Riverpark

The unwritten rules that divide success from failure in the restaurant world are counter-intuitive. When Tom Colicchio’s new Riverpark opened in late September, Eater.com noted that it “provides a much needed dining option to the vast number of hospital workers in the wasteland that is the upper 20s around 1st Avenue.”

You’d think that a fine-dining restaurant by one of America’s best-known celebrity chefs, in a neighborhood where it’ll have the market to itself, would be a sure thing. Oddly enough, it usually doesn’t work that way. There’s a reason why nobody else has put a destination restaurant along hospital row. A health care worker in scrubs, after a long shift, isn’t looking for a $14 burger or $55 chicken for two.

Colicchio has doubled down on this location, which also has an outpost of his ’wichcraft sandwich chain, in a gorgeous all-glass building (see photo, right). I suspect it will do quite well; the restaurant is an entirely different matter.

Riverpark is in the brand new Alexandria Center, a biotech tower on East 29th Street past First Avenue, more than half-a-mile from the nearest subway station. To reach the restaurant, you walk past an unmarked gate at 29th & First, up a long unmarked driveway, and finally get to the dining room at the back of a sterile-looking lobby that smells like car dealership. It will get zero walk-in business, because you don’t even know it’s there. Drug reps will need to buy a lot of expense-account meals to fill this place.

It’s not all bad news for Riverpark. At this early date, the food is pretty good. That’s a contrast to Colicchio & Sons across town, where our early meal was a disaster—and many critics (though not the Times) had a similar experience.

The décor is right out of the Craft–Craftsteak handbook, with the addition of unobstructed East River views. It’s a pity that the floor-to-ceiling windows don’t open (as far as we could tell). The terrace just might be the city’s best outdoor dining destination, but first, Riverpark will have to tough out a long winter. Opening now, just as the weather is turning, was clearly not the best timing—even if a construction schedule beyond the restaurant’s control was the reason for it.

Though Riverpark is billed as “A Tom Colicchio Restaurant,” it doesn’t charge Tom Colicchio prices. Except for a few entrées “for two,” all of the mains are $28 or less. There’s also a separate bar menu, with entrées all under $20. That $55 chicken is an anomaly; everything else is quite reasonable, especially given the tariff at Colicchio’s other places.

The staff somewhat arbitrarily calls half the room “the pub,” but there is no noticeable difference between the two spaces, and either menu is served at any table. I think the so-called pub tables, situated closer to the water, are actually more desirable. In an odd design choice, the bar occupies the middle of the room, blocking the view for many of the so-called “dining room” tables, and leaving many of the bar patrons facing the wrong way.

Colicchio has handed over the cooking duties to his deputy, Sisha Ortuzar, who was the corporate chef of ’wichcraft for the last seven years. I wondered how well a sandwich guy would transition to fine dining. Quite well, it turns out.

Squab Mole ($15; above left) doesn’t look that great in the photo, but it’s a very good dish. So is Glazed Pork Belly ($9; above right) with pickled vegetables and jalapeño. The former comes from the dinner menu, the latter from the pub menu, but you would never guess that.

Sea Bass ($25; above left) was nicely done, in a rich seafood sauce, though I could have done without the crostini (shown at the top of the plate), which got a bit soggy. Spaghetti ($24 as an entrée; above right), clearly house-made, was just fine, with calamari, lobster, cockles, tomato, black olives, lemon, and basil.

We weren’t quite ready for dinner to end, so we ordered a Fruit Crisp ($10; right) to share, which was as good as it ought to be.

The restaurant is offering a 20 percent discount for the first two weeks. Even without that, the meal would have been $150 including cocktails and a bottle of wine, which is more than fair for food of this quality. You’d pay at least $50 more at Colicchio & Sons or Craft, with no assurance you’d enjoy it any better.

Our server was attentive, if slightly over-stretched, and there were some inexplicably long gaps between courses. However, that is one of the reasons why opening discounts are offered. I do not hold it against them.

The dining room was fairly empty at 6:30 p.m., but by the time we left, around 8:30, it was around 90 percent full. Keeping it full will be a challenge, as there is no history of fine dining in this neighborhood, and as a destination Riverpark is a very long hike from just about anywhere. On a value basis, this is probably the best of Colicchio’s New York restaurants, but I don’t know how often he’ll lure diners this far east.

Riverpark (450 E. 29th Street, east of First Avenue, Kips Bay)

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

Danny Meyer’s Tabla to Close

Restauranteur Danny Meyer announced today that Tabla will close at the end of the year. It is the first time Meyer has folded a restaurant since his remarkable run of success began with Union Square Cafe in 1885.

Tabla was a big risk in 1998, aiming to prove that nouveau Indian cuisine could work in a fine-dining environment. Its fancy upstairs dining room had a relatively expensive prix fixe format usually reserved for high-end French restaurants. It won three stars from Ruch Reichl, and a fanatic following thereafter.

As time went on, Tabla faded out of the conversation, while its next-door neighbor, Eleven Madison Park—which Meyer also owns—ascended to four-star glory. There were certainly signs of trouble a year ago, when Tabla ditched the prix fixe and installed its more casual “bread bar” menu in the main dining room.

Remarkably, Tabla and Eleven Madison Park opened within weeks of one another. The two are divided by a wall that couldn’t be removed in the landmarked building, which led to the seemingly harebrained idea of opening two fine dining restaurants practically simultaneously, adjacent to one another. Nobody can be happy about Tabla’s demise; still, twelve years is a pretty damned good run.

Meyer told the Times that it was a struggle to fill 280 seats every night. Restauranteurs’ own explanations are seldom the full story: no one ever wants to admit that their own mistakes could have contributed to the failure. Whatever the reason, Tabla will soon be no more.

He also said he is keeping it open through December 30 to give his staff time to find other positions. The fall and holiday seasons are usually the best months for the restaurant industry, and no doubt Tabla fans will want to go back for one last fling. Meyer will probably have no trouble breaking even for three more months.

What he will do with the space is unknown. It’s hard to imagine Meyer ceding prime Madison Square real estate to another operator. But that very large space is expensive, which limits the kinds of concepts that can succeed there.

Sam Sifton Awards Four Stars to Del Posto, but Can I Trust Him?

In tomorrow morning’s Times, Sam Sifton awards four stars to Del Posto, the Batali–Bastianich Italian fine dining temple in Southwest Chelsea.

The review accomplishes one thing: it sounds extraordinary—exactly what a four-star restaurant is supposed to be:

Mr. Ladner’s pastas are insanely good. After a wintry appetizer of warm, soft cotechino in a lentil vinaigrette, his spaghetti with Dungeness crab, sliced jalapeño and minced scallion arrives like the sun. It is a dish that speaks directly to Mr. Ladner’s genius, to a view of Italian cooking that allows for both jalapeño and Dungeness crab. His cooking is not about recreating Italy on a luxe scale so much as it is about recreating the Italian spirit on the grandest scale imaginable.

The problem is that four-star reviews gain value from the company they keep. There are six other four-star restaurants in New York: Daniel, Eleven Madison Park, Jean Georges, Le Bernardin, Masa, and Per Se. I know of no other critic—amateur or professional—who has suggested that Del Posto is on their level.

To the best of my recollection, each of the last three restaurants to receive four stars—Per Se, Masa, and Eleven Madison Park—had received a considerable amount of critical acclaim, blogger and food-board love, before Frank Bruni confirmed what all of us, basically, already knew. This review comes out of nowhere.

I am not saying it couldn’t be true, only that it lacks the usual indicia of truthyness.

Sifton has not had much opportunity to file high-end reviews. That’s not his fault: in the haze of the post-Lehman Brothers, post-Bear Stearns era, new restaurants of that caliber are a bit thin on the ground. Of the opportunities afforded him, he got it fairly close to right with Marea (three stars), but whiffed on Colicchio & Sons (vastly overrated at three) and SHO Shaun Hergatt (the opposite, with two).

Restaurants change. My 2½-star meal four years ago is, I admit, dated. But I am not yet ready to invest in another meal there on Sifton’s say-so. One thing this review will surely do, is whip up more attention for Del Posto. If a few more reviews confirm Sifton’s assessment, I’ll give it a try.

Szechuan Gourmet

Last week, the Village Voice’s Robert Sietsema published his latest list of the ten best Chinese restaurants in the city, nine of which I had never even heard of. That fact will tell you, right up front, my qualifications for reviewing Szechuan Gourmet on 56th Street, which weighed in at #7. If the list had been French or Italian, I most likely would have heard of all, and been to most of them.

It’s not that Chinese cuisine is unfamiliar to me—I’ve probably had it hundreds of times. But I haven’t made a point of seeking out the kinds of places Sietsema does.

So, why did I visit #7 on his list? Convenience was one reason: it’s the only one he listed that’s in Manhattan north of Canal Street, and while I don’t mind a trip to Chinatown or the outer boroughs, on this night proximity was king. The other reason was that I’d at least heard of Szechuan Gourmet, thanks to Frank Bruni’s two-star review of the 39th Street outpost in 2008. (There is also a branch in Flushing; the 56th Street restaurant opened last year.)

The menu meanders, as it does at many Chinese restaurants, with over a hundred items in ten categories. You can be a wimp, and order General Tso’s Chicken or Moo Shu Pork. You can also order duck tongues, pig kidneys, intestines (of an unspecified animal), and eel threads (whatever that means). We ordered between those extremes, choosing the hottest dishes we could find.

 

Szechuan Pork Dumplings ($5.95; above left) with roasted chili soy came—most unusually—in a bowl. They were more delicate and far less greasy than the dumplings most Chinese restaurants serve. Spicy Hot & Sour Cellophane Noodles ($6.95; above right), floating in an intense chili oil, were a challenge to eat, but rewarding all the same.

There are four versions of Braised Whole Black Bass ($21.95; above) on the menu, varying only in how spicy they are. We ordered the hottest of these, to the point that the taste of the fish was nearly obliterated. Best we could tell, the bass had been cooked perfectly, but at certain levels of heat it becomes nearly impossible to say. But the dish was irresistible. With a couple of appetizers and a vegetable, it could really be an entrée for two.

 

The kitchen did a beautiful job with Sautéed Broccoli in Spicy Garlic Sauce ($10.95; above left). By this time, we were too full to appreciate Crispy Boneless Duck ($17.95; above right), but that is no fault of the dish, which was as well prepared as everything we tried.

The service was a cut above most Chinese restaurants in the city. Without prompting, servers poured beer and replaced both plates and flatware between courses—amenities that, at other kinds of restaurants, would pass without mention. The timing of each course was just about right (the usual problem is the food arriving all at once).

The space is not luxurious, but it is a lot nicer than most of those on Sietsema’s list (he is not really an “ambiance” kind of guy). The tables and banquetts are comfortable, and there is a handsome bar. You could bring a date here, as long as you don’t mind smelling like chili powder afterwards.

We walked in on a Saturday evening without a reservation (I don’t know if they’re even taken) and were seated immediately. The restaurant was around 90 percent full, with a mixture of local couples, tourists, and families.

I’m not qualified to put Szechuan Gourmet in relation to the other places on Sietsema’s list, but this is certainly very good Chinese food, and well worth a visit.

Szechuan Gourmet (242 W. 56th Street, east of Eighth Avenue, West Midtown)

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

Salon Millesime

Millesime is the French seafood restaurant that will take over the old Country space in the Carleton Hotel. The fine dining room on the gorgeous second floor is slated for a vague “fall” opening (which means anytime in the next year). The former Café, now called “Salon Millesime,” is open now.

The challenges here are enormous, starting with a name nobody can pronounce (roughly, it’s MEEL-eh ZEEM-eh). And these aren’t the best times for high-end French food, which most of the city’s critics don’t understand, especially coming from a chef (Laurent Manrique) who made his name on the left coast. New York is tough, tough, tough, on outsiders.

The location is problematic too, a dead-zone for foot traffic. With enough buzz, you can attract an audience just about anywhere; getting noticed is the hard part. The “Salon” was sparsely populated at 6:30 p.m. on a Friday evening. Perhaps it gets more lively later on. Then again, maybe the word simply hasn’t gotten out.

The spectacular bi-level space that David Rockwell designed for Country is mostly intact, except that the bar in the middle of what was the café, has been removed in favor of a raised platform with a piano, where live music will be heard many evenings. (The space still has two other bars.) On Friday night, the band was just getting set up at around 7:30 p.m., when we were getting ready to leave.

The menu downstairs consists mainly of sandwiches and bar snacks, none more than $16, and they are much better than one has any right to expect. We tried five items, and there wasn’t a dud among them.

Crispy bacon ($4; left) was one of the best bar snacks I’ve tried all year, baked like a hard cracker, loaded with spices, and served in a basket.

 

Tuna tartare ($15; above left) comes with Moroccan spices, dates, almonds, and lemon, which the server mixes tableside. It was just fine, but probably the most pedestrian dish we tried. Pork Belly Lollipops ($14; above right) come on skewers with a bracing red pepper relish.

 

The menu didn’t identify the mix of seasonings and spices that elevated a Foie Gras Terrine ($16; above left), well above most others served in town. It was served with warm, toasted country bread and the two craziest spreading knives you’ll ever see. Profiteroles (above right) were wonderful, and at $7 the bargain of the evening.

The wine list is nothing to write home about, as the Salon no doubt expects to make most of its money on mixed drinks. A recent vintage VdP Syrah was fine, but at $58 over-priced for the space. Service was much more attentive and polished than I expected in lounge environment.

The menu at Salon Millesime is too limited to warrant a full review, but everything we tried was top-notch, and that does not happen by accident. If the staff can do as well in the main dining room, Millesime ought to be excellent. The question is, who will notice?

Salon Millesime (90 Madison Avenue at 29th Street, Gramercy/Flatiron)

Das Rheingold on the Plaza

 

The new Metropolitan Opera season opened tonight with a new production of Richard Wagner’s Das Rheingold. The performance was broadcast on the rainy plaza at Lincoln Center and also at Times Square.

Although 3,000 tickets were available for the outdoor seating at Lincoln Center, attendance was no doubt depressed by the inclement weather, which ranged from pouring to lightly drizzling. The rain stopped entirely at around the time Donner drove his hammer into the stage, near the end of the 2½-hour plus performance.

I’ll leave reviews for another day, but a few grainy cell phone photos follow.

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Initiale

We chose Restaurant Initiale for our second big meal in Quebec City. Like le Saint-Amour, which I wrote about in a previous post, Initiale was at or near the top of every Quebec dining guide I looked at.

Located in a former bank, the forty-seat dining room is decorated in sedate earth tones, with plenty of space between tables. The website describes it as “sobre [sic] and classical.” In New York, Per Se is perhaps the closest thing to it, but here there is no panoramic view of Central Park (or of anything).

A couple of weeks ago, New York Times critic Sam Sifton featured a letter from a clueless twit named Brian who criticized restaurants like Eleven Madison Park and Momofuku Ko because, “when a restaurant is too focused on food you lose passion and soul.”

Brian is full of crap, starting with his false dichotomy that a focus on food is inconsistent with “passion and soul.” I lost him at “foodies,” as in: “by catering to ‘foodies’ these restaurants have become boring. Foodies as diners are way too concerned with the food.”

I don’t want to spend any more time on Brian’s limitations, except to say: Initiale isn’t Brian’s kind of restaurant. But it sure was ours. We didn’t spend our whole meal reverently “studying” the food. But each course in our long tasting menu commanded attention, as exceptional food should.

At dinner, there is a choice among three “thematic menus” (three courses plus amuses for CA$69): Le Maratime, Produit Volaillé, or Le Goût du Chef; or, a long tasting menu at $125.

The cooking here was more precise, technical, and elaborate, than at le Saint-Amour. The chef, Yvan Lebrun, has a particular knack for integrating fruits and vegetables into a dish, rather than just serving them on the side, or as a garnish. As in the earlier review, I’m going to quote from the menu and, for the most part, let the photos speak for themselves.

 

1. Amuses bouches (above left)

2. Princess scallops three ways: red pepper-gremolata and nougatine (above right)

 

3. Turnip and armillaires mushrooms; char et broth aux pousse de sapin et garlic flower (both above)

 

4. Lobster and veal escalopinette bolognaise; pasta, tuile of coral, and lobster vinaigrette à la diable (both above). We were especially struck by the pairing of lobster and veal, which is one of those “you wouldn’t think it would work, but it does” kind of dishes.

 

5. Warm escalope of duck liver; beet crumble, apples, touch of buckthorn berry and leaves of tetragone (above left)

6. Roasted lamb from le Bas du Fleuve; grilled pepper and spinach, épigramme with mustard and yellow haricot beignet and haricots coco (above right). The cigar-shaped packet above the lamb chop itself is the chef’s take on a spring roll with lamb confit inside of it.

 

7. Cheese from Quebec: a) Rutabega velouté, pieces of Blue Elisabeth and leaves of sage (above left); b) Green bread-onion and Cap-Rond, wild ginger parfait glace and buckwheat (above right)

 

8) Dans les pommes (above left); 9) Mignardise (above right)

The service was just about flawless. After the 12,000-bottle wine cellar at le Saint-Amour, the wine list here seemed more pedestrian—certainly more than adequate for the surroundings, but not notable in itself.

Were it in New York, Initiale would be one of the city’s top handful of restaurants. It is remarkable that a much smaller city can keep such a place in business. Gastro-tourism alone can’t explain it, given that the city’s peak season is rather short. One must assume that the locals know fine food and aren’t shy about paying for it. Good for them!

Restaurant Initiale (54, rue St-Pierre, Quebec City)

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

Restaurant le Saint-Amour

A recent weekend trip to Quebec City presented a dilemma: with just two evenings available, where to dine? Compared to Montreal, where we’ve been twice, the options here are more compelling, and it was difficult to choose.

Restaurant le Saint-Amour caught my eye due to the focus on foie gras and seasonal game. I had not realized there was a 12,000-bottle wine list, mostly French, which stole the show. This must surely be one of the top handful of French wine lists outside France itself. Offering detailed maps of each wine-growing region is not a new idea, but the level of detail here went far beyond anything I’ve seen. I would return for that wine list, even if they served only breadcrumbs to go along with it.

The menu is expensive; there is no getting around that, with entrées running from CA$42–53. (A Canadian dollar is worth only slightly less than a U. S. dollar.) The “Discovery menu,” with eight courses for CA$115, seemed like the way to go. The food was excellent, with one exception, to be covered below. For the most part, I’ll give brief descriptions and let the photos speak for themselves.

 

1. Mise en bouche trilogy: caviar, oyster, and snowcrab.

2. Duck foie gras: “classic” terrine with armagnac; “natural” candied with paradixe pepper; blackcurrant reduction from Île d’Orléans. (Note: The à la carte menu has a foie gras “fantasy” dish, prepared seven ways, for $36.)

 

3. Lobster bisque: sliced scallop; corral and vanilla sabayon. This was the one dud, as the soup tasted chalky, and it was an odd decision to serve lobster for two courses in a row.

4. “La Gaspésie” lobster: grated crackling fennel, citrus cream sauce.

 

5. Piglet from Turlo farm: seared girolles; white truffle oil sauce.

6. Fine Québec cheeses: Anicet honey, dried fruit and nuts

 

7. Cocoa Grand Cru: flexible ganache, chocolate consommé, raspberry and lemon iced yogurt.

8. Crème brûlée (not pictured)

The main dining room resembles an art deco garden, with a soaring 35-foot ceiling and bright painted wood panels. The service was excellent, save for a couple of minor glitches (silverware not replaced; that sort of thing) that did not detract from the experience. The wine list is a Francophile’s wet dream, and the food very nearly lives up to it.

Restaurant le Saint-Amour (48, rue Sainte-Ursule, Vieux Québec)

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

BLT Bar & Grill

Earlier this year, chef Laurent Tourondel and his namesake BLT Restaurant Group split up, with owner Jimmy Haber keeping most of the restaurants and Tourondel’s plans unclear. At first, the divorce was described as amicable, but that unlikely story exploded quickly enough. Last month, Haber sued Tourondel for opening a burger joint in Sag Harbor, LT Burger, that allegedly infringed the trademark of the extremely similar BLT Burger in Greenwich Village, which Tourondel opened but no longer controls.

Under the terms of their settlement, Haber is no longer permitted to open new BLT restaurants, but BLT Bar & Grill, which was already under construction in the W Hotel Downtown, was allowed to keep the coveted initials—presumably the last time we’ll see them in a new place. The hotel remains blanketed with scaffolding, but the restaurant has been open since late July.

Under Tourondel’s supervision, the BLT restaurants were crazily expensive and frustratingly uneven. The potential for a great meal was always there, but they didn’t deliver it consistently. Tourondel’s menus, however, were always clever. He seldom served a classic without tweaking it—usually for the better.

If BLT Bar & Grill is the best the group can do sans Tourondel, the future is not bright. This is a routine hotel restaurant, showing off about as much culinary imagination as a T.G.I. Friday’s. The food is much better than a Friday’s—not bad, in fact—but the menu is a real snoozer. Even in a neighborhood starved for good restaurants, there are surely more interesting options (even if I can’t name them).

At least it is not as expensive as the other BLT’s. Most of the entrées are in the 20s, most of the appetizers in the teens. If that’s a bargain, it is only in relation to the other restaurants in the group, where it is hard to get out for less than $100 a head. In the modern fashion, the menu is in eight categories: snacks, starters, sandwiches, pizza, pasta, meat, fish, sides: something for everybody, but with no clear vision.

The wine list is as unadventurous as the food, and too expensive, with very few reds below $50—and the first one I asked for was out of stock, despite being listed as a choice by the glass.

 

I had a snack of Parmesan & Olives ($7) at the bar, which came with many more olives than I could finish. At the table, the bread service was a pizza-like substance that tasted like it was yesterday’s left-over.

 

Tuna tartare ($16) was a much happier experience, one of the best renditions I’ve had in a while, with high-quality tuna overa bed of soy, wasabi, and avocado. Both of us had the burger ($16) with aged cheddar and double-smoked bacon—enjoyable, but not a destination product. An order of fries was soggy, and had to be sent back.

The two-story space is cavernous, with over 200 seats, including two bars and an outdoor patio. We have trouble imagining that it will ever be full, when there is so little of interest on the menu, none of Tourondel’s inspiration, and it’s run by the same management that made the other BLT restaurants so inconsistent.

BLT Bar & Grill (123 Washington Street at Albany Street, Financial District)

Food: Satisfactory
Service: Fine
Ambiance: Cavernous
Overall: Satisfactory

Lina Frey

Note: Lina Frey closed in October 2012.

*

The gritty block on Houston Street that is home to Katz’s Delicatessen, is not where I would expect to find a new French bistro. Lina Frey (named for the owner’s grandma) opened there in June. With late hours and a menu designed for snacking, it’s perfectly situated for revelers to stagger into after pounding the club scenes in the East Village to the north, or the Lower East Side to the south.

If you show up sober, and at a civilized dinner hour, you will find Lina Frey uncrowded, the French food surprisingly good and amazingly cheap. Dinner and drinks came in at under $100, including tax and tip. There isn’t a thing on the menu over $12; most items are $8 or less. What’s surprising is not that there would be a cheap eats joint on Houston Street, but that it would be French, a cuisine that does not usually come to mind when you envision such a place.

When you see these prices, you quickly realize that these plates can’t be full-size, a fact the server didn’t disclose. Nevertheless, it’s not the usual tapas gimmick, where seemingly cheap prices are offset by the need to order double the amount. Six plates to share was ample for us, but even if we’d ordered a few more—the server made no attempt to upsell us—the meal would have remained shockingly inexpensive.

New York Journal’s camera is on the fritz—quelle domage!—so we’ll have to make do with a verbal description. Frisée aux lardons ($6) was a lovely salad. Zucchini & carrot ($5) was slightly more pedestrian, with a cilantro lime honey vinagrette.

Lamb chops ($12) were thick and hearty, with a tart honey mustard glaze. Marinated hangar steak ($9) was just a shade on the tough side, probably due to the source, not its preparation, which was just fine. Haricots vert with caramelized shallots ($4) was the best green bean dish I’ve had in a long time. The same price fetched a bucket of addictive hand-cut fries.

There were three flavors of excellent house-made sangria (pear, mango, and the traditional red), and that’s all we drank. The wine list, as you’d expect, is just functional.

All of the dishes were presented at once, which seemed like an odd service choice: the salads, which required no cooking, should have been delivered earlier. The kitchen here marches to the beat of its own drummer. We asked for an order of the Gratin Dauphinois, and the server said, “It isn’t ready yet.” We wondered, at 8:00 p.m. on a Saturday evening, exactly when they thought it ought to be ready? There were a couple of other minor service issues—earnest and friendly, but occasionally forgetful—that aren’t worth mentioning at a place where the vibe is so casual.

There is plenty of space in the dining room, but it wasn’t close to full. We suspect that their rush comes much later in the evening. (They’re open for breakfast, lunch, and brunch too.) The post-industrial décor is of a piece with the neighborhood. On nice evenings—there may not be many of those left—the front windows are wide open, as they were on Saturday. There is also a huge retractable skylight, which was closed.

This is by no means destination cuisine, but it is very well done, especially at the price: an unexpected little gem.

Lina Frey (201 E. Houston St. between Ludlow & Orchard Streets, Lower East Side)

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