Inside Park at St. Barts

 

Inside Park at St. Barts wins this season’s award for the oddest restaurant location: the former chapter house of the landmarked neo-Byzantine St. Bartholomew’s Church on Park Avenue. Folks, you must visit this restaurant. It is crazily good. Oh, and the space is gorgeous too.

Former Savoy sous chef Matthew Weingarten serves a locavore, greenmarket-driven menu. That’s hardly an original idea, but everything is beautifully done. My face lit up when fresh bread, soft herb butter and a bowl of pickled vegetables arrived at the table. When they get the butter right, you’re usually in for a good evening.

The menu offers a selection of 14 “simple plates” from $4.50–8, or you can get any three for $18: things like beets and poppy cream, smoked beef tongue, smoked black cod, torched mackerel and quince. We gave those a pass, but they look promising if you’re just there to nosh. Conventional appetizers are in the $10–16 range, entrées $26–32, side dishes $7.

 

Smoked Country Sausage ($12; above left) with heirloom apples and cabbage was one of the more enjoyable home-made sausage dishes we’ve had this season. Crispy Breast of Lamb ($16; above right) was a clever starter, with the lamb lightly fried with a black walnut chutney.

 

You don’t see Walleye Pike ($28; above left) on many menus. It was perfect here—the skin crisp, the flesh tender and moist. The vegetables were first-rate as well, with creamed cauliflower, raddicchio, caper and egg. Chicken ($26; above right) was also faultless, the kind you wish you could have every day. The accompaniments here were roasted artichoke, farro and marjoram.

 

We don’t normally order dessert, but we had to try the Lavender Goat Cheese Soufflé ($14; above left), which was as good as it sounds. The meal ended with small petits-fours.

Service was faultless. For a six-week-old restaurant, Inside Park seems to be running about as smoothly as could be.

Unfortunately, it looks like this restaurant could be in for a tough time. On a Friday evening, it appeared to be no more than 10% full. The neighborhood isn’t known for nightlife, so it will need strong word-of-mouth to attract diners to a destination they wouldn’t normally seek. We can only hope they’ll succeed. This is one of the best mid-priced restaurants we’ve visited in quite some time.

Inside Park at St. Bart’s (109 E. 50th Street at Park Avenue, East Midtown)

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

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: **

Mia Dona

Note: This is a review under Chef Michael Psilakis, who has severed his ties with the restaurant.

A group of six food-board acquaintances had dinner this week at Mia Dona. We’d all been before and were impressed with Michael Psilakis’s inventive take on Italian cuisine.

Alas, Mia Dona has regressed to the mean. Between us, we tasted sixteen dishes. They were all competently done, but mostly routine—the kind of generic upscale Italian food that could show up on dozens of menus around town. There was nothing, say, to live up to the Calf’s Tongue appetizer I had last time, the kind of dish that makes you want to shout, “You have to eat here!”

Prices have inched up too, though that was to be expected. Mia Dona is still inexpensive by today’s standards, but the center of gravity for the entrées, formerly about $20, is now in the mid-twenties, and there’s now at least one entrée in the thirties. Dinner for six came to about $100 a head, including tax and tip. That included wine, but not a particularly expensive one.

It surely doesn’t help that Psilakis and his partner, Donatella Arpaia, are juggling about half-a-dozen projects apiece. The server said that both drop by frequently, but the point is that they’re only dropping by. Day-to-day, the restaurant is in less capable hands.

It also didn’t help that there were about three dishes on the menu they were out of or no longer serving—and that was at 7:00 p.m. on a Tuesday evening. One of our companions quipped, “What about spinach ravioli don’t you have, the spinach or the ravioli?”

  

Out of our first batch of dishes (above), I liked the Bigoli (bottom left) best, with sausage, broccoli rabe, lentils, and peccorino romano. A version of this has been on the menu from the beginning. Stuffed figs (top middle) weren’t bad.

  

Among the second batch, a Grilled Trout (bottom left) was the best. The skin was crisp, the fish tender, and the beet sauce elevated it above the typical treatment for this kind of fish. Lamb chops (top left) and hangar steak (bottom middle) were both solidly done, but unmemorable. Gnudi (top middle) were chewy. The server initially didn’t want to serve us Spiedini (bottom right), as they were out of some ingredients, but they whipped up an acceptable substitute.

   

We had two side dishes, but neither lived up to the terrific spinach we had last time. Among the two desserts we tried, a Panna Cotta (2nd from right) was pretty good, but again, fairly typical of modern-day upscale Italian restaurants.

If you happen to be in this section of East Midtown, Mia Dona remains a solid choice, especially as it’s still a pretty good bargain, even after the recent price increases. But it’s no longer a dining destination. For that, you’ll have to visit Anthos, or wait for the next Psilakis/Arpaia project.

Mia Dona (206 E. 58th Street between Second & Third Avenues, East Midtown)

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

L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon

Note: L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon closed at the end of June 2012. A conflict with the union was partly to blame. It is expected to re-open in March 2015 at Brookfield Place in Battery Park City. This will be a stiff test of the viability of fine dining downtown.

*

The French Gault Millau hailed Joël Robuchon as Chef of the Century—the last one, that is.

So when Robuchon’s L’Atelier (the name means “workshop”) arrived in town, what did the city’s two principal critics say? They complained the place was too casual. New York’s Adam Platt said that he would award four stars for the food, negative one for the ambiance, for a total of three, the same total Frank Bruni awarded.

Let us recall that Platt awarded four stars to Momofuku Ko without subtracting a star for ambiance, even though the experience at Momofuku Ko is in every respect inferior to L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon.

Let us also recall that after Frank Bruni reviewed this restaurant in October 2006, it took another sixteen months for him to find another new restaurant worthy of three stars. When he finally did, what was it? Why, Dovetail, another restaurant in every respect inferior by an order of magnitude to L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon.

After I returned home from my visit here, I immediately resolved to downgrade Momofuku Ko, a very good restaurant to which I had, nevertheless, erroneously awarded 3½ stars. One needs to be reminded occasionally of what the word “extraordinary” really means, lest it be confused with that which is merely “excellent.”

Food isn’t the only thing that’s extraordinary at L’Atelier. So are the prices. Little tasting plates range from $17–38 (not counting the caviar dish), and you’ll need about four of these to make a satisfactory meal. Appetizers range from $16–44, entrées from $37–46. Desserts are $17 apiece. The nine-course tasting menu is $190, making it the city’s third-most expensive after Masa and Per Se. The wine list, as you’d expect, carries prices to match: I saw no reds below $70.

But those who dine at this class of restaurant are already reconciled to dropping a sum of money. Momofuku Ko doesn’t become better than L’Atelier, just because David Chang has found a way to serve extremely good (though not extraordinary) cuisine at a price for the masses.

The two restaurants are comparable in many ways, as both feature counter dining, though the counter at L’Atelier is considerably more spacious and comfortable. L’Atelier also has twenty-six table seats, and I suspect much of the experience is diluted if you sit there, as it would be at any good sushi restaurant.

But continuing the comparison, it must be noted that L’Atelier has considerably more kitchen space than Momofuku Ko. With about 36 savory courses and 8 desserts, you could dine at L’Atelier a good half-dozen times without duplicating a selection. At Momofuku Ko, you will have come fairly close to exhausting the possibilities after just a couple of dinners.

At L’Atelier, the level of precision is something remarkable to behold. A chef actually uses tweezers to place chives on a plate. A couple of times, we were astounded, not merely at how good something tasted, but at how it could have existed at all. Robuchon is not just a chef, but a magician too.

Although Robuchon has seventeen Michelin stars (currently tops in the world), and something like eighteen restaurants, he is not a totally absentee chef. He recently spent a week in New York. Food & Wine reported that he was actually cooking. (We asked the staff about this, and they conceded he does not spend the whole evening in the kitchen, and that he does a good deal of schmoozing, too.)

To dine at L’Atelier, you have to put up with a slightly overwhelming menu. The items are in three categories (tasting plates, appetizers, entrées). Assuming you give the tasting menu a pass (which we did), how much constitutes a meal? The server advised that each “tasting plate” is generally about half the size of a conventional appetizer, but this isn’t strictly true when you consider the richness of the food. (My girlfriend wondered how many tons of butter they go through in a day.)

We decided to order two tasting plates and one entrée apiece, and to swap plates in between courses, which allowed us to try six things between us.

 
Bread service; Amuse-bouche

The bread service was lovely, though I would have preferred softer butter to go with it. The amuse-bouche was a delightful little foie gras mousse with a port reduction and parmesan foam.

 
Le Saumon (left); L’Ognion Nouveau (right)

The dishes here have deceptively simple names. I started with Le Saumon ($25). On the right side of the plate are two strips of thinly cut smoked salmon. On the left is a tangle of shredded crisp potato, but inside is a lightly poached egg. How they got the potato to completely surround the egg without damaging it is a mystery. You cut into the potato, and the egg yolk spills out: a deconstructed egg, salmon and potato omelet.

L’Ognion Nouveau ($24), an onion tart, was less mysterious, but every bit as accomplished in its preparation.

 
Le Ris de Veau (left); Les Burgers (right)

Le Ris de Veau ($29) offered two succulent sweetbreads, but equally delightful was the spring of stuffed romaine lettuce—stuffed with what? We were not sure, but it was astonishing.

But that was nothing compared to Les Burgers ($39), two small double-decker burgers with beef, foie gras and caramelized bell peppers, with hand-cut fries and Robuchon’s take on homemade ketchup. In another restaurant, these tiny burgers would be called sliders, but they put to shame every other version I’ve tried. The beef and foie gras melt together into one potent flavor package. Of the fries, my girlfriend said, “These are what I want before I die.”

 
La Caille (left); Le Tete de Veau (right)

The entrées didn’t rock our world quite as much as the tasting plates did. La Caille ($45), or quail, is one of Robuchon’s signature dishes, and I suspect anyone that loves the bird would love this bird. He stuffs the breast with foie gras, and caramelizes the outside. There are two little wings, two little breasts, and a potato purée on the side. I thought the dish disappeared awfully quickly for something that costs $45, and it was a lot of work to pull off what little meat a quail wing had to offer. But ’tis ever thus with quail. (The menu also offers a tasting portion of this dish, at $30.)

Le Tete de Veau ($42) is a remarkable preparation of a veal’s head, with bits of the cheek, tongue, and other unmentionables pounded thin, layered, rolled in a layer of fat, and cooked till crisp. We both thought that the fat overpowered the dish, but we didn’t have a basis of comparison for evaluating this classic.

  
Cheese plate; Cappuccino; Petits-fours

In lieu of dessert, we chose the cheese plate ($28), with four wonderful choices: from left to right, Hoch Ybrig, Emissaire de Notre Dame, Camembert Chatelain, and Bleu d’Auvergne. (The staff kindly produced a handwritten list when we asked for it.)

The unusually large cappuccino ($12) seemed worthy of a photo too, as well as two precious chocolate petits-fours that came on their own little pedestal.

The service throughout was first-class, notwithstanding the inherent informality of the counter setting. (Even the runners wear white gloves.) Our server had some mannerisms that were a bit irritating. Whatever we ordered seemed coincidentally to be her favorite item on the menu. A couple of times, she punctuated our dinner with “Good job!”, as if we were earning merit badges.

The restaurant is located in a corner of the Four Seasons hotel, but there is little separation between the dining room and the hotel bar just outside it. Both New York’s Platt and the Times’ Frank Bruni complained that the bar’s hubbub interfered with the quiet seclusion that such a meal ostensibly calls for. That may well have been true in the early days, when foodies were tripping over each other to try New York’s latest new thing. It was not an issue at any time during our two-hour meal on a Saturday evening. The restaurant was about two-thirds full.

With its stratospheric prices, L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon does not allow you to get out cheaply. Dinner for two came to $475, including tax and tip. At our income level, it cannot be anything more than an “occasion place,” visited occasionally. But assuming you take the plunge, you are almost certain to be treated to a level of cuisine few New York restaurants can match.

L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon (57 E. 57th Street between Park & Madison Avenues, in the Four Seasons Hotel, East Midtown)

Cuisine: Modern French, with luxury ingredients, impeccably prepared
Service: The white glove treatment, literally and figuratively
Ambiance: As elegant as counter service could ever be

Overall: ★★★★

Mia Dona

Note: Click here for a later review of Mia Dona. It wasn’t as impressive the second time.

Restauranteur Donatella Arpaia and Chef Michael Psilakis have been busy. Every few months, they seem to be closing one restaurant and opening another.

Donatella Arpaia and Michael Psilakis

In less than five years, Arpaia has opened six restaurants. One closed, and she severed ties with another, leaving her with four. In less than four years, Psilakis has opened five restaurants. Two closed, leaving him with three, all partnered with Arpaia. One of them, Kefi, will be moving shortly, and they intend to open yet another restaurant in the current Kefi space.

Got that?

Mia Dona is their latest creation. It was supposed to replace Dona, which was a hit, but lost its lease not long after it opened. As it was at Dona, the cuisine at Mia Dona is Italian, though interpreted through Psilakis’s Mediterranean–Greek lens. But Mia Dona is really a much different concept, despite the superficial similarities. Dona was much more elegant and nearly twice as expensive. I wasn’t wowed at Dona, though I realize many others liked it better than I did.

At Mia Dona, you almost have to pinch yourself when you see the prices. Could this be true? Appetizers are $8–13; pastas are $10–12 as appetizers or $15–17 as entrees; meat and fish entrees are $17–24; side dishes are $8–9. The wine list has plenty of decent bottles under $50. Compare this to Dona in mid-2006, where entrees topped out at $45, and a four-course dinner was $75.

The front dining room [thewanderingeater]

Of course, something has been lost, too. The tablecloths are gone, and there’s a motley assortment of unmatched china and cheap wine glasses. A single hostess has the dual role of greeting guests and checking coats. The casually dressed servers are a bit pushy and somewhat bumbling. The restaurant has been open for five weeks, so perhaps some of these things will improve.

The decor is a confused jumble: three rooms, each of which looks as if it were entrusted to a different decorator. Some of the choices are odd indeed: blonde wood paneling and zebra-skin carpeting? That’s the back room. We were in the front room, which has bare brick walls, no carpeting, and colorful enamel dishes hanging from the walls.

Bread Service

With as many projects as Psilakis has in flight, you have to wonder how much time he spends in any of his kitchens. Yet, I’ve seen three menus—two on the Internet (here, here) and the one I brought home with me—and all are different. So it seems he still has time to innovate, or he has able deputies who do so in his stead.

Compared to the opening menu, most of the appetizers, pastas, and seafood entrees have changed, at least to some degree, and many of them considerably. (The meat entrees have remained pretty much the same.) The appetizer I ordered, which was perhaps the most remarkable item we tried, must be a new creation, as nothing even remotely like it is on either of the Internet menus. Psilakis continutes to astonish.

We liked the bread service, which came with two contrasting warm breads and a clove of warm garlic.

 
Bigoli (left); Warm Calf’s Tongue (right)

When I ordered Warm Calf’s Tongue ($10), I scarcely imagined what I was in for. Yes, there’s calf’s tongue, but also mushrooms, pecorino romano, a soft poached egg. That’s what the menu said, but there is apparently quite a bit more in there, including green vegetables and chili peppers. It’s a remarkable creation, and so hearty that it could almost be an entree.

My girlfriend was impressed with Bigoli ($11), thick pasta noodles with sausage, broccoli rabe, lentils, spicy chiles, and (again) pecorino romano. At least, that’s how it was served yesterday. Tomorrow, Psilakis may come up with something else.

 
Roasted Chicken (left); Roasted Red Snapper (right)

Psilakis does have a way with chicken. The preparation here ($17) is a bit less artistic than the version we had at Anthos, but just as tender and flavorful.

Roasted Red Snapper ($22) was the evening’s only disappointment. The fish was dull, and the skin (which could have imparted flavor) was too tough for my knife to penetrate. The cous cous underneath it were also bland, though mussels and merguez sausage were nice.

Even with side dishes, Psilakis gives you far more than you have any right to expect at the price. Spinach ($8), which could have served five people, was luscious, with béchamel and pecorino (a cheese that recurs in multiple dishes).

At Dona, portions were on the large side, and that’s true here, despite the bargain prices. Psilakis’s cuisine skews towards the beefy and hearty, and we left a bit overfed. We took most of the spinach home, and we were so full that we skipped our usual nightcap.

The wine list isn’t long, but it has plenty of budget-friendly bottles. We settled on a 2003 Chianti ($58). The first page of the list, with a pretentious list of Donatella’s favorites (“Wine I drink while watching my friends on television”), ought to be scrapped. Servers need a bit of training on wine etiquette (hint: pour the lady’s glass first).

Four out of the five things we ordered were excellent, and both appetizers and entrees were priced a good $5 apiece lower than they needed to be at this level of quality and ambition. If the service improves, and if Psilakis continues to lavish as much attention on the menu as he has to date, Mia Dona may rank among the city’s most remarkable restaurants.

Mia Dona (206 E. 58th Street between Second & Third Avenues, East Midtown)

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

Adour

[Rockwell Group]

Note: Adour closed in November 2012. A succession of executive chefs was not able to reclaim a lost Michelin star, or apparently, lost business.

*

My girlfriend and I thought it was near tragic when Alain Ducasse at the Essex House closed. It was the site of perhaps the best meal we have had in New York. When Ducasse announced that he was moving to the St. Regis, site of the former four-star Lespinasse, in a new restaurant called Adour, we hoped the magic would be moving with him.

Alas, the magic is nowhere to be found. Adour is a bore. A really crashing bore.

I don’t think three-star food has to be innovative: I find real pleasure in classics done well. But the menu here is downright soporific: one yawn after another. There’s no excitement on the plate at all. And if no longer priced in the stratosphere, as it was at the Essex House, the food at Adour is still very expensive. For entrées priced in the $40s, one expects at least some indication of the creative spark that earned Ducasse all of those Michelin stars.

The menu is printed on stiff boards glued into an upholstered cardboard folder. It is obviously not easily changeable. It makes Adour feel like a crass hotel restaurant. The subtle message it sends is: “The food isn’t changing anytime soon.” It is almost all in English. It apparently hasn’t occurred to Monsieur Ducasse that patrons at his restaurant might want, you know, French food.

Is this Ducasse’s way of saying “Screw you, New York”? Or, in his eagerness to pander—to give Americans what he thinks we want—has he forgotten to give us what he’s actually good at? We asked one of the servers what had happened to the great menu served at the Essex House. “It was time to move on,” he said.

To “move on” to this?

We certainly expected dialed-down luxury, given a price point about 50% lower than the Essex House. But there isn’t even an amuse-bouche here. If you order a cheese course ($22), there’s no cart, just a plate of four cheeses deposited on your table.

The wine service shines, though. The menu, after all, is supposedly designed to go well with wine, though I am not sure what that means. The list has plenty of compelling choices at decent prices, including multiple bottles of red under $50. We selected a 1996 Bricco Boschi Barolo at $105, which the staff decanted for us. I also liked the bread service, which came with a wonderful soft olive butter.

 
Sweetbread “Meunière”, Egg Purse (left); Foie Gras Tapioca Ravioli (right)

Sweetbreads with wild mushrooms ($24) were simply grilled, but I appreciated the egg purse in the center of the plate, which made a rich, runny mess. My girlfriend’s Foie Gras Tapioca Ravioli ($23) were dull. The taste of foie can always be counted on for luxury by default, but the dish made no attempt to offer any contrast.

 
Venison Medallions (left); Roasted Colorado Rack of Lamb (right)

Both Venison ($42) and Rack of Lamb ($48) were left basically to fend for themselves, with token vegetables offering little to amuse the palate. My girlfriend said that the side of risotto that came with her lamb was more interesting than the lamb itself.

 
Pear Clafoutis (left); Gala Apple Soufflé (right)

Neither dessert captured our imagination either, though at $14 apiece we didn’t feel cheated. The plates of petits-fours were generous, though we were full and didn’t touch them.

At Adour, the service team is no longer all French, as they were at the Essex House. Most of them seem capable, though we observed some minor snafus that no doubt will be worked out as the restaurant gets its legs. When we arrived, we appreciated that we were given ample time to peruse the wine list and enjoy our champagne. The restaurant wasn’t full, and the table appeared to be ours for as long as we wanted it.

The David Rockwell-designed space is comfortable and gorgeous. It could easily be one of the city’s most serene spots to enjoy a meal. But the food doesn’t live up to it. We can only hope Ducasse will take this milquetoast menu back into his laboratory, and return with some real excitement.

Adour (2 E. 55th Street at Fifth Avenue in the St. Regis Hotel, East Midtown)

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

First Look: Adour by Alain Ducasse

Note: Click here for a full review of Adour.

Adour Alain Ducasse at the St. Regis opened this evening. I stopped in for a drink at the bar, where another patron informed me I was the sixth customer.

The electronic menus have received most of the press. You find your wine by navigating a touch screen that displays on the surface of the bar, projected from above. To get to Burgundy reds, for instance, you’d tap “Wines,” then “Red,” then “France,” then “Burgundy,” and then you can scroll down the list. For any given wine, you can retrieve tasting notes, producer history, and so forth.

It sounds good in theory, but the mechanism is finicky. If your touch is off by even a little, the mechanism misbehaves. After a while, I just gave up, and I noticed that others were frustrated too. I don’t think bar patrons—even at a high-class bar like this one—want to learn a new technology just to order a glass of wine. Within six months, I suspect they’ll be back to traditional paper and ink.

Selections by the glass were ample, and I enjoyed a wonderful Southern Rhone blend for $13, along with a cup of Yuzu Sorbet for just $4. If you’re thinking that those don’t sound like Ducasse prices, you’d be right.

There are about a dozen bar snacks, ranging from $9–16. It’s a remarkable selection at a bar that seats only four, and the guys next to me loved everything they tried. One of them was so taken with the Yuzu Sorbet that he asked the manager if the restaurant could supply a quantity for his Super Bowl party. (The manager replied that he was not sure the pastry chef could have quite enough of it made by Sunday.)

In the main restaurant, there are nine appetizers priced from $17–29, ten entrées at $32–49, and six desserts at $14. The cheese course is $22, and the five-course tasting menu is $110. Though clearly not bargain-priced, this is still a good deal less than the predecessor restaurant at the Essex House, where the prix fixe was $150 and the tasting menu $225.

I’m looking forward to dining there in two weeks’ time.

Adour Alain Ducasse (2 E. 55th Street at Fifth Avenue in the St. Regis Hotel, East Midtown)

Le Cirque

Kalina via Eater

Note: This is a review of Le Cirque under Chef Christophe Bellanca, who left the restaurant in October 2008. Click here for a review under chef Olivier Reginensi, who is the chef as of 2012.

Click here for a review of the Café at Le Cirque.

*

Le Cirque is one of the few remaining bastions of classic old-French luxury in New York. Now in its third location, it was at various times a three or four-star restaurant, but critics hammered it when the current version opened in 2006. Frank Bruni and Adam Platt both returned two-star verdicts, which for this type of restaurant is equivalent to condemnation.

Much beloved of celebrities and the monied set, Le Cirque didn’t need Frank Bruni’s blessing. Owner Siro Maccioni could simply have shrugged, as the owners of the Four Seasons apparently did after a similar Bruni smackdown. Instead, he went to work. He fired chef Pierre Schaedelin, bringing in Christophe Bellanca to replace him. The review cycle is over, so Le Cirque is stuck with its two stars for now. But at least Adam Platt recognized the improvement in his 2007 year-end retrospective:

But perhaps the most impressive kitchen overhaul of all has taken place at Le Cirque, where Sirio Maccioni’s latest chef, Christophe Bellanca, has expanded the pricey, formerly stolid menu to include a whole variety of sophisticated, radically pricey new treats. The grandly impersonal room underneath the Bloomberg tower remains filled with the usual collection of grimly smiling contessas and aging plutocrats tottering to and fro in their pin-striped suits. But when I dropped in not very long ago, there were an impressive nine specials of the day on the menu, along with all sorts of newfangled entrées: dim-sum-size ravioli swollen with foie gras, carefully deboned portions of squab crusted with crushed walnuts, and ribbons of chestnut-flavored pappardelle decked with braised pheasant, which the plutocrats merrily supplemented one night (for a $185 fee) with shavings of white truffle shipped direct, via Maccioni’s fabled connection, from the hills of Alba.

(I don’t quite understand why, if he thinks the improvement is that significant, Platt does not also upgrade his two-star rating, but I’ll save that rant for another post.)

The bifurcated service at Le Cirque—one level for celebrities, another for the rest of us—is the stuff of legend. Upon her arrival in New York, Times critic Ruth Reichl was famously treated like dirt. Everything changed once Maccioni figured out who she was: “The King of Spain is waiting in the bar, but your table is ready.” Reichl demoted the restaurant to three stars. In the 2006 update, Frank Bruni encountered much the same attitude that Reichl did. So did the Amateur Gourmet, who wrote about his experience in a post called “Only a Jerk Would Eat at Le Cirque.”

Perhaps Maccioni has finally learned his lesson. When I visited with a friend for a year-end dinner, we saw no evidence of second-class service. Our table was ready immediately, and we weren’t seated in Siberia. Service was friendly and polished, but the large, busy space is not geared to long, quiet meals. I didn’t note the exact timing, but I felt that the multi-course tasting menu went by a tad quickly.

The clientele was a broad mix of young and old. We didn’t notice any celebrities, but a couple of middle-aged men were with lavishly dressed women who appeared to be a good deal younger than they. You can fill in the possibilities for yourself.

For a variety of reasons, it took me a month to get around to writing this blog post, and I’m afraid my recollections have dimmed somewhat. We ordered the tasting menu, which in general was impressive, with only a couple of dull spots (which most tasting menus have). The food is shown below in photo-essay format.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Le Cirque (151 E. 58th Street between Lexington & Third Avenues, East Midtown)

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

Riingo

 

Note: Riingo closed in 2012. The space is now called Atrium, run by ESquared Hospitality, the same folks behind BLT Steak, BLT Prime, etc.

*

I overlooked Riingo when it opened almost four years ago in the Alex Hotel. My girlfriend is a fan of the chef/owner, Marcus Samuelsson, who also runs the Swedish restaurant Aquavit, so I figured a visit was past due.

The restaurant is Samuelsson’s take on Asian Fusion, which was no longer a new concept when Riingo opened. It garnered mixed reviews: Amanda Hesser delivered a two-star rave in the Times, but Adam Platt in New York (in his pre-star system days) was less impressed.

Amuse-bouche: Mystery Mackerel

It’s possible to see why Hesser liked the place, as everything we tried had potential. But alas, the execution was truly incompetent, and it was coupled with some of the most bumbling service we’ve seen in a long time.

The menu offers the standard appetizers ($5–14), salads ($10–16), entrées ($23–32) and side dishes ($5–6), along with a Japanese menu offering sushi, sashimi, and rolls. All the categories have an eclectic mix, so “tuna foie gras” appears on the sushi menu, and the entrées accommodate interlopers like steak frites. As it is located in a hotel, Riingo also serves breakfast and lunch, along with weekend brunch.

The room is decked out in the expected style, but the rear dining room, in which we were seated, is surprisingly cramped, and servers struggled to negotiate the space. The host made the odd comment that we had the best seats in the house. Our small table with overlapping placemats seemed like nothing of the kind.

The amuse-bouche seemed to be mackerel something-or-other; the explanation was inaudible. The bread service included stale rolls and something much better: a spicy ruffly potato-chip like substance along with a guacamole-like dip (all offered without explanation). As the server took the amuse plates away, he put our dirty forks back on the placemats, as one would do at a cheap diner. They can’t afford clean forks?

 

Don’t adjust your television set: Roasted Beet Salad ($12; above left) came in an odd-shaped bowl that tilted slightly to the right. The kitchen forgot the goat cheese that was supposed to come with it. The chicken that was supposed to be in Chicken Dumplings ($10; above right) was scarcely a rumor, as it was overwhelmed by a sour broth.

There was no false advertising about Rare Tuna ($26; left). As you can see in the photo, it’s as rare as can be, but the accompanying pumpkin purée was lukewarm and tasteless. Bok choy was warm, but had been left in the steamer too long.

My girlfriend had the Chili-Roasted Chicken ($23), which was dry from over-cooking.

We ordered wine along with our food. When I pointed to the item I wanted, the server asked, “By the bottle?” I thought this was peculiar, as the menu didn’t indicate that it was available by the glass.

Matters only got stranger, as half-an-hour (and our appetizers) came and went, but no wine appeared. When it finally came, the server muttered that they had trouble locating my selection in the cellar. By that time we no longer wanted it, so I asked for two glasses; naturally, that wine wasn’t available by the glass, so I substituted an undistinguished pinot noir.

The couple at the next table overheard us, and mentioned that their wine too had not arrived until after the appetizers. We started watching the dining room, and sure enough, at least two other tables had the same experience, with wine delivered after—and in at least one case, long after—the appetizers had been served, consumed, and taken away.

For the usual petits-fours, Riingo had a couple of small oatmeal cookies, which naturally were stale. Perhaps Riingo was once a fine restaurant, but the kitchen and serving staff are have become sloppy, veering on incompetent. I can only hope that Samuelsson will rattle the trees, fire a few people, and get this restaurant back on track.

Riingo (205 E. 45th Street, east of Third Avenue, East Midtown)

Food: mediocre
Service: sloppy
Ambiance: acceptable
Overall: sad

Philippe

 

I missed the Mr. Chow moment. That was almost 30 years ago, when Michael Chow opened Mr. Chow in East Midtown, building on successes in London and Beverley Hills. It was supposed to be haute Chinese reinterpreted for a modern audience, but it was always more about people-watching. Mimi Sheraton was unimpressed when she awarded one star in the Times. When Mr. Chow opened a fourth branch last year in TriBeCa, Frank Bruni turned in a devastating zero-star review. Not that it mattered. Mr. Chow is still there.

For 26 years, Philippe Chow (no relation) was the executive chef at Mr. Chow in midtown. Last year, he opened his own place just a few blocks away, and christened it Philippe. He hasn’t waited long to expand, with an outpost in Mexico City, and branches in Miami and Las Vegas to come.

Philippe was basically ignored by most of the critics in town. I believe Adam Platt was the only one who bothered, awarding zero stars. The menu is basically a clone of Mr. Chow. Philippe Chow’s aim in life is not to challenge us with anything new, but simply to get a piece of the gravy train that the other Chow has been feeding on for so long. Nevertheless, Philippe does have some advantages: It is not as hideously over-priced as Mr. Chow.

 
Chicken Lettuce Wrap (left); Whole Crispy Duck (right)

To start, we had the Chicken Lettuce Wrap ($15), which my friend Kelly remembered fondly from Mr. Chow. I assume the mystery meat we were served was indeed chicken, but it had that bland generic taste of the take-out place down the street. Kelly said that it was nowhere as good as the wraps at Mr. Chow.

Nearly all of the entrées are priced for two persons. We ordered the Crispy Duck ($54), served with the traditional pancakes, duck sauce, lettuce and scallions. Unlike the traditional Peking Duck (which Philippe also offers, at $65), this duck is deep-fried. It was presented whole, then dissected table-side. We were mightily impressed with the textural contrast between the crisp skin and the succulent, fatty duck meat. It was so tender that the server only needed two spoons to pull it off the bone.

We also had an order of pork fried rice ($8) to share. It was gorgeously presented in a gleaming silver crockpot, but it wasn’t warm enough, and it tasted like it had come out of the microwave. 

There is a tendency to upsell. We didn’t finish anything we ordered—and, in the case of the duck, I was sorry to leave any of it behind. Nevertheless, our server tried his best to persuade us to order a second appetizer, which would have been truly a waste. After the duck was cleared, he brought a tray of dessert samples to our table, a practice normally encountered only at low-class restaurants.

Nevertheless, we did take the plunge on dessert, and I wasn’t sorry we did. Kelly was happy with a chocolate éclair (right), and I enjoyed an orange–carrot tart (left), both beautifully plated.

It’s hard to rate Philippe, because the duck was first-class and the desserts were very good, but our appetizer and fried rice were no better than mediocre take-out. But plenty of places in town are less expensive and more consistent.

Philippe (30 E. 60th Street between Park & Madison Avenues, East Midtown)

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