Vince and Eddie's

Note: Vince and Eddie’s closed in March 2011. Even an investment from Lady Gaga couldn’t save it.

*

My mother, girlfriend and I had a quiet weeknight dinner at Vince and Eddie’s about a month ago. My mom described it as “the typical restaurant you imagine in New York.” She meant that it’s one of the many places that’s on the ground floor of a townhouse, and about eight times deeper than it is wide.

In a one-star review over seventeen years ago, Marian Burros admirably summarized the place: “The cooking at Vince and Eddie’s is being compared to Grandma’s, or Mother’s, depending on your last birthday. No matter. The comparison conjures up feel-good adjectives like hearty, simple, warm, comforting.” Burros also found a good deal of unevenness back then, a problem not evident to us, though I’ll admit our sample was small and unscientific.

My mom and I tried some of the tenderest calf’s liver we’ve had anywhere (above). But that’s not good enough for Vince and Eddie’s, which piles on the onion rings, baked apples, bacon, and gravy. I’ve forgotten my girlfriend’s entrée, but I recall that it too was a mountain of rich, uncomplicated food, enjoyably prepared.

The restaurant was not crowded, and I suspect that it seldom is. But it has done well enough to survive as a solid neighborhood place and occasional pre-Lincoln Center standby. The world needs more like it.

Vince and Eddie’s (70 W. 68th Street between Columbus Avenue & Central Park West, Upper West Side)

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

Rosanjin

Kaiseki is a Japanese tradition from Kyoto that features long multi-course meals in which beautiful presentation is as important as the food on the plate.

Until a year ago, Sugiyama, which carries three stars from the Times, had the Manhattan Kaiseki market almost to itself. It is getting more crowded. Rosanjin opened in late 2006 in TriBeCa. Later this year, David Bouley plans to open Brushstroke just a few blocks away.

Rosanjin doesn’t call much attention to itself—a problem you can rest assured Bouley won’t have. Paul Adams and Frank Bruni were the only mainstream critics to review it. Bruni awarded two stars—relegating it to the indiscriminate scrum of earnest neighborhood joints, pizza places, and steakhouses that have caught his fancy. Forbes awarded four stars, calling it “[one of] the most divine Japanese meals you’ll ever experience in New York.”

Dinner at Rosanjin moves at a quiet and leisurely pace, with the $150 prix fixe meal unfolding over many hours. There are only seven tables, and I get the idea that they are seldom fully booked. There were just two other parties when we were there, and that was on a Saturday night.

The owner, Jungjin Park (who is from Korea) choreographs a tiny staff, who could be part of a ballet. Every plate, no matter how tiny, is placed or retrieved individually with two hands. Mr. Park is the only one who speaks, which he does in such quiet tones that one feels almost obligated to whisper, even when he is not within earshot. There is no menu. You are served whatever Mr. Park is offering that day.

Mr. Park’s collection of sake decanters belongs in a museum. For us, he produced a sphere resembling a tea-pot, with a removable center core that he filled with ice. At another table, the decanter looked like a tall vase. We asked him why he chose one or the other. He replied, “It is according to my mood.”

I felt that flash photography would be inappropriate, and unfortunately the photos don’t do full justice to the beautiful creations that come out of Rosanjin’s kitchen. 

 

The first course (above left) had three contrasting dishes: 1) monkfish liver with tofu and sesame paste (lower left of photo); 2) Japanese clam with brocolli rabe, white asparagus and brussels sprout (top); 3) grilled fresh scallop in a squash puree (bottom right). All three were impeccably assembled and gorgeous, with the monkfish liver especially standing out.

I didn’t photograph the second course, which came in a lovely black bowl decorated with painted pink flowers. Inside was a fish broth with lobster, fried tofu, two pieces of string bean, and orange rind.

The third course (above right) had pieces of raw snapper, medium fatty tuna, squid and codfish on a bed of shredded radish and shiso leaf. Alongside  was a bowl of fresh salmon roe, which Mr. Park advised us to drink like fruit juice and two contrasting sauces for the fish.

 

The sushi course (above left) presented the evening’s only choice: fatty tuna or eel. Mr. Park commended our judgment when we both chose the tuna, which was heavily marbled like a ribeye steak. He told us it was a rare variety from the cold waters between Japan and Russa that is seldom available in New York. According to Mr. Park, 99.5% of it goes to Japan, Boston, Spain, and Croatia.

Next came Kobe beef tempura (above right), spinach salad with walnuts and pecorino Romano. This course was one of the evening’s few duds. Kobe beef feels like a default luxury, but I hardly tasted much beef at all—Kobe or otherwise.

 

Next, a slice of baby yellowtail teriyaki (above left) came with a blade of “shishito” bean and two ginko nuts (“break with your hands and enjoy”). It was impeccable and beautiful, like everything else, and we enjoyed the texture of the warm fish against the cool lima bean. But I didn’t feel that cooked fish was the kitchen’s strength.

Waves of flavor and contrast washed over us, and I don’t recall any specific impression of simmered codfish (above right) with a radish, Japanese spinach and ginger.

 

The savory portion of the meal ended with a striking soup (above left) of egg white, vegetable and turtle (“which is very much a delicacy in Japan”), with pickled vegetables. Dessert (above right) was yet another striking combination — crème brûlée, chocolate ice cream and mango juice — though none of these items alone would have been especially memorable.

As this was our first kaiseki experience, I don’t have anything to compare it to, except for the long tasting menus in Western restaurants. But there was only one clear miss (the tempura) dampening the parade of truly exquisite creations, served in a serene environment that almost makes you forget you’re in Manhattan. We will certainly be back.

Rosanjin (141 Duane Street between West Broadway & Church Street, TriBeCa)

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

Bite Club

 

Another New Year’s Eve…what to do? Most restaurants serve a less interesting version of their normal menu, while at least doubling the price. The only exception I’ve found is WD–50, but as we tried that last year, I wanted something different.

Enter Bite Club, the “French Laundry of dinner clubs.” With raves on Grub Street and eGullet, I knew it was for real,  and that owners Daniel & Alicia would turn out another of the fantastic menus they’re quickly becoming famous for.

But first, there were a few hurdles. You don’t just call Bite Club for a reservation; you have to become a member. Then, a 50% deposit was due (that’s $200), payable in cash, hand-delivered either to Daniel’s or Alicia’s workplace.  Three days before the event, clandestine instructions came by e-mail, cautioning us to “maintain silence” in the apartment building where the dinner was held, until were in the apartment itself. “Should you be in the elevator with someone, it is imperative that you NOT mention Bite Club. Even if you suspect they are fellow diners for the evening, please wait until you are both brought into the apartment to confirm that.” My girlfriend wondered if we should have brought payment in small, unmarked bills.

There are reasons for all of that secrecy, as Bite Club’s operation is something between a restaurant (with all the laws and regulations that implies) and a just dinner party amongst friends. It isn’t quite clear on what side of that line Bite Club falls. Initially, it really was just Daniel and Alicia throwing dinner parties for their friends. It has clearly become something a bit more commercial over time, though the party atmosphere still lurks in the background.

I was surprised at the size of the crowd, as I’d been led to expect somewhere around a dozen guests. There were nearly 30, at tables mostly for 6–7 guests, although there was one two-top. We were seated with a party of four, but we quickly built a rapport and enjoyed our four-hour meal together as if we were old friends. One of Bite Club’s advantages is that you know you’ll be eating with people who really appreciate great food and wines. With Daniel and Alicia serving plenty of both, you won’t lack for conversation.

There were printed menus for everyone, describing both the food and the wines in some detail. Daniel and Alicia’s style is modern, not clearly beholden to any particular cuisine. They relish combining ingredients in unexpected ways. What comes out on the plate is generally spare and uncluttered, though the preparation may well have been complex. Daniel told us they started cooking at 7:00 the night before.

We noted that there were hardly any vegetables on the menu; we weren’t sure whether this was a preference, or if they had reached the limit of what two people could accomplish in such a small space. I don’t know what they have at home—this was not their own place—but we were in a standard Manhattan apartment, with a fairly small kitchen clearly not designed to turn out 7 courses for 30 diners. Assisting were a dish-washer and two servers—the place couldn’t have accommodated any more helpers, even if Daniel and Alicia had wanted them. What they produced was a marvel.

Besides preparing all the food, Daniel and Alicia also have an impressive battery of stemware and china. Given the length of the meal and the number of guests, they needed all of it. As they raise Bite Club to new levels, they might want to consider a small investment in flatware. A few times, we were given utensils that weren’t quite right, or asked to re-use utensils from a previous course. Butter knives would have been helpful. But this was the only small complaint we had, with what was otherwise flawless service.

Dinner was seven courses with paired wines. I wasn’t sure about the etiquette of taking photos, and in any case I didn’t want to risk disrupting such a festive occasion, but check out Off the Broiler if you want to see what some of Daniel and Alicia’s creations look like.

We began with a sparkling Spinetti Moscato d’Asti, followed a short while later with a crazily good amuse-bouche, venison loin with Thai chili and goat cheese. Two breads were served, along with two contrasting spreads, a soft butter and a liver pâté. Soft, warm onion rolls came later.

The first savory course was called Egg (truffled egg custard, vodka cream and caviar), paired with a Casa Ferrienha Esteva 2002. The custard and caviar came inside of a hollowed out egg. The combination was terrific.

Next came Lobster (cream of lobster, black truffle pastry), paired with a Tissot Les Bruyeres 2004. Though described as cream of lobster, there were actually several solid chunks of butter-poached lobster with the pastry on top, in a small dish that you’d normally use for crème brûlée. The presentation didn’t quite work, as you couldn’t really navigate your knife inside of the dish to cut the lobster. The wine was a Chardonnay with an unusual smoky flavor.

After that, Sweetbreads (JG raisin caper emulsion and cauliflower puree), paired with Rosenblum Viognier 2005. Three hunks of sweetbread each rested on a dab of cauliflower, with the raisin emulsion splashed between them, in the middle of the plate. The lusciously tender sweetbreads and the cauliflower puree complemented each other perfectly, but we felt that the raisin caper emulsion didn’t really add anything.

The main savory course was titled “Pork & Beans”, a sly name very much in the French Laundry style. Two juicy slices of caramelized pork belly were bathed in a cranberry bean puree and pomegranate reduction, paired with Castell’in Villa Chianti Classico 2003. This was a highlight for everyone at our table, though I have to admit that I’ve hardly ever seen a pork belly dish go wrong: with all of that fat, there is bound to be decadence on the plate.

The Cheese Flight offered five raw (i.e., unpasteurized) cheeses, which I believe Daniel and Alicia import from Canada. There was a contrast of cow, goat, and sheep’s milk cheeses, arrayed in order of increasing intensity. I found one of them a bit dull, but the other four were first-class; overall, it was a well judged selection. The paired wine was Brovia La Brea Barbera 2005.

In perhaps their most daring choice of the evening, as well as the most complex, the last savory course was Foie Gras (also a Canadian import) with poached pear, ginger snap, cacao nibs, and star anise caramel. Foie gras is normally served early in the meal, so I was surprised to find it after the cheese course. But  foie gras is a versatile ingredient: serve it with poached pears and caramel, and it becomes a dessert. Brilliant! The paired wine was Rasmussen Late harvest Gewurztraminer 2003.

Midnight approached as the foie gras plates were being cleared, so everyone pitched in to get the champagne poured (Roederer Anderson Valley NV Methode Champenoise), and we counted down the seconds to midnight.

The final course, captioned Chocolate, was the only one that really misfired: a chocolate cake bedecked with a frosted scotch bonnet (a kind of chili pepper). Despite its time in the freezer, the pepper packed serious heat, and I was the only one at my table who ate all of it. It was a four-alarm fire in my mouth, but it felt great afterwards. After that adventure was over with, we were left with a dull mound of chocolate that wasn’t worth eating. After four happy hours and seven wine pours (several with refills), nobody at my table was paying much attention to the chocolate anyway.

The overall quality of the meal approached the level of the better tasting menus in town. Wine pairings were all lovely, and some of them even witty. It is all the more remarkable when you consider that (as I understand it) Daniel and Alicia are self-taught. They also don’t have the advantage of trying everything out in a test kitchen: every meal they serve is unique, based on the ingredients available and their own whims. And in another week or so, they’ll have to go out and do it all again. (Bite Club events are generally on weekends, since Daniel and Alicia have day jobs.)

Daniel and Alicia richly deserve all the accolades that have come their way. They are also gracious and gregarious hosts, and love to talk about the food. I suspect that even greater things are to come, and I hope to be at Bite Club again to enjoy them.

The Payoff: Primehouse New York

In tomorrow’s Times, the animal-sex imagery abounds, as Frank Bruni pays homage to Prime, the mighty steer who sires the porterhouse at Primehouse New York:

And Primehouse New York, on Park Avenue South? It’s the seminal steakhouse.

It’s also an estimable one, with virtues that will rightly earn it the affection of many discerning carnivores and give it a solid chance in a competitive field.

[D]essert doughnuts … come in the form of hollow balls, accompanied by three plastic syringes of a sort containing chocolate, butterscotch and strawberry. You use the syringe of your choice to, um, fertilize each one.

He loves the steaks, but uneven service, an over-priced wine list, and a shortage of recommendable non-steak dishes, all add up to one star, as both Eater and New York Journal had predicted. We both win $3 on our hypothetical $1 bets.

	Eater		NYJ
Bankroll	$58.50		$77.67
Gain/Loss	+3.00		+3.00
Total	$61.50		$80.67
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Won–Lost	26–11		28–9

The Harrison

Note: This is a review of The Harrison under Chef Brian Bistrong, who has since left for Braeburn. For a more recent review, click here.

Now might not be the best time for a re-review of The Harrison, given that executive chef Brian Bistrong is leaving at the end of the month, with Amanda Freitag replacing him in January.

Owner Jimmy Bradley says, “We’re going to go in a new direction. We were doing French cookery in a New American style, but with Amanda the menu is going to be lusty, soulful, rustic Mediterranean-inspired cookery.”

Be that as it may, I chose The Harrison for a holiday dinner, because I knew (from past visits) that it would be rock-solid—and it was. Freitag has a lot to live up to.

I gave the restaurant’s fascinating background the last time I reviewed it, so let’s get straight to the food:

 

Just like last time, flavors and textures were perfectly judged. Fried Oysters ($12; above left) rested on coleslaw and bacon mustard sauce. Local Trout ($25; above right) had lovely crisped skin, overshadowing the haricots verts and the red cabbage purée.

Everyone raved over the Fall Squash Risotto ($12; above left), which must be the side dish served at the gates of Heaven. One of my colleagues had the Warm Chocolate Cake ($9; above right), while the rest of us supped on after-dinner drinks.

The Harrison seems to be one of the few serious restaurants where the wine prices are still reasonable, meaning that there is are respectable bottles under $60, and very good ones not far above that amount. To boot, The Harrison offers over a dozen half-bottles, something far more restaurants should do. I settled on a 2005 St. Michael-Eppan Gewürztraminer from Alsace that all of us loved.

Service remains a problem at The Harrison. Our server disappeared for long intervals, and it was hard to get his attention. A colleague ordered Dewar’s & Soda, but she was quite certain that she wasn’t served Dewar’s. Whatever it was, the server spilled a bit of it on me while passing it over my head.

As we say goodbye to the Brian Bistrong era at The Harrison, it will be interesting to see how this great restaurant evolves.

The Harrison (355 Greenwich Street at Harrison Street, TriBeCa)

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

The Master Class at Gordon Ramsay

Note: The master class was offered under chef Josh Emett, who has since left the restaurant. Ramsay sold his interest, and is now affiliated in only a consulting role. The current chef is Markus Glocker.

*

A year ago, Gordon Ramsay at the London opened to outsized expectations. The city’s major critics quickly pronounced it a dud, with both Adam Platt and Frank Bruni awarding just two stars to a restaurant that was vying for four. I was more impressed than they were, awarding three stars, though I agreed with Platt and Bruni that the restaurant didn’t quite live up to the hype.

Ramsay fired chef de cuisine Neil Ferguson, replacing him with Josh Emett, who had cooked for Ramsay at the Savoy Grill. Neither Platt nor Bruni has been back since the change, which is understandable, given their hostility to upscale European (non-Italian) cuisines, even when it is executed well. But Ramsay was redeemed when the restaurant earned two stars in the 2008 Michelin Guide, making Gordon Ramsay at the London one of the top ten restaurants in town, in at least one informed opinion. It also earned the top rating of four stars in the annual Forbes survey.

I received an e-mail promotion for a Master Class at Gordon Ramsay, offered weekdays for parties of four to eight guests. Chef Emett demonstrates the day’s menu, and then you have a multi-course lunch at the Chef’s Table. My girlfriend and I thought it would make a great Christmas present for our parents. We made it a surprise, so they knew only that we were going to the London Hotel, with no idea what was to come.

The day went far beyond our expectations. We arrived at 10:30 a.m. After coffee and continental breakfast, Chef Emett spent ninety minutes demonstrating three complex recipes and explaining how the kitchen worked. We then sat down to a luxurious six-course lunch with wine pairings, finishing at around 2:30 p.m. All of that was only $195 per person for our party of five. This is a bargain when you bear in mind that it included what amounted to a private cooking lesson with a Michelin-starred chef and four bottles of wine.

The Master Class photos are in the previous post.

After the master class, we sat down to lunch at the Chef’s Table, which is in a nook facing the kitchen. We began with a bottle of champagne.

 

 

First we were served two canapés: a crispy cod fish with salmon roe, and a fried mushroom (above left). Then came the amuse-bouche, a light butternut squash soup (above right).

Another bottle of wine came out, as we watched the ravioli plated at the pass: 

 

 

Above: Ravioli of Tiger Prawn with Fennel Cream,
Shellfish Vinaigrette and Chervil Velouté

It’s hard to tell from the photo, but the ravioli were plump and generously filled; two of them would have been excessive, especially given how rich they were. This was a four-star dish, easily the best ravioli I’ve had in a long time. It’s a popular dish, too: we saw many plates of it leaving the kitchen.

Another bottle of wine arrived. We watched the complex operation of plating of the Beef Wellington, and Chef Emett came by to check on us:

And the pièce de resistance:

Above: Short Rib of Kobe Beef; Fillet of Beef Wellington with Madeira Jus

The Beef Wellington entrée was outstanding, and puts to shame every other preparation of this dish that I’ve ever had. There were something like a dozen separate ingredients on the plate. The Kobe beef short rib practically melted at the touch. The beef was beautiful,  perfectly aged and tender, the crisp puff pastry shell offering a gorgeous contrast.

By the way, the Beef Wellington is not currently on the regular menu, although Emett told us it has been offered in the past.

It was time for dessert:

The palate cleanser was a passion fruit crème with coconut foam and mint granata (above left). I must admit that I had doubts about whther the rice pudding (above right) could live up to the culinary fireworks of the rest of the meal, but there was far more to it than I expected, with a raspberry jam, mascarpone ice cream and pecans. It came with a dessert wine, followed by petits-fours that we could barely touch.

This was among the best meals we have had in New York. It is difficult to rate a meal like this, bearing in mind that most guests won’t experience the restaurant under these conditions. But recent reviews seem to confirm our impression that Gordon Ramsay is now one of the top handful of restaurants in the city.

Gordon Ramsay at the London (151 W. 54th Street between Sixth & Seventh Avenues, West Midtown)

The Master Class at Gordon Ramsay (Photos)

Note: The background of our visit and the meal itself are in the next post.

We all donned aprons and joined chef de cuisine Josh Emett in the kitchen, where he demonstrated the Ravioli of Tiger Prawn, Beef Wellington, and Rice Pudding. Besides being a master chef, he was a patient teacher and a true gentleman, spending close to ninety minutes with us.

I was encouraged to take photos liberally, which I did: He said, “We’re very laid back about that, contrary to popular belief.” He also said that he speaks to Ramsay almost every day, but that he has complete freedom to design the menu.

We began with…

Ravioli of Tiger Prawn with Fennel Cream, Shellfish Vinaigrette and Chervil Velouté

First, Emett makes the pasta by hand:

There’s enough leftover for a heavenly linguini, which was not actually part of the planned menu. We ate right out of the skillet it was prepared in:

The ravioli are filled with a shrimp and tiger prawn mousse, then assembled and trimmed into a circle. They are extremely delicate and prone to puncture, in which case the whole operation must be repeated:

Now it was onto… 

Fillet of Beef Wellington with Madeira Jus

The beef had been seasoned and pre-seared in a hot pan. A chicken, mushroom and shallot mousse was spread onto a light crêpe:

Then the fillet was wrapped inside, and the edges sealed:

Then, a flat puff pastry was brushed with an egg wash, and the crêpe containing the fillet rolled inside:

Lastly…

Rice Pudding with Raspberry Jam & Mascarpone Pecan Ice Cream

I’ve not much to say about the rice pudding, which was the most straightforward part of the demonstration, so I just offer the photos:

And some scenes from the kitchen:

Left: A line cook prepares venison loin for the dinner service; Center: There are two massive French stoves, which cost $750,000 apiece; Right: Emett is proud of an Apple Tarte Tatin, which is offered as a dessert for two.

It was time to sit down to lunch…

Riingo

 

Note: Riingo closed in 2012. The space is now called Atrium, run by ESquared Hospitality, the same folks behind BLT Steak, BLT Prime, etc.

*

I overlooked Riingo when it opened almost four years ago in the Alex Hotel. My girlfriend is a fan of the chef/owner, Marcus Samuelsson, who also runs the Swedish restaurant Aquavit, so I figured a visit was past due.

The restaurant is Samuelsson’s take on Asian Fusion, which was no longer a new concept when Riingo opened. It garnered mixed reviews: Amanda Hesser delivered a two-star rave in the Times, but Adam Platt in New York (in his pre-star system days) was less impressed.

Amuse-bouche: Mystery Mackerel

It’s possible to see why Hesser liked the place, as everything we tried had potential. But alas, the execution was truly incompetent, and it was coupled with some of the most bumbling service we’ve seen in a long time.

The menu offers the standard appetizers ($5–14), salads ($10–16), entrées ($23–32) and side dishes ($5–6), along with a Japanese menu offering sushi, sashimi, and rolls. All the categories have an eclectic mix, so “tuna foie gras” appears on the sushi menu, and the entrées accommodate interlopers like steak frites. As it is located in a hotel, Riingo also serves breakfast and lunch, along with weekend brunch.

The room is decked out in the expected style, but the rear dining room, in which we were seated, is surprisingly cramped, and servers struggled to negotiate the space. The host made the odd comment that we had the best seats in the house. Our small table with overlapping placemats seemed like nothing of the kind.

The amuse-bouche seemed to be mackerel something-or-other; the explanation was inaudible. The bread service included stale rolls and something much better: a spicy ruffly potato-chip like substance along with a guacamole-like dip (all offered without explanation). As the server took the amuse plates away, he put our dirty forks back on the placemats, as one would do at a cheap diner. They can’t afford clean forks?

 

Don’t adjust your television set: Roasted Beet Salad ($12; above left) came in an odd-shaped bowl that tilted slightly to the right. The kitchen forgot the goat cheese that was supposed to come with it. The chicken that was supposed to be in Chicken Dumplings ($10; above right) was scarcely a rumor, as it was overwhelmed by a sour broth.

There was no false advertising about Rare Tuna ($26; left). As you can see in the photo, it’s as rare as can be, but the accompanying pumpkin purée was lukewarm and tasteless. Bok choy was warm, but had been left in the steamer too long.

My girlfriend had the Chili-Roasted Chicken ($23), which was dry from over-cooking.

We ordered wine along with our food. When I pointed to the item I wanted, the server asked, “By the bottle?” I thought this was peculiar, as the menu didn’t indicate that it was available by the glass.

Matters only got stranger, as half-an-hour (and our appetizers) came and went, but no wine appeared. When it finally came, the server muttered that they had trouble locating my selection in the cellar. By that time we no longer wanted it, so I asked for two glasses; naturally, that wine wasn’t available by the glass, so I substituted an undistinguished pinot noir.

The couple at the next table overheard us, and mentioned that their wine too had not arrived until after the appetizers. We started watching the dining room, and sure enough, at least two other tables had the same experience, with wine delivered after—and in at least one case, long after—the appetizers had been served, consumed, and taken away.

For the usual petits-fours, Riingo had a couple of small oatmeal cookies, which naturally were stale. Perhaps Riingo was once a fine restaurant, but the kitchen and serving staff are have become sloppy, veering on incompetent. I can only hope that Samuelsson will rattle the trees, fire a few people, and get this restaurant back on track.

Riingo (205 E. 45th Street, east of Third Avenue, East Midtown)

Food: mediocre
Service: sloppy
Ambiance: acceptable
Overall: sad

Irving Mill

Note: Irving Mill closed at the end of 2009.

*

I expected a lot from Irving Mill. It’s the first solo venture by John A. Schaefer, who was executive chef at Gramercy Tavern for six years, including the period when it won a Michelin star. Early reviews have been mixed, but I figured a former Gramercy Tavern guy would offer a menu with more hits than misses.

Alas, we were underwhelmed at Irving Mill. Most of what we had was merely adequate. I have to figure that better things are in store here, but our meal there offered little reason to go back.

And that’s really too bad, because the service was as good as I’ve seen at a casual restaurant in a long time. We know Schaefer is a Danny Meyer alumnus, but the front-of-house must be too. I had to pinch myself when they offered to seat me before my girlfriend arrived. At most busy restaurants below three stars—and Irving Mill is very busy—the usual line is, “You’re welcome to wait at the bar until your party is complete.” And when my girlfriend ordered a Whiskey Sour “not too sour,” the server checked back twice to ensure it was exactly the way she wanted it.

The décor is rustic chic, but not in a cynical way: you feel instantly at home. Like Gramercy Tavern, there is a front room that doesn’t take reservations. Tables in the main dining room have been tough to come by lately, but I think the novelty will wear off if the food remains this undistinguished.

The seasonal menu, which I suspect will become more expensive over time, offers appetizers ($10–16), entrées ($25–28), side dishes ($7), and a so-called tasting menu ($54) which is really just a four-course prix-fixe. There are 21 wines by the glass, most of them $12 or less.

 

I started with the New Zealand Cockles Stew ($12; above left), which I don’t recommend. The cockle shells yielded tiny flavorless pea-sized chunks of meat, the chorizo was tough as leather, and the broth insipid. My girlfriend had the Cauliflower Ravioli ($15), which I didn’t taste, but was the meal’s only true highlight.

Roasted Arctic Char ($28; above right) was somewhat better. I liked the contrast of the crisp skin and the tender flesh underneath, but lentils, cabbage, and a red wine reduction added nothing to the dish. My girlfriend’s Grilled Pork Chop ($26) seemed under-sized, and it wasn’t much improved by accompaniments of red cabbage, spaetzle and mustard seed.

I would very much like to think that Schaefer can do better. In such a lovely setting with such polished service, I certainly hope so.

Irving Mill (116 E. 16th Street between Union Square & Irving Place)

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

Amuse-bouche: Goat cheese
and olive tapenade

Kenka

Masturbation is strictly forbidden at Kenka. That’s just one of many rules at this East Village Japanese restaurant. I hesitate to imagine the unruly patrons it must attract, but the food is surprisingly good.

In Japan, Kenka would be called an izakaya, or drinking establishment. I don’t recall seeing another one like it in New York. The tables are low-slung, with chairs about eighteen inches above the floor. Instead of a coat check, there are piles of open wicker baskets; you take one to your table, and put your coat inside it. The glossy menu is covered with shiny photos of the food, described in Japanese with English translations that are often unhelpful, misspelled, or grammatically incorrect. There are about fifty sakes on offer, all with photos, all inexpensive, and all available by the glass.

  
The décor is unfancy, but authentic, including a row of Japanese pinball machines (above, left). You might have trouble finding the restrooms, as the only signs are the Japanese pictograms for a man and a woman. My friend Kelly guessed that the one that looks like its legs are crossed would be the ladies’ room.

Then, there are the rules:

In case you can’t read them, here are the highlights, all transcribed literally:

• No sake-bomb at all.
• 20% of S.C. will be includes company more than 7 people
• Grafitti or tagging only in japanese. No other language at all.
• No fighting, masturation, having sex or drugs, you will get ejected.
• In the event that a customer breaks any dish or glass on purpose, we will be forced to charge that customer $5 for each thing broken
• In the event that a customer has had too much to drink and vomits outside of the restroom, we will be forced to charge that customer $20 for the cleaning up and inconvenience to our other customers.
• Follow Kenka’s regulation!! Break our regulations or you’ll be thrown out.

Sure enough, both restrooms were full of grafitti, all in Japanese. (The restroom doors are shown above; can you guess which one is the ladies’?)

The menu has about a hundred items, most of them small plates, representing just about every variety of Japanese cuisine, including pig intestines, bull testicles, and turkey penises. (The linked version—the only one I could find online—is incomplete.) We weren’t feeling quite that adventurous, and ordered a more conventionally.

 

Large, fresh oysters (above left) were a salty delight. We paired them with deep-fried oysters (above right), which were just as enjoyable.

 

The next item we had was, I believe, the grilled rice balls (above left). We enjoyed their candied sticky flavor, but they were tough to handle with chopsticks. I barely managed it by “stabbing” mine, and eating it like a lollipop on a stick. Fried rice (above right) had a bounty of fresh-tasting ingredients.

 

The yakitori platter (above left) was the only mild disappointment, as all of the meats seemed tough and overcooked. But everything on the sashimi platter (above right) was first-rate, including a grade of luscious fat-laden tuna (roughly 11:00 on the photo) that I hadn’t seen before.

Service wasn’t fancy, but it was more than adequate for a casual restaurant of this calibre, and all of the food was attractively plated. I didn’t note individual prices, but the total for all of the food shown, plus one drink apiece, was $77 before tax.

As we were leaving, the server gave us a small dixie-cup of pink sugar. Outside the door, there’s a make-it-yourself cotton candy machine. That tiny helping of sugar didn’t make much cotton candy (nor was I hungry for it), but it’s yet another quirk that puts Kenka in a category by itself.

Kenka (25 St. Marks Place near Second Avenue, East Village)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: one of a kind
Overall: *