Perry St.

Note: Click here for a more recent visit to Perry St.

I visited Perry St. with two friends a couple of weeks ago.

Perry St.’s very existence speaks volumes about the evolution of this part of town. Twenty years ago, the idea of a fine dining destination on West Street would have been madness. This part of town had evolved to serve the shipping industry, with factories and warehouses girdling Manhattan to serve piers on the Hudson River. The shipping trade eventually found more commodious digs, leaving the West Side Highway derelict—useless for any purpose except as a transportation artery. It’s hard to think of another metropolis that had so thoroughly squandered its coastline.

But West Street is gradually making a comeback, and the two luxurious Richard Meier-designed apartment buildings in the Far West Village are part of the area’s long-overdue return to respectability. Jean-Georges Vongerichten, who owns Perry St., lives in the same building as the restaurant itself. One must doubt how often Vongerichten darkens its door now that a three-star review from the Times has been secured, but its proximity to the place where he sleeps probably offers an incentive for him to stop by a bit more often than he visits the other restaurants in his far-flung empire.

Perry St. is cool, quiet, and elegant. There are some nods to informality (e.g., the paper placemats and the lack of tablecloths), but it is still one of the more refined dining experiences you can have in this part of town. The lounge and bar area are both large and extremely comfortable, and they serve the full menu. The dining room posts a panoramic view of the Hudson River and the New Jersey skyline. It is an especially attractive view at sundown.

My review comes with a significant caveat. Earlier in the day of my visit, I came down with a high fever. I had already cancelled my dinner with these friends on an earlier occasion, so I was determined to keep the date. However, I was frankly miserable, for reasons having nothing to do with the food or the service.

I tried the chicken soup ($10.50), which Ed Levine praised in a recent Times article:

In the best chicken soups, the meat is added at the end of the cooking process. At Perry St., the sous-chef, Paul Eschbach, actually cooks the chicken sous vide (by vacuum-sealing it in a plastic pouch and cooking it in a water bath) separately with dill, butter, salt and pepper, and then puts it in the soup at the last second.

The chicken broth was actually added tableside. The soup bowl contained an array of fresh vegetables (carrots, radishes, greens), and the server poured the broth on top of that. The soup was fresh and tangy.

At Perry St., the menu is spare: just eight appetizers and eight entrees are offered. Our server advised that only two of the entrees have been on the menu since the place opened. One of those is the crunchy rabbit ($31), which Frank Bruni had liked, so I gave it a try. It looked like a wrap sandwich, but was warm with a crisp breading on the exterior with a splash of avocado puree on the side. Here too, a broth was added tableside. I finished only half of it, due to my fever. Two different staff members asked if there was any problem with it. There wasn’t; I just wasn’t up to finishing.

My only significant complaint is the bread service. There is wonderful, fresh butter at the table, but the bread rolls tasted like they were baked eighteen hours ago. At its price point, Perry St. needs to do a better job with the bread.

We didn’t drink (except that I had a cocktail to start). The total was about $150 for three, before tip.

Perry St (176 Perry Street at West Street, Far West Village)

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

La Goulue

Note: La Goulue closed in August 2009 after losing its lease. The owners hope to re-open elsewhere.

*

When the 2006 New York Michelin Guide came out, many of the usual suspects received the coveted stars. But there were a handful that came as a surprise, and La Goulue was one of these. Once known primarily as a people-watching destination, La Goulue seemed about as likely to be honored with a Michelin star as Tavern on the Green or Café des Artistes.

The restaurant opened on East 70th Street in 1972 and moved to its present Madison Avenue address in 1993. In 1994, Ruth Reichl gave La Goulue zero stars (“Satisfactory”) in the New York Times:

La Goulue is a club; there are no dues and no secret handshakes, but its members know who they are. Interlopers are quickly put in their place. Reservation for Jane Doe? “I don’t seem to have that,” the hostess has told me on three of my four visits.

………………

Salmon with green tea and truffles sounded like a nice idea…. But that dish was a joy compared with the risotto of blue prawns. The night I had it the prawns were so mealy I could not swallow them, and the risotto was just a bed of soggy rice. I wondered how I was going to explain the fact that I had eaten no more than a bite, but I need not have worried. Nobody asked any questions.

This should not be a surprise. Few people go to La Goulue for the food. It is one of New York’s best addresses for people-watching and for that alone may be worth the price of admission.

There hasn’t been a rated review in the Times since then, although by 1998 Reichl had evidently mellowed a bit—but only a bit: “Le Tout Paris descends on La Goulue when visiting New York City. Chic, attractive and expensive, this is one of those upscale bistros that tastes much better if you speak French.”

La Goulue’s chef in 1994 was one Jacky Pluton. Today, it is Antoine Camin. Service, too, has improved, perhaps because La Goulue is no longer in such high demand. I had no trouble scoring a 7:30pm reservation on OpenTable, which was cheerfully honored. Service was superb. My companion called our server “the best waiter ever,” a tribute to his attentiveness and cheerful disposition.

La Goulue doesn’t have its own website; its URL redirects to a site called “iseatz.com.” The text pays homage to the restaurant’s days as a celebrity dining spot: “Recent guests of La Goulue have been Stanley Tucci, Ashley Judd, Rod Stewart, Jude Law, Rene Russo, Bruce Springstein, Giorgio Armani and LeeLee Sobieski.” Further down: “The lunch crowd at La Goulue is a mixture of business men and women looking for a low-key, fun atmosphere to dine, and young, hip, upper-east side lunching ladies. La Goulue also entertains politicians, writers, actors and actresses, and European tourists staying at some of the many swanky boutique hotels nearby.” And so forth.

But if the Michelin inspectors know anything, they surely know French food, and here La Goulue excels. To start, I had a homemade chicken & pork sausage (Boudin Blanc, $12.50 on the bill), while my friend had the crab meat salad ($14.50), both excellent. We each had the John Dory entrée ($30.50), a hearty cylinder of fish atop a crisp mushroom tart.

For dessert, my friend had the chocolate tart ($9), which she found a bit too salty. My dessert was called “Oeuf à la Neige”, which was translated as “Floating Island” ($9). I guessed that it would be a kind of egg cream custard, which was about right, and it was superbly executed.

The restaurant boasts an excellent wine list, or so I’m told, but when I asked for wines by the glass, our server recited them, rather than providing a list. I settled for a glass of sancerre ($11.95), which proved to be an excellent recommendation.

The décor at La Goulue gives every indication of being an authentic Parisian transplant. The website boasts: “Burnished wood panels, century-old mirrors, yellow, nicotine-tinged, pressed-tin ceilings and brass luggage racks enhance the intimate bistro’s ageless ambience. Many of the lighted wall sconces are extremely rare and are signed by the French glassmaker Majorelle.” I found the chairs not particularly comfortable, however.

All of the staff are French, although they have none of the stereotype French stuffiness. The menu items are all written in French, with English translations. It appears that the menu is updated often; the copies we were provided were dated late January. La Goulue isn’t cheap, with many appetizers in the $20-30 range, and most entrées over $30.

But for authentic French comfort cuisine, I haven’t found better in New York. It’s high time for La Goulue to put its menu on the website, instead of talking about all the beautiful people who dine there. It really is about the food.

La Goulue (746 Madison Avenue between 64th & 65th Streets, Upper East Side)

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

Per Se

After admiring Per Se from a distance for the last two years, I finally had dinner there on Wednesday evening with two colleagues and a vendor, who was paying.

I was first to arrive. Three hosts stood guard at the door to ask which party I was with. They were as friendly as could be, but their purpose was plain enough: curiosity-seekers who just want to come in and have a look aren’t welcome. They took my coat without providing a claim check; when we were ready to leave, they had our coats in hand, without even having to ask who we were. Alain Ducasse and Gilt are the only other restaurants where I’ve experienced such efficiency.

As I was early, I relaxed in the comfortable lounge and ordered a cocktail. My colleagues arrived a short while later, and we were ushered into the elegant main dining room. Some people find the Adam Tihany-designed space a little chilly, but its warm elegance grew on me. The view across Columbus Circle and Central Park’s southwest corner is wonderful at night.

Your choices at Per Se are simple: the seven-course tasting menu, the nine-course chef’s tasting menu, or the vegetable tasting—all at $210 (service included). The seven-course tasting offers a couple of options, the nine-course tasting just one option (foie gras or salad), the vegetable tasting none at all. So, while these menus do change frequently, on any given evening the kitchen’s life is a lot more predictable than at other luxury restaurants.

I was not surprised that all of us selected the chef’s tasting menu with the foie gras option ($30 supplement). The printed menu offered a foie gras terrine, but our server told us that we could substitute seared foie gras if we preferred, which two of us did. After our host selected bottled water and a red wine, we were done making decisions, and it was time for the parade of food.

At Per Se, people walk in every day asking to see a copy of the menu. At some point, the management obviously got tired of this, so they erected a stand outside of the main entrance, where copies of the three menus are there for the taking. Nowadays, curiosity-seekers need not enter Per Se’s hallowed doors just to get a copy of the menu. I had meant to take an extra copy as I left, as a memento of the evening. When I got home, I realized I’d taken a copy of the vegetable tasting menu instead. (That’s how tired I was.) So unfortunately, I don’t have a complete record of everything we had.

As it has been from the day Per Se opened, the amuse bouche was the salmon cone, and the first course was “oysters and pearls” (pearl tapioca with oysters and caviar). It’s no surprise that Per Se keeps serving these dishes, as they are superb. Meanwhile, we were offered a choice of house-made breads, along with two butters that come from a farm with just five cows that sells only to Per Se and the French Laundry.

Although foie gras is a standard second course at Per Se, it has been offered in a variety of preparations. As I mentioned above, I chose the seared foie gras, which came in a large portion that melted in the mouth. Greater perfection could not be imagined.

Third was a fish course that was very good, but I have forgotten what it was. Then came the lobster cuit sous vide that some people have found underwhelming. I had no such complaints with the preparation, but it was awkward to cut into pieces with the fish knives we were given. Serrated knives would have been the way to go.

Next came duck breast, which I found mildly uninteresting for a restaurant of this calibre. Calotte de boeuf grillée (basically a slice of ribeye steak) was beautifully done.

The cheese and dessert courses were excellent, although I have forgotten the details. We concluded with the house-made mignardises, of which I could have had many more. We were sent home with a cellophane bag of cookies. (The coffee cake that Compass leaves you with is better.)

At Alain Ducasse, which I also visited recently, I had two courses that were absolutely transcendent, and which I will remember for a long time to come: the blue foot chicken and the “baba” rum dessert. Only one dish at Per Se reached this level — the “oysters and pearls,” which was gone in about sixty seconds (it was only a taste). If Per Se deserves four stars, it is for sustained excellence over the course of such a long menu, rather than for a particular extraordinary dish.

The service was, of course, at the highest level—seamless, polished, and expert.

Per Se (10 Columbus Circle, in the Time-Warner Center, 4th floor)

Food: ****

Service: ****

Ambiance: ****

Overall: ****

Oceana on Valentine's Day

Note: This is a review at a former location. Click here for a review of the new location and chef.

I am mindful of restaurants’ tendency to over-charge and under-perform on special occasions. (Picholine on New Year’s Eve was my latest experience of that kind.) At the venerable seafood palace Oceana on Valentine’s Day I am happy to say that we were not disappointed, although I suspect it is possible to have a better meal there than we had.

For Valentine’s Day, Oceana pared its cuisine down to a six-course tasting menu priced at $125:

Smoked Cod Chowder
Virginia Ham, New Potatoes, Pepperjack Cheese

Crisp Iceberg Lettuce
Marinated Vegetables and Bacon-Buttermilk Dressing

Duck and Pistachio Terrine
Frisee, Cornichon, Mustard and an Apple-Onion Marmalade

Steamed Halibut
Spaghetti Squash, Edamame, Lotus Nuts, Kaffir Fish Tea

Loup de Mer in an Almond Tea Crust
Baby Bok Choy and a Jura Wine Emulsion
                                       or
Short Rib of Beef Braised in Red Wine
Winter Vegetables, Fingerling Potatoes Garlic-Herb Beef Jus

Valentine’s Day Dessert Sampler
Sarsaparilla Ice Cream Soda, Banana Strudel,
Warm Chocolate Tart, Blood Orange Sorbet

You’ll note that the only decision for the diner was Loup de Mer or Short Ribs for the fifth course. (Anyone who’d come to Oceana and order short ribs needs to have his head examined.) I do realize the need for restaurants to simplify on such a busy night, but I think a professional kitchen could offer more variety than that.

The smoked cod chowder, the duck & pistachio terrine, and the loup de mer—a house specialty—were all superb. I especially would have liked more of the cod chowder and the loup de mer. That’s always the drawback of a tasting menu: no matter how good a dish may be, it’s gone in a few bites.

My friend wasn’t fond of the iceberg lettuce salad, although I thought it was just fine, if unmemorable. For me, the low point was the steamed halibut, which was dry and had left all of its taste in the poaching pan.

The desserts were first-rate. I could have done without the sarsaparilla ice cream soda (basically melted ice cream that you sipped with a straw), but I can’t complain about one dud when they give you a four-item sampler.

Paired wines would have been another $100 a person. Here my rip-off alert went into high gear. For well under that figure, one can select a superb white from Oceana’s long wine list, and come home with cash to spare. Oceana also has a fine selection of half-bottles, and you could even sample a few of those without spending as much as the house wine pairing. As it was a work night for both of us, we settled for cocktails followed by a half-bottle of chardonnay ($38), with which we were delighted.

Including beverages, tax, and tip, the meal came to $398. Nobody would call that inexpensive, but for a three-star restaurant on Valentine’s Day, it was one of the better special-occasion meals I’ve had.

Oceana (55 E. 54th Street between Madison & Park Avenues, East Midtown)

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

Return to Café Gray

Note: Café Gray closed on June 21, 2008. A branch of A Voce will replace it, though not with its original chef, Andrew Carmellini. Click here and here for my parting thoughts on Café Gray.

Last night, I returned to Café Gray, my first visit since November 2004. My early impression remains my impression today: it is a wonderful restaurant, but not without its share of miscalculations.

Chief among these must be the boneheaded interior design, surely the most obscene waste of a great view in dining history. Instead of giving customers a priceless view of Central Park, Café Gray puts an open kitchen in the way. Walls studded with hard surfaces ensure that the noise carries—and, oh boy, does it carry.

At the table next to us, a man was delivering what sounded like a lecture in musicology to a hearing-impaired companion. The next table over had a Japanese family with two toddlers, one of them quite loud. Ninety minutes later, thanks to the din, I left Café Gray with a mild headache.

I have the Café Gray website open in another window as I write this. I’m not fond of websites with a sound track, but this is one of the dumbest ones ever. People chat and laugh, glasses clink, wine is poured, music flits in and out in the deep background. About its only merit is that, if you quintuple the volume, you have precisely the aural experience of a meal at Café Gray.

The food is an altogether happier story and deserves better surroundings. My friend was grateful to be steered towards the mushroom risotto ($22) and the braised shortribs ($36), both signature dishes that Gray Kunz made famous at Lespinasse. They are indeed special, but as I’d already had them the last time, I wanted to see what else the kitchen could do.

I started with the Seared Foie Gras and Quail ($24). Foie is pretty much infallible, but the quail was a succulent surprise. For the entrée, I chose the sautéed pork chop with housemade sauerkraut ($35). The chop was about half again as thick as one normally sees. To get the interior to the house-recommended temperature of medium, the exterior had to be slightly over-cooked. The sauerkraut was wonderful.

We didn’t have dessert, but I noted that the available choices were between $14-18, which is excessive for this type of restaurant. (My friend and I got into a long discussion about how high the rent must be.) Wine options under $50 were in short supply, but when we chose something at around $48, it was one of the better wines we’ve enjoyed at its price point.

Many restaurants in town have a disappointing bread service, but Café Gray served a loaf of homemade sourdough bread that I’d love to eat every day. The amuse bouche was a small beet in a mildly spicy sauce that I’ve now forgotten.

Overall, the kitchen at Café Gray does a first-class job, but the surroundings disappoint.

Café Gray (10 Columbus Circle, 3rd floor of the Time-Warner Center, West Midtown)

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

Lo Scalco

Note: A Michelin star did Lo Scalco no good. It closed in mid-2006, giving way to Dennis Foy, which also closed. A promised midtown re-opening of Lo Scalco never materialized.

*

In the 2005 Michelin Guide, Lo Scalco received an unexpected star. The restaurant had been open for less than a year, and the media had largely ignored it. To date, there is no New York Times review. New York Magazine reviewed it after the Michelin Guide came out, praising the pastas but finding fault in other dishes.

The Chef/Owner is Mauro Mafrici, who once worked as executive chef at Felidia. The restaurant’s name is taken from a renaissance Italian word (now obsolete) that is approximately equivalent to maitre d’. A photocopy of an old book that used the word is on display in the vestibule.

The dining room is beautiful, serene, and refined. Service is leisurely, if a bit lazy. We puzzled for a while over the menu. We expected a server to wander over and utter the words any diner these days should dread: “Let me explain how our menu works.” Instead, they left us to ourselves, and we had to ask how it worked.

In an earlier incarnation, apparently the menu was organized by ingredients. The version we saw last night was organized by regions of Italy, listing an antipasto, first course, and second course for each. This wasn’t explained, although one might have guessed what was going on from the prices. This pattern is repeated for four or five regions. Then, there’s a list of chef’s specialties. If all of this is too confusing, you can order a tasting menu of 4, 5, or 6 courses, priced at $54, $66, or $78 respectively. With the tasting menus, you can choose your courses or ask the chef to choose for you. Got that?

If you order à la carte, the various courses are between $12-29 each. There’s a cheese tasting at $12, $16 or $20 for three, four, or five cheeses. Desserts are $12, or $9 for sorbet and gelati. It is not easy to find a wine under $50, although we lucked out with a selection barely under that, at $48.

We chose the four-course tasting menu, selecting the courses ourselves. Coincidentally, my friend and I made identical choices. We began with the homemade sausage, which is served with canellini beans and broccoletti. This was wondeful, tender, and tasty. We then had a risotto that is not listed on the website, but I believe it came with a pumpkin sauce, which was also terrific.

Alas, the meal tanked with our third choice, duck wrapped with suckling pig—one of the chef’s specialties. The duck was tough and dry. My friend’s portion had what seemed like gristle in one of the pieces; she found it inedible. Given the culinary fireworks of the first two courses, I would like to think this was an anomaly, but it was highly unfortunate, particularly as this was claimed to be a speciality de la casa.

We diverged on the desserts. I had the apple and caramel cake with pistachio ice cream, she the chocolate hazel cake with coffee ice cream. These were both strong finishers, although my friend found her cake a bit too rich (probably not the restaurant’s fault). At the end, we weren’t at all rushed to leave the restaurant. Had we not asked for a check, I think we might still be there.

In its style, ambiance, presentation, and culinary ambitions, Lo Scalco is a three-star restaurant. The staff needs to work on the consistency of the kitchen’s output to actually reach that level.

Lo Scalco (313 Church Street between Walker & Lispenard Streets, TriBeCa)

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

Return to Cookshop

There are many restaurants in New York that I want to try, so a restaurant has to be pretty damned good for me to rush back. If it is merely good, I move on to the next destination. After my girlfriend and I had paid a first visit, Cookshop had made it into that rare pantheon of places we felt we had to rush back to.

Alas, early promise wasn’t fulfilled. On our second visit, my friend ordered a “humanely-raised” veal chop. We supposed that meant that the young animal received plenty of coddling in its short life, but in the end they still slaughtered it anyway. All of that made no difference. The chop was inexpertly cooked, lacking any char or texture on its outer surface.

I ordered the suckling pig, another animal that had died young. Its final stop before my plate was a rotisserie, which is perhaps a gimmick to persuade the diner that he is getting something special, but in the end it was just bland. I had a far superior version of the same dish a few days later at the TriBeCa restaurant Dominic.

So our enthusiasm for Cookshop has dimmed somewhat. We’ll probably give it one more try one of these days, but this time we won’t be rushing back.

Cookshop (156 Tenth Avenue at 20th Street, West Chelsea)

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

TriBeCa Grill

TriBeCa Grill used to be a tough reservation when it opened sixteen years ago. It was Robert DeNiro’s restaurant. Celebrities dined there. My companions last night—none of whom had been before—asked me to alert them if I saw anyone famous. We didn’t. But obviously they’d heard of the TriBeCa Grill’s reputation. The restaurant was full, and it is still doing well.

In more than half-a-dozen visits to TriBeCa Grill, most of them lunches, I’ve never had a bad meal, or even a bad course. Yet, there’s a certain je ne sais quois that’s missing. I would never suggest that anyone go out of their way to visit TriBeCa Grill. It has no unique selling proposition. It’s a very good New American restaurant that is simply solid in its category. Most neighborhoods have one like it, so there’s no reason to make the trip. But if you happen to be in TriBeCa, you won’t go wrong at the Grill.

We were seated last night in a small back dining room that I had never seen before. It has only 5 or 6 tables. The walls are studded with abstract oil paintings and charcoal drawings. There is no exposed brick to reflect the sound. It is a far more refined atmosphere than the raucous main dining room.

To start, I ordered a Charcuterie Plate ($14), which comes with a veal & foie gras ballotine, serrano ham, and chicken liver mousse. It was all excellent. The very smooth chicken liver mousse stood out. It’s essentially your grandmother’s chopped liver, but with the texture of a purée. It comes with toast points for spreading.

Then came the Grilled Long Island Duck Breast ($26) with spinach, a butternut squash & apple purée, and sundried cherry sauce. Actually, that sauce reminded me of a Chinese hoisin sauce. Anyhow, it was another excellent dish. The duck was tender, and it came in ample slices.

A pumpkin cheesecake ($9) was a bit less successful; perhaps it had been in the fridge a bit too long.

It’s no small accomplishment to continue serving such uniformly good food. After 16 years, many restaurants would take their eye off the ball. TriBeCa Grill is still dependable.

TriBeCa Grill (375 Greenwich Street at Franklin Street, TriBeCa)

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

craftbar

Craft is one of New York’s iconic restaurants. It derives its name partly from the structure of the menu, which presents ingredients in various categories, allowing the diner to craft his own meal. This can be a rewarding but expensive undertaking, with vegetable side dishes running to $12-15 apiece. The restaurant is also known for a style of cooking that “celebrate[s] ‘single’ ingredients, expertly and simply prepared.” But Chef Tom Colicchio (Gramercy Tavern) is quick to note, “Simple does not mean simplistic.” A truckload of honors (three NYT stars and one Michelin star) suggests that critics generally have agreed.

Like many successful restaurants these days, craft has become a mini-chain. Many people think that craftsteak is the best steakhouse in Las Vegas. We’ll all see for ourselves soon enough, as a branch of craftsteak will be opening in far west Chelsea later this year. And then, there is craftbar, a less pricy alternative around the corner from the mother ship, which moved to new digs last year.

For a downscale sibling, craftbar is surprisingly formal-looking. Of course, it is not a formal restaurant as we would traditionally have understood that term. But in an era that has largely jettisoned old notions of fine dining, craftbar seems like an oasis of calm. The booths are comfortable, the tables widely spaced, the décor gentle on the eyes. Nowadays, such a space could easily be the home to far more ambitious cooking than craftbar is, in fact, serving.

My friend and I could not avoid the comparison to the Café at Country, the downscale sibling of a main dining room that hasn’t opened yet. We dined there about ten days ago. It was a miserable experience, not for any fault of the food, but for an ambiance that seemed perversely designed to inflict maximum discomfort. At craftbar, there’s proof that an informal sibling need not have tables the size of postage stamps and the noise level of a Wall Street trading floor.

The menu comes on a single loose sheet of paper, and it changes daily. I started with the pan-roasted sweetbreads ($15), which came lightly breaded. This dish seemed to exemplify the “craft” approach—presenting the best ingredients, prepared simply. I found it tasty, but unadventurous.

Several reports have praised the veal meatballs with ricotta ($19). Here too was a comfort food featuring impeccable ingredients prepared uncreatively. There were three hefty meatballs in a red sauce with an ample sprinkling of grated cheese. The veal was tender, and obviously a high quality. In less capable hands, it could easily have been overwhelmed by either the sauce or the cheese, but here the piece parts were skillfully balanced.

My friend also made uncomplicated choices: a duck liver pâté followed by spaghetti. I tasted a bit of the pâté , and found it comparable to the better examples that I’ve tasted elsewhere.

At $15, my sweetbread appetizer was craftbar’s most expensive; other starters are in the $8–12 range. At $19, my meatball entrée was craftbar’s least expensive; other main courses were in the $25–30 range. If not exactly budget-priced, craftbar is certainly less expensive than its luxury sister restaurant, craft.

I wasn’t in the mood for a fancy meal last night, but I would certainly look forward to a return visit to try some of craftbar’s more adventurous main courses.

craftbar (900 Broadway between 19th & 20th Streets, Flatiron District)

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

Return to BLT Fish

Note: Click here for a more recent review of BLT Fish.

I returned to BLT Fish last night with one of the two colleagues who joined me there last May.

Andrea Strong reported yesterday that Laurent Tourondel’s next venture is a branch of BLT Steak in Washington, D.C. Based on last night’s performance, Mr. Tourondel needs to spend more time minding the store back home. Two years into the experiment, the BLT schtick is starting to wear awfully thin.

I believe BLT restaurants aspire to serve three-star food, and there is at least a colorable argument that they do so. Why, then, are they so determined to dumb down the ambiance? Naturally, the noise level is almost deafening. The menu is printed on loose sheets of paper, plus a separate loose sheet itemizing the raw bar, plus a separate loose sheet with “highlights” of the wine list, plus the wine list itself in a leather-bound book.

All of those loose sheets are obviously printed cheaply, and not meant to last. So you’d at least like to think that they are up-to-date, but alas, they are not. The waiter recites a long list of specials. It is black truffle season, and several of the specials include that ingredient, but it’s more extra information than I can keep in my head, so I order off the printed menu. (I also presume, given the BLT franchise’s propensity for upselling, that those truffle specials are more expensive than the rest of the menu, but our server doesn’t mention prices.)

To start, we ordered a pound of Alaskan king crab legs to share. For the entrée, I ordered the Alaskan black cod with honey glazing, while my colleague ordered a Chatham cod special that the server had mentioned. We also ordered two side dishes (mashed potatoes and brussels sprouts).

A long wait ensued. My colleague saw a tray of crab legs on the kitchen counter. He thought, “Surely those must be ours.” Ten or fifteen minutes went by, but those crab legs remained on the counter, unclaimed. Finally, we asked our server what was going on. A team of BLT staff now descended on us with the crab legs, our entrées, and the side dishes—all at once.

But it gets worse than that. Instead of an order of the Alaskan black cod and the Chatham cod, the kitchen had prepared two orders of the Alaskan black cod. My colleague pointed out the slip. After a conference, the staff announced that they were all out of the Chatham cod—a daily special, I remind you—but would he like the halibut? Well, what could he say? I ate my Alaskan black cod, and he snacked on the crab legs, while they prepared the halibut. Later on, he ate the halibut while I watched.

You’d think they couldn’t mess up anything more, but they managed it. The server forgot to offer us a bread service. The crab legs came without the usual miniature forks for prizing the meat out of the shell. The side dishes arrived without serving spoons. The amuses-bouches came with disposable wooden forks—they can’t run the dishwasher?

Earlier on, they had taken my coat, and promised to return with a claim ticket. The claim ticket never arrived. When I left, we had to turn on the bright lights in the check room and rummage around for my coat. Luckily, the place wasn’t packed. And luckily, I had a distinctive scarf that set my gray wool coat apart from the many others like it.

To their credit, the staff was aware of the more egregious of their sins, and tried to make amends. We were served dessert wines for free, and my colleague’s entrée was taken off the bill. But of other sins the restaurant is apparently out-of-touch: the cheap outdated paper menus, missing/wrong utensils, and so forth.

For all that, the food was great. I would happily eat the honey-glazed Alaskan black cod every day. The side dishes were wonderful, as they always are at BLT restaurants. Dessert (bread pudding) was excellent. The sommelier was knowledgeable, and recommended a terrific pinot noir.

But service and ambiance count, and the lapses here were too many to forgive. Laurent Tourondel’s cuisine deserves a far better setting.

BLT Fish (21 W. 17th Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, Flatiron District)

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