Le Restaurant at All Good Things

Le Restaurant at All Good Things is a mashup of trendy ideas:

1) It’s a restaurant inside of a market (Brooklyn Fare, Il Buco Alimentari).

2) It serves only a tasting menu (Brooklyn Fare, Atera, Blanca).

3) It’s open only on certain days (Frej).

4) It has a French name (Le Philosophe, Le Midi, Lafayette), even if the connection to French cuisine is, at times, tenuous.

5) It serves austere Nordic-style plates, many of which consist of vegetables arranged like abstract art (Frej, Aska, Acme).

Despite the feeling you’ve been here before, Le Restaurant manages to seem new, and not quite derivative. Even if some of the trends are recycled, no one could say they played it safe. Not when the only menu is a $100 tasting, served just three days a week (Thursdays to Saturdays).

The good news is: the Great Recession is officially over, if places like this can open and thrive. And thrive, I hope it will. New York needs more restaurants willing to take chances, even if this one misses the mark.

The chef is Ryan Tate, formerly of Cookshop and Savoy, where he was chef de cuisine. He told Grub Street that his approach “is really just meant to get people to relax,” a peculiar aim. I never before thought that people needed $100 tasting menus to accomplish that.

I wish I could endorse it. They’re such nice people here, clearly trying hard, clearly eager to please.

And they’ve done such a lovely job decking out the post-industrial basement, in the bowels of Tribeca’s new upscale grocery, All Good Things. It’s a comfortable, minimalist, quiet space, admitting plenty of natural light from an outdoor garden.

But ultimately, the chef must be held accountable for his $100-per-head 7-course tasting menu (over $200 after drinks, tax, and tip). There was only one outright dud, but most of the remaining courses were more “interesting” than good.

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Cocotte

What a wonderful time it is to be a Francophile in New York, with little French bistros and cafés opening all over town. I thought Frank Bruni told us that France was dead?

Welcome to Cocotte (“little casserole”), a delightful little Soho spot that opened last October. It’s a little slip of a space—”the size of a studio apartment“—seating just 35.

The dining room is a few steps down from sidewalk level, decorated in dark gray, with the menu written in chalk on the blackboard-colored walls. There’s a tiny bar and an even tinier counter in the kitchen that accommodates all of two guests at a time.

The chef, Sébastien Pourrat, serves tapas-style cuisine from the Southwest of France, near Basque country. It feels like half-French, half-Spanish.

There are about 25 items on the menu, priced $7–16, in eight categories (including desserts). Most are suitable for sharing (maybe not the soups). A terrific-looking bacon & Basque cheeseburger ($12), which we didn’t try, seems to be the only bail-out dish.

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Manzanilla

Note: Manzanilla closed in February 2014.

*

Spanish cuisine is on the upswing in New York, with places like Boqueria, Salinas, Terdulia, and Barraca receiving strong reviews in recent years.

As the Observer’s Joshua David Stein notes, their successes must be weighed against high-profile flops, like Gastroarte, Romera, and Ureña.

Perhaps the chef Dani Garcia and owner Yann de Rochefort (of Boqueria) had those flops in mind when they opened Manzanilla near Gramercy Park two months ago. Garcia has a Michelin two-star restaurant in his native Andalucía, but here he aims a lot lower, bargaining that Manhattan diners aren’t ready for his $150 tasting menu.

It’s a pity that chefs don’t feel they can bring their best work to New York, but that’s the world we live in. I can’t blame the chef for opening an unabashedly populist spot that will succeed, in lieu of a more ambitious one that probably wouldn’t.

Manzanilla, a close twin of one of Garcia’s restaurants in Southern Spain, styles itself a brasserie. It’s mid-priced by Manhattan standards, with snacks (7 items; $8–29), appetizers (8 items; $13–18), entrées (10 items; $26–40) and side dishes (3 items; $8).

You could put together a “tapas” meal from the snacks portion of the menu, but they’re not the focus; unlike most of the competition in New York, there are no paellas to be found. Most of the dishes, at least as described, come across as fairly tame, but in our small sample, they were all executed well.

 

Tomato Tartare ($8; above left) is as much of a pun as the chef will allow, but it bursts with robust flavor.

A foie gras terrine ($18; above right) is decorated with caramelized goat cheese, green apple purée, and raisins. It doesn’t bust any culinary boundaries, but foie gras junkies will go home happy. The chef gets no extra credit for burnt slices of toast (right), half of them with holes a baby’s hand could slip through.

 

I’ve less to say about Striped Bass ($27; above left). Suckling Pig ($34; above right) was one of the better renditions of a classic dish that I’ve had in a while.

There’s a bustling bar area up-front. The cocktails are terrific, although you might wait a while to get a bartender’s attention. The Spanish-heavy wine list is excellent for a new place. There aren’t many bargains, but there are many good selections to be had above $60.

In the early days, the kitchen at Manzanilla is operating at a high level, allowing for the limitations inherent in the format. The question with these types of places, is whether they can sustain that after the review period is over and the founder returns home to tend the rest of his empire.

Manzanilla (345 Park Avenue South at 26th Street, Gramercy)

Food: Classic Spanish cuisine, classic execution
Service: A shade on the slow side, but mostly very good
Ambiance: A bustling brasserie with a large bar and an open kitchen

Rating: ★★

St. Hubertus

Our fine dining tour of the Dolomites concluded with St. Hubertus in the luxurious Rosa Alpina hotel in San Cassiano, the region’s only two-star restaurant, and a clear step above the other two we visited, La Siriola and La Stüa de Michil.

There are several tasting menus offered, but we ordered a four-course meal from the carte. Nothing is inexpensive here. Dinner for two, including wine (a €65 Carmenero) came to €373, or about $467.

Like the other starred restaurants we visited, the space is accented in blonde wood, rustic artwork, and sprays of flowers. The staff dress in a livery of modern gray suits. The service style is classic, elegant, and prceise, with a batallion of servers, up to four at a time appearing at your table whenver there are dishes to be delivered or cleared.

My son, who has become an adventurous eater, started with the calf’s head (€40): as prepared here, by the time it reached the table, you couldn’t really tell what it was, aside from a delicious treat. Variations on duck liver (€41) were prepared four ways, capped by a foie gras crème brûlée.

My son’s spelt linguine with veal ragout (€32) was one of the meal’s highlights, perhaps the best illustration that there’s no limit to how good such a simple dish can be, when the chef has sufficient skill. I ordered a risotto with graukäse (€30), a traditional Tyrolean cheese. For the main course, we both had the lamb (€42), prepared about four different ways (loin, chop, belly, shoulder), all superb.

A baked Tarte Tatin (€22) was the best dessert of the trip. Multiple rounds of petits fours followed.

As I noted in the previous review, I elected not to take detailed notes. I hope these brief impressions, coupled with the slideshow, give some idea of what the restaurant was like. Descriptions of the photos are on the Flickr site.

St. Hubertus, Rosa Alpina Hotel, San Cassiano, Italy

La Stüa de Michil

On our trip to the Dolomites, our second Michelin-star restaurant was La Stüa de Michil in the La Perla hotel, in Corvara, Italy.

This place is distinctly old-fashioned, with a dimly-lit dining room that looks like a reconstructed mountain cabin. Servers wear traditional outfits and don white gloves whenever they replace the silverware on your table.

In the basement is a museum of Sassicaia, an elite Super Tuscan that makes Barolo look cheap. But the wine list is stupendous, with plenty of options at every price. A 1997 Morometo Frescobaldi (€58) was the best wine we had all week.

We arrived early and ordered an Aperol spritzer before dinner, which came with a selection of pretty remarkable bar snacks that would have sufficed as the amuses bouches at most restaurant—but once seated in the dining room, there was another round.

We ordered from the carte: and the price of dinner for two was €272, including the wine. By a slight margin, the food was at a higher level than at La Siriola the preceding evening, although the secondi didn’t quite live up to the pyrotechnics of the other courses. The primi, although simple-looking, bursted with intense flavor.

As I noted in the previous review, this was a pleasure trip and I didn’t care to take detailed notes. Enjoy the slideshow. Brief descriptions of the dishes are on the Flickr site.

La Stüa de Michil, La Perla Hotel, Corvara, Italy

La Siriola

My son and I recently took a week-long ski trip to the Dolomites region of Italy. Naturally, I checked if there are any Michelin star restaurants in the area. Had there been a great many, I would have had to choose; as there are only three, I decided to try them all.

They’re in luxury hotels, within about 20 minutes’ drive of one another. Starred restaurants are like that; they tend to be found in clumps. Quite by accident, I managed to book them in increasing order of merit. Having said that, they were all wonderful. I’d happily visit any of them again.

I wanted this trip to be pleasure, not work, so I didn’t take detailed notes. I am going to post brief impressions, along with a slideshow of each place.

At La Siriola (“nightingale” in Ladin, the indigenous language), there’s a carte, or you can choose (as we did) one of four, four-course set menus, with names like “Hay” and “Moss” (€98 apiece), which include a bounteous bread service, multiple amuses bouches, pre-desserts, petits fours, and so forth, a glass of sparkling wine, and a shot of grappa at the end.

A wonderful 2004 Sacrisassi Rosso from Le Due Terre was €42. I can’t imagine finding that in New York.

The dining room is decorated in rustic elegance, with walls and ceilings of blond wood and white plaster. We were seated in a comfortable alcove, and were well taken care of. The full price of dinner for two, including wine, was €272.

Enjoy the slideshow.

La Siriola, Hotel Ciasa Salares, Armentarola, S. Cassiano, Italy

The Bazaar by José Andrés, Beverly Hills

Last November, we paid a visit to The Bazaar in Beverly Hills, the tapas brasserie by José Andrés. It’s hard not to be a bit cynical, given how thin the chef has spread himself (ten restaurants in four cities).

The Bazaar is a high-concept, high-gloss space that seats 678. How he keeps up the quality is a considerable mystery, but he does it somehow. Almost everything we tried was excellent. There was one dish I disliked — a take on shrimp cocktail, where you squirt the cocktail sauce into your mouth with a plastic eyedropper. But I took that to be an error of conception, not of execution.

The four-page menu is divided into two parts, traditional tapas and modern tapas. Most items are in the $10–15 range and suitable for sharing, but you’ll need a bunch of them. Our party of four ordered about fifteen of these (some in double portions). As I recall, the kitchen sent them out at a reasonable pace, and in a reasonable sequence.

In lieu of detailed descriptions, I offer a slideshow below. You’ll have to visit the Flickr website to read the photo captions (a limitation of their system, I’m afraid).

The Bazaar by José Andrés
SLS Hotel Beverly Hills
465 South La Cienega Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90048

Cherrywood Kitchen

  

Note: I had my doubts about the viability of this place, and it turns out they were justified. Cherrywood closed in August 2013 after less than six months in business. Hudson Square has been very tough for restaurants, and even by that neighborhood’s standards, this place was poorly located and not enough of a crowd-pleaser.

*

Cherrywood Kitchen is a cute new neighborhood spot that could bring good food and great fun to an area that has been historically under-served.

A lot of restaurants have struggled to find a following here, in Hudson Square, the neighborhood bounded by the Holland Tunnel, Houston Street, Sixth Avenue, and the Hudson River. Some people call the area West Soho, but it’s far enough west that people don’t tend to wander over without a good reason.

Cherrywood’s entrance, on a side street, isn’t ideally placed. You’re not likely to stumble upon it. Once you get there, you’ll probably enjoy it. The cuisine isn’t meant to be pathbreaking, but a couple of dishes have the potential to be knock-outs.

The owners have gone all-in on the cherry wood concept, which features not only in the cooking but also the décor. Inside, it isn’t quite as red as the photos (above) would suggest, but the space could use a dash of whimsy.

The publicity materials emphasize chef Chris Cheung’s apprenticeship at Nobu and Jean Georges, but more recently he’s taken turns at quite a few other places, including a stint at Monkey Bar (pre-Graydon Carter), and the short-lived WallE with the Chin brothers. He has been, perhaps, ill-served by some of these projects.

The eclectic menu here is concise and takes a decidedly populist bent, with dishes labeled snacks ($5–14), small plates ($11–14), large plates ($21–46), sides ($5–8), and desserts ($8–11). The cuisine spans many cultures while being beholden to none; an Asian accent is detectable at times, not a surprise given the chef’s background.

With such dishes as Salmon Head Salad and Eel Stuffed Freshly-Killed Chicken, he’s not afraid to challenge the diner, though many other dishes are far more straightforward (braised lamb shoulder, smoked ribs). Most of the entrées are under $30. They are, in general, not unreasonably priced for the area, but a $21 burger strikes me as audacious.

 

The house-baked ciabatta, the size of a large grapefruit, with blue cheese butter (above left), is a highlight, instantly entering the pantheon as one of the best bread services in town. Lobster Tacos ($14; above right) offer a crunchy snack, although I wanted more flavor out of the lobster.

 

I’m a sucker for appetizers that feature freshly poached eggs, and this one ($14; above left) didn’t disappoint, here served with smoked asparagus and a generous helping of Serrano ham. The table gave nods of approval to the Garlic and Shallot Soft-Shell Crabs ($26; above right) with baby artichokes.

 

“Fresh-killed” chicken has been turning up on menus lately. (Jeff Gordiner, in a piece for The Times, explained exactly what that means.) At Cherrywood, perhaps more notable than the chicken’s death certificate is the eel stuffed under the skin, which imparts a terrific smoky flavor.

A side of French Fry Ends ($7; above right) with a bacon crumble sounded better than it was. Better eaten with a spoon than a fork, it needed a binder, perhaps cheese, to prevent its constituent parts from rolling away.

The wine list is a typical starter set of about 20 bottles (per the website; I think it was fewer when we visited). If you’re at the bar, order the excellent sangria (normally $12/glass, although we weren’t charged).

The restaurant was not crowded, although a Wednesday evening, at a restaurant that was only about a week old at the time, is hardly an indication of a typical crowd. We were treated well: it’s only fair to note that I was recognized.

The chef’s experiments aren’t all successful, but there are enough hits to make Cherrywood Kitchen well worth a visit if you’re in the area.

Cherrywood Kitchen (300 Spring Street, west of Hudson Street, Hudson Square)

Food: An eclectic American menu with global accents
Service: Friendly, enthusiastic
Ambiance: A handsome, dark-wood look; a comfortable space

Rating: ★

Oficina Latina

 

If it were in any other U.S. city, Oficina Latina (opened 2½ years ago) would be one of the funkiest, hippest places in town. In New York, you might imagine that it’s just another Pan-Latin spot that you never heard of, though you would be overlooking its many charms.

The décor—really indescribable—is inspired by the Pan-American Highway circa the 1950s. The connection isn’t entirely clear: there’s a pressed tin ceiling recovered from a 1920s bank, various species of mismatched vintage furniture and light fixtures, a barber’s chair at the bar, marble and wrought iron tables, and distressed painted brick walls.

It’s not fancy or expensive: you can have brunch every day for just $12; add a Margarita or Bloody Mary, and it’s all of $15. Dinner will run you a bit more, but not a lot, with tapas $8–15, soups and salads $8–12, tortas $12–22 (but most under $15), mains $20–23.

The cuisine is not aligned to any particular Latin-American country: the chef is Mexican, the owners Italian. The publicist (at whose invitation I visited), says the menu is expected to be rewritten shortly: they’re going to shorten it a bit, and make room for rotating specials.

The bar and cocktail program deserve more exposure. There’s a selection of 100+ tequilas and mezcals, and another 100+ rums and piscos, many offered with custom infusions. A pepper-infused mezcal (right) garnished with a chili pepper was terrific. So was another, made with ancho and lychee.

But the printed menu offers just clichés like mojoitos, piña coladas, and margaritas. The printed specialty cocktails are flavored versions of these (e.g., a blackberry caipirinhas) that sound truly depressing. The beverage director (and co-owner), Paolo Votano, ought to flaunt his better stuff.

While the menu is being re-done, perhaps they’ll improve the plantain chips (above left) that begin the meal: they don’t have enough heft to stand up to the spicy dipping sauce they come with.

But there weren’t many other off-notes to the meal, which showed a kitchen of some accomplishment, especially when it can put the charcoal grill to good use.

 

Grilled octopus (Pulpo a la Parrilla, above left), served with a cilantro dressing, with a potato and celery salad, had a luscious smoky flavor. There was plenty of warm smoke, too, in tacos with roasted suckling pig (Tacos de Puerco, above right), crackling skin, grilled lime and sliced avocado.

 

I love blood sausage when it’s done right (Abrebocas, above left), but this preparation was too loose: it oozed out of the casing, like toothpaste, when you tried to cut into it. Chorizo was fine, but unremarkable.

A roasted deboned half-chicken in a garlic sauce (Pollo a la plancha, above right) was tender and full of flavor, probably from that same charcoal oven.

 

Chili caramelized pineapple (Pina Picante Caramelizada en Agave, above left) was a first-rate dessert, paired with the oddest after-dinner drink I’ve seen: “Passionate Love” (above right), consisting of rum straight-up with lemon wedges that you dip in strips of powdered sugar, cinnamon and coffee, laid out to resemble lines of cocaine.

I can’t comment on the service, since the meal was comped, but the 62-seat dining room was about two-thirds full by 9:00 pm on a Monday evening, so the restaurant apparently has a local following.

I’ve no way of knowing whether the rest of the over-long (and soon-to-change) menu is as interesting as the small sample that we tried. If you order the octopus, the suckling pig tacos, and the chicken, you’ll go home happy.

Oficina Latina (24 Prince Street between Mott & Elizabeth Streets, NoLIta)

Carbone

  

Periodically, the New York food media anoints a new chef-god — a creature (usually young and previously unheralded) who is, for a while, infallible. The blogs and critics drool and pant at every move he makes. What it is, doesn’t matter. Broccoli? Brilliant!!

Right now, the god du jour is two-headed: Rich Torrisi and Mario Carbone, the chef-savants behind Torrisi Italian Specialties and Parm. Up to this point, the exact reason for their deity status was beyond me. At the first restaurant, I found a $50 prix fixe menu (since hiked to $75) severely overrated. At Parm, Pete Wells awarded two stars for a meatball hero, and not much else.

If you haven’t guessed, when the boys opened their latest spot, an old-school Italian–American joint called Carbone, I didn’t join the heavy breathing, although Eater.com and the notorious Torrisi shill, Kate Krader, did enough for all of us combined.

Having invested several years of deep skepticism in the Torrisi phenomenon, I was prepared to hate Carbone. To my surprise, I loved it. Will you? It depends.

Carbone is very expensive. Antipasti are $15–34, soups and salads $15–21, pastas $19–32, mains $29–53, side dishes $10. My bill for one came to $145 before tip. I drank modestly and by no means over-ate. Tabs over $200 per head won’t be uncommon here.

Much of the menu is straight out of the classic Italian–American playbook: Shrimp Scampi, Linguine with Clam Sauce, Veal Parmesan. There’s an insulting term for that style of cooking, which I refuse to use. It conjures images of machine-made pasta out of a box and tomato sauce out of industrial-size cans.

This has led to the perception that the genre is inherently simple and seldom worthwhile. But does Italian–American cuisine have to be that bad? Or is that merely a consequence of it being so popular? Have Olive Garden and streetside hucksters in Little Italy warped our perceptions of what the cuisine could be, when done well?

There’s also a perception that the genre is a mongrel interpretation of the cuisine that unsophisticated immigrants brought with them from Italy and then modified, so it’s not really Italian, and therefore is illegitimate.

So that’s the dilemma. If you think Italian–American cuisine is a bastard genre that requires no skill, Carbone’s $50 Veal Parmesan will seem to you an exercise in craven cynicism—a $25 dish that costs double due to the chefs’ outsized reputations. You’d be wrong, but I’m not going to talk you out of it. Just don’t go to Carbone. You’ll hate it.

When I look at Carbone, I see a beloved genre impeccably recreated, treated with respect, and then improved. They get almost everything right, but they make you pay. Oh boy, do they make you pay.

The cocktail list (above left) offers straightforward classics at $17 a pop, but like the food, they’re exactly right. A Gibson on the rocks was served with one of those two-inch-square ice cubes that the high-end cocktail bars use, so that it won’t dilute the drink.

Wines by the glass are just as expensive. Most reds are above $20 per glass; three out of seven are from California, a blunder that needs to be corrected. Prices by the bottle are in a wide range, with most over $65.

 

No one will call Carbone a bargain, but but the pre-meal extras are generous: a slice of parmesan (above left), American smoked ham (above center) and warm “gramma” bread with tomato (above right), served on one of the most vibrant china patterns I’ve seen in a while.

 

Pickled vegetables in olive oil (above right) didn’t do it for me: they reminded me of a failed dish at Torrisi Italian Specialties. Then came three more kinds of bread (above right): imported breadsticks, garlic bread (needed to be warmer), and sesame.

 

Asparagus Genovese ($16; above left) in a pool of warm stracciatella wore a cloak of prosciutto: a classic impeccably done.

Although not indicated on the menu, the kitchen will prepare half-orders of pasta. I decided to try the most cliché of them all, Spicy Rigatoni Vodka ($11.50; above right). The preparation was elevated by the crunch of shaved breadcrums (along with pecorino romano). I also liked the heft of a large meatball ($6; below left).

 

Veal Marsala ($52; above right) was the best damned veal chop you’re going to find, coupled with the best mushroom orgy you’re going to find.

The meat dishes appear to be uniformly good. Lamb chops ($49), which I saw at the next table over, were massive. The server showed me an uncooked 60-day dry-aged t-bone ($53), which looked to be about an inch and a half thick.

 

The pre-dessert (above left) was a pastry with powdered sugar. The server brings around a dessert cart, just like the old-fashioned places; the choices are obvious classics. A cheesecake with blueberry compote ($12; above right) was superb, with the consistency of soft butter.

The décor and ambiance have received so much fawning coverage that there’s hardly anything to add. You’ve seen it before—except, not quite. What other Italian–American spot has contemporary artwork “curated” by Vito Schnable, and vintage tuxedos “designed” by Zac Posen? The sound track consists of softies and oldies: “Puttin’ on the Ritz,” “That’s amore,” “Mr. Sandman,” “Stand by me.”

Servers reel off daily specials, and they’ve been trained to upsell. But they do keep an eagle eye on the proceedings, and many dishes are portioned or finished tableside. Whoever runs the front of house has trained them well.

Carbone occupies the space that was formerly Rocco’s, an old-school joint, of the sort Carbone is meant to pay homage. The bar is so tiny that they don’t even have room for stools, and it can get crowded. Reservations have been tough to come by; calls to the published telephone number often go unanswered. I walked in at 5:30pm on a Thursday evening and was seated immediately, but an hour later that probably wouldn’t have worked.

Some people, without question, will find the concept offensive: tired old standards at double the price, as one message-board poster put it. If that’s your perspective, Carbone isn’t for you. But if you like the idea of the classic Italian–American restaurant lovingly reacreated and improved, Carbone is brilliant.

Carbone (181 Thompson St. between Houston & Bleecker Streets, Greenwich Village)

Food: Italian–American classics, impeccably done
Service: Classic and correct
Ambiance: Old-school Little Italy, not exactly as you remembered it

Rating: ★★★