Goat Town

Note: Goat Town closed in July 2014. After remodeling, it re-opened in September with a new menu and a new name, GG’s.

*

When Pete Wells, restaurant critic of The New York Times, wasted a review slot last week on Shake Shack — an over-exposed chain that is not a restaurant, has been reviewed before, is not very good, and would remain perpetually packed no matter what he said — it raised an obvious question: what is not getting reviewed?

Submitted for your approval: Goat Town.

I don’t want to overstate the case for Goat Town. It’s an earnest, casual American bistro in the familiar farm-to-table mold, somewhat resembling the Brooklyn restaurant that its chef and owner came from, The General Greene. Almost every neighborhood has one now; across the river, they’re on every block.

But it plays the game well, is not entirely derivative, hasn’t been much reviewed (except for Sietsema in the Voice), and it offers at least one good dish you don’t find everywhere. In other words, it beats Shake Shack on every count, and by a wide margin.

The menu fits on a single sheet of paper. It’s inexpensive by today’s standards, with appetizers $5–14, entrées $17–26, side dishes $5–7, and desserts $5–9. From the beginning (late 2010), there has always been a goat dish on the menu, though there’s a double ententre in the name Goat Town: it’s the original meaning of the word Gotham, a long-forgotten insult coined by the writer Washington Irving.

 

If you want Bread & Butter (above left), you have to order it and pay an extra $2. I get the idea: it doesn’t break the bank, and that way they don’t send out unwanted bread that will go to waste. But for two bucks I thought they could have made a more bountiful presentation.

My son and I both ordered the Smoked Goat ($23; above right), served here with braised white beans and a parsley salad. I failed to re-orient the plate, so the photo shows mostly greens and beans. I can assure you the goat is there: two generously portioned loin chops, resembling lamb, but with a more pungent taste.

I always assumed that goat is frequently used in stews because it would be too chewy, but this goat was just fine, making a strong case that this meat doesn’t always need to be served in cubes with heavy curry sauce.

 

A side of Brussels Sprouts ($7; above left) was a bit sad looking, but the kitchen did very well by Roasted Carrots ($6; above right).

And a shared Coffee Caramel Sundae ($9; left), with coffee ice cream, a chocolate brownie, pecans, ice cream, and caramel sauce, was excellent.

The restaurant has a beer and wine license, but they make some worthwhile cocktails despite that limitation. The Abbott ($9), with white wine, Cocchi Americano, bitters, and lime, was ample and refreshing.

Goat Town takes reservations. We were able to walk in at around 7:30 p.m. on a Saturday evening, though that is early for the East Village. An hour or so later, we would have had to wait.

The décor is attractive for purpose, with a long bar along the left-hand side of a narrow space, leading to an open kitchen in back. Tables are made of reclaimed wood, with booths made of subway tile. Despite appearances, it didn’t get unbearably noisy. Service was fine.

Goat Town isn’t a destination, but it’s a good realization of its genre and well worth a visit if you’re nearby.

Goat Town (511 E. 5th Street, east of Avenue A, East Village)

Food: ★
Service: ★
Ambiance: ★

Overall: ★

Il Buco Alimentari & Vineria

 

Il Buco Alimentari & Vineria (“IBA”) doesn’t deserve the three stars Pete Wells of The New York Times gave it a fortnight ago, but you already knew that. It just might be the single craziest Times review of the last decade—and there have been some howlers, believe me.

What’s sad is not that IBA is overrated. What’s sad is that a good, earnest “neighborhood-plus” restaurant is now getting hammered with crowds it cannot handle, who arrive with expectations it cannot possibly meet.

Of course, it is also sad that the Paper of Record thinks believes IBA is in any respect comparable to Babbo or Marea, Italian restaurants with three deserved stars; or that it is in any respect superior to Lincoln, which has just two; or Osteria Morini, which has one.

This is not to take anything away from what owner Donna Lennard has done, which is to create a cute Italian market (an alimentari) with a pretty good sandwich shop by day (when they don’t run out of stuff—which seems to happen a lot), and an endearing (if crazily crowded) Trattoria by night.

The market came first: they sell cheeses, salumi, olive oil, chocolates, and the like. Then came the restaurant. It was clearly part of the plan all along: there is a bright, open kitchen in the back, and there are two bars. But stools and tables (several of them communal), surely as many as the law allows, have now been crammed into almost every nook and cranny. Plan on getting to know your neighbor really, really well.

It’s a three-meal-a-day operation, and the market remains open all the while. Kim Davis of The Times says serve the best porchetta sandwich in town. But presumably it’s mainly the dinner menu that got them three stars. (Click on the photo, above left, for a larger image.)

It’s heavy on appetizers (an even dozen of them, $12–18), pastas (a half-dozen, $17–21) and salumi (various prices; assortment for $32). There are just four secondi ($29–38)—and one of those, the spit-roasted short ribs ($38), is actually an order for two, though the menu fails to so state.

The bread service (above right) is pretty good, but not quite deserving of critic Wells’s near-orgasmic description. It’s made in in-house and a tad fresher than you’ll get most places, but hardly anything to change your life. I was actually a bit more addicted to the bread sticks. [Addendum: After I wrote this, the head baker asked me to come in for a bread tasting, where I had quite a bit more than the simple ciabatta shown here.]

 

House-cured salt cod fritters ($12; above left) are a decent snack; certainly a few steps better than Mrs. Paul’s.

I had set my hopes on the aforementioned short ribs (above right), not realizing that it was a dish for two. Plenty of restaurants would charge the same ($38) for a solo portion, so after being properly warned by the server, I went ahead and ordered it anyway. It’s the whole short rib, tender and luscious, with a garnish of olives, celery, walnuts, and horseradish, and—so says The Times—peppercorns and coriander seeds. It is awfully salty. That, more than the size of the portion, is why I stopped eating it halfway through.

 

On a second visit, I tried the Fried Rabbit ($15; above left). A leg, thigh, and “wing” are coated in an appealing bread crust with black pepper, honey, and lemon. Paccheri ($21; above right), with braised oxtail, greens, and parmigiano, was far less impressive. The pasta was too chewy and not warm enough.

IBA’s sister restaurant, just-plain Il Buco, to which I haven’t been, opened nearby in 1994. It received one star from Ruth Reichl—which in those days was a compliment. The food boards say that the dishes in common are a bit better at IBA, but the original looks like a more charming space: it doesn’t double as a grocery, and they haven’t shoehorned in quite so many tables per square foot.

The service is better than you’d expect: they take reservations (good luck getting one right now), check coats, and seat incomplete parties. I walked in on a Wednesday evening at around 5:45 p.m., fifteen minutes before dinner service, and was seated at the bar as soon as the dining room opened. The following Monday at 6:00 on the dot was also just fine. Both times, less than an hour later, it was packed. It is all they can do to keep up, but I hesitate to blame them: I doubt even they thought they were building a three-star restaurant.

Pete Wells said that IBA reminded him of a mythical Italian village. To me, it felt like an obvious product of Manhattan, not that that’s surprising: most Manhattan restaurants do; funny how that works. A diner asked to order appetizers, and he’d see about primi or secondi later on. “I’m sorry,” the server replied, “but Chef prefers to receive your entire order at once.” Try and find an Italian restaurant in Umbria where they’d say that.

The wine list, which fits on one sheet of paper, is limited to about eight producers (not all of them Italian), with half-a-dozen wines from each of them. Prices by the glass are reasonable (disclosure: one was comped), but the bartenders don’t offer you a taste before pouring.

With its extensive in-house baking and curing program, IBA clearly has more going for it than your average neighborhood Italian place. For now, it is a destination restaurant, and as the owners have been around for nearly two decades, you can figure they’re here to stay. But just like Eataly, a space that is trying to be both a grocery and a restaurant is not ideal at either one.

Il Buco Alimentari e Vineria (53 Great Jones Street west of Bowery, NoHo)

Food: Enjoyable but uneven and over-priced modern Italian cuisine
Service: Hectic
Ambiance: A market and a restaurant combined, to the detriment of both

Rating: ★
Why? Compelling at times, but too flawed and uneven to be a critic’s pick

Lowcountry

Note: Lowcountry closed. The space is now called Louro, under the same ownership, with chef David Santos.

*

Whenever there’s a chef change at a restaurant I’ve reviewed, I always make a note of it. I might not get around to a re-review, but at least it remains in the back of my mind.

I did make it back to Lowcountry, which has a new chef, Oliver Gift, as of January 2012. Much of the background of the restaurant remains the same, so I refer you to my October 2010 review for details.

The cuisine is still Southern U.S., but with more traditional menu headings: appetizers and mains, rather than the irritating “small” plates and “large.” Prices have crept up: whereas entrées were formerly $19–23, they’re now $19–30, with an average around $25. Some former apps are now served as larger and more expensive mains, but Lowcountry remains a low-to-mid-priced restaurant by today’s standards.

We thought the Lowcountry Sampler ($16; above) would be a good way to sample the appetizers. You get two bacon deviled eggs, two mini crab cakes, a bit of Benton’s country ham, and a scoop of leek dip with house-made chips. It is all unobjectionable, but equally unimpressive.

 

Last time, Shrimp & Grits with Andouille Sausage (above left) was a $14 appetizer; it’s now a $20 entrée. But what it seems to have gained is a bowl full of soupy grits that overwhelmed the shrimp and sausage.

Arctic Char ($24; above right) was considerably better, despite an overly precious plating that is really out of place for the restaurant. Char is a delicate fish, and the kitchen has mastered it, served on a bed of red quinoa.

In keeping with the Southern theme, there is an extensive bourbon list. We had a couple of bourbon-based cocktails that were strictly of the backyard barbecue variety, the sorts of unstudious drinks you wouldn’t mind if a buddy served them on the back porch.

The restaurant was not doing much business on a Sunday evening; I have no idea if that is typical. Service was fine, as you’d expect under those circumstances. The new chef has worked at some impressive places (Commerce, Blue Hill at Stone Barns), so I thought he might have plans to elevate the cuisine. He may yet, but so far that is not the case.

Lowcountry (142 W. 10th Street between 6th & 7th Avenues, West Village)

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

Empellón Cocina

Empellón Taqueria had a rocky start when it opened a year ago. The Mexican taco joint from Alex Stupak, the former WD~50 pastry chef, got mixed reviews. I found the food underwhelming and the dining room far too loud.

The chef later added sound-proofing, adjusted prices, and broadened the menu beyond tacos. I haven’t been back, but reports I trust suggest that the place is far more enjoyable now than I found it.

Meantime, Stupak has opened a companion restaurant across town, Empellón Cocina, which will offer a more serious, less taco-centric take on Mexican cuisine. The new dining room, while stylistically similar, is just slightly more upscale than the taqueria. There are some odd stylistic choices amidst the minimalist décor: why a crucifix in one corner and a devil statue in the other?

This time, the sound-proofing was installed from the get-go, with fabric walls taking the place of brick in the original joint. Our reservation was early, but the place was full by the time we left, so this was a good test: the sound-proofing works! It’s not a tomb, but you can carry on a conversation.

I’m usually a bit skeptical of Valentine’s Day tasting menus, which often mass-produce a restaurant’s least-interesting food at a hefty premium over the usual price. But at Empellón Cocina, in its first full week of service, I figured I’d get a pretty good sample of the food Stupak will be serving à la carte, and the price was reasonable: $90 for nine courses.

I am running a bit short on time, so I have reproduced the description of the dishes from the hand-out menu, along with my light comments.

The first three dishes were excellent, with strong flavors and a great balance of flavors:

1. Peeky Toe Crab (above left) with Parsnip Juice, Crab Flan and Smoked Cashew Salsa

2. Dry Aged NY Strip Steak (above right) with Crema Parfait, Black Beans and Salsa Roja

3. Melted Tetilla Cheese (above left) with Lobster, Tomate Frito and Kol (Yucatan-style white sauce)

4. Tortilla Soup (above right)

The Melted Cheese with Lobster could become Stupak’s signature dish: it’s excellent. But the tortilla soup was somewhat forgettable.

5. Scallop (above left) with Gachas de Arroz, Plantains and Chilpachole (shellfish broth, epazote, chipotle).

6. Pork Ribs with White Beans Masa Balls, and Green Mole (tomatillo, serrano chile, herbs).

“Did the first chef go home?” That’s what we wanted to know, as the meal fell off a cliff. The poor, delicate scallop was drowned in an unpleasant pool of tomatoey broth; the ribs, served off the bone, were too dry, and served with a humdrum mole.

Stupak is a pastry chef by trade, so you would expect the desserts to be strong—and they were:

7. Rose Meringe (above left) with Cherry Sorbet and Hibscus Yogurt

8. Bonus course (above center); I believe Arroz con Leche, the best of the three

9. Chocolate Cake (above right) with Pineapple and Vanilla Cream

I didn’t take note of the wine that we ordered, but cocktails before dinner were mediocre. My girlfriend asked for something similar to a Cosmopolitan (they couldn’t make one exactly, as they lacked cranberry juice), and got its diametric opposite. Another that I ordered off the menu tasted mostly of tonic water. But the bar staff seemed new and will undoubtedly improve; to their credit, they took the non-Cosmo off the bill.

Servers were well versed on the menu, and the food came out at a reasonable pace—neither too fast nor too slow. Of course, the kitchen’s task is easier when they know every diner will have exactly the same things, in exactly the same order. That’s one of the reasons why restaurants limit your choices on Valentine’s Day.

If Stupak’s track record at Empellón Taqueria is any guide, Empellón Cocina will get better over time. On a Valentine’s Day tasting menu, one week in, he batted .500 on the savory courses and 1.000 on the desserts. That is a pretty good start.

Empellón Cocina (105 First Avenue between E. 6th & E. 7th Streets, East Village)

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

Alison Eighteen

Note: The opening chef, Robert Gurvich, severed his ties with the restaurant in July 2012. The restaurant closed in December 2013 after a short and undistinguished run. A new restaurant by Jesse Schenker of Recette is expected to move into the place.

*

“Just fine” is a label I often use when I’m served capably executed food which neither excites me nor fails in any articulable way.

Alison Eighteen is “just fine.”

The décor is modern and stylish. Service is attentive and professional. The wine list offers better breadth and depth than you usually see at a new restaurant, with plenty of reasonable choices below $60. Food prices are slightly on the medium-to-high side, but certainly not extortionate for the neighborhood.

The owner, Alison Price Becker, is a former actress who rose through the ranks at Rakel and Gotham Bar & Grill, then opened her own place, the much loved Alison on Dominick Street. Bryan Miller of The Times awarded two stars in 1989 and again in 1992, both under founding chef Tom Valenti, who is now at Ouest. Scott Bryan replaced him, also receiving two stars from Ruth Reichl. Dan Silverman (later of Union Square Cafe, Lever House, and now the Standard Grill) replaced Bryan. James Beard Award winner Michelle Bernstein cooked here at one point. Those are some impressive names.

The lesser known Robert Gurvich replaced Silverman in 1999. By now Alison was a franchise, with a place in Sagaponack (Alison by the Beach; 1998–2004). Alison on Dominick closed in 2011 after the 9/11 attacks, as diners stopped coming downtown, and for a while the site (located hard by the Holland Tunnel exit) could not even receive truck deliveries. She opened another restaurant (just plain “Alison”) in Bridgehampton in 2006, again with Gurvich, who is likewise chef at Alison Eighteen.

Ruth Reichl called Alison on Dominick “one of the city’s most romantic restaurants.” No one would say that about the new one. It is, as FloFab put it, “lighter and airier,” with a more overtly commercial intent. Still, there is a cool elegance and obvious care in the design: Ms. Becker even created her own wallpaper.

I suspect she’ll attract fans of the old Alison on Dominick, plus those who’ve gone with her to Sagaponack or Bridgehampton, and Elaine’s refugees. The restaurant is open for three meals a day and should do a brisk breakfast and lunch trade in this neighborhood.

The old Times reviews suggest that the cuisine here was never cutting-edge, but it was always executed with care and skill, and it remains so today. Even in 1992, Bryan Miller would write: “If there is a minor shortcoming here, especially for repeat customers, it is a moderate-size menu that usually lacks more than one special supplement.”

Twenty years later, with American locavore restaurants found on every half-block, the menu at Alison Eighteen may seem a bit old-fashioned: serving spit-roasted chicken without saying which farm the chicken came from? Shocking!

The menu fits on one broadsheet, with nine appetizers (mostly $12–19, but Foie Gras “A La Plancha” is $28), eight entrées (mostly $26–34, excluding a 35-day aged sirloin, $45), and half-a-dozen sides ($9).

That old standby, the Raw Yellow Beet Salad ($15; above left) shares the plate with slices of escarole and honeycrisp apple (neither very flavorful), with watermelon radishes and cider vinaigrette. It was a dish that read better than it tasted.

Sardine Crostini ($16; above right) were an annouced special, with a list of about ten ingredients that I won’t even attempt to recall. This was a considerably more exciting dish, the kind Alison Eighteen needs more of.

Both entrées were competently executed, if unexciting: Black Bass ($32) with artichokes, cannelini beans, cockles and a bit of chorizo; Spit-Roasted Lamb Shoulder ($32) with roasted vegetables. The server tried to upsell us into a side dish, which neither of these mains required.

The bread service (baguettes and olive oil) could be better, but petits fours (below right) were a nice touch, and I especially appreciated the (mostly French) wine list. We had the 2006 Pascal Granger Juliénas, a Beaujolais I suspect you won’t find in many other NYC restaurants.

Many of the city’s pro critics thumb their noses at restaurants that exist mainly for social reasons, and thereby miss their real merits. There is a need for places that serve reliable menus in stylish surroundings, with upscale service. I won’t run back to Alison Eighteen, but for the intended audience it fulfills its mission well.

Alison Eighteen (15 W. 18th St. between 5th & 6th Ave., Flatiron District)

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

King

Note: Francis Derby left King after just three months on the job, after a clash with the owners about the scope and ambition of the cuisine. As of March 2012, a sous-chef had replaced him. The restaurant closed in June. As of April 2013, the space is Charlie Bird.

*

Francis Derby’s name comes up a lot in NYC culinary circles. In the last eleven years, the chef has worked at Atlas, WD~50, Gilt, Tailor, Solex, Momofuku Ssäm Bar, and Shorty’s.32. I am not sure if that’s a complete list.

None of those were his own place. He has that now at King, which opened last month a converted railroad apartment on a quiet Soho street corner. Let’s hope this gig lasts longer than the others did. King is a restaurant I want to root for.

While I wouldn’t call King elegant, it has many of the amenities lacking in about 95 percent of new restaurants these days: tablecloths, a comfortable bar, reservations accepted, coats checked, a civilized dining room. It’s a superb, quiet date spot. I liked the décor, but to some diners it may seem old-fashioned. Some of it, I think, came from rummage sales, although Ken Friedman built a whole empire that way.

I’m realist enough to know that King is swimming against the tide. There’s a reason not many people are opening that kind of restaurant today. They have trouble finding enough guests like me, who value what King is trying to do.

There are some early fumbles (about a month in), as they try to figure out what works. A tripe gratin or tripe stroganoff, mentioned with derision in some of the early reviews, is no longer on the menu. Likewise a Pigs Head Tortellini and a Salt Crust Chicken for two. As the more intriguing dishes disappear, we’re left with a menu that on its face won’t wow anyone. Once the food arrives, you’ll find that the chef’s technique is top-notch, but first they have to get you in the door.

It is only January, but it’s not too soon to credit King with the dumbest restaurant gimmick of the year:

Push the ‘champagne button’ at your seat, and a server appears with flutes, an ice bucket, and a 375ml bottle of Vueve Clicquot.

There’s nothing at the table to indicate what the button does: we assumed it was just a light switch, until we noticed that every table had one, and then I remembered the stories I’d read. Without an explanation, no one will know what the buttons do. And if they have to explain it, perhaps the old-fashioned way is better: let servers look after their tables. Some problems just don’t need a technology solution.

In the one case I’m aware of where someone actually pushed the button (a Mouthfuls review), they waited 20 minutes, and all that happened was a waiter came over and asked if the party needed anything. But perhaps that’s better than the alternative, an expensive bottle of bubbly that the table probably didn’t want anyway.

Chef Derby has some pretty impressive restaurants on his C.V., but he is certainly not trying to out-do his mentors. He serves a straightforrward seasonal American menu, with no entrée above $29. But I really liked everything I tried over the course of two visits, especially at this price point.

A Chicken & Rabbit Pâté ($14; above left) was excellent. This could go on the menu at Bar Boulud (the city’s best charcuterie place) tomorrow. It seems every new restaurant this year has multiple poached egg dishes. King has a terrific one: Smoked Octopus ($16; above right) with frisée and radish.

Bouchot Mussels ($18; above left) steamed in beer were just fine. Pork Belly ($26; above right) is sometimes too cloying to be an entrée, but it worked here because the skin was nicely crisped, giving it the needed textural contrast.

On my second visit, I tried the Sweetbreads ($16; above left) in an appealing celery root and green olive dip and a great Brussels Sprouts and Lamb Bacon side dish ($8; above right). The plate of pastries at the end (below left) is a nice touch.

The wine list is fairly minimal—around a dozen bottles. I can’t complain about a 2004 Saint-Émilion for $58 (above right), but there aren’t a lot of choices like that. King needs more, and better glassware to serve it in.

There are some pretty good house cocktails, like the His Majesty (Ransom Gin, Purity Vodka, Lillet Blanc, Orange Bitters) or the Rejouissance (Prosecco, St. Germain, Lemon-infused Vodka, Bittered Sugar). Service behind the bar is better and more polished than at the tables, where servers, though friendly and well-meaning, still seem to be feeling their way.

The dining room was not very busy on either of my visits, but both were on weeknights and relatively early. A server said that the weekend business has been brisk. To succeed, King needs to thread a needle. It wasn’t built on a big budget, it’s not expensive, and the cuisine won’t make headlines. It needs to attract people like me, who enjoy such places and wish there were more of them.

King (5 King Street at Sixth Avenue, Soho)

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

Acme

Note: This review of Acme is under chef Mats Refslund, who left the restaurant at the end of 2015. Acme is now an Italian restaurant, under chef Brian Loiacono, who worked formerly at Daniel Boulud’s db Bistro Moderne. One desperately wants this incarnation of Acme to be as important as the last one was, while somehow doubting that it will happen.

*

In New York, restaurants open after years of planning, or they pop up seemingly out of nowhere.

The new Acme falls squarely in the latter category. When the venerable Acme Bar & Grill closed last March after a 25-year run, most people figured it was dunzo, notwithstanding the owner’s pledge to re-open “after a few months.” Renovations took longer than planned; don’t they always? A farm-to-table concept was considered. Yawn city.

After more like nine months, Acme re-opened with new partners (the guys behind clubby joints like Indochine and Kittichai) and chef Mats Refslund, a co-founder of the renowned Danish restaurant Noma, which is currently #1 on the S. Pellegrino list of the world’s best restaurants.

That came out of nowhere. By January 6, though still not even officially open, it was named (by one observer) The Most Exciting Restaurant in New York. (So how did Refslund wind up here anyway? The story is worth a read.)

The new owners are better known for “see and be seen” restaurants that attract art and fashion industry types. UrbanDaddy thought the new Acme was a dance club serving a bit of food. The owners forcefully denied it. The intersection of their world and the serious dining community is a shock to the system.

They are really taking the Nordic theme seriously. They owners gently suggested putting a burger on the menu. Chef Refslund refused (though he reluctantly agreed to offer french fries). The sign outside still reads, “Authentic Southern and Cajun Cooking.” But inside, it is nothing like the neighborhood dive that the old Acme apparently was.

Despite the connection to Noma, this is not a clone of that acclaimed restaurant, where dinner is 1,500 Danish kroner (about US$263) for a twenty-course tasting menu. Although the style is recognizably Nordic, Relfslund uses local ingredients. Prices are far more accessible, with appetizers $10–14, entrées $20–30, side dishes $8, desserts $10. A pre-dinner cocktail was just $12.

It is not a long menu, occupying about 2/3rds of a page, with about 14 of the dishes I’m calling “appetizers” in three categories (“Raw,” “Cooked,” and “Soil”), and seven entrées. Because the appetizers sounded so appealing, we ordered five of them to share, and didn’t get around to any of the entrées or dessert, which will have to wait for another time.

After the bread service (above left), we chose  two items from the “Raw” section. House-cured salmon ($12; above right), dressed with winter cabbage and buttermilk horseradish dressing, was an excellent way to start.

Sweet shrimp & bison ($13; below left) were paired with bitter lettuce and white walnuts (the photo does not do it justice).

From the “Cooked” section of the menu, Farmer’s Eggs ($10; above right) were hollowed out and filled with a luscious cauliflower and aged parmesan soup. You get only a few bites of this ambrosia (the hay surrounding the eggs is stritcly decorative), but one can’t complain at $5 per egg.

It’s most unlike me to finish a meal with two vegetables dishes, but to me the section marked “Soil” was the most intriguing. Hay roasted sunchokes ($12; above left) in New England gruyère and winter truffles were superb. Salt-baked beets ($12; above right) with red grapefruit and aged vinegar were somewhat forgettable.

There are two precedents for the service model at a place like Acme, and neither is very good. One is to go the Momofuku/Torrisi route, and serve excellent food, along with purportedly “democratic” service that sucks. The other is to go the high-end club route, with a bouncer at the door and a snooty host who quotes an hour wait for everyone who isn’t a celebrity.

They could have done that. Yet, they didn’t. Acme takes reservations and checks coats. You arrive before your girlfriend, and they offer to seat you immediately. Servers and hosts are nicely dressed. They circle back regularly to check on you. Plates and flatware are delivered and cleared when they should be. A fork drops on the floor, and within seconds someone notices. The wine list makes sense and is served at the right temperature, with proper glassware.

The place is built on the old Acme’s bones, so it is not the most comfortable or the most gorgeously appointed. It gets loud when full. But the service matches the food, whereas at Momofuku, or Torrisi, or the clubby places these owners are best known for, it does not.

They’ve adjusted quickly to the food-centric clientele. At the long bar, every place is set with silverware and napkins: they clearly expect that most diners are coming here for the food. At the tables, patrons were in a wide age range. I saw a few waifs that could be from the fashion or art world, but they were certainly not in the majority—as far as I can tell. That was at 6:30 p.m. on a Wednesday evening. I hear the atmosphere at 11:00 p.m. on Friday or Saturday is more like a club. You won’t find me at Acme then.

Is Refslund here for the long haul? This menu is not replicable without him. In a tug-of-war between the fashion scene and the dining scene, one must prevail. If it’s the former, I suspect he’ll get fed up pretty quickly. If it’s the latter, we could be in for a wild and exciting ride.

Acme (9 Great Jones Street, west of Lafayette Street, NoHo)

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

The Toucan and The Lion

Very soon, “gastropub” may need to join “locavore,” “sustainable, and “New American,” among restaurant terms so overused that they are almost meaningless.

The OED says that a gastropub is “A public house which specializes in serving high-quality food.” And what does that mean? It takes Pubology a whole blog post to decide.

The Toucan and The Lion, which opened late last year, claims to be a “Gastropub…with an Asian twist.” I agree with Pubology that, to be a gastropub, you have to be a pub first, and this is not a pub. It’s a restaurant.

But it does have a bar, where cocktails get much more attention than beer or wine. Michael Cecconi, formerly of Savoy, wrote the cocktail menu, which “draw[s] inspiration from the British East Indies.”

Sidle up for the likes of The Toucan ($10; yamazaki whisky, house rendered vermouth, angostura bitters), The Lion ($10; kaffir ginger infused rum, lime, simple syrup, sriracha), the Eastern Hospitality ($12; Gordon’s gin, lemon, house made pineapple shrub, vanilla essence), or the Thai Fighter ($11; Ezra Brooks bourbon, thai basil leaves, lime, yuzu, simple syrup). They’re all enjoyable, well made, and a good three or four dollars less than you’d pay elsewhere.

The dining room is striking in its minimalism, though a bit cold on a winter evening. It’s all white, except for the oak floors and terrariums built into the light fixtures. But it was empty at 8:00 p.m. on a Thursday evening, which could be why the owners invited us to visit on their dime.

The chef here is Justin Fertitta, formerly of Jane. The menu is in the same British–Asian fusion genre as the cocktails, and fairly inexpensive, though not as inventive. There are eight items called “Shares” ($9–16), though you and I would call them appetizers; just five mains ($16–22), and five sides ($3–6).

A lot of these dishes have the distinct feel of a snack. They complement the cocktails, rather than being substantial attractions in their own right. The Toucan and The Lion becomes a place to tide you over to the main event, or to wind up your evening after you’ve been somewhere else.

Pork Ribs ($12; above left) in an espresso glaze were probably the best dish we tried. Duck Confit Mofongo ($14; above right) was somewhat forgettable, though you can never go wrong with a fried egg on top.

Meatballs ($9; above left) are a beef/pork mix in a tangy curry sauce. Goat Pot Pie ($22; above right) didn’t resemble any pot pie I am familiar with. The goat was tender and the curry sauce was just fine, but perhaps the curry/chili theme is overdone on this menu.

I usually skip dessert, but there was no way I could pass on Bacon Sweet Potato Donuts with a coconut glaze. This could become a destination dish, if the right people hear about it. Some will say that bacon is for breakfast, but this dish tries mightily to disprove that, and in our view succeeded. Bacon lovers unite!

It is certainly worth dropping in for the excellent cocktails, and you won’t do badly with any of the share dishes or the bacon donuts. I do think the entrée menu could use more of the depth and variety that will attract serious diners and keep them coming back.

The Toucan & The Lion (342 E. 6th St. near First Avenue, East Village)

North End Grill

Note: This is a review under founding chef Floyd Cardoz, who left the restaurant in April 2014. His replacement is Eric Korsh, formerly of Calliope.

*

You’ve got to admire Danny Meyer’s sense of the moment. He put fine dining into Union Square before Union Square was hip. Then, he did it at Madison Square. Then, he built the nation’s best museum restaurant at MoMA—indeed, one of the city’s finest restaurants of any kind, regardless of location.

There are some lesser accomplishments: an overrated burger shack that will soon have more locations than McDonald’s (OK, I’m exaggerating); an undistinguished barbecue joint. But even ignoring those places, it’s a remarkable record.

He’s also loyal to those who are loyal to him. A year ago, he shuttered the pathmaking Indian restaurant, Tabla, the first Meyer establishment to close. You couldn’t call it a failure, as the place had been open for twelve years, but it had run its course. But he didn’t fire the chef. Instead, he kept the talented Floyd Cardoz on the payroll until he could find another gig worthy of his abilities.

It didn’t take long. North End Grill has just opened in Battery Park City, along with a branch of that overrated burger shack and that undistinguished barbecue joint. They’ll all be hits.

When the project was announced, Meyer noted the irony that Battery Park City has the city’s highest-income Zip code, but it has never had any particularly good restaurants. With the new Goldman Sachs headquarters around the block, Meyer figured it was time to give the neighborhood a try.

In that announcement, Meyer made the restaurant sound decidedly middlebrow:

“This fits in with my casual restaurants, like Union Square Cafe, the tavern at Gramercy Tavern, Maialino, and the Bar Room at the Modern,” Mr. Meyer said. “I don’t see this as a special-occasion place.”

He confirmed that Floyd Cardoz, formerly of Tabla, which closed at the end of 2010, will be the chef, with a menu dominated by seafood. A dining counter will face an open kitchen and there will be a bar for drinks, not food.

North End Grill is much better than that. It is not as fancy as Meyer’s two remaining upscale restaurants, Gramercy Tavern and The Modern, but it’s quite a bit fancier than the other places he compared it to—the Tavern Room, the Bar Room, or Maialino.

By today’s standards, it is fine dining. The Goldman Sachs crowd will generate expense account business. Meyer was smart not to surrender that opportunity, and Floyd Cardoz shouldn’t be wasted on tavern food.

Meyer hedged his bets in other ways: the bar does serve food, and there’s a long communal table facing an open kitchen. But the main dining room (in the back, and not immediately visible when you enter) is smartly appointed in white and ebony trim, with crisp white tablecloths, comfortable banquetts, tables generously spaced, and captains in tie and jacket.

Whether you choose the bar or a sit-down meal, you’ll enjoy eating here.

The menu is upper-mid-priced, with appetizers and salads $12–18, entrées $19–44 (most of them $26–34), sides $6–9. There’s a distinct seafood slant, which features in all the appetizers, but the entrées are about a 50 percent split between surf and turf.

It isn’t a bold menu, especially the entrées: halibut, scallops, salmon, pork chop, lamb, duck, turbot, chicken, steak—practically, the laundry list of all the mains a “bar and grill” restaurant needs to serve, lacking only a burger.

But I was there on the second night of dinner service, and I’m sure North End Grill—like every other Danny Meyer restaurant—will gain focus as the restaurant gains its sea legs. For such an early visit (not my usual practice), the kitchen and the service team were remarkably sure-footed.

Cod Throats Meunière ($15; above left) is what passes for critic bait on this menu: the throat of the cod, dredged in flour and served in brown butter. The server compared it to sweetbreads, which was a fairly accurate description.

In an early candidate for Trend of the Year, there is a whole section of the menu for savory egg dishes. If they’re as good as the Tuna Tartare with Fried Quail Egg and Crispy Shallots ($16; above right), then I’d like to try them all.

The Ashley Farms Poulet Rouge ($52; above), one of three “×2” dishes on the menu, was excellent.

So too was a side of Hashed Brussels Sprouts and Lentils ($8; right), which was like a rich, warm cole slaw.

The wine list, which is currently only one sheet of paper, offers a reasonable selection for a new restaurant, although the sommelier said that a longer and deeper list is on the way. For us, the 2007 Haut Médoc from Château Sociando-Mallet ($64) was just right.

The hard liquor department specializes in scotch, with dozens of whiskies in a wide price range. There are also several scotch-based cocktails; I tried the Stone Fence ($13), with, sparkling cider, Peychaud’s bitters, and soda.

This is a Danny Meyer restaurant, so it won’t surprise you that the service was spot-on, allowing for some obvious first-night nervousness that will surely have subsided by the time you read this. I wouldn’t be surprised if North End Grill is a three-star restaurant before long—or what passes for one, now that the classic kind is gradually disappearing. I’m a bit more conservative, but stay tuned.

North End Grill (104 North End Avenue at Vesey Street, Battery Park City)

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

Morso

It took a while to remember when I had been here before: the large, luxurious restaurant space at the base of an apartment building in Sutton Place. It was Savonara, a terrific Turkish restaurant that closed three years ago, before anyone (but me) could review it.

The Palace, Bouterin, and Sandro’s, are among the others who have occupied that fated space, and failed.

Now comes Morso (Italian for “small bites”) from the well-traveled chef, Pino Luongo. I’ve never been to his other places, such as Le Madri, Coco Pazzo, Tuscan Square, or Centolire. Most of them are long since closed. Centolire is still open, except when it’s seized.

Luongo is not shy about slamming other chefs, whether it’s Michael White, Andrew Carmellini, or Mario Batali: none can please him. Perhaps he had better worry about drawing crowds to Morso. A recent weeknight visit found the space more than half empty. Those it did attract were mostly over fifty.

It’s a nice-looking place, with the walls decked out in vintage 1960s European poster art. And three cheers for Luongo for putting out tablecloths and not drowning out diners with the sound system. You can have a comfortable, civilized meal, in a pretty room unlike any other you’ve seen, and you won’t need to shout to be heard. Why can’t we have more restaurants like that?

But Luongo went to a lot of trouble (and expense) to create a restaurant very few people will see. No one draws a destination crowd to this neighborhood in the shadow of the Queensboro Bridge. It’s a looooong hike from transit, the area (though safe) is unfashionable, and there are a lot of seats to fill.

There are two central conceits to the menu. Most of the selections are available in two sizes, morso (a smaller plate) or tutto (larger). They’re organized by main ingredient (vegetables, eggs & cheese, poultry, etc.), rather than the standard appetizer–pasta–entrée arrangement, so there is considerable flexibility in the way you organize a meal.

The morso plates are $10–24 (most $18 or less), the tutto plates $19–30. Where a dish is available both ways, there’s generally about $5–8 separating the two sizes. There are about a half-dozen items only available in the larger size, and these range from $26 (pork chop) to $58 (ribeye steak).

It’s a structure that lends itself to over-ordering and upselling, but our server was remarkably restrained, advising us that two morsos was enough. 

The appetizers were more successful than the entrées. My friend liked the Carciofi ($14; above left), a crispy artichoke salad with pickled fennel, olives, arugula, and citrus dressing.

And I adored the Uova ($14; above right), a soft poached egg with lamb sausage, chickpea fries, and a fontina cheese sauce. Puncture the egg and mop it up with the fries, and you have an instant classic.

The Maiale ($26; above left), or pork chop, looked promising: it’s a large hunk of meat wrapped in bacon, served with butternut squash gratin and winter greens in an apple-sage sauce, but the pork was slightly over-cooked.

Housemade Pappardelle ($16; above center) came with a brisket pot roast and a porcini mushroom sauce, but a large hunk of (concededly tender) pot roast on the side wasn’t well integrated into the rest of the dish. A side order of roasted Brussels Sprouts ($8; above right) was competently done.

I especially like the morso/tutto option on so many of the dishes. If I lived in the neighborhood, I would love having a place like this to drop in for something light, at times that I’m not in the mood for a big meal. And our meal was comparatively inexpensive, at around $125 (including drinks) before tax and tip.

But as I’ve noted in the past, mid-level Italian is the most over-saturated cuisine in New York. The chef is awfully impressed with himself, but hasn’t noted that food of this quality—or better—is available all over town.

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

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