Limani

Until 2004, I was not familiar with Greek seafood restaurants that hawk fish by the pound, until the Post’s Steve Cuozzo called them out for the practice—with characterisic bile. Soon after, I fell in love with Thalassa, despite an admittedly confusing price structure that was exactly what Cuozzo had complained about.

Alas, the broader public didn’t share my admiration for Thalassa. A few years later, during the Great Recession, they switched to fixed-price entrées, and haven’t gone back. Other restaurants of its ilk have been more successful, including Estiatoria Milos in Midtown, which has survived good times and bad, despite final bill that is as punishing as it is unpredictable.

Limani, a newcomer in this genre, sailed into town last November. The staff are pros at this, as there’s a sister Limani in Roslyn, NY, and much of the senior staff has worked for the Milos chain at some point.

They’ve certainly nailed the atmosphere: 8,000 square feet of Aegean fantasy, with white seats, white marble tile, sheer curtains, and a reflecting pool that changes its hue on a cycle from blue to violet, and back again.

The booths look luxurious, but on both my visits we were seated at a cramped two-top near the open kitchen. And then you realize, for a luxury restaurant, it certainly is loud in here.

 

I haven’t been to Milos, but the service style at Limani corresponds to everything I’ve read about it, as well as how it used to be at Thalassa before they switched out the menu. Before you order, your server escorts you to the fresh fish station, where the day’s catch is arrayed on ice—most of it imported from the Mediterranean. Prices are posted, generally by the pound, leaving you guessing as to how much that pretty red snapper will set you back. Only after you’ve chosen a specimen is it put on the scale, and the damage assessed.

There are standard appetizers and salads, with prices printed on the menu, although not shown online. My recollection, though, was that the non-fish items were fairly priced, for a midtown luxury restaurant. There are a handful of meat entrées, but if you order any of these, you’re missing the entire point of the restaurant.

Anyhow, with ordering out of the way, you’ll get a basket of warm bread and a bowl of olive oil for dipping (above right).

 

On both visits, we knew a large whole fish was coming, so we didn’t order large appetizers. An order of Gigantes (large baked beans; $12; above left) was mediocre. A Romaine salad ($15; not pictured) was okay. On the whole, it’s better to stick with a seafood starter. Scallops on the half-shell ($12; above right) were terrific.

 

Whichever whole fish you’ve chosen, it’ll be brought to the table and portioned while you watch. On my two visits, we tried the Fagri ($86.86; above left) and the Red Snapper ($90.82; above right). Both were sufficient for ample helpings of fish for two. As you can see from the photos, there’s not much difference in the preparation style from one to another. But the kitchen does a lovely job—as they should when whole fish are the entire premise of the restaurant.

You pay handsomely for the privilege. The prices aren’t insane, given the provenance of the ingredients, but you could spend less elsewhere. On the other hand, according to Pete Wells’s recent review in the Times, you’ll pay a lot more at Milos for the identical species. As the fish are served à la carte, you’ll probably want a side dish or two. Like the rest of the menu, they’re a bit pricey at $12 each, but as I recall, both that we tried (asparagus; cauliflower & broccoli) were exemplary.

The online wine list, like the food menu, is without prices, a really deplorable state of affairs. It skews mostly white, as you’d expect, with a handful of Greek bottles and many more from other regions. As I look back on my receipts, it seems I chose the identical item both times (a Domaine Bizet Sancerre), as I found the rest of the list too expensive.

I was surprised that Wells bothered to review Limani. He gave it just one star (for him, that’s a pan), and it didn’t really cry out for a review: most of his competitors ignored it, as they generally do with expensive Midtown restaurants that break no new culinary ground. As Frank Bruni once pointed out, there is little reason for a review that simultaneously calls attention to a place you otherwise wouldn’t have heard of, and then tells you to avoid it.

I would make a case for Limani. It’s not perfect: the room is too loud (for my taste), and the non-fish options aren’t strong enough, in relation to the expense. The online menu and wine list ought to include prices: for what they’re charging, they can afford that. But the imported fresh fish are Limani’s core competency; this, it executes beautifully. If you’re looking for a fancier night out, and can afford the prices, you’ll probably go home happy.

Limani (45 Rockefeller Plaza, 51st Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues)

Food: Greek seafood, most of it served by the pound
Service: Very good, as it should be at these prices
Ambiance: A luxurious blue-and-white Aegean atmosphere; a bit too loud

Rating: ★★

Nerai

In what other age could one of the best high-end Greek restaurants in New York, open and go almost totally unnoticed?

That is the perplexing question at Nerai, which opened in May 2013 in the old Oceana space, and has attracted no professional reviews that I can find, except from John Mariani in Huffington Post, who posted a rave three months ago.

The opening certainly was publicized, although perhaps not as well as it could be. Did it begin so poorly that the first critics to visit found it not worth writing about? Or did they just assume that a white tablecloth restaurant on East 54th Street is unimportant by default? I fear it could be the latter.

I am not going to pronounce Nerai the best modern Greek restaurant in New York. That judgment would require more visits and deeper exploration than my time and money will allow. But after one visit I can certainly pronounce it a candidate.

Admittedly, there’s not a lot of competition since Michael Psilakis’s Anthos bit the dust. Molyvos is reliable, but not the standout it once was, although it has the city’s best Greek wine list. Milos could be better, but I’ve never been (GQ’s Alan Richman posted a rave in 2010). Thalassa is an old favorite of mine, but it gets very little critical attention; it is still very good, but below its peak.

Which brings us back to Nerai, which feels immediately cozy and elegant. A series of rooms in the bi-level space is decked out in soothing, vaguely nautical themes. In the room we were in, on the ground floor, the walls are lined with white muslin gauzes, pleated to resemble sails.

You won’t get out cheaply. Starters and salads range from $15–27, composed entrées $26–56 (just one dish under $30), sides $10. There’s also whole fish and seafood, $33–60 per pound, a notoriously tricky format, as you don’t quite know what you’re paying until the bill arrives.

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Parea Prime

Remember Parea? I’d totally forgotten it, until I read a few months ago that it remodeled and became a steakhouse, Parea Prime.

Parea was relevant for a short while, back in 2006, when Frank Bruni gave it two stars. When I visited for the first time, in early 2007, I thought he was exactly right, but a later visit found a restaurant that had run off the rails.

Whatever its merits, Parea wasn’t in the “conversation,” as defined by “places people talk about” on blogs, food boards, etc. It remained open for seven years, so it must’ve had a following, but not enough of one to remain in its original form.

Now we’ve got Parea Prime, a hybrid between old and new. There’s still a section of the menu dedicated to “Greek Entrees,” and most of the appetizers are Greek too.

But in the center of the menu, where the eye is sure to fall first, you’ll find Prime Meats, “Hand selected by Pat LaFrieda, U.S.D.A Prime Dry Aged for 28 daqys minimum in his Himalayan salt room.” I had to quote the whole thing.

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Thalassa

It almost felt like cheating to accept a publicist’s invitation to re-visit Thalassa, my favorite restaurant that no one writes about. I’ve reviewed it twice before (here, here), and visited at least two other times that I didn’t write about. The week after the publicist-arranged visit, I went on my own dime and spent almost $600 (albeit with a number of extra courses sent out).

Like many restaurants, Thalassa re-calibrated after the financial crisis. The “fish by the pound” program, which could seem daunting and confusing to customers, has been dropped. In 2006, I wrote that there were “many” fish entrées over $40. There’s now just one, the Dover Sole ($48), which is excellent. The staff no longer sends you home with a pastry for the next day’s breakfast.

The restaurant remains expensive, with appetizers $14–25 and entrées $29–47 (only one less than $32). But over six or more visits, across ten years, I’ve never had anything less than excellent. The space is refined, quiet, and comfortable—perfect for a business dinner or a romantic night out. I’ve used it for both.

The international wine list is outstanding, with over 12,000 bottles and more than 700 labels, but a list that strong ought to be available online—and it isn’t.

The account below is primarily of the publicist-arranged meal, as my visit the following week was a business event not suited to taking photos.

  

Both meals began with a light cod fritter (above left), served as an amuse. Zuchchini–Eggplant chips ($24; above center), are wonderful: incredibly light and not at all oily. However, it’s only a practical dish if several people are there to share it. There’s an assortment of dips ($10; above right) for spreading on house-made pita.

 

Octopodi ($25; above left) had a terrific, smoky flavor, served with a salad of sun-dried tomato, micro-organic greens, olive oil, and red wine vinaigrette.

Scallops ($22; above right) are a revelation, wrapped in filo dough, served with sheep’s milk butter and a balsamic reduction. I’ve had this dish before: it’s no wonder that it remains on the menu.

All of the whole fish are served basically the same way: lightly char-grilled, with a sprinkling of lemon and olive oil. The photo above is the Lavraki ($36), which appears as Branzino or Loup de Mer on some menus. The Dover Sole, the following week, was similar. The kitchen lets the quality of the ingredients speak for itself, with a minimum of interference.

  

 

The kitchen sent out practically the whole dessert menu (all $12). You won’t go wrong here, but my favorite was the Galaktobouriko–Citrus Custard layered in Filo and drizzled with honey (second row, left).

At ten years old, Thalassa is entering middle age by restaurant standards. It has survived and thrived, which is a tribute to good management. The dining room was not full for either of my mid-week visits, but there is always steady business. Thalassa is a shade less expensive than it used to be, but the quality of the food has not suffered, and the wine list is still first-rate.

I love Thalassa and always did. That none of the city’s professional critics reviewed it always puzzled me. Perhaps now, on its tenth anniversary, they’ll take a fresh look. Thalassa deserves it.

Thalassa (179 Franklin Street between Greenwich and Hudson Streets, TriBeCa)

Food: Greek, primarily seafood
Service: Elegant but understated
Ambiance: A quiet, serene room, reminiscent of the sea

Rating: ★★★
Why? Thalassa has never been less than excellent, over 6+ visits 

Christos Steakhouse

It’s not often that I’m wowed at a steakhouse — there are so many, and they’re mostly interchangeable.

Christos Steak House in Astoria, Queens, commands attention. It serves a porterhouse very near the best specimens available in Manhattan. Appetizers and side dishes are also first-rate, and go well beyond steakhouse clichées.

As always, full disclosure: we dined here at the restaurant’s invitation and didn’t pay for our meal. But my endorsement of comped meals is no guarantee, as a few dismayed publicists will attest. My rave for Christos is genuine.

The restaurant was Christos Hasapo-Taverna originally; the name changed in 2006, after a remodeling job. Its Greek roots are still apparent in the appetizers, while the entrées and sides resemble those of a traditional steakhouse. Mina Newman is executive chef, sharing time with the Edison Ballroom in Manhattan. She has also worked at Layla and Dylan Prime, and won an episode of the cable series Chopped in 2009.

You’ll find all of the traditional cuts of prime beef (aged in-house for 21 days), along with the usual backup entrées (chicken, rack of lamb, salmon, etc.). In February, the restaurant added a number of lower-priced dishes to the menu, including—as the chef put it—“long forgotten cuts that butchers once reserved for themselves.”

So there’s a Callotte Steak (the deckle of the ribeye) at $22, a Bavette D’Aloyau (“where the t-bone ends and the sirloin begins”) at $21, skirt steak at $28 (or $52 for two), and “the Wedge” (a cross-section of filet, culotte, and tri-tip) at $25 per person — all aged prime.

For the more popular cuts, you’ll pay Manhattan prices, but you’ll get the Queens pricing curve on the rest of the menu. Salads and appetizers are $11–19 (most below $15). There’s a wide selection of side dishes, almost all $8. A few of the non-steak entrées look like notably good deals, such as the chicken ($19) and the pork chop ($22), but we didn’t sample them.

The wine list is not especially deep. You won’t leave thirsty, but you won’t find pages and pages of trophy Cabs and Bordeaux, as you do at some of the better-known Manhattan steakhouses.

 

I wish we could have tried more, but we loved both of the appetizers we sampled. The Lamb Cigar ($12; above left) is wrapped in fillo and served with a zesty roasted pepper yogurt sauce. The Lamb Bacon “Cobb” Salad ($12; above right) was delightful: tomato, bleu cheese, red onion, and avocado, topped with a soft poached egg.

We probably should have been less selfish, and tried the unusual cuts of beef. Instead, we went straight for the porterhouse ($94). We loved the husky crust and the dry-aged taste. The textural contrast between the strip side (bottom of the photo) and the filet side was more pronounced than I recall from other porterhouses, but none the worse for that.

Lobster mashed potatoes were offered as a special. It’s one of the more remarkable side dishes I’ve encountered: potatoes whipped with hefty chunks of lobster.

One might argue philosophically whether a good lobster ought to be camouflaged in such humble clothing. I mean, would you whip potatoes with Beluga caviar? All I can say is, it worked.

But it’s a $28 side dish, and I wouldn’t blame anyone for calling it extravagant.

Obviously, since we were known to the management we got excellent service, but as far as we could tell our server paid similar attention to the other tables. The space is comfortable, decked out in dark wood paneling, like many other steakhouses. Near the entrance, raw steaks are on display in glass cases, and I believe you can buy them to take home.

For city-dwellers, the only drawback of Christos is getting there: the closest subway stop is about a 15-minute walk away (the Astoria–Ditmars Boulevard stop, served by the N and Q trains). By car, it’s only a few minutes from the Queens side of the RFK (Triboro) Bridge, and valet parking is free.

Christos Steak House (41–08 23rd Avenue at 41st Street, Astoria, Queens)

Molyvos

Have you been to Molyvos latelty? Once at the vanguard of the city’s Greek dining scene, in recent years it had fallen into irrelevance, seldom mentioned, a scene for revelers and tourists. Of course, any decent restaurant near the Theater District is going to have customers, but Molyvos surely considered itself better than that.

I don’t know if it was the lack of press or a paltry 19 rating for décor on Zagat that made the owners finally take notice. On my last visit, I don’t remember disliking it. But I recall it was dark and and kitschy, dominated by amphorae and other Greek bric-à-brac. (There’s a slideshow of the old décor at New York.)

The space is now brighter and less cluttered, more in Aegean blues than archeological browns. This isn’t a bid to reclaim the three-star rating the restaurant once had (from Ruth Reichl) when it opened in 1997, before Eric Asimov knocked it back to two, five years later. It remains a Theater District restaurant at its heart, turning out food at too hectic a pace to be as careful and as luxurious as it should be.

But this is still very good Greek cuisine, a genre under-represented in Manhattan, and the wine list is fabulous. The website claims the most extensive selection of Greek wines in the United States: 400 bottles, with no bail-out for timid drinkers hesitant to order labels they don’t recognize. I have certainly never seen more Greek wines on one list. There are nearly 40 wines available by the glass, and should you find yourself at sea, the staff know the list well and give sage advice.

On the menu, there’s a separate category of about a dozen Mezedes, or small plates ($7–10) for the bar crowd. Appetizers are $12–18, entrées $22–36 (most $30 and up), with a separate list of a half-dozen whole fish by the pound, perhaps a trap for the unwary.

I’ve no basis for comparison with older menus, but there’s continuity here: the same executive chef, Jim Botsakos, has been around from the beginning.

 

I didn’t sample the Soupia (cuttlefish) on a bed of orzo ($24; above left), but both my guests said it was far too salty, and it was left half-uneaten. Arni Kokkinisto ($30; above right), a slow-cooked lamb stew, was tender and full of flavor, but an unimpressive presentation at the price.

 

I loved the Barbounia ($30; above left), four whole fish with a rich, wood-grilled flavor. You would expect the fish to be excellent here, as the same owners also run Oceana, midtown’s best seafood restaurant without four stars; and Abboccato, where the seafood is likewise a strength. A side of spinach ($7; above right) was quite good, as well.

Molyvos isn’t suffering for business at all. At 6:30 p.m. on a Monday evening, there was a large banquet at the back of the restaurant. By the time we left, most tables were taken, and there was a lively bar crowd. Post-renovation, Molyvos no longer looks old-fashioned, and its wine list has quietly grown to the best of its kind in New York. The menu must be carefully navigated, but I suspect the whole fish will never let you down.

If you haven’t gone in a while, Molyvos deserves another look.

Molyvos (871 Seventh Avenue between 55th & 56th Streets, West Midtown)

Food: Very good classic Greek cuisine and whole fish
Wine: 400 bottles, 40 by the glass, all Greek; the best of its kind in New York
Service: Knowledgeable and attentive, bearing in mind the size of the place
Ambiance: Bright, modern, less touristy than before

Rating: ★★
Why? For the incomparable wine list and the excellent whole fish

Loi

Note: Loi closed in July 2014, supposedly because the restaurant’s owners could not reach a lease agreement with the landlord. I found the very large space nearly empty on both of my visits, and most of the city’s main critics never reviewed it. A meatery called Lincoln Square Steak replaced it.

*

Compass was the restaurant with more lives than a cat. Between 2002 and 2011, it chewed up and spitted out at least six executive chefs. Most of them were pretty good, but the place never developed a following.

Finally, the owners gave up on the name, and brought in Maria Loi as a partner to run the place. Known as the “Greek Martha Stewart,” she has written several cookbooks and, until recently, hosted a cooking show in Greece. She also owns a restaurant on one of the islands, produces a weekly magazine and a series of DVDs, designs a line of appliances and dinnerware, partners in a clothing business, and has also lobbied on behalf of firms like Texaco and Nokia.

I’ve no doubt that Ms. Loi has a talent for breaking down Greek cooking to a series of easy steps comprehensible to the amateur—like a Rachael Ray, Giada DeLaurentiis, or yes, Martha Stewart. None of this implies a talent for running a restaurant.

Hardly anyone believes that chefs like Daniel Boulud or Jean-Georges Vongerichten actually cook the food at the restaurants named for them. But they are, at least, full-time professional chefs, and have been for their entire adult lives. Ms. Loi isn’t even that. She’s the front for an operation that will be run (mostly) by others.

The restaurant—called Loi, naturally—re-opened in late October after a two-month renovation. The floor layout is pretty much the same as it was at Compass, but it’s clad in a handsome Aegean skin, with comfortable seats, crisp white tablecloths, and a regimented, well-dressed staff.

Five weeks in, Ms. Loi is an active presence in the restaurant, highly visible on both of my visits. (She told The Times she intends to be here “24/7.”) She spends most of her time making rounds in the dining room, saying hello at least briefly to all her guests, and chatting at some length with those she recognizes.

Not that the rounds are at all demanding. This restaurant may have the same problem Compass did: staying full. The space is huge. The main dining room seats 125. There is also a spacious bar and lounge, and three private dining rooms seat up to 300.

On two weeknights, a week apart, Loi was about 10 or 20 percent full at 6:45 p.m., before I headed over to Lincoln Center. If it does not attract a significant pre-theater following, which it hasn’t so far, I cannot imagine how it will fill up, especially with the more modestly-priced and far better-known Kefi nearby.

Not that Loi is terribly expensive, especially for such an attractive space. Appetizers, soups, and salads are mostly in the mid-teens, entrées mostly in the mid-to-high $20s. Still, diners won’t forgive sloppy execution, and there is some of that.

I’ve no complaint with the ample bread service (above left), but Loi’s version of a Greek Salad, the Horiatiki Loi ($14; above right) was marred by a chalky brick of feta that tasted like it has been cut hours earlier, and left to sit in the fridge. I had hardly blinked before it came out, which makes me suspect they have a bunch of these pre-made.

On my second visit, the kitchen sent out a quartet of stuffed grape leaves (above left) as an amuse-bouche. My girlfriend and I shared the Tirokeftedes ($15; above right), cheese croquettes with baked goat and manouri cheese, with a fig and apricot compote. This was a decent enough appetizer, but like the salad on my prior visit, came out within moments and didn’t seem quite as fresh as it should be.

I wasn’t at all fond of Loi’s Moussaka ($19; above left). The traditional minced mean filling had been ground to where you could almost have sipped it through a straw, and the Bechamel sauce tasted a bit sour.

On my second visit, the entrées were more successful. An ample hunk of salmon ($26; above right) had a rich, smokey flavor. I also liked the Seared Diver Scallops ($28; below left), served in a bright dill sauce with asparagus.

Desserts (above right) were comped, as it appears they are at every table. (We were not given a dessert menu to inspect; they just appeared.) The explanation was a bit difficult to follow. One was a traditional baklava, and I am not sure about the other. Anyhow, they were both very good—perhaps the best part of the meal.

The service was attentive and solicitous, especially in the dining room; less so at the bar. They are a shade over-eager to take your order and get you out the door to a show.

Any neighborhood can use an authentic Greek restaurant that is not as mass-produced as Kefi, but not as outrageously priced as midtown’s Estiatoria Milos. The menu at Koi is a work in progress (there are various recited specials), and so is its execution. Here’s hoping it becomes dependable.

My girlfriend, who did not suffer through my less impressive first visit, enjoyed Loi and would happily go back, and so we will.

Loi (208 W. 70th Street, west of Amsterdam Avenue, Upper West Side)

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

Fish Tag

The history of chef Michael Psilakis has become the culinary equivalent of “The House that Jack Built.” Every time he opens a new place, you need to tell the story of all the previous ones, to understand what is going on.

His newest, Fish Tag, is his fourth on the same site that was once home to Onera (very good), Kefi (good), and Gus & Gabriel Gastropub (awful). He has also done five places with the restaurateur Donatella Arpaia, including Anthos (excellent, but closed), Dona (not bad; now closed), Mia Dona (where he is no longer involved), a larger version of Kefi (mediocre), and the restaurant Eos in Miami.

Where those restaurants failed, Psilakis’s cooking usually wasn’t at fault. (To go into the reasons, Jack’s House would become a whole subdivision.) Onera, Anthos, Dona, and Mia Dona, all got two stars from the Times, and Anthos should have had three. Kefi was good before it moved to a space far too large for its own good. That leaves Gus & Gabriel as Psilakis’s only outright failure (though he claims it will be reincarnated in Brooklyn), amidst a long line of successes.

At Fish Tag, the chef is once again in his sphere. It offers mainly a seafood menu—not overtly Greek, but in the same imaginative modern Greek style that was successful at Onera and Anthos. It’s more elaborate than the former, but less fancy than the latter. The layout was gutted and replaced with a sleek, elegant design that’s the best I’ve ever seen it. The dining room now seats 60 (it was formerly 75). There are now three separate bar counters that seat 30 between them.

Psilakis is hedging his bets, so Fish Tag doubles as a wine bar. To that end, many of the wines are available in three-ounce, six-ounce, or half-bottle pours, and the menu includes plenty of cheeses and cured meats for bar patrons who might not want a full meal. On the main menu, the entrées top out at $26, and there’s the ever-present $16 burger that shows up in most restaurants these days.

There are some blunders that could cost Fish Tag a whole star. After you sit down, the server utters the seven words most dreaded in the Western culinary canon: “Let me explain how our menu works.” But you really need the explanation this time. Although Fish Tag has traditional appetizers and entrées, they aren’t so stated on the menu. Instead, the items are arranged from “lightest” to “heaviest,” with appetizers in red and entrées in black.

Groups of menu items are lassoed with large curly braces, next to which are written the spirits (wines, beers, scotches, etc.) that purportedly go with them. As if this wasn’t enough to learn, some items are marked with a “§” sign, which means (a footnote tells us) that they may be ordered “simply grilled” with potato and broccoli rabe.

You might think this was enough complexity, but there’s more. While the wines are listed on the back of the food menu, a separate menu lists the hard liquors, ice creams, coffees, teas (“please allow five minutes for stepping”), cheeses, cured meats, and “appetizing.”

Appetizing? That’s the Jewish word for the food usually served with bagels, such as lox and other smoked fish. At our table, we received two copies of the food menu, but just one of the cheese-meat-appetizing-everything-else menu.

The good news is that once you’ve figured out how to order, Fish Tag becomes a delightful restaurant.

Young Pecorino “Saganaki,” or Sheep’s Milk Cheese ($12; above left) with lemon, garlic, and almonds, comes sizzling in a cast-iron skillet. It’s wonderful; yet, we could easily have missed it: it’s the bottom entry on the cheese menu.

Smoked Sable ($9; above right), one of ten choices from the appetizing menu, has a rich, smokey taste. 

Branzino Stuffed with Head Cheese ($26; above left) is a stunning creation, and dare we say, critic bait. The menu doesn’t say whose head it’s made with (presumably lamb), but once you get past the “ick” factor it’s a brilliant dish—vintage Psilakis. Striped Bass ($23; above right), simply grilled, is a less elaborate creation, but excellent nonetheless.

The wine list is delightful, with plenty of good buys at the $50-and-under level, my benchmark for this type of restaurant. Côtes du Roussillon Villages Latour de France is an appellation I’ve never seen before. The 2008 M. Chapoutier “Occultum Lapidem” ($45; label at right) has a light, fruity taste not unlike some Burgundies, making it a terrific red wine to go with fish. It was one of many that we could have had by the glass or the half-bottle, but we went ahead and ordered a full bottle.

I photographed the label (right) after the sommelier explained that, in honor of a former blind resident of the estate, all of the wine labels from this producer are printed in braille.

At times, Fish Tag seems just a tad too precious for its own good. Tap water comes in clear glass jugs, the size of one full glass, each with its own rubber stopper, which the server removes just before setting it on the table.

But even more precious is the collection of white porcelain cake plates, which are used for serving many different items, including the smoked fish. It looks impressive, but it’s a bit awkward to eat off of an elevated pedestal.

Those idiosyncrasies aside, the service and wine program are in very good shape for a month-old restaurant. The general manager and wine director aren’t credited on the menu, nor is anyone credited at ChefDB, but whomever Psilakis hired is earning their keep. The restaurant was full, and running smoothly, at 7:00 p.m. on a Saturday evening.

Even if Fish Tag is a bit over-thought (particularly the color-coded menu), we were impressed with the food—the way we had been with Psilakis’s earlier restaurants, before he lost his way in the last couple of years. Will Psilakis stick around long enough to ensure Fish Tag remains relevant? Or will he hop to a new project after the reviews are in? Ryan Skeen is assisting in the kitchen, but no one expects that to last: it’s the serial job-hopper’s seventh restaurant in three years.

Let’s hope that Psilakis has learned his lessons well, and that he’ll make Fish Tag his main focus. This is where he belongs.

Fish Tag (222 W. 79th St. between Broadway & Amsterdam Ave., Upper West Side)

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

Pera

I keep a running list of restaurants to try, but some of them stay on the list for a long time. Pera is one of those. Its location, in the shadow of Grand Central Terminal, is one we seldom visit. The opening reviews, respectful but not ecstatic, suggested it could wait until we had an excuse to be in the area. Frank Bruni awarded one star in February 2007.

Pera is better than we expected. It isn’t quite destination cuisine, but the space is comfortable, the service is excellent, and everything we tried was prepared with care. The cooking isn’t especially ambitious, and the menu is static, but what they serve they do well.

We walked in on a Saturday evening on the way back from a Mets game at Citi Field. I chose Pera partly because I was sure we could walk in without a reservation. To my surprise it was nearly full. It turned out that nearly all the patrons were part of the same wedding rehearsal dinner party. Pera strikes us as not a bad place for that type of party.

Captioned a “Mediterranean Brasserie,” the menu straddles the Greek–Turkish axis. It includes Small Plates & Mezes ($6–19; sampler $22), snack plates called pidettes ($4 ea.), salads ($11–15), grilled meat & fish ($19–36), and side dishes ($6–11). A tasting menu of sorts, labeled the “Pera Tradition,” is $45 pp.

These prices are a tad on the high side, especially if you order at the upper end. However, there are also some bargains, and portions are large. The wine list somewhat compensates for the food prices, with plenty of bottles at $45 or less.

The meal began with soft house-made bread (above left), served with crumbly feta cheese.

An order of Chicken Livers ($8; above left) came from the Small Plates section of the menu, so I didn’t expect much. It actually came with four nicely-seasoned grilled livers and a small side salad. In the photo, the food is obscured by a leaf of pita dough, which you can use to build your own sandwich. Pita dough seems to be a theme at Pera, but I just ate the livers with my knife and fork.

A salad of Grilled Vegetables & Halloumi Cheese ($15; above right) was also pretty good, although the cheese seemed a bit over-crisped. 

Two of our entrées showed a distinct lack of ambition: Lamb “Adana” ($26; above left) and Filet Mignon Medallions ($33; above right), both sent out with leaves of pita and garnishes (not shown). Both were uncomplicated but well prepared, and there is something to be said for that.

The quotes in Pasta “Moussaka” ($23; above right) signalled that we would not be getting the traditional Greek version of the dish. It was more like a deconstructed version of a classic moussaka, with pappardelle pasta, lamb and eggplant ragu, and shaved parmigiano. For all that, it was probably the best item we tried, and it was certainly the most creative.

Pera isn’t a “drop everything, you must go” kind of restaurant, but I would certainly visit again next time I’m in the vicinity.

Pera Mediterranean Brasserie (303 Madison Avenue between 41st–42nd Streets, East Midtown)

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

Kefi

[Kreiger via Eater]

If you’re an ethical food blogger—don’t snicker, that’s not an oxymoron—what do you do when a restaurant in its first week is a disaster? Do you assume the problems will eventually be worked out? Or do you call it like it is?

As of today, the new Kefi is a disaster—a blunder by two smart people who should have known better. The question is, how much can they improve? We figure that Michael Psilakis and Donatella Arpaia—chef and restauranteur respectively—will do their best to get it right. Yet, much of what is wrong stems from a misguided concept that is not easily fixed.

Let’s be blunt: this is their third restaurant together, and more are coming. Psilakis and Arpaia were both in the house on Saturday night, but that won’t last long. After the critics have come through, they’ll both be spending their time elsewhere.

In at least 10 visits to her various restaurants, this is the first time I’ve ever seen Arpaia. And in my experience, her restaurants do not improve with time. She has too many of them, along with other projects, to give the loving attention they need, and apparently she cannot find, or has not found, the right staff to manage them in her stead.

Here’s the background: Psilakis opened Onera on the Upper West Side, a Greek take on haute cuisine that critics liked, but wasn’t suited to the neighborhood. He turned it into an inexpensive casual place called Kefi, which didn’t take reservations or even credit cards. Meanwhile, the haute Greek idea was reborn as Anthos in a fancier midtown location, earning a Michelin star in its first year. Those aren’t the only restaurants Psilakis and Arpaia have been involved in, or rumored to be working on, but we’ll leave the history lesson there.

Kefi was a big hit. We were impressed. So were the critics. Peter Meehan filed a rave in $25 & Under. There was lots of love on the BruniBlog. But Kefi had a problem: it had only 70 seats, and waits to get in were interminable. So Psilakis and Arpaia decided to move several blocks away, where they could triple the space, and where they could finally accept reservations and credit cards.

I appreciate that Psilakis and Arpaia hated turning customers away. Yet, there was a grave risk that, in moving to a space 200% larger, the concept would lose its charm. That is exactly what has happened: stadium dining at its worst. The new Kefi feels like a theater district barn, geared to churn out hundreds of meals at a breakneck pace. The only difference is that Kefi doesn’t slow down at 8:00.

There are four rooms on two levels, each with its own design personality. (In this, it resembles Mia Dona, another Psilakis/Arpaia property.) This choice was supposed to “keep Kefi’s intimate appeal,” but it doesn’t work that way. The host station is inexplicably near the back of the first floor, so you have to navigate the clotted bar just to ask for your table.

This unfortunate intersection is adjacent to the kitchen, so runners with food and busboys with dirty dishes have to fight their way through the same space where diners not yet seated are forced to congregate. Staff and customers must also share a narrow winding staircase that leads to two downstairs dining rooms, and also to the restrooms. Anyone who works here will get plenty of exercise. This restaurant really needed a dumbwaiter.

Our adventure did not start well: they had lost our reservation. “We’ll accommodate you,” our hostess generously offered, after conferring with Ms. Arpaia. A better response might have been, “We apologize for misplacing your reservation.” I know that customers are sometimes mistaken or even deceitful about bookings they claim to have made, but a new and obviously disorganized restaurant might want to consider giving the benefit of the doubt.

Kefi was packed when we arrived, and it was packed when we left. It had the usual problems of a restaurant suddenly serving triple the number of guests. Runners were frequently confused about where to deliver food. This happened not just at our table, but everywhere. Most dishes came out not quite warm enough. This, too, happened repeatedly. Kefi is tightly packed, so it was not difficult to overhear the complaints. Plates were dropped off without silverware. Appetizer plates were cleared while leaving dirty silverware behind.

House-made sausage ($7.50; above left) was the best thing we had: tender, a bit spicy, and served at the right temperature. Greek salad ($6.50; above right) was pedestrian. Meatballs ($6.25; above right) had potential, but they were served lukewarm.

For the main course, I ordered the braised lamb shank ($15.95), as I had done at the former location. The plating last time (above left) is more careful, with the bed of orzo covering the plate and flecks of green on the shank itself. The version of it served on Saturday (above right) was a much lazier try, with the food carelessly dumped on the plate. The lamb shank itself was just fine, but with sufficient brazing any meat naturally would be.

Moussaka ($11.95; above left) and  Creamed Spinach ($5.50; above right) were both average. Neither one was served quite warm enough.

Dessert was alleged to be Sesame Sorbet ($3.95; above left), though it sure tasted like ice cream to us. Whatever it was, it was too tart.

If there’s a bright spot at Kefi, it’s the all-Greek wine list. There are tasting notes for each bottle, which is thoughtful of them, as these appellations will be utterly unfamiliar to most diners. Many bottles are very reasonably priced For $48 I was pleased with the 2001 Grande Reserve Naoussa Boutari (above right). If it were French, restaurants would sell it for twice as much.

Prices remain the saving grace at Kefi. We had three appetizers, two entrées, a side dish and a bottle of wine for just $105.60, before tax and tip. That’s a bargain by today’s standards, though it is still no excuse for serving lukewarm food in a charmless atmosphere. The new place still has Kefi’s name, but none of its appeal, other than low prices.

Ms. Arpaia came downstairs multiple times during our visit. But we never noticed her stopping at any table to ask how it was going. “She doesn’t look happy,” my girlfriend said. We passed her coming down as we were leaving. You’d think she might have said, “Thanks for coming.” Naturally, she did not.

Perhaps Psilakis and Arpaia will be able to whip this place into shape, but I doubt it. They have too many other projects, and too many of the problems are design flaws that are virtually impossible to fix. Even if they ace it, this place cannot duplicate the original Kefi’s charms. They should not have sullied its good name.

I am not going to pronounce Kefi a failure after just six nights of service. This chef and this owner have earned the right to prove they can do better. They have their work cut out for them.

Kefi (505 Columbus Avenue between 84th–85th Streets, Upper West Side)

Food: good, when it is served warm enough
Service: confused
Atmosphere: a dining stadium
Overall: incomplete