Cru

Note: This is a review of Cru under Chef Shea Gallante, who left at the end of June 2009 to rejoin his former employer, David Bouley. As of November 2009, Todd Macdonald was his replacement. Prices on the wine list were slashed by 30 percent, and Macdonald’s new menu was alleged to be “easier, simpler, faster, cheaper.” That didn’t work, and as of September 2010, Cru was closed. Its replacement is Vegas transplant Lotus of Siam.

*

There’s a popular impression that traditional luxury dining is on the decline. Frank Bruni hardly ever misses an opportunity to tell us so. The trouble is, Frank can’t count—or he refuses to. If he did, he’d realize that more of these places have opened in the last four years than have closed.

Cru is a restaurant that defies the alleged trend: it has actually become fancier. Servers that once dressed in black now wear suits. The original à la carte menu has been ditched for an $84 three-course prix fixe. In less than four years, the tasting menu has about doubled in price, from $65 to $125.

Then there’s the wine list. It boasted 65,000 bottles four years ago,  over 150,000 bottles today. Most of the collection is stored in a purpose-built wine hanger in upstate New York, with supplies at the restaurant replenished daily. The sommelier said, “We buy aggressively at auction.”

As it did before, the list comes to you in two hefty volumes, each the size of a phone directory. A 1983 Hermitage was $150, a price the sommelier said was lower than that vintage attracts at auction these days. I could well believe it, as one seldom sees a 25-year-old Rhone in New York at anything less than the price of a monthly mortgage payment.

This space on lower Fifth Avenue was once considered cursed, as it played host to one failed restaurant after another. But Cru was an instant hit, and it has stayed that way, which means the owners don’t have to dumb it down or make it more casual—options its less successful brethren have had to consider.

The chef here is Shea Gallante, a former chef de cuisine at Bouley. Cru’s ascent seems almost to mirror the latter restaurant’s decline. One must wonder when someone from the next generation will crack the four-star ceiling. Given the dinner we had, Gallante looks like he could be well on the way.

The menu seems to have broadened since the early days. Frank Bruni, who awarded three stars, said it was “tilting heavily toward Italy, nodding slightly toward Spain.” Aside from a gnocchi starter—and who doesn’t serve that these days—the influences here no longer seem grounded in Italy.

I’ve been to Cru only once before, about three or four years ago. I didn’t write a review of that visit, but while I certainly recall liking Cru, I don’t recall coming away quite as impressed as this time.

 

The kitchen sent out a plate of canapés (above, right) while we pondered the wine list. Shortly thereafter came the amuse-bouche (above, left), a fennel panna cotta with caviar.

 

Gallante had a twist on Foie Gras “Torchon” (above, left). It came in a cigar-shaped cylinder, held together with what seemed to be a shaved cucumber. A sauce described as “peach nectar” was poured at tableside. His Potato Gnocchi (above, right) were as light as a dream, with tangy rabbit sausage, speck, pollen and spring garlic.

 

We were just as pleased with a Roasted Pekin Duck Breast (above, left), which came with grilled eggplant, leeks, poached morrels and mustard-seed jus. Cuts of Porcelet Pig (above, right)—some places would call it a trio of pig—had chanterelles, golden raisins, tomato and crisp vegetable salad.

 

If Cru had an early failure, it was the dessert program. We love Will Goldfarb, but his wacky creations were a poor fit for a classically elegant place like Cru. Panned by just about everyone, he quickly left. The menu doesn’t note the current pastry chef, but he or she deserves to be better known.

The palate cleanser (top left) was a buttermilk sorbet with strawberry and elderflower geléee. For dessert, I had the Macadamia Nut Cheesecake Crumble (top right), which worked a lot better than it ought to, with an apricot-lemon thyme jam, hazelnut chocolate praline, and smoked chocolate chip ice cream.

Even wackier was the Poached Rhubarb Gratinèe (bottom left), a raspberry-rhubarb crips with—of all things—white asparagus ice cream. You wouldn’t expect ice cream made from a vegetable to make a great dessert, but this one did. The asparagus only lurked in the background, its aggression muted by Tahitian vanilla.

We finished with petits-fours (bottom right).

The service here is top-notch. The table settings include some of the fanciest restaurant flatware I’ve seen, made by the French manufacturer Christofle. The captain and the sommelier were both informative and had plenty to say, but never in a way that seemed intrusive or pompous. Our only complaint was that the runners who dropped off the bonus courses (amuses-bouches, etc.) were practically incomprehensible, a problem many restaurants have.

In addition to the prix-fixe and tasting menus, the captain told us about an additional option. Request five, seven, or nine courses, and the chef will cook for you. “Even I don’t know what he’ll come up with,” the captain said. I was tempted, but I figured we ought to try a smaller sample of Chef Gallante’s food first.

Based on this visit, Cru’s Shea Gallante has us convinced. Next time, we’re ready to put ourselves in his hands.

Cru (24 Fifth Avenue at Ninth Street, Greenwich Village)

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

Merkato 55

 
 
Merkato 55: Gorgeous, but a ghost town

Note: Merkato 55 bit the dust in June 2009. It re-opened as a pan-Mediterranean restaurant, Le 55. A Brazilian super-model is the owner, and Philip Guardione, from the Four Seasons in Milan, is the chef. We wish them good luck with that.

*

What must it be like to invest a king’s ransom in a restaurant that flops? Perhaps the owners of Merkato 55 can tell us.

In this gorgeous space, chef Marcus Samuelsson tries to do for African cuisine what Jean-Georges Vongerichten did for Pan-Asian street food at Spice Market, just a few blocks away. But four years after Vongerichten’s success, the once trendy Meatpacking District is cursed. No restaurant with serious pretentions has succeeded here lately, and Merkato 55 now seems doomed. It was a ghost town at 7:00 p.m. on a Saturday evening. When we left an hour later, it was a ghost town still.

Reviews were mixed. Frank Bruni in the Times and Steve Cuozzo in the Post weren’t impressed, but Adam Platt in New York awarded two stars, and Restaurant Girl in the Daily News an amazing three. It appears that the dining public agrees with Bruni and Cuozzo. When a restaurant is nearly empty on a weekend evening, the prognosis must be grim indeed. Eater.com put Merkato 55 on deathwatch, and then pronounced it a shitshow.

Shrimp Piri Piri

It doesn’t help that Samuelsson’s performance is phoned in, and he is only a small-part owner here. Even during the opening period, he was hardly ever sighted. His attentions are no doubt focused on his flagship Swedish restaurant, Aquavit, and various other marketing gimmicks that have his name attached.

For all of that, the food at Merkato 55 isn’t bad, though it isn’t great either. The menu has various “small bites” from $3–13, appetizers $12–18, entrées $19–37, and side dishes $6–10. I’m not sure how “African” it is, and as Cuozzo noted, on a continent that is home to 53 nations and 900 million people, any concept of a single “cuisine” is probably in Samuelson’s imagination.

To start, my son and I shared Grilled Shrimp Piri Piri ($17), which were slathered in a forgettable, gloppy sauce on a bed of equally forgettable Baby Romaine lettuce.

 
Left: Merguez Sausage; Right: Chicken Doro Wat

An entrée of Merguez Sausage ($19) is not for those with big appetites, but the contrast of spicy sausage with watermelon and corn worked for me. I loved the Spicy Chicken Doro Wat ($27)—a luscious, tender chicken curry—but it may not be to all tastes: my son absolutely hated it.

 
Left: Steak Dakar; Right: Merkato Fries

Since my son had detested both the appetizer and the entrée, we ordered the Steak Dakar ($34). The kitchen did a respectable job with the steak, and it’s a suitable bail-out dish for those who mistrust the rest of the menu, but it’s no more African than the fries that came with it (also available as an $8 side dish). I found the fries too salty, but my son liked them.

The beverage menu offers several versions of infused rum punch, overpriced at $14. I found mine overly sweet, dominated by lime juice, and offering no more than a splash of rum.

Merkato 55 is a decent place. If I were in the neighborhood, I’d happily go back for the Chicken Doro Wat, though I’m not sure what else you can depend on. Service was attentive, but the staff had hardly anyone else to look after. I’ll be surprised if Merkato 55 is still around next year.

Merkato 55 (55 Gansevoort St. between Greenwich & Washington Sts., Meatpacking District)

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

Jedediah Hawkins Inn

Over the weekend, we paid a visit to the restaurant at Jedediah Hawkins Inn in Jamesport, New York, on the North Fork of Long Island. The Inn is a gorgeous 1863 manor home in the Italianate style, built and named for a prosperous captain in the Union Army. Once one of the North Fork’s most stately homes, it fell into disuse and was at one point slated for demolition. After a two-year restoration, it re-opened in 2005 as an inn and fine dining restaurant.

The space is lovely—I would almost call it extraordinary—with comfortable tables generously spaced and an authentic post-Colonial interior, marred slightly by modern art wall paintings that clash with the atmosphere.

Chefs Michael Ross and Tom Schaudel serve an haute barnyard menu featuring locally-sourced produce. It would be considered extremely expensive even in Manhattan. Appetizers are $10–24, entrées $27–44. The tasting menu is $95, and there is a Friday night prix fixe at $45.

If only the food lived up to the atmosphere.

 

The local Catapano Farm makes a terrific goat cheese, and this featured in several dishes, starting with the amuse bouche and both of our appetizers. I had the Roasted Baby Beet Salad ($15), but the goat cheese was plopped on top of it in an unappetizing, unspreadable lump. It also seemed under-seasoned, with a 25-year sherry vinaigrette failing to make much of an impression.

Tempura Squash Blossoms ($16) featured the same Catapano goat cheese, but the tempura had come out of the deep fryer too quickly. It was mushy and not warm enough.

 

Yellowfin Tuna ($37) was sushi-grade, and only barely seared. Fish of that quality doesn’t need much help, but here it was overpowered with a warm potato salad, tomato confit, chive oil, a quail egg, and a perversely bitter black olive–caper vinaigrette.

In our second entrée, we finally had a dish that lived up to the billing: an organic thick-cut New York Strip ($44), which wisely was allowed to make its own case without interference, except for traditional truffled parmesan potatos and a wonderful garlic creamed spinach. My girlfriend said, “This was the best New York Strip I have ever tasted.” It was smooth, buttery, and just about perfect.

But at a restaurant this expensive, it’s not good enough when, out of two appetizers and two entrées, there is only one item that could be recommended without hesitation.

The wine list includes offerings from almost every North Fork vinyard—no small feat, as there are dozens of them now. A 2003 Martha Clara Estate Reserve Syrah ($55) needed a few minutes to open up, but thereafter delivered the goods.

Service would have been fine, except that the amuse bouche and the appetizers came out almost simultaneously. At 9:00 p.m., we appear to have been the last reservation of the evening, and we sensed the kitchen was trying to get us out in a hurry.

We really wanted to like this place, especially given the lovely atmosphere, but the performance was uneven, and based on the reports of others who’ve dined here, we doubt that our experience was atypical.

Jedediah Hawkins Inn (400 South Jamesport Ave., Jamesport, N.Y.)

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

Scarpetta

[Kreiger via Eater]

Note: Scott Conant is no longer affiliated with the New York branch of Scarpetta, though he continues to “run” (I use the term loosely) the Scarpettas in other cities.

*

At the new Italian restaurant Scarpetta, we have another telling of the usual story these days: a former three-star chef in one or two-star surroundings.

Here, the former big-time chef is Scott Conant, who had five stars to his name between L’Impero (three, per Asimov) and Alto (the deuce, per Bruni). He left the two restaurants in 2007, consulted a while, and is now back in Manhattan at Scarpetta, on the edge of the Meatpacking District.

The former Gin Lane space looks like a quiet country home on the outside, despite the Meatpacking madness just steps away. Indoors, there’s a large bar space for the bridge-and-tunnel set.

The dining room is decorated in a modern rustic chic, with mirrors fastened to the walls with leather saddle belts, and matching saddle leather placemats. A retractable roof could be delightful in the spring and autumn, but it was closed on a hot Saturday evening in June, so that the dining room could be air conditioned.

The exposed hard surfaces make Scarpetta a noisy restaurant when it is full—and full is how you’ll most likely find it, thanks to the sterling reputation that Conant brings with him. He’s serving the same seasonal modern Italian cuisine that brought him accolades at L’Impero.

Scarpetta, which means “little shoe,” has potential if the kitchen can work out some inconsistencies. Our first and second courses came out quickly, but we waited an eternity for the third, and we observed similar waits at other tables. When they finally came out, our entrées were somewhat disappointing.

Prices are in line with other restaurants in “former three-star chef” club, with appetizers from $11–17, pastas $22–25, and entrées $25–37. The server told us that appetizer-sized pasta portions were quickly dropped after opening, when they found the kitchen couldn’t keep up. That was apparently a wise move, since the kitchen still isn’t keeping up.

We fashioned a three-course meal by ordering an appetizer to share, followed by a pasta to share, followed by two entrées. The kitchen plated each of the first two courses as separate “half-orders” without being prompted.

 

The bread service could quickly become addictive. Four kinds of homemade bread came with soft butter, an eggplant spread, and a pool of olive oil. Raw Yellowtail ($16) in sea salt and ginger oil had a bright taste, and there was a nice ring of fat around the fish, although the salt crust wasn’t spread as evenly as it should be.

 

The second course, Agnolotti dal Plin ($24), was impeccable. Pasta pillows were filled with mixed meat and fonduta, with mushrooms and parmigiano.

 

Neither entrée quite lived up to expectations. A Boneless Braised Veal Shank ($31) had been allowed to cook too long, and was slightly dry—still edible, but not as well executed as it should be. We loved the bone marrow & gremolata garnish, which was applied at tableside. Pacific Orata ($26) needed to have a crisper skin. I should note that both dishes had great potential. Neither was bad, and both could very well be winners in the long run.

The wine list emphasizes Italy and France, and there are plenty of bottles at reasonable prices. A 2000 Portulano was only $53.

For a restaurant as crowded as this, the serving staff did an excellent job of staying on top of things. This bodes well for Scarpetta, assuming that the kitchen can work out of its early growing pains. There is some very good food here, though no one should have the illusion that the quality or consistency matches the palmiest days at L’Impero.

Scarpetta (355 W. 14th Street, east of Ninth Avenue, Meatpacking District)

Food: ★½
Service: ★★
Ambiance: ★
Overall: ★½

Blue Ribbon Sushi Bar & Grill

I dropped by Blue Ribbon Sushi Bar & Grill the other day for a snack. A pulled pork appetizer from the daily specials list, at $12.25, was impressive. I didn’t note the details, but it was essentially a cross between American barbecue and miso soup.

I was seated at the end of the sushi bar, where a huge fish head was staring at me. Initially, I wasn’t sure if it was real, but it surely was. Periodically, a chef would pour a bucket of ice cubes into the mouth—without which it would turn foul in a hurry.

 

Service was a little helter-skelter, as one expects in this type of restaurant. I wasn’t impressed the last time I visited, but the pulled pork appetizer persuaded me that perhaps Blue Ribbon Sushi is worthy of more attention.

Blue Ribbon Sushi Bar & Grill (308 W. 58th Street in the Thompson Hotel, 6 Columbus Circle)

Savarona

 

Note: Savarona has closed. It closed so quickly, in fact, that none of the city’s major critics got around to reviewing it. The double gamble we referred to in our opening paragraph did not pay off.

*

The new restaurant Savarona takes a double gamble. The first is that New Yorkers will warm up to haute Turkish cuisine, of which this is practically the only example in Manhattan. The second is that they’ll do so in Sutton Place, a tiny East Midtown enclave not easily reached by mass transit.

I can’t say whether the gamble will pay off. The only thing I can say is: I certainly hope so. Savarona deserves your attention. In a town where so many restaurants are plainly derivative, this one blazes its own trail. The chef, Tevfik Alparslan, comes from Istanbul via La Tour d’Argent and Gordon Ramsay at Claridge’s. His menu has a recognizably Mediterranean tint, but every dish we tried led us to unfamiliar territory, and quite happily so.

The owners have given Alparslan a beautiful stage on which to perform: a comfortable space, elegantly redecorated. The lighting is warm and inviting, the tables generously spaced. The restaurant is on the ground floor of a residential building in the shadow of the Queensboro bridge, but set comfortably back from the street. There is room for outdoor seating in good weather. There is an ample bar and a spacious, semi-private dining room that seats twelve.

Appetizers are generally priced in the teens, entrées in the twenties. The reasonably priced wine list is Mediterranean-centric, though there are no actual Turkish wines, curiously enough. There wasn’t as much variety as I’d like; most of the bottles were fairly young. (We had a 2005 Italian Syrah; $56.)

There was a nice bread service, with four kinds of homemade bread and a fried cheese spread (above right).

 

I enjoyed the Stuffed Mackerel ($12; above left), accented with fresh pine nuts, currants, asparagus, warm fennel, and a fresh red pepper emulsion. My girlfriend had the traditional Mezze Platter ($14; above right). Two of the five items were made with eggplant, which is about the only food I don’t eat, but she said they were terrific. I liked the yogurt cucumber and the chicken salad, the latter topped with pine nuts.

I thought that the entrées surpassed the appetizers, but my girlfriend said, “I’m not so sure; that eggplant was pretty damned good.” 

 

An entrée of Stuffed Grape Leaves ($24; above left) was remarkable: four plump grape leaves stuffed with beef tenderloin in a sweet cherry-apricot sauce. The Sultan Kebab ($25; above right) had tender meatballs and diced beef in a yogurt and light chili sauce.

The pastry chef here trained in French kitchens, and the staff admitted that the deserts are more French than Turkish. Pineapple ($12) with mango sorbet, mascarpone and spun sugar could make an appearance anywhere. It was one of the most enjoyable desserts we’ve had in quite some time.

There were minor service glitches, as one might expect at a three-week-old restaurant. Plates were deposited in front of the wrong diner. The cheese spread arrived a bit too late. One item wasn’t quite as warm as it should be.

The food at Savarona is very good, and the space is as relaxing as any we’ve visited in recent months. Since there is almost zero foot traffic on this stretch of 59th Street, the restaurant will be heavily dependent on word-of-mouth and favorable reviews. This is a restaurant we’ll be rooting for.

Savarona (420 E. 59th Street between First and York Avenues, Sutton Place)

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

Elizabeth

 

Note: There was a series of chef chuffles after this review was written. Elizabeth finally closed in early 2011.

*

The new restaurant Elizabeth showcases several recent trends.

In the first place, we have a former three-star chef working in much humbler surroundings—trying to “make it small” after he’d already made it big. That chef is Doug Psaltis, who worked at both The French Laundry and Country. In the second place, Psaltis is merely consulting, with another former colleague from Country, John Iconomou, in the kitchen day-to-day.

Lastly, there’s a “small plates” format, which at its best encourages grazing and sharing, but at its worst encourages over-ordering or leaves the customer confused about how much to order.

In part, these trends reflect the preferences of some younger diners, who want to enjoy haute cuisine without putting on a coat and tie, who don’t want to be locked into the standard three-course meal, and who don’t want to pay the higher prices that fancier restaurants need to charge to recover their overheads. These trends also reflect tough economic times: the risks and the capital required to open a multi-starred restaurant.

Some of the post-modern, deconstructed restaurants are terrific. Others are derivative—pedestrian—ordinary. Elizabeth is in the latter camp.

The space is configured somewhat like a railroad apartment, with several dark rooms in sequence, leading to a bright, cheery garden space with a large skylight. The garden looks like it dropped in from another restaurant; it looks like nothing like the indoor space. Most patrons seem to prefer the garden. It was full at 6:30 p.m. on a Friday night, but the dark indoor rooms, where we were seated, were empty. They started to fill up a bit later on.

The menu is divided into three categories with five dishes apiece: First ($8–14), Second ($11–13) and Third ($14–19). Naturally, the idea is to encourage you to order one from each category, though we ignored that advice. If our experience is any guide, one appetizer and one entrée (selected from the third category) is sufficient unless you’re unusually hungry.

For the record, desserts are $7–9, a cheese plate $13. House cocktails, at $12–14, are a bit over-priced in relation to the rest of the menu. The wine list is more reasonable, though it is less than half a page, with about 10 choices by the glass and another 10 by the bottle. We had a respectable Shiraz for $45.

 

A Green Gazpacho ($9) with cucumber and passion fruit was probably the best thing we tasted, cool and summery. In the middle of the bowl was a scoop of mango sorbet; the soup was poured over it at tableside.

A lettuce salad ($8) was competently done.

 

Pork Tenderloin ($14) was prepared in the traditional manner, with applesauce, sour cream, and potato latkes. A Crispy Cheese Burger ($14) wasn’t tender enough. It was served with a bizarre frisbee of burnt cheese that was twice the diameter of the bun. Fries ($5) were huge and far too mushy on the inside. I called them “horse fries,” meaning that only a horse could love them.

The restaurant has been open for about six weeks. Some early reports complained about service, but we found it mostly under control. We found nothing at Elizabeth that was worthy of the former chef de cuisine at the French Laundry. The kitchen serves decent comfort food.

Elizabeth (265 Elizabeth Street between Houston & Prince Streets, NoLIta)

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

First Look: Sheridan Square

Note: Click here for a full review of Sheridan Square.

The long-delayed Sheridan Square opens tonight in Greenwich Village. The restaurant has been in a “soft open” for the last couple of days, and after reading a glowing review yesterday on Mouthfuls, I decided to stop in for dinner.

The chef here, Gary Robins, joins a gaggle of former three-star chefs opening in much humbler Greenwich Village settings. Bar Blanc is run by a trio of Bouley alumni, Bobo opened with a former Ducasse chef (who has since left), Commerce has Montrachet’s Harold Moore, and Sheridan Square has Robins, who earned three stars at the Biltmore Room and, less honorably, numerous pans at the Russian Tea Room.

Sheridan Square might be the best of this quartet of restaurants, all within two square blocks of one another. We rated Commerce an outright failure, and Frank Bruni gave it only one star. Bar Blanc got the two stars it likely wanted, but it continues to be dogged by service complaints; we consider it an under-achiever. We liked Bobo (not yet reviewed by Bruni), but the jury is still out; it appears to be righting the ship after a nearly disastrous start.

Bobo certainly has the loveliest space, though Sheridan Square rates a respectable second, with a cheery modern vibe, large windows that admit plenty of natural light, a woodburning stove, white tablecloths, and elegant service. It’s a pity those windows don’t offer something nicer to look at. Like all restaurants located on avenues and major cross streets, the view is nothing special.

There’s a divided kitchen, with most of the cooking done in the basement, and some of the finishing and plating done upstairs in view of the dining room. I don’t quite understand the allure of open kitchens, but this one seemed to be humming along efficiently without being too much of a distraction.

The seasonal (“Late Spring”) menu is priced about in line with the neighborhood’s other upscale newcomers, with starters $11–19, entrées $24–36, and side dishes $8. I counted at least four entrées that are prepared in the wood-burning oven, and I suspect they’ll be among the most popular. I wasn’t happy to see two entrées with “m.p.” instead of a price (lamb, strip steak). Given the ease of reprinting these days, and a seasonal menu that changes frequently, how hard is it to reprint when the price changes?

A mis-named appetizer called “Crispy Squash Blossom” ($17) was mildly disappointing. The brown fritter in the photo is basically an oddly shaped jumbo lump crab cake with a tangy mango chili sauce. The corn salsa and avocado were a bit more exciting, but seemed to have parachuted in from a different appetizer. A couple of ugly shards of lettuce didn’t add anything either, and for the life of me I couldn’t find any squash.

I adored the Wood Grilled Carolina Trout ($24), plated with golden beets in a honey ginger vinaigrette, wild rice, garden beans and yuzu hazelnut brown butter. Everything in this dish worked beautifully together, punctuated by two ample filets of tender trout and a mild smoky flavor imparted by the wood-burning oven.

Service was about as smooth and assured as I’ve seen in a restaurant that is not yet technically open. I did not order wine, but the wine list, though not particularly deep, seemed to be fairly priced, with plenty of bottles under $50 and a good selection by the glass. I had a couple of terrific cocktails, but there was no printed cocktail menu. Bread service could be better, with only humdrum sourdough bread and a caraffe of olive oil as the only choice.

I don’t assign ratings to restaurants that are not yet open, but Sheridan Square seems to have all of the pieces in place for a solid two stars. I look forward to coming back again in another month or two.

Sheridan Square (138 Seventh Ave. S. between W. 10th & Charles Sts., West Village)

Bar Milano

 

Note: You can probably guess what rating Bar Milano got from Italian-loving Frankie two-stars, despite “bungled pastas.” The rest of the dining community, including us, had a more muted response. Bar Milano closed at the end of 2008 and has re-opened as a clone of the same owners’ more casual place on the Lower East Side, ’inoteca. That spot closed in September 2012.

*

There’s no shortage of great Italian restaurants in New York, so it’s tough for a new one to command attention. So far, Bar Milano is off to a great start. In the first six weeks, reservations have generally been tough to come by.

It helps to have Jason Denton running the show. With four previous establishments (’Ino, ’Inoteca, Lupa, Otto), he has shown a knack for the kind of stylish-yet-casual restaurant that feels like a neighborhood place, but has the following of a dining destination. It’s something that many restauranteurs aspire to, but that Denton seems invariably to get right. Joining him here are brother Joe Denton (’Ino, ’Inoteca) and chefs he lured from two of those restaurants, Eric Kleinman (’Inoteca) and Steve Connaughton (Lupa).

A name like “Bar ______” can mean almost anything these days (just like “Bistro” or “Brasserie”). This is the fifth Bar Something-or-other that I’ve reviewed this year, and they have little in common. I’m not sure it has much to do with “Milano,” either. The cuisine is allegedly Northern Italian, but only in the loosest sense.

Rattlesnake

There is indeed a lovely bar here, and the house cocktails are worth a look. From a set called “Lost & Somewhat Forgotten” I had a Rattlesnake ($13), with Rittenhouse rye, Pernod, lemon juice, powdered sugar and egg white. The bar tab was transferred to my table without complaint, which ought to happen all the time, but often doesn’t.

There are 20 American whiskies available for a classic Manhattan cocktail, or 10 gins for a classic Martini. The menu offers no suggestions for any of the 9 vodkas.

Bread service

The dinner menu is somewhat pricey for this patch of Third Avenue. Success will depend on attracting a destination crowd, as the Dentons have historically done at their lower priced restaurants. Antipasti here are $10–15, primi $9–24, and secondi $20–43 (but most under $30). An eight-course tasting menu looks like it’s a bargain at $85.

Bread service is a bit spartan, with two people asked to share a single slender bread stick, a small slice of bread and an equally puny dinner roll.

 
Left: Tajarin con Porri Selvatici; Right: Agnolotti di Gamberi

We had mixed reactions to our pasta starters. Tajarin con Porri Selvatici ($17), or pasta with ramps and bread crumbs, had a nice crunchy texture. I liked the way the ramps were integrated into the dish, instead of being just seasonal add-ons used mostly for show.

But Agnolotti di Gamberi ($18), or shrimp-filled pasta with peas and mint, was not nearly as appetizing, with the taste of peas being far too dominant.

 
Left: Costolette di Maiele (pork chop); Right: Cotoletta alla Milanese (veal chop)

A pork chop ($26) and a veal chop ($32) were both expertly done, though if I’d stumbled on either preparation in another restaurant, I wouldn’t have associated them with Italy. The pork chop lay on a bed of escarole and was topped with a mustard fruit somewhat redolent of applesauce; the veal chop had a light, delecate bread crumb crust.

The meal ended with a couple of small petits-fours that seemed, like the bread service to start with, a little skimpy.

Service was polished and attentive, but this was the Friday evening before Memorial Day, and the dining room was clearly less busy than it would ordinarily be.

The Dentons told W Magazine that they envisioned Bar Milano as “a fun three-star place.” Bar Milano is fun, but it isn’t three stars. The food here is generally solid, but there are some soft spots on the menu, and there isn’t enough Milano in it. Like their other restaurants, it is a slightly over-achieving neighborhood place.

Bar Milano (323 Third Avenue at 24th Street, Gramercy)

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

Pegu Club

 

I’m a newcomer to the cocktail revolution. The timing and temperament of my dining habits are such that I’m more likely to have a sit-down meal with wine than to have a liquid dinner at a bar. But the craft and care that goes into the better cocktail menus has started to get my attention, if belatedly.

Pegu Club, which turns 3 in August, is practically the senior citizen of the post-modern cocktail circuit. It “hides in plain sight,” like many places in the genre—in this case, behind a barely labeled red door on Houston Street. No one who casually walks by would realize it’s a bar. Even those who are looking for Pegu Club sometimes have trouble finding it.

The bar is named for a nineteenth-century British officers’ club in Burma, and one can just detect a bit of the fin-de-siècle elegance they were aiming for. It’s a large, comfortable, and beautifully decorated space, with plush table seating and comfortable bar stools.

 
Left: French Pearl; Right: Poquito Picante

Pegu Club takes its ingredients seriously, with house-made infusions, shots carefully measured, and sodas poured from fresh bottles. I tried three of them (all $12), starting with the Little Italy, a Manhattan variant made with an Italian bitter called Cynar (“CHEE-nar”). The bartender actually took a sideways glance at me as I took my first sip, to see if I’d like it as much as he predicted. I’d imagine he was pleased with the broad smile on my face. I also loved the French Pearl, made with gin, pernod, muddled mint, lime juice, and simple syrup.

I wasn’t as pleased with the Poquito Picante, which didn’t live up to the promise of “just a little bit of heat.” The jalapeño floating on top was merely decorative. The other ingredients, cilantro, cucumber, gin, cointreau and lemon juice, made a bland impression.

I wonder if Pegu Club is leaning too much on the menu it opened with, and if the restless inventiveness of the city’s better cocktail chefs is still present here. The same handful of ingredients recur in many of the drinks—for instance, five of them include mint; five have lemon juice. That’s a lot of repetition on a short menu. I didn’t run out of choices, but I don’t know if there’s enough variety to justify many repeat visits.

That said, there’s still plenty more that I’d like to come back and try.

 

There’s food here, too. There’s a beverage recommendation for each item on the brief food menu, but in a number of cases there was no such item on the cocktail menu. You’d think they could clear that up.

The smoked trout deviled eggs ($10) have been on the menu since the beginning (Frank Bruni raved about them). In a word: wow! The little flecks of trout have a smoky taste almost like bacon, which nicely complements the curry mayonaise on the eggs. I didn’t quite get the point of chopsticks as a serving utensil, as the eggs were far too slippery to pick up that way. I used my hands.

A vegetarian spring roll ($12) was much more bland, but it was a decent enough snack.

The service was excellent, but in fairness I came quite early in the evening—I was the first customer, in fact—so I can’t attest to what it’s like when they fill up.

I’m only just beginning my journey through the city’s great cocktail places, but I doubt that there are many as comfortable as Pegu Club, and many of the drinks here are already modern classics.

Pegu Club (77 W. Houston St. between West Broadway & Wooster St., SoHo)

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