, though it helped that the restaurant was less crowded than I’ve seen it before. My mom couldn’t get over how many servers and runners were buzzing around.

 

A quartet of amuses-bouches was more impressive than the trio we were offered last time. I didn’t note them all, but the one on the right (above) was a tempura mushroom on a skewer.

 

A Tuna Cru “Napoleon” (above left) with olive oil ice cream was just fine, but unmemorable. My mom had the Sea Urchin Panna Cotta (above right), which is one of the best things on the menu.

 

The server recited a choice of four Scottish game birds—partridge, grouse, quail and Mallard duck. (He did not mention the $8 supplement.) I had the duck, which was really terrific—tender and gamey, along with a crunchy leg confit. My mom had a fish, which I believe was the John Dory (above right). From the small taste I had, it seemed pedestrian. My mom didn’t use that word, but she agreed the duck was better.

 

The palate cleansers were served in an odd order. As I was having the cheese course, but my mom was not, hers came before the dessert (above left), but mine came after it. Anyhow, the cheese cart (above right) is always the highlight of a meal at Picholine. I told the fromagier that I wanted three cheeses with sharp tastes, soft to medium in texture, and at least one blue cheese.

 

And that’s exactly what he gave me (above left). My mom’s dessert was a chocolate something-or-other (above right).

 

My palate cleanser (above left) came after the cheese course, and that was followed by petits-fours, which we did not touch (above right). They sent us home with a complimentary bottle of olive oil, which I do not recall from previous visits.

The wine list here is wonderful, though it seemed shorter than I remembered it. Anyhow, I found a perfectly drinkable Guigal Côtes du Rhone for $45. After you figure in the $50 gift card, it basically means we had a great dinner at Picholine and drank for free. Not bad.

Picholine (35 W. 64th St. east of Columbus Avenue, Upper West Side)

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

Le Périgord

 

I always book French restaurants when my mother is in town. Last weekend, we looked in on Le Périgord, one of the city’s few remaining grandes dames of classic French cuisine. My last visit was over a Memorial Day weekend, when I found it a bit deserted and dowdy, though still worthy and essential.

This time, on a more typical Friday night, we found business a bit more brisk—though it was not full. And the décor doesn’t seem quite as dowdy as it did last time. Actually, it doesn’t seem that way at all, though they’re long overdue to fix a tiny hole in the ceiling, which as I recall was there last time too.

At a restaurant this old, strengths and weaknesses aren’t likely to change rapidly. The bread service remains unimpressive, and it comes with cold, hard butter—just like last time. The menu is a $65 prix fixe—just like last time. The menu doesn’t change much, nor does it need to, but there are seasonal specials.

 

My girlfriend ordered the cold hors d’oeuvres (above left), which for most people would be a meal in itself. I loved the vegetable tart (above right) in a tangy butter sauce. My mom had the oysters (below left).

 

My mom and my girlfriend both chose the roasted duck. The kitchen will serve a portion for one, but when it’s ordered for two, they present the whole bird and carve it tableside (above right & below left).

 

I had the elk (above right), an off-menu special, which was excellent. It had a wonderful gamey flavor, though the accompanying rib was a bit tough.

 

The desserts we chose were fairly simple, but no less effective for that: a blueberry cream tart or the same in raspberry, both with a large dollop of fresh cream.

Most critics in town don’t give credit for classics done well, as if it requires no particular talent to execute the same recipes for decades. Yet, over and over again we see new restaurants serving the old favorites, and falling flat on their faces. Just because it’s classic doesn’t make it easy. Le Périgord continues to get it right, and for that it gets three stars.

Now, if only they’d do something about that cold butter.

Le Périgord (405 E. 52nd Street, east of First Avenue, Turtle Bay)

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

Brasserie Cognac

 

Brasserie Cognac is one of several classic French restaurants that have opened in the last year. I am not quite sure where the idea comes from. I haven’t seen any great demand for the genre, and the city’s major critics routinely remind us that no one wants it. Still, it persists, and I’m one of those who hopes it always will.

I had high hopes for Brasserie Cognac based on a promising early visit six months ago. Last weekend, I went back with the whole family. The restaurant isn’t exactly drawing crowds. It was practically empty at 6:00 p.m. on a Saturday evening—not a great sign for a place that ought to be pulling in pre-theater diners.

Alas, I can’t say the pre-theater folk are missing much. Brasserie Cognac does a few things well, but it’s too inconsistent. Those of us who favor classic French cuisine can do better elsewhere.

 

A tomato tart with goat cheese (above left) was the best thing we had, with a crisp, thin crust like pizza. My girlfriend and my son both had the French onion soup (above right), which came out not quite warm enough.

 

For the main course, my son and my girlfriend both had the Blanquette de Veau, or veal stew (above left). Like the onion soup, it came out cold, and had to be sent back. Pot-au-feu, or beef with vegetables, was the daily special (above right). The beef was tender and rare inside, but there was a certain laziness about both this and the Blanquette de Veau. Both dishes seemed dull. The broths and vegetables had a cafeteria quality to them. My mom had the Moules Frittes (mussels with fries), and the kitchen at least got that right.

The bread service was mediocre, with butter so hard it was practically unspreadable.

Brasserie Cognac undermines itself in other ways. The space is gorgeous, clearly the result of a not inconsiderable investment. Why, then, do they play generic pop elevator music out of the loudspeakers? If they’re trying to create the feeling of an authentic French brasserie, why not take it seriously?

There’s a wide range of prices, but there are plenty of appetizers and salads under $15, entrées under $30, and wine bottles under $50—though, of course, you can spend more. If the food were more reliable, Brasserie Cognac could easily be a go-to place for the neigborhood.

My girlfriend had a good summary of the meal: “You know, these dishes may be classics, but it’s still hard to get them right.”

Brasserie Cognac (1740 Broadway at 55th Street, West Midtown)

Food: Uneven
Service: Would be fine, if only the food were warm enough
Ambiance: Nice looking, but no buzz; needs a new soundtrack
Overall: Satisfactory (no stars)

Secession

Note: Secession has closed. It will be replaced with a Japanese concept called Brushstroke, supposedly by the end of 2009 (but don’t hold your breath).

David Bouley has been a busy guy. He has something like seven restaurant projects going right now. We’re not talking about seven stable, business-as-usual restaurants, but seven in a state of flux. And we’re not talking about seven clones, but seven very different concepts. The obvious question is whether he can keep so many balls in the air, or if some of them—indeed, perhaps all—are going to land with an embarrassing thud.

So far, we have the answer for one of these: Secession, which just opened, replacing Danube. THUD. There is plenty of time to right the ship, but Secession needs a lot of work. With his next project, the new flagship Bouley, set to open next week, when will he have time to fix Secession, which right now is beyond mediocre?

It is not merely flawed execution—though there is plenty of that—but an absurd concept. The menu has practically as many options as a diner. It is more than any restaurant could expect to do well. And as one food board participant noted, they are almost sure to be always running out of things. If there’s to be any semblence of consistency, about half this menu needs to be jettisoned.

Perhaps they are heading in that direction. Last night, there were marginally fewer items offered than on the menu that I posted a couple of weeks ago. But it is still far too much, with something like 25 entrées and an equal number of appetizers in multiple categories. I mean, spaghetti carbonara and shrimp kebabs? They seem to be just phoned in. The menu, printed on a huge broadsheet, is also unwieldy to handle at the small tables.

The prices, at least, aren’t exorbitant. Almost all of the appetizers are below $15, and most of the entrées are $25 or less. Steaks range from $21 (skirt steak) to $32 (sirloin), but if they’re aged prime, as the menu says, that’s a pretty good deal. Nearly all of the wines are below $100, with many good choices below $50.

The brasserie menu and befuddled service are at war with the surroundings. Danube’s faux Klimt interior has been retained, which was a wise move, as this is still one of the most gorgeous rooms in town. It still feels like it should be a three-star restaurant, though it most certainly isn’t. Chairs and banquettes are comfortable, but our table wobbled. About halfway through, the server came by and stuck a piece of cardboard under one of the legs.

 

The charcuterie section of the menu offers nine homemade terrines, pâtés and boudins (sausages), all $11. We ordered two of those, and then waited. And waited. It made no sense, as these items are obviously pre-made. There was bread service, but it was stale. This was hard to figure, as the bread just next door, at Bouley, has always been excellent.

The boudin noir, or blood sausage (above left), comes with six different garnishes, but this isn’t clear on the menu, and our server was at a loss to explain it. Apparently they were out of one garnish, and had substituted another. Or something. For all that, it was pretty good. The Terrine du Chef (above right) had a flat, dull taste, and came out too cold, as if it had been in the fridge all day. The accompanying bread was again stale.

  

One of the more unusual menu items is Baby Goat; they were out of it, but didn’t bother to tell us this when the menus were handed out. I was offered Baby Lamb instead ($25; above left). It was presented in a cast-iron skillet, but I thought they’d serve it out onto a plate. Instead, they just left it for me to eat directly from the skillet, which was a bit wobbly. The kitchen did a respectable job with the lamb, but the potatoes underneath it were greasy and stuck to the pan.

I had asked the server to recommend a side dish. He suggested the mac ’n’ cheese, or technically “Grandmother’s Pasta and Cheesse Gratin” ($9; above center). Perhaps a better name is “supermarket pasta elbows.” They were too watery and not cheesy enough.

My girlfriend had the Skirt Steak ($21; above right). Apparently it was supposed to come with sauce, but the server forgot it; we did too, till we re-checked the menu afterwards. The steak itself was tender and nicely seasoned, but the accompanying schmear of what looked like mashed potatoes wasn’t any good at all. It also came with fries, which were soggy and limp. A runner asked what was wrong with them, and we told him. “I’ll tell the manager,” he said. Instead, our waiter came back and said, “Sorry about the fries.” At another table, the fries weren’t delivered till after everyone had finished their entrées.

Earlier in the evening, we’d had drinks at the bar, which they offered to transfer to our dinner tab. When the bill arrived, they weren’t on it. I’d like to think they were making up for the fries, but I doubt it. Surely, in that case, a manager would have come over and said something. I think they’re just discombobulated. We pointed out the apparent error. The server just said, “Forget about it.”

The dinner crowd was an eclectic mix. For the first part of the evening, the average age of the room was definitely over 50, but it got younger as time went on. The staff can’t decide what atmosphere they want in the dining room. Lighting levels were adjusted three times during the course of our meal. The full menu is also available at the bar. It has several comfortable tables, and a number of people seemed to be dining there by choice. It was standing-room-only by the time we left.

The dining room was never full, though it got close by the time we left, a bit after 8:00 p.m. Curiously, we were seated right next to a party of six, even though the restaurant was nearly empty when we arrived. About half-way through our meal, another party of two was seated right next to us, though there were a good dozen other two-tops with no one else around. Spreading people out when the dining room is empty is a pretty basic service concept, not yet mastered here.

There’s no reason Secession couldn’t be a great restaurant, but it isn’t right now. Too many basic things misfire. The staff is too confused. David Bouley needs to cut down the menu to about half of its currrent length, and the front-of-house needs a serious kick in the shins.

If there’s any silver lining, it’s that the prices are low, and that encourages a re-visit. If I hear that things have improved, I’ll drop by again one evening and dine at the bar.

Secession (30 Hudson Street at Duane Street, TriBeCa)

Food: Uneven
Service: Uneven
Ambiance: ***
Overall: Uneven (no stars)