The Marshall Stack

 

The Marshall Stack is a sophisticated Lower East Side bar, named for a brand of guitar amplifier. Hung behind the bar is a photo of The Who’s Keith Townshend smashing his guitar on a Marshall Stack. The barely-labeled space is unfancy, but the bartender knows his beers. I counted 42 in all, including 20 on tap. There’s even a Sixpoint Craft Obama ale, made in Brooklyn, NY. Who knew there was an Obama tribute beer?

I was there early, before the kitchen staff arrived, so I didn’t sample any of the food. I was headed off to dinner anyway. But the Marshall Stack is certainly worth another visit.

The Marshall Stack (66 Rivington Street at Allen Street, Lower East Side)

Little Giant

 

Note: Little Giant closed at the end of 2011.

*

Little Giant is a happy comfort-food place. It was an instant sensation when it opened four years ago on the Lower East Side, and it has more-or-less stayed that way. I’ve been meaning to visit for a long time, but whenever I called for a reservation it always seemed to be full. Frank Bruni awarded one star in early 2005, in a mostly favorable review that was as much about the owners’ iPod playlist as it was about the food. One star would be a compliment, if Bruni hadn’t awarded two stars to so many uninspiring places.

The restaurant has a corner lot in an early 1900s tenemant building. The owners, Julie Taras Wallach and Tasha Garcia Gibson, did the renovation themselves. It has an understated homespun charm. There are 35 seats in the dining room, 5 at the bar. Space is always at a premium in these small spaces not originally designed as restaurants. But Little Giant seems less self-consciously crowded than other restaurants of its ilk, like the Little Owl and Prune. It wears the space well.

The owners accurately describe their cuisine as “refined comfort food,” using the usual modern buzzwords: “Seasonal American” and “creatively celebrates local farmers and small, artisanal producers.” Oh, and “We bicycle to greenmarkets.” It may sound a little hackneyed, but they do live up to it.

The menu features half-a-dozen appetizers ($7–14) and an equal number of entrées ($17–27). Side dishes are $4–8. I was tempted by the “world-famous” buttermilk-chive biscuit with honey butter ($4), but the free bread service, with soft, rich butter on the side, offered all the carbs I needed.

 

I loved a simple salid of warm figs, nuts and prosciutto ($15; above left). Chicken liver mousse ($13; above right) was soft and creamy, the liver taste balanced by other ingredients—probably about a half-pound of butter.

 

“Swine of the Week” ($25; above left) is a recurring menu item: always pork, but the preparation varies. The offering when we visited was braised pork butt off the bone with barbecue sauce, baked beans and cole slaw. I found this dish successful (though it is hard for braised pork to fail), but my girlfriend found it a bit dry. We agreed that the cole slaw was too bitter. A terrific side dish of mac & cheese ($7; above right) was enormous. It could have been dinner all by itself. It was the best mac & cheese I’ve tasted in a long time, with a crisp crust and gooey cheddar filling.

Frank Bruni’s review complained about long waits for food, but that didn’t happen to us. However, our reservation was at 6:30 p.m., which is a very early hour in this neighborhood. Most of the tables were empty when we arrived, but most were full (as was the bar) by the time we left, at around 8:00.

The owners announced recently that they’ve signed a lease in Chelsea at Ninth Avenue and 19th Street, for a space that is double the size. The new restaurant, planned for an early 2009 opening, will be called the Tipsy Parson and will feature southern-style comfort food. They’ll have a twofold challenge. The first is to ensure that their charming concept maintains its allure when it plays on a bigger stage. And the second is to ensure that Little Giant doesn’t lose its edge once it is no longer the owners’ only property.

Little Giant (85 Orchard Street at Broome Street, Lower East Side)

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

Revolving Door

It has been a while since our last episode of Revolving Door—our periodic coverage of restaurant closings and chef departures.

At Fresh, former owner Eric Tevrow was found guilty of tax evasion in December 2007. In July, the new owners hired chef Michael Ferraro, replacing former chef Kento Komoto, who returned to Japan. Just two months later, Ferraro was out, and the restaurant was shuttered. It will become a Puerto Rican restaurant called Sazon, a sister to the uptown Sofrito on 57th & 1st. We liked Fresh, but it never seemed to be full when it needed to be.

Sheridan Square bit the dust. The cursed restaurant took forever to open. Gary Robins, the original chef, left after less than two months. His replacement, Franklin Becker, tried gamely to rescue the place, but it finally succumbed after its owners had lost $4 million. We had good first impressions, but it’s a bad sign when the chef is gone after six weeks. Some food board participants found the location problematic, but with tons of successful restaurants within a five-block radius, we find it remarkable that the right chef with the right menu couldn’t make it here.

Django, the midtown 300-seater, closed quietly. Was anyone paying attention? We liked our meal there (way back when), but not enough to consider visiting again. I guess we weren’t the only ones.

Masa

For almost five years, I’ve been wondering…watching…waiting. Masa was there, beckoning, but I knew the expense was staggering—more than most Americans pay for rent. Last week, finally, I decided it was time.

The restaurant is named for Masa Takayama, who five years ago closed his famed Los Angeles sushi temple, Ginza Sushiko, and joined Thomas Keller to anchor the Time-Warner Center’s “Restaurant Collection.” Masa and Keller’s Per Se lived up to the hype, with eight New York Times stars and five Michelin stars between them. Other restauranteurs at the venue weren’t so lucky (Jean-Georges Vongerichten, Gray Kunz), or failed to open at all (Charlie Trotter).

The format here is a three-hour omakase—meaning you’re in the chef’s hands. The cost? It was $300 when Amanda Hesser reviewed it for the Times in 2004, had risen to $350 six months later, when Frank Bruni awarded four stars, and is now $450—assuming you don’t order the Kobe beef, which carries a $100 supplement (we took a pass). Even with a modest alcohol order, dinner for two, including the automatic 20% service charge, was $1,285, including tax.

The cost of high-end sushi is surreal. The most exclusive imported fish is expensive no matter where you have it. The omakase at Kurumazushi, which I reviewed two weeks ago, was about the same price, but a lot of the items seemed similar to one another. What is astonishing at Masa is the sheer variety. At Kurumazushi, though, we were served massive chunks of fatty tuna. Masa slices the rare fish into thin slivers.

There are just 26 seats—10 at the sushi bar (made from a single slab of hinoki wood) and 16 at the tables. We chose the bar—always a better experience at a sushi restaurant—and were fortunate enough to be at Chef Takayama’s station. There were two other sushi chefs at the counter; and behind them, two more preparing hot dishes on a grill.

When we arrived, Chef Takayama was in the midst of dismembering a hunk of toro that must have weighed thirty pounds. With a knife sharp enough to shave a mosquito, he patiently peeled apart layer after layer of flesh, separated by thin cartilage membranes. The amount of waste was considerable, though the parts not fit to be served as sushi disappeared into the kitchen, aparently to be used for some other purpose.

Masa is camera-shy, and we didn’t want to encumber our meal with note-taking. As we reconstructed the meal afterwards, we counted at least 25 items, and it may even have been a bit more than that. There were about a half-dozen appetizers, followed by wave upon wave of sushi.

The appetizers were all wonderful, but perhaps the most startling was cold sea bass with chrysanthemum—we actually ate the flower along with the fish. Another winner was a diced fish still in its own skin, with vegetables and spices: “Eat it all,” Takayama advised. The other appetizers included a crab salad, toro with caviar, truffle risotto with sea urchin, and miso soup.

A list of the sushi courses is practicaly a Who’s Who of the sea: toro, fluke, mackerel, clam, octopus, scallop, eel, shrimp, sea urchin, squid, herring—and for several of these, more than one kind. Most of the time, Takayama molds a small wedge of rice, applies a dab of wasabi, lays a slice of fish on top, paints it with soy sauce, then places it on your plate, or if it is too delicate, hands it to you directly.

Occasionally, he varies that pattern. One piece came wrapped in a cucumber skin, another in a shiso leaf. One course was a shitake mushroom; another was white truffle. A few items came from the hot station: the chef seared one piece of fish with a hot poker before serving it. Late in the meal, Takayama produced a carcass that looked like it could be a baby lamb’s rib cage. He scraped off some meat and served it to us: “Tuna bone,” he said.

Dessert was a simple bowl of grapefruit granité, which seemed like an anti-climax to the sushi theatrics.

Wine (nearly all white) is served by the bottle, sake by the carafe. Compared to the price of the food, it was pretty reasonable. Three different sakes—admittedly, some of the lower priced ones—were only $101 total, which isn’t bad when the food was $900.

The service team operates quietly and efficiently, setting and clearing so smoothly that you almost don’t realize they’re there. Serving pieces (different for each course) are practically works of art in themselves.

Masa is clearly not a populist experience. At its extravagant price, it clearly cannot be. Yet, even in these tough economic times the restaurant appeared to be doing strong business—though it was not full. We could never be regulars here, but for one night we were happy to invest in Masa’s one-of-a-kind splendor. I can’t compare it to anything in Japan, but here in New York, Masa is without peer.

Masa (Time-Warner Center, 10 Columbus Circle, 4th floor)

Cuisine: Japanese/sushi, as fancy and pricy as they come
Service: So quiet and efficient, you practically don’t realize they’re there
Ambiance: A serene oasis of calm

Rating: ★★★★

The Michelin New York Annals

The 2009 New York Michelin ratings announcement are a week or two away. Let the speculation commence!

The table below shows the ratings awarded for the last three years. A gray box means the restaurant was not open, or was not open long enough to be rated. A red box means the restaurant was demoted from one star to zero. A green box means the restaurant was promoted or newly starred. A yellow box means the restaurant was demoted, but still retained at least one star.

We’ll update this post with the 2009 ratings as soon as they’re available.

Restaurant	2006	2007	2008	2009
Alain Ducasse	***
Annisa	*	*	*
Anthos			*
Aureole	*	*	*
A Voce		*	*
Babbo	*	*	*
BLT Fish	*
Blue Hill			*
Bouley	**	**	**
Café Boulud	*	*	*
Café Gray	*	*	*
Country		*	*
Craft	*	*
Cru	*	*	*
Daniel	**	**	**
Danube	**	*	*
Del Posto		**	**
Dévi		*	*
Dressler			*
Etats-Unis	*	*	*
Fiamma (Osteria)	*	*
Fleur de Sel	*	*	*
Gilt			*
Gotham Bar & Grill	*	*	*
Gordon Ramsay			**
Gramercy Tavern	*	*	*
Jean Georges	***	***	***
Jewel Bako	*	*	*
Jo-Jo	*		*
Kurumazushi		*	*
L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon			*
La Goulue	*	*
Le Bernardin	***	***	***
Lever House	*	*
Lo Scalco	*
March	*
Masa	**	**	**
The Modern	*	*	*
Nobu	*
Oceana	*	*	*
Perry St.		*	*
Per Se	***	***	***
Peter Luger	*	*	*
Picholine	*	*	**
Saul	*	*	*
Scalini Fedeli	*
Spotted Pig	*	*	*
Sushi of Gari		*	*
Veritas	*	*	*
Vong	*	*	*
Wallsé	*	*	*
WD~50	*	*	*

Matsugen

Note: Matsugen closed in March 2011, after failing consistently to draw crowds. Click here for a more recent review.

*

Last week, a colleague invited me to Matsugen, which I reviewed previously in July. Since then, Matsugen received three stars from Frank Bruni, a judgment that seemed then, and still seems, overly generous.

Mind you, Matsugen is a very good restaurant. As Bruni notes, it doesn’t pander to Western sensibilities—unlike some of Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s other Asian restaurants. But the awful ambiance and an uneven menu are serious drawbacks. My colleague, who has sampled a good cross-section of New York’s better restaurants, said, “I’m finding it hard to believe this got three stars.”

We planned to share two or three appetizers and then finish with soba. One of our choices was the Crab and Japanese Mushroom with Rice in an earthenware pot. The server warned that this is made from scratch and would take 45 minutes. She advised us to order a plate of mixed pickles as a stop-gap. Despite her advice, the pickles came first—and it was altogether too much food. Just like gullible tourists, we had been “upsold.”

Anyhow, the plate of mixed pickles (above left) was very good, but entirely unnecessary. My colleague was eager to try the pork belly (above right), which had a faint barbecue taste. It was great, but even for two people it was a very large portion, given that pork belly is almost pure fat.

Salmon belly (above left) is a recent addition to the menu. Despite the name, the dish seemed to be indistinguishable from any other grilled salmon you’ve ever tasted, but it was a bit too greasy. Crabs, mushrooms and rice in an earthenware pot (above right) had a strong, earthy flavor, though after a 45-minute wait I expected more of a payoff.

These are all large dishes, and we were full at this point. We had over-ordered.

But soba was coming. We probably would have enjoyed it more if we had ordered half the number of appetizers. I had the Duck Soup with Inaka noodles (above left). These were the coarsest noodles available, the same as I had last time. Cold noodles with warm duck soup didn’t float my boat; your mileage may vary. The duck seemed over-cooked and flavorless.

I believe my colleage had the Kitchen Sink soba—no, they don’t really call it that—but it was chock full of just about every ingredient they offer, with a fried egg on top. He said it was good, but he left an awful lot of it unfinished, citing a full stomach.

I left Matsugen less impressed than last time. I have to add that the menu is a long one, and I am sure there are many gems here. But even with the servers’ patient explanations, it is a lot to navigate, and the format lends itself to over-ordering.

Matsugen (241 Church Street between Leonard & Worth Streets, TriBeCa)

Food: **
Service: *½
Ambiance: Not much
Overall: *½

Allegretti

 

Note: Allegretti “closed for renovations” in summer 2010—and never re-opened.

The fall slate of restaurant openings is understandably timid. With the economy in the tank, restauranteurs are falling back on familiar formulae, and the trappings of fine dining have fallen by the wayside. How refreshing it is, then, to come across Allegretti, a new restaurant that—gasp!—has white tablecloths, servers who wear ties, an elegant atmosphere, and entrées that threaten (but don’t yet touch) the $40 mark. Has anyone told them we’re in a recession?

The chef here is Alain Allegretti, who trained under Alain Ducasse and worked at Le Cirque 2000 and Atelier. He hails from Nice, but the culinary sensibility is Italian. Prices are on the high side, with appetizers $12–20, soups $10–11, pastas $16–20, entrées $25–38 (most in the $30s), and side dishes $6–8. Fortunately, Allegretti is a startlingly good restaurant—one that I hope will be successful enough to encourage others to take similar chances. We need more restaurants like this.

The amuse-bouche was a lentil soup that was a bit too salty. Three warm breads were offered. We both chose the olive bread, which was studded with olives and came with a very yellow soft butter.

 

I loved the Perugina Sausage ($14; above left), which had a nice tangy taste, complemented by sweet pepers and an onion ragôut. My girlfriend was rapturous over the Heirloom Tomatoes ($19; above right), with a soft lump of burrata cheese.

 

Both entrées were served with a gravy applied tableside. The menu didn’t specify how the skin was treated on Duck Magret ($34; above left), but it seemed to be a kind of panko crust. The portion was ample, and the duck beautifully prepared. My girlfriend found Noix of Colorado Lamb ($32; above right) a tad too salty, but the dish was well conceived, with spinach ricotta gnocchi, prosciutto, fava beans, tomato confit, and fennel gratiné.

There was a slightly heavy hand with the salt shaker, but we think every dish here could be a winner (several are already) after the kitchen settles down.

Servers here were a bit over-eager: it seemed that hardly thirty seconds after the dessert menus were deposited, someone was back to ask us what we wanted. It was one of several times when we wished they’d just let us relax. (The restaurant, though doing well, was not full, so I don’t think they were trying to rush us out the door.) However, I prefer attentive service to the alternative, and I assume they’ll get more polished with time.

On the whole, Allegretti strikes us as the most exciting fine dining restaurant to have opened in quite some time. In an era when most restaurants are stripping away the trappings of good service, Allegretti feels like a breath of fresh air.

Allegretti (46 W. 22nd Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, Chelsea)

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

Kurumazushi

What is New York’s best sushi restaurant? The debate usually comes down to Sushi Yasuda and Kurumazushi. An eGullet thread comparing the two is six years old, and still running, without a clear consensus. I had a terrific omakase at Yasuda two years ago, but I was still itching to try Kuruma on the right occasion. A friend of mine who loves sushi had just celebrated a birthday, so I thought the time had come.

The fish here is obviously very good, but the overall experience wasn’t as enjoyable as Yasuda. I will probably return to Yasuda at some point, but I can’t imagine going back to Kurumazushi, unless someone else is paying.

I didn’t bring a camera or take notes, but our meal was quite similar to those many others have written about. We loved the fatty tuna, served in ample portions—how could you not?—and a few other things. Other courses started tasting the same after a while. If the fish here was better than Yasuda, it was too subtle for my friend and me to perceive. The Yasuda omakase actually seemed to have more variety.

Then, there is the small matter of price. Except it’s not so small a matter. I was prepared for the omakase to cost somewhere around $150–200 a head. We weren’t shown a menu or asked about our budget, so I just figured it would be in that general range. Silly me. The bill arrived, and it was $1,005 for two. Back out the sales tax and subtract the sake ($150), and it appears we were charged $387 apiece for the food. That sake, by the way, wasn’t a splurge either, by this restaurant’s standards. I believe I saw only one bottle less than the $150 I spent.

A thousand bucks is awful lot to charge somebody without giving any kind of notice of what you’re in for. As best I can recall, it’s the most I have ever paid for a meal for two. Even on a straight-up basis, I think I liked Yasuda a little more. When you consider that the bill for one at Yasuda was just $107 two years ago, it’s not hard to decide which is better.

I do a lot of research before choosing a restaurant—especially when I’m visiting for an occasion. My research obviously wasn’t good enough this time. Since I posted on this meal at eGullet, a few folks have mentioned that, indeed, if you say “omakase” and nothing more, two people are liable to spend a thousand bucks, or something thereabouts. I simply had no idea that this was their default offering. I cannot be the first person to have gone home feeling cheated.

The restaurant is on the second floor of an office building. The interior is spare and not especially luxurious. I like Yasuda’s blonde wood better. Service was attentive, as it damned well ought to have been, but nothing more that I would expect at sushi places charging a quarter of the price.

Kurumazushi (7 E. 47th Street between Fifth & Madison Avenues, East Midtown)

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

The Month in Bruni

Our weekly BruniBetting contest with Eater has been on hiatus for the past couple of months. That included a couple of weeks when we were on vacation, and another few when Eater posted its predictions too late in the day for us to respond. (Is that a conscious strategy on Eater’s part?)

Five weeks ago, Bruni awarded one star to Persimmon. We were a touch more impressed here, awarding two, but we probably would have agreed with the Eater assessment that one star was more likely.

Four weeks ago, Bruni awarded three stars to Matsugen. We were quite a bit less impressed, awarding two for the food, but deducting a half-star for ambiance. Eater made its most reckless bet ever, putting its dollar on four stars at 9–1 odds, while conceding that three stars was the more likely outcome. We would certainly not have taken the four-star bet. Knowing that Bruni actually awards bonus stars to restaurants without tablecloths, we probably would have taken the three-star bet.

Three weeks ago, Bruni awarded two stars to Perbacco. Eater, overriding his own odds for the second straight week, bet on two stars at 4–1 odds, while admitting that one star was the more likely outcome. We’re not sure how we would have bet, but Eater’s logic was compelling: “The Bruni loves Italian food and loves putting a legitimate sleeper on the map,” and “The other thing that’s in play this week is the Little Owl Theorem, which gets very small restaurants with moderate price, earnest service and overachieving food two stars.” We have no personal experience here, but our sense is that Bruni, as is his wont, rated, the unassuming neighborhood one star too high.

Two weeks ago, for the second time this year, Bruni took the week off.

Last week, Bruni couldn’t find a real restaurant to review, so he awarded one star to the NoLIta train wreck, Elizabeth. We awarded one star too, but that was probably generous, and it was before they fired the chef. Bruni doesn’t normally pull marginal candidates out of the woodwork only to destroy them, so we would have agreed with Eater that one star was the only possible bet.

Finally, we come to this week’s review, arguably another wasted slot: no stars for Michael’s. No one that pays the slightest attention to the food scene has paid attention to Michael’s since the Clinton administration, but it actually had two stars at one time. We’ll allow Bruni one diversion per year to slay a celebrity icon past its prime. Eater took the one-star bet, but I suspect we would have put our buck on zero.

Prune

Prune has been on my go-to list for a long while, but I was finally prompted to go when I saw Chef Gabrielle Hamilton defeat Bobby Flay on Iron Chef America. The fact she was on the show at all was a tribute to what she had achieved in her hole-in-the-wall East Village restaurant, making a destination out of what looks like a casual neighborhood place.

Eric Asimov gave it a rave in $25 & Under (back when that column reviewed real restaurants). Three years ago, Frank Bruni updated that assessment, awarding one star. I often don’t agree with Bruni’s one-star reviews — too often, he uses it as an insult. But with Prune he got it right. One star is supposed to mean “good,” and that’s what Prune is.

Prune is in a tiny slip of a space in the East Village. Into it, Hamilton squeezes more seats than you’ll find in restaurant’s twice the size. Reaching your table may require the agility of an Olympic gymnast. At one table, diners had to climb through the French doors to reach their seats.

The drawbacks, such as they are, aren’t much of a deterrent. Throughout August, we’ve found many popular restaurants with tables to spare. Not at Prune. Every table was taken, and there were always at least a few folks waiting outside. Walk-ins were turned away.

The décor is shabby-chic, with butcher paper standing in for tablecloths. In lieu of bread, you get a small bowl of surprisingly addictive dried chickpeas. With appetizers $8–14, entrées $18–26 and side dishes $7–9, one might expect a bit more comfort. A party entered dressed in dresses and suits, obviously expecting a different type of restaurant. They were visibly distressed to find such a bare-bones place. But most of the clientele were dressed casually, as you’d expect at any of the raft of East Village destinations that have sprouted in the last decade.

There is a separate bar menu with “snacks” ($5–8) that can also be ordered appetizers. I ordered the Lamb Sausages ($8; above left). They tasted great, but would more accurately be called meatballs. Michelle had the fried squash blossoms, an off-menu special ($9; above right), which we were surprised to find still in season. I never really paid much attention to squash blossoms until this year, when they seem to appear everywhere—and Prune’s preparation was as compelling as any.

Suckling pig ($24) was another off-menu special. There was apparently a spice rub, giving the braised pig a fiery kick. There’s not a lot of complexity here, but the dish delivered as comfort food usually does.

Prune is fun. You’ll eat well here without breaking the bank, but I didn’t find the kind of innovative cuisine that Gabrielle Hamilton used to defeat Bobby Flay on Iron Chef America. If I lived or worked nearby, I’d be an enthusiastic regular—if I could get in.

Prune (54 E. 1st Street between First & Second Avenues, East Village)

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