The Tasting Room's Hamburger

Note: As of June 2008, the Tasting Room has closed.

The Tasting Room has added an “Old MacDonald’s” Hamburger to the menu. I read about it on Grub Street, and it sounded intriguing enough to take an after-work detour.

Chef Colin Alevras “swore for twenty years that I wouldn’t make one,” that is, a hamburger, “unless I could completely rework it in a way I believed in.” Well, I guess he believes in it now. It has a section of the menu to itself, labeled “To Experiment” (it comes after “To Start” and “To Continue”).

Here’s the description:

       Coarse Ground 6-week Dry Aged Piedmontese Beef, Marrow, Heart, Tongue & Liver
       Homemade Wholewheat Bread, Ouray Cheese, Fried Egg & Mushroom Ketchup

The taste is not quite like any other burger you’ve had. All of those organ meats give it a slightly gamey flavor, but in an enjoyable way. The “mushroom ketchup” (how’d he come up with that?) complements the burger nicely. Alevras cooks it rare, with a charred crust.

According to the server, some guests have tried to make a sandwich of it, but you need to be prepared for a gooey mess. I wasn’t prepared for that, so I used my knife and fork, alternating between the burger and the fried egg & cheese. There was a garnish at the bottom of the plate, but I’m not sure what it was.

I agree with Cutlets at Grub Street that the bread doesn’t add much. If anything, it gets in the way. That’s a drawback I recall from my last visit: Alevras puts bread on plates that would do better without it.

The menu category, “To Experiment,” is appropriate. Alevras is toying with an idea. If you’re the type who likes playful, inventive food, and if you don’t mind taking a chance for $23, then maybe you’ll enjoy this burger. It certainly won’t be to all tastes.

The menu at The Tasting Room changed over the winter. Formerly, most dishes were offered in either “tasting” or “sharing” portions. As I noted last time, this system leads to confusion, because the “tasting” portions were sharable too, and it wasn’t clear how much to order.

Well, the menu now features just one price for every item, with appetizers at $14–24, fish entrées $21–26, meat and poultry entrées $21–27, the cheese plate at $18, and desserts $8. It’s gratifying to note that the entrées haven’t yet crossed the $30 barrier, but the naming of the first three sections—“To Start,” “To Continue,” “Followed By”—tends to encourage a meal of three savory courses, and costs can mount in a hurry.

The bartender told me that they found the old system of both “tasting” and “sharing” portions was confusing diners, who would either over- or under-order. It’s a strange discovery for a restaurant that’s been around a long while. I suspect the real reason is that the original format, which was developed for a restaurant one-third the size, didn’t work as well in a larger space.

Anyhow, there are no more “tastes” at The Tasting Room, which might just be a better restaurant without them.

The Tasting Room (264 Elizabeth Street, south of Houston Street, NoLIta)

Benoit

[Kreiger via Eater]

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

My girlfriend was waiting when I arrived at Benoit last night. “I’ve decided I want the whole menu,” she said. It’s an understandable reaction. If you like French classics, Benoit is the place for you.

Nominally, the proprietor here is the reknowned Michelin star-studded chef, Alain Ducasse. But at Benoit, what you’re getting is not so much Ducasse, but the French tradition that Ducasse has purchased and repackaged. The original Benoit, in Paris, dates from 1912. Ducasse bought the restaurant three years ago and duplicated it, first in Tokyo, and now in New York.

Ducasse didn’t stint here, spending more on the décor than he did at his other new restaurant, Adour. It abounds with wonderful little stylistic touches, such as the cute little paper wrappers around the napkins, the hefty wooden frames in which menus are delivered, and the fire-engine red trivets that hold the copper serving pots. That same red matches the banquettes and the coffee cups.

The menu will bring a smile to anyone who gets weak-kneed at the sight of escargots ($16/doz.), onion soup gratinée ($9), or duck à l’orange ($24). Prices, for now, are bargains by today’s standards, with the most expensive entrée at $29: a lamb chop, medallion & filet, with gratin Dauphinois. If Ducasse were doing market research, he’d have branded it “Lamb Three Ways” and charged at least five bucks more.

A Pâté en Croûte ($17) was wonderful. The menu advises that it’s the “Lucien Tendret recipe since 1892.” Around the pâté itself is a luscious rim of gelatin, and around that a thin, soft coating of pastry. It’s better than any individual pâté at Bar Boulud, though the latter restaurant has a much wider variety of them. If you’re in a charcuterie mood, Benoit offers a $39 platter for two, featuring various hams, sausages, veal tongue, and so forth.

That pâté isn’t the only recipe credit on the menu. The cassoulet ($26) is the J. J. Rachou recipe. Rachou was the chef and owner at LCB Brasserie Rachou, and before that La Côte Basque, which had occupied this space before Ducasse acquired it. The cassoulet sorely tempted us, but we had another order in mind.

The menu’s most expensive item is a Roasted Chicken for two ($48). Ducasse is either crazy or a genius for making such a humble item the centerpiece of the restaurant. He could have served a 40 oz. côte de bœuf at an extravagant price, and no one would have blanched. It’s what we expected of him. Instead, he is serving humble poultry—not a Bluefoot Chicken with truffles under the skin, as he did at the Essex House, but its humble, more rustic cousin.

Benoit has only been open two days, but so far the strategy is working: chickens were flying out of the kitchen. It’s a self-sustaining market. A wonderful aroma of garlic and rosemary fills the dining room as the waiters bring a sizzling chicken out of the kitchen. Those who haven’t ordered yet ask their server, “What is that?” The server tells them, and they say, “We’ll have that too.” Soon, another chicken comes out of the kitchen, to beguile another set of patrons. Lather, rinse, repeat.

After the chicken is presented, the server whisks it back into the kitchen for carving. There’s no magic about it, either. It is simply the traditional dish, expertly prepared. It is a bargain at $24 a person, considering that it is probably more chicken than you can finish. As good as it is, you’ll want to try.

Side dishes weren’t as impressive. The chicken comes with french fries “L’ami Louis style,” which would be $8 if ordered separately. They’re stacked and woven together in a cylindrical tower, which is striking to look at, but fries on the “inside” of the tower needed more time in the fryer, and weren’t warm enough. Those on the outside were too greasy. A side of creamed spinach ($7) was nothing special and arrived too late.

Except for the spinach snafu, the service routine was in very good shape for the second night. Bread rolls were fresh and soft, as was the butter. The restaurant’s liquor license wasn’t approved yet, but the restaurant had warned us in advance, and I’d brought a bottle with me. “La Crema,” our server noted. “That will pair well with our food.”

The city’s French “old guard” has been in decline for many years. Does that mean the old classics have lost their allure? We think they never do, especially when they’re prepared as well as at Benoit. Some formality has been lost in the transition from La Côte Basque to Benoit. There’s no “voila!” as each plate is delivered. A suit and tie are no longer de rigeur. But the food is right out of the old school—or so it seemed to us.

As the Times noted a couple of weeks ago, this type of food, minus the jacket-and-tie policy, seems to be making a comeback. We’re as fond of it as anyone, so we’ll be hoping for many years of success at Benoit.

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

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

L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon

Note: L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon closed at the end of June 2012. A conflict with the union was partly to blame. It is expected to re-open in March 2015 at Brookfield Place in Battery Park City. This will be a stiff test of the viability of fine dining downtown.

*

The French Gault Millau hailed Joël Robuchon as Chef of the Century—the last one, that is.

So when Robuchon’s L’Atelier (the name means “workshop”) arrived in town, what did the city’s two principal critics say? They complained the place was too casual. New York’s Adam Platt said that he would award four stars for the food, negative one for the ambiance, for a total of three, the same total Frank Bruni awarded.

Let us recall that Platt awarded four stars to Momofuku Ko without subtracting a star for ambiance, even though the experience at Momofuku Ko is in every respect inferior to L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon.

Let us also recall that after Frank Bruni reviewed this restaurant in October 2006, it took another sixteen months for him to find another new restaurant worthy of three stars. When he finally did, what was it? Why, Dovetail, another restaurant in every respect inferior by an order of magnitude to L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon.

After I returned home from my visit here, I immediately resolved to downgrade Momofuku Ko, a very good restaurant to which I had, nevertheless, erroneously awarded 3½ stars. One needs to be reminded occasionally of what the word “extraordinary” really means, lest it be confused with that which is merely “excellent.”

Food isn’t the only thing that’s extraordinary at L’Atelier. So are the prices. Little tasting plates range from $17–38 (not counting the caviar dish), and you’ll need about four of these to make a satisfactory meal. Appetizers range from $16–44, entrées from $37–46. Desserts are $17 apiece. The nine-course tasting menu is $190, making it the city’s third-most expensive after Masa and Per Se. The wine list, as you’d expect, carries prices to match: I saw no reds below $70.

But those who dine at this class of restaurant are already reconciled to dropping a sum of money. Momofuku Ko doesn’t become better than L’Atelier, just because David Chang has found a way to serve extremely good (though not extraordinary) cuisine at a price for the masses.

The two restaurants are comparable in many ways, as both feature counter dining, though the counter at L’Atelier is considerably more spacious and comfortable. L’Atelier also has twenty-six table seats, and I suspect much of the experience is diluted if you sit there, as it would be at any good sushi restaurant.

But continuing the comparison, it must be noted that L’Atelier has considerably more kitchen space than Momofuku Ko. With about 36 savory courses and 8 desserts, you could dine at L’Atelier a good half-dozen times without duplicating a selection. At Momofuku Ko, you will have come fairly close to exhausting the possibilities after just a couple of dinners.

At L’Atelier, the level of precision is something remarkable to behold. A chef actually uses tweezers to place chives on a plate. A couple of times, we were astounded, not merely at how good something tasted, but at how it could have existed at all. Robuchon is not just a chef, but a magician too.

Although Robuchon has seventeen Michelin stars (currently tops in the world), and something like eighteen restaurants, he is not a totally absentee chef. He recently spent a week in New York. Food & Wine reported that he was actually cooking. (We asked the staff about this, and they conceded he does not spend the whole evening in the kitchen, and that he does a good deal of schmoozing, too.)

To dine at L’Atelier, you have to put up with a slightly overwhelming menu. The items are in three categories (tasting plates, appetizers, entrées). Assuming you give the tasting menu a pass (which we did), how much constitutes a meal? The server advised that each “tasting plate” is generally about half the size of a conventional appetizer, but this isn’t strictly true when you consider the richness of the food. (My girlfriend wondered how many tons of butter they go through in a day.)

We decided to order two tasting plates and one entrée apiece, and to swap plates in between courses, which allowed us to try six things between us.

 
Bread service; Amuse-bouche

The bread service was lovely, though I would have preferred softer butter to go with it. The amuse-bouche was a delightful little foie gras mousse with a port reduction and parmesan foam.

 
Le Saumon (left); L’Ognion Nouveau (right)

The dishes here have deceptively simple names. I started with Le Saumon ($25). On the right side of the plate are two strips of thinly cut smoked salmon. On the left is a tangle of shredded crisp potato, but inside is a lightly poached egg. How they got the potato to completely surround the egg without damaging it is a mystery. You cut into the potato, and the egg yolk spills out: a deconstructed egg, salmon and potato omelet.

L’Ognion Nouveau ($24), an onion tart, was less mysterious, but every bit as accomplished in its preparation.

 
Le Ris de Veau (left); Les Burgers (right)

Le Ris de Veau ($29) offered two succulent sweetbreads, but equally delightful was the spring of stuffed romaine lettuce—stuffed with what? We were not sure, but it was astonishing.

But that was nothing compared to Les Burgers ($39), two small double-decker burgers with beef, foie gras and caramelized bell peppers, with hand-cut fries and Robuchon’s take on homemade ketchup. In another restaurant, these tiny burgers would be called sliders, but they put to shame every other version I’ve tried. The beef and foie gras melt together into one potent flavor package. Of the fries, my girlfriend said, “These are what I want before I die.”

 
La Caille (left); Le Tete de Veau (right)

The entrées didn’t rock our world quite as much as the tasting plates did. La Caille ($45), or quail, is one of Robuchon’s signature dishes, and I suspect anyone that loves the bird would love this bird. He stuffs the breast with foie gras, and caramelizes the outside. There are two little wings, two little breasts, and a potato purée on the side. I thought the dish disappeared awfully quickly for something that costs $45, and it was a lot of work to pull off what little meat a quail wing had to offer. But ’tis ever thus with quail. (The menu also offers a tasting portion of this dish, at $30.)

Le Tete de Veau ($42) is a remarkable preparation of a veal’s head, with bits of the cheek, tongue, and other unmentionables pounded thin, layered, rolled in a layer of fat, and cooked till crisp. We both thought that the fat overpowered the dish, but we didn’t have a basis of comparison for evaluating this classic.

  
Cheese plate; Cappuccino; Petits-fours

In lieu of dessert, we chose the cheese plate ($28), with four wonderful choices: from left to right, Hoch Ybrig, Emissaire de Notre Dame, Camembert Chatelain, and Bleu d’Auvergne. (The staff kindly produced a handwritten list when we asked for it.)

The unusually large cappuccino ($12) seemed worthy of a photo too, as well as two precious chocolate petits-fours that came on their own little pedestal.

The service throughout was first-class, notwithstanding the inherent informality of the counter setting. (Even the runners wear white gloves.) Our server had some mannerisms that were a bit irritating. Whatever we ordered seemed coincidentally to be her favorite item on the menu. A couple of times, she punctuated our dinner with “Good job!”, as if we were earning merit badges.

The restaurant is located in a corner of the Four Seasons hotel, but there is little separation between the dining room and the hotel bar just outside it. Both New York’s Platt and the Times’ Frank Bruni complained that the bar’s hubbub interfered with the quiet seclusion that such a meal ostensibly calls for. That may well have been true in the early days, when foodies were tripping over each other to try New York’s latest new thing. It was not an issue at any time during our two-hour meal on a Saturday evening. The restaurant was about two-thirds full.

With its stratospheric prices, L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon does not allow you to get out cheaply. Dinner for two came to $475, including tax and tip. At our income level, it cannot be anything more than an “occasion place,” visited occasionally. But assuming you take the plunge, you are almost certain to be treated to a level of cuisine few New York restaurants can match.

L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon (57 E. 57th Street between Park & Madison Avenues, in the Four Seasons Hotel, East Midtown)

Cuisine: Modern French, with luxury ingredients, impeccably prepared
Service: The white glove treatment, literally and figuratively
Ambiance: As elegant as counter service could ever be

Overall: ★★★★

Elettaria

Akhtar Nawab (center) runs a tight ship at Elettaria

Note: Elettaria closed in August 2009, after the owners could not negotiate a lease extension.

*

Akhtar Nawab first came to prominence at Tom Colicchio’s Craftbar. He left in 2006 to go solo, but things didn’t quite go as planned. He was the originally announced chef at Allen & Delancey, but when the restaurant finally opened, Neil Ferguson was at the helm. Then he signed on at The E.U., a star-crossed restaurant if ever there was one.

At Elettaria, Nawab is finally in control of his own destiny, along with partner Noel Cruz (Dani). Let’s hope that it’s a hit. Based on our meal there last night, it certainly deserves to be.

The name is the Latin word for cardamom, a spice often used in Indian cuisine. There are Indian accents all over the menu at Elettaria, but there are accents from a lot of places. Nawab is from Kentucky, and the cooking here could as well be called Modern American.

The interior design is from the same folks that did Allen & Delancey. You can see the resemblance, but their work is less successful here. For A&D’s charm, they’ve substituted a laundry list of clichés.

The bar takes up too much space. Dining tables are crammed too closely together. There’s a long row of them along the restaurant’s spine, and they’re just inches apart. We considered ourselves lucky to be there early, before the place filled up. There isn’t much space to manoever.

There’s a wide-open kitchen at the back of the restaurant. Nawab has it running smoothly. It’s a pleasure to watch. The space, most recently a men’s clothing store, was once a nightclub, and the kitchen is “on the very same spot where Jimi Hendrix reputedly plucked his guitar.”

 
Bread service (left); White asparagus with foie gras (left)

Our dinner at Elettaria was one of those rare restaurant meals that actually improved as it went along. The bread service consisted of two slices of naan. For the appetizer course, we were both attracted to one of the recited specials: a serving of white asparagus with shaved foie gras.

Pork, rice, quail egg

The asparagus, served chilled, had been over-cooked. The foie gras lacked the flavor punch it should have, and the few croutons offered were slightly soggy. At $20, this appetizer needed to be better.

The kitchen sent out a comped mid-course. It wasn’t on the printed menu, so I am guessing this is an item the chef is still tinkering with. He need tinker no longer. The highlights were two contrasting cuts of pork and a fried quail egg, resting in a slurry of rice. Nawab risks accusations of being derivative, with pork and fried eggs showing up on menus all over town, but this dish was much more of a hit than our original appetizer.

[Update: In his rave review for The Sun, Paul Adams described “an off-the-menu starter of lúgao ($12), Filipino rice porridge flavored with a succulent panoply of pig parts.” I am pretty sure that’s the mid-course item described above.]

 
Red Snapper (left); Striped Bass (right)

We both chose fish for the main course: red snapper ($28) for me, striped bass ($22) for my girlfriend. The kitchen did well by both fish, which were tender, flavorful, and well complemented by the accompanying vegetables and cous cous. A bed of small clams that came with the red snapper seemed more decorative than anything else.

The wine list here is downright revelatory, with many great bottles under $50, along with an impressive list of cocktails, liqueurs, apéritifs, and so forth. A 2004 Cotes de Provence from Chateau de Roquefort was only $37.

Although our appetizer misfired, the cooking here is ambitious. Over time, we suspect that Akhtar Nawab will have many more successes than failures. The reasonable prices make the restaurant especially compelling. Elettaria is well worth a return visit.

Elettaria (33 W. 8th Street at MacDougal Street, Greenwich Village)

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

Cocktails at Tailor

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

Most restaurants go through an adjustment period after they open, as chefs figure out what works, and what doesn’t. Those adjustments were somewhat more dramatic at Tailor, where chef Sam Mason had to eat a huge helping of humble pie, after his restaurant was roasted and pilloried by every critic in town.

In an early visit, I found the restaurant promising, but the menu didn’t have enough choices, and the lack of a serious wine list was a serious drawback. Mason has rectified both. The current menu offers about a half-dozen each of appetizers ($15–17), entrées ($24–27) and desserts ($12), though it must be noted that portion sizes remain small, and hearty eaters may need to order more than three courses to go home full. A seven-course chef’s tasting menu is $90, which seems exorbitant when you consider that Momofuku Ko serves ten courses for $85.

The wine list has been fleshed out too. Early on, Mason conceded that “Wine’s a little beyond me,” but he finally figured out that customers want wine with food. From the beginning, Eben Freeman’s cocktails won high praise, but I still think they pair poorly with food. They need to be enjoyed on their own.

Last night, I dropped in for a couple of cocktails before heading uptown for dinner. The bar area is downstairs, and it is one of the loveliest bar spaces in town. Both of my visits have been quite early (around 5:30 p.m.), when it is still relatively empty, and the bartenders have time to chat.

 

One feature of Eben Freeman’s cocktail menu is that almost every item has ingredients you never heard of. I asked for something “not too sweet,” and the bartender recommended the Mate Sour ($13), which is made from Yerba Mate, Queberante Pisco, Lime Juice, Honey, Egg Whites, and Angostura. Half of those ingredients are as unfamiliar to me as they probably are to you. But it had a nice cool, bracing taste.

Freeman also serves a tasting of three “solid cocktails” ($12), captioned Cuba Libre, Ramos Gin Fizz, and White Russian. The menu is unhelpful—it lists only the short names—and I wasn’t about to give the bartender the third degree. I’d describe them as interesting, rather than good, and they disappear awfully quickly.

I asked the bartender about a mysterious unlabeled bottle, which he said was tobacco-infused bourbon. None of the cocktails on the printed menu actually uses that ingredient, so I asked him to make one up for me. So he put some tobacco-infused bourbon, Jim Beam, and a couple of different bitters into a mixing vessel, and voila! Out came the drink shown on the left, which resembled an Old Fashioned.

Last week’s Time Out New York named Tailor “Best restaurant you were sick of before it opened.” That captures the contradiction, which is that Tailor is very good, but suffered badly from early over-exposure. I didn’t eat any of the food this time, but it looks like Tailor has matured. Those who were sick of it should consider a second look.

Tailor (525 Broome Street between Sullivan & Thompson Streets, SoHo)

Food & Drink: **
Ambiance: **
Service: **
Overall: **

Uncle Jack's Steakhouse

New York’s bustling steakhouse industry has settled into three distinct camps: classic, modern, and Peter Luger clones.

Classic steakhouses feature fairly predictable menus, old-school waiters (always men), and throwback décor (mahogany paneling, white tablecloths, oil paintings). You often see large, boistrous, all-male parties at these places; they’re much favored by investment bankers celebrating the latest deal, and so forth. Sparks and Keens are typical classic steakhouses.

Modern steakhouses are those that break the mold, usually by offering non-steak items you can take seriously, more inventive side dishes, friendlier service, and more contemporary décor. BLT Prime and Craftsteak head up this category.

The Luger clones are a variant on the classic steakhouse, but there are enough of them to list separately. The key giveaway is a menu that emphasizes “Steak for One” (Two, Three, or Four), the famous thick-cut Canadian bacon, and German-fried potatoes as a side dish. Examples include Wolfgang’s and Mark Joseph.

Uncle Jack’s Steakhouse is firmly in the classic mold, and it may be the best of the bunch. I loved my first visit there, 2½ years ago, even if my three-star rating was utterly crazy. I don’t know what took me so long to get back, as the Ninth Avenue location is practically on the way home. Anyhow, I finally got back again the other night.

I was enormously impressed with a truncheon-sized ribeye ($45) with a beautiful exterior char. Only at Strip House have I seen it bettered.

I was impressed with the wine list, too: a hefty tome with plenty of decent bottles below the $50 mark, and wines by the glass that are actually printed. At most of the classic and Luger-style steakhouses, the waiter just intones, “Cabernet, Merlot, Shiraz, Pinot Noir,” as if it were irrelevant which Cabernet, Merlot, Shiraz, or Pinot Noir they were serving.

The décor, I must admit, is a little tacky, with “Lobster,” “Caviar,” etc. painted in big block letters along the wall. In other respects, Uncle Jack’s has the standard steakhouse ambiance nailed.

Service is better here, with waiters who don’t seem as bored as most steakhouse waiters, and who circle back frequently to check up on you.

Uncle Jack’s doesn’t get as much publicity as the other classic steakhouses, but I am not sure why. On the basis of my visits, I much prefer it to Keens or Sparks—to give but two eamples. There are now three outposts of Uncle Jack’s: the original in Bayside, the one I visited on Ninth Avenue, and the newest branch in West Midtown, on 56th Street.

Uncle Jack’s Steakhouse (440 Ninth Ave. between 34th & 35th Sts., Hell’s Kitchen)

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

First Look: Brasserie Cognac

 

The Times’ Florence Fabricant and I may be among the few cheering about the return of classic French cuisine, but perhaps there will soon be restaurants full of us. The other night, I looked in on the newest of these, Brasserie Cognac de Monsieur Ballon, or just Brasserie Cognac for short.

Let’s get this out of the way: Monsieur Ballon doesn’t exist. He’s an invention of the folks who own the Serafina chain, who now envision a bunch of brasseries by Mr. such-and-suches—this being the first. I wasn’t optimistic that the purveyors of formulaic Italian could put out a French restaurant of any distinction, but at first blush they’ve made a very serious attempt.

For starters, they engaged Rita and André Jammet, who had owned three-star La Caravelle, as consultants. The kitchen is in the hands of Florian Hugo, the great-great-grandson of the author Victor Hugo. The décor and menu are in the conventional brasserie style, authentic-looking without going over-the-top.

I would have overlooked a dish called Vol-au-vent, had not the server pointed it out. I don’t recall seeing it on any brasserie menu in New York. The waiter, who was French, assured me that it’s one of the classics, but not often served because it’s difficult to prepare. Wikipedia explains:

A Vol-au-vent (French for “windblown” to describe its lightness) is a small hollow case of puff pastry. A round opening is cut in the top and the pastry cut out for the opening is replaced as a lid after the case is filled. Vol-au-vents can accommodate various fillings, such as mushrooms, prawns, fruit, or cheese, but they are almost always savory.

The Vol-au-vent here was a lovely, light puff pastry that corralled a serving of lobster, foie gras and mushrooms in a lobster sauce. I was astounded that an entrée made with so many luxury ingredients was only $29.

There is some serious talent at the bar, too. I counted 18 house cocktails, and not just rote formula drinks with “-tini” and “-rita” suffixes. Six of them are cognac based, including the terrific one I tried, the Do Ré-my ($12), served in a champagne glass with Rémy Martin, sour mix, St. Germain liqueur, and Charles Heidsieck champagne.

There are 110 cognacs available. The printed list wasn’t yet available (it was only the restaurant’s second night), but the manager recommended an XO (normally $14) and then comped it. Service was slightly helter-skelter, but the staff (mostly Europeans, it appeared) were friendly and apologetic. I assume it will improve after things settle down.

I’ll withhold judgment till I’ve had a chance to sample more, but if the rest of the menu is as good as the Do Ré-my cocktail and the Vol-au-vent, then Brasserie Cognac is very good indeed. At the least, it’s a compelling new option for pre-Carnegie Hall dining.

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

Ducasse’s Benoit to Open

This has been a busy year for Alain Ducasse, with two new restaurants opening in New York, to say nothing of his ever-growing worldwide empire.

First up was Adour, which we weren’t fond of, but was fêted with three stars by both Adam Platt and Frank Bruni. For the verdict Ducasse really cares about — Michelin — we’ll have to wait till October.

Meanwhile, Benoit opens on April 21 in the former Brasserie LCB space, which before that was La Côte Basque. As usual, Ducasse didn’t stint on the décor. Per the Times:

To furnish Benoit, Mr. Ducasse haunted the Paris flea markets buying stuff, including an 1866 decorative ceiling painted on glass, and fixtures from a former Banque de France. A 19th-century herbal pharmacy from Bordeaux was reassembled on the second floor.

He also kept a few decorative elements from La Côte Basque. “I hoped to transfer the ambience of Benoit, not make an exact reproduction,” Mr. Ducasse said, adding that Benoit in New York cost more to build than his other new Manhattan restaurant, Adour, in the St. Regis a block away.

La Côte Basque’s former chef–owner, Jean-Jacques Rachou, told the Times that he thinks “New York is now regretting the disappearance of the classic food.”

Classics, indeed, are what dominates the menu at Benoit. Ducasse said, “Dishes like these have a history, and I have a list of 100 of them that I hope to put on the menu sooner or later. I call it my mental terroir.” The opening menu, though, runs the risk of putting the audience to sleep, with a $44 chicken for two as the signature item. I’ll be rooting for Ducasse to open up his cookbook sooner, rather than later.

I took an envious look inside last night. The restaurant was clearly open and serving “friends & family.” I am neither, and so I left Benoit for another day.

Momofuku Ko

Note: This is a review of Momofuku Ko in its former location on First Avenue. In November 2014, the restaurant moved to 8 Extra Place.

*

The hassle of obtaining a reservation of Momofuku Ko has quickly become the stuff of legend—and that’s for a restaurant barely over a month old. After finally wrestling this bear to the ground, I can finally answer the question: Is it worth it?

Not that my opinion matters, because MoKo has MoJo (hat tip: The Pink Pig). If, by any chance, there were a negative review—and I haven’t seen one yet—it would hardly make a difference for the restaurant that seemingly can do no wrong. In this week’s New York, MoKo earns four stars from Adam Platt (conferred by the frothing critic after just one visit). At the Paper of Record, Frank Bruni is taking his time, but the smart money is betting on another four-star review.

Irrelevant though our verdict may be, the short answer is: Yes, MoKo really does deserve all of that attention. And yes, if you care at all about food, it really is worth your while to jump through hoops to become one of the approximately 32 guests that are served six nights a week. (They are closed Tuesdays.)

The ten-course tasting menu is not the best we’ve had in New York, but it is pretty darned close. And you get it for $85, which is at least $50 per person less than what you’d pay elsewhere for comparable quality. What you lose is the comfort and coddling that the better restaurants offer. You’re seated at a bar on wooden stools; those with back problems needn’t apply.

The chefs also serve the food, assisted by two servers who have to navigate a narrow space and sometimes can’t quite keep up with the demand. Peter Serpico, the restaurant’s executive chef, served most of our courses. He seemed to have very little enthusiasm for that part of the job. Two other chef–servers seemed more cheerful, but our sense was that the real joy for them is in the cooking.

Chef–owner (and media darling) David Chang was in the house. For about the first half of the meal, he was behind the counter doing mostly prep work, along with three other chefs. A photographer from Bloomberg news was snapping photos; everyone lightened up considerably after he left. Chang later disappeared, though we saw him again briefly before we left. There appeared to be two other employees behind the scenes, washing dishes and doing other prep work.

The two non-chef servers had an awful lot to do: greeting and seating guests; checking and returning coats; taking and delivering beverage orders; clearing plates (but not always); and setting silverware (but not always). Though the restaurant’s 14 seats were never completely full at any time during our meal, that is still a lot for two servers to do. Silverware didn’t always arrive when it should, and we detected some uncertainty among the staff about who was responsible for clearing plates.

Want a cappuccino after dinner? Sorry…they only have espresso.

The entrance, unlabeled and easily missedI am not suggesting that service is bad here, but merely pointing out the gulf between Momofuku Ko and traditional three- and four-star restaurants. The service routine will improve with time, but MoKo will probably never offer the kind of pampering and coddling that many diners expect at this price level. It’s not an “occasion place,” but if future menus are as good as the one we had, I would happily go again. And again.

The beverage program is continuing to improve. There’s now a respectable wine list, with bottles as low as $32, as well as those in the hundreds. There is now a premium wine pairing at $85, in addition to the standard wine pairing at $50 that was available before. We ordered the premium wine pairing and were impressed with the choices, which included two sakes, a sparkling rosé, one red, and a number of whites.

Wine pairings are always a crap-shoot. At their best, you get provocative wines from producers off the beaten path—great wines that compelment the food, and that you never would have chosen yourself. At their worst, you get dull, generic wines that make you wish you’d just ordered a “blow-the-doors off” full bottle. The pairings at Ko are firmly in the first category. At $85, the wines are mostly young; you’re not getting anything like the 1962 Madeira we were served at Per Se. But it is still one of the more impressive wine pairings we’ve had, and well worth it.

In the restaurant’s early days, the menu is pretty much the same for everybody, but there are alternatives for most courses, to offer variety for second-time guests or to accommodate diners with dietary restrictions. We reported only one such restriction (my girlfriend doesn’t eat scallops) but we were served alternatives for four out of ten courses. By switching plates, we were able to sample fourteen dishes between us.

 
English muffin with pork fat and pork rinds (left); Fluke sashimi with spicy buttermilk & poppy seeds (right)

The first item—technically the amuse-bouche—was a miniature English muffin slathered in whipped pork fat, with dried pork rinds on the side. Some reviewers have raved about the muffins, but we weren’t quite as impressed. Chang has proved you can pair pork with anything; so what? The wine pairing was a sparkling rosé.

We adored the first savory course: Long Island fluke sashimi with spicy buttermilk and toasted poppy seeds. The cool, bracing freshness of the fluke worked perfectly with the spicy heat of the buttermilk. The wine pairing was a nice Chablis—and that comes from folks who aren’t Chablis fans.

 
Berkshire pork belly & oyster in kimchi broth (left); Louisiana crawfish in a Georgia pea soup (right)

The next course was split. I had the Berkshire pork belly with a Long Island oyster, Napa cabbage and kimchi consommé. You’ll never go wrong when David Chang serves pork (we saw him shucking the oysters), but I must confess I don’t quite get the fuss over the kimchi that many other critics have raved about.

My girlfriend had the Louisiana crawfish in a Georgia pea soup with crumpet mushrooms. The flavor contrast here might have even been better than the pork/oyster combo, but the crawfish should have been a little warmer. And it was probably just a goof, but we had to ask for spoons.

The wine pairing here was a sake.

 
Hen egg, caviar, potato chips (left); White asparagus, caviar, asparagus purée (right)

Another split course came next, again with white wine.

There’ve been snickers about “hen eggs” (anyone ever hear of a rooster egg?), but they can call it anything they want when it’s this good. A lightly smoked egg was supported here with hackleback caviar and candied lemon zest. At the edge of the plate, a pile of fingerling potato chips added very little to the effect.

We saw the chef lavishing plenty of attention over lovely white asparagus stalks, which were grilled, sauced with an asparagus purée and garnished with caviar. This bland and overly salty creation couldn’t compete with the intensity of the hen egg.

 
Scallop (left); Soft-shell crab (right)

While we were eating our caviar, we watched as the chef decapitated live soft-shell crabs and put them the frying pan, their legs still squirming. We did our best to ignore the crabs’ fate, but it wasn’t a sight for the squeamish.

This was another split course, with the crab served to me and the scallop to my girlfriend, even though she is the one who doesn’t eat scallops. The scallop was served with radishes, the crab with ramps, and both dishes had a other ingredients we couldn’t write down fast enough. The wine pairing was a Chardonnay.

The crab didn’t have much flavor, and it was also difficult to eat. Even though my girlfriend doesn’t eat scallops, I persuaded to try a bite, and she agreed it was the more enjoyable of the two.

Shaved foie gras, lychee, pine nut brittle, riesling gelée

If MoKo has fired a “shot heard ’round the world,” it’s surely the dish that came next: shaved foie gras over lychee, pine nut brittle and a riesling gelée. The ingredients join in your mouth, leaving a startling sensation of the foie gras melting and melding with its unlikely companions.

The wine pairing was a sweet sake.

 
Deep-fried short rib as it came out of the fryer (left); and as served on the plate (right)

The deep-fried short ribs are almost as big a hit. They’re slowly braised overnight, then quickly finished in the deep fryer. The chef trims away the ends, a waste that we considered practically criminal, given how tender they are. I would happily eat a meal comprising nothing but the ends Momofuku is throwing away.

There’s also daikon radish and pickled mustard seed on the plate, but the short rib is the star. The wine pairing was our only red wine of the evening, a Cabernet Sauvignon.

 
Miso soup with grilled rice (left); Lychee sorbet (right)

The last few courses weren’t quite as interesting. The last savory course was a miso soup with grilled rice and pickled vegetables. I believe the rice is slathered in more pork fat. The palate cleanser was a lychee sorbet over sesame crumble.

 
Cereal milk panna cotta (left); Deep-fried apple pie (right)

Everyone at MoKo seems to get one of two desserts, so we were pleased to be able to try both. The more interesting of the two is a cereal milk panna cotta with brittle chocolate and an avocado purée. The alternative was a deep-fried apple pie, which was just fine, but not all that far removed from the McDonalds version. On the whole, the desserts didn’t have the same level of invention as the savory courses.

There were no outright duds among the fourteen items we tasted. Setting aside the hype, there were several extraordinary dishes, a number of others that were merely good, and four or five that really ought to be better. A couple of dishes (the foie gras, the short ribs) have already gone platinum, and may be on the hit parade for a long time to come. The lesser stars will, I am sure, give way to new flights of Momofuku fancy.

Not since Per Se has a new restaurant been the subject of such over-heated attention. But sometimes places are hyped because they’re really worth it, and this is one of them. If you don’t mind hard, backless benches and occasionally inartful service, Momofuku Ko is just about everything it’s cracked up to be.

Momofuku Ko (163 First Avenue between 10th & 11th Streets, East Village)

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

Chop Suey

Note: Chop Suey closed in October 2008.

The chef Zak Pelaccio has come a long way since he was a cult hit at the Chickenbone Cafe in Williamsburg. His fans followed him to 5 Ninth in the Meatpacking District (from whence he later departed), and then to Fatty Crab a few blocks away.

Since then, he has turned his solid reputation into self-parody, cashing in one “consulting chef” gig after another. Chop Suey is the latest of these. It features one of Pelaccio’s trademark multi-Asian menus, along with one of the best views in the city, assuming you find it charming to look out on the bright lights of Times Square. Frank Bruni did, awarding one star in The Times.

Chop Suey is more than just a great view. The Renaissance Hotel did a lovely job with the renovation. The décor is stylish, comfortable, and understated—as it should be when you’ve got the most famous view in America. With only 78 seats, a majority of which were empty at 8:15 p.m. on a Saturday evening, you can actually have a quiet and unhurried meal here.

If only the food matched the view

That assumes the food is worthwhile, which it isn’t. Pelaccio’s menu seems phoned in. That’s the problem with a “consulting chef” who doesn’t stick around to edit out the clunkers, or even to ensure his vision (if he had one) is faithfully executed. We had three appetizers and three entrées between us, and there was only one item I’d recommend. That’s too low a ratio of successes to failures, especially when dinner for three runs to almost $250 (including tax and tip).

 
Crispy Rock Shrimp (right); Curry Leaf Fried Chicken Wings (right)

Crispy Rock Shrimp($18) would have been unobjectionable, but a bed of stringy, cold, allegedly braised pork belly was just strange. Curry Leaf Fried Chicken Wings ($15) seemed no different to us than the Hooters variety.

Steamed Rice Cakes (left); Atlantic Halibut (right)

If you saw Steamed Rice Cakes ($12) on the menu, would you expect something resembling the photo above? I sure didn’t. I’m a simple guy: “rice cake” implies “rice” and “cake,” and the dish included neither. But it was the evening’s only hit. There were gnocchi in there, along with spicy pickled vegetables and a Korean pork bolognese.

Moving to the entrées, an Atlantic Halibut sous vide ($28) was lovely enough, although boring. I detected none of the promised Prosciutto di Parma, and the clam medley underneath it was pointless.

 
Ginger Chicken (left); Beef Short Ribs (right)

My son wasn’t fond of the Ginger Chicken ($32), also cooked sous vide, nor of the ginger tempura dumplings that came with it. Beef Short Ribs ($30) were a horror show: sliced too thin, overwhelmed with chili sauce, and not tender enough. We thought it was impossible to ruin short ribs. Now we know better.

The other “consultant” at Chop Suey is pastry chef Will Goldfarb. Perhaps he has done a wonderful job with the desserts…but perhaps not. We weren’t willing to roll the dice again.

With this wonderful space and this gorgeous view, the Renaissance Hotel deserves a far better restaurant than this. It’s time to fire the consultants and start over again.

Chop Suey (714 Seventh Avenue at 48th Street, 2nd floor of the Renaissance Hotel, Theater District)

Food: Disappointing
Service: Acceptable
Ambiance: Wonderful
Overall: Not Recommended