Oyster Bar & Restaurant

 

Recently, a friend suggested dinner in the iconic Oyster Bar & Restaurant at Grand Central Terminal. I’d never dined there, and I suppose this is one of those experiences—like a walk in Central Park—that everyone must have, at least once. The walk in Central Park is an experience you’ll more likely repeat. Here, the fabled Guastavino ceiling is instantly impressive, but I don’t understand why they spoil the atmosphere with red-and-white checked tablecloths that would look cheesy even in Red Lobster.

Oyster Bar’s Long MenuThe Oyster Bar has been around since 1913. I didn’t do an exhaustive search for reviews, but I noted that Bryan Miller of the Times awarded one star in 1989, and William Grimes demoted it to Fair (two notches below one star) in 2002. Miller noted an earlier two-star review in 1985, which I didn’t try to find. Its most recent write-up was a Diner’s Journal piece by Sam Sifton in May 2004, after a strike had shuttered the restaurant for 112 days during the preceding winter and spring, finding a bit more to like than Grimes did.

The menu is about three times longer than it should be. Reprinted daily, it comes on a broadsheet that takes about 20 minutes to read. No restaurant could possibly offer so many items, and expect to excel at all of them. A month of dinners at the Oyster Bar wouldn’t be sufficient to get through it all.

Both Grimes and Sifton agreed that the bar is superior to the tables, but we were ignorant of that advice, and sat in the dining room (which, in any case, was better suited to our party of three).

 

While we waited for the third in our party to arrive, my friend and I shared the completely forgettable Fried Oysters with Tartar Sauce ($8.95; above left). The Smokehouse Sampler ($23.95; above right) features Atlantic Salmon, Pacific Sturgeon, Brook Trout, horseradish cream and capers. Once again, I was struck by the blandness of it.

One of my friends ordered the New England Clam Chowder ($5.75), which she loved. The other ordered the Trio of Cheeses ($8; pictured left), which he enjoyed. There are probably some wonderful things among the 100+ choices at the Oyster Bar, but I wouldn’t recommend either of the ones I tried.

Service was not particularly attentive, but everything we ordered came out fairly quickly. There are some unusual bottled beers, and in his review Grimes had good things to say about the wine list. We contented ourselves with some port after dinner.

Oyster Bar & Restaurant (Lower Level, Grand Central Terminal, East Midtown)

Food: Bland
Service: Acceptable
Ambiance: It’s a train station
Overall: Ho-hum

Gilt

Note: This is a review of Gilt under chef Christopher Lee, who left the restaurant at the end of 2008 to take over at Aureole. Gilt closed in late 2012. A new restaurant from French chef Michel Richard is expected to replace it, sometime in 2013.

*

Gilt was one of the most hotly anticipated restaurant openings of the 2005 season. The chef, enfant-terrible Paul Liebrandt, delivered a menu that lived on danger’s edge. It was at times dazzling, and probably exceeded the legal limit for ingredients per square inch. In the Times, Frank Bruni wasn’t wowed, awarding two stars.

I was a little more enthusiastic than Bruni, and awarded three stars. Yet, I can see why Gilt v1.0 ran into problems. Much as I appreciated what Liebrandt was doing, I wasn’t dying to try it again. I suspect others felt the same. And no restaurant can survive solely on first-time visitors. I also suspect that in that neighborhood, and in the same space that once hosted Le Cirque, a more conservative style was called for.

In late 2006, Chris Lee replaced Paul Liebrandt. Prices, though still expensive, were reduced somewhat. The three-course prix fixe that was $92 under Liebrandt now sells for $78. A seven-course tasting menu that was once $160 is now $135, and there is also a five-course tasting menu for $105. Bruni was more impressed with Gilt v2.0, though it received only a “Dining Brief,” not a full re-review.

Last week, I took a friend to Gilt for her birthday dinner. Truth be told, I was planning to order the standard three-course menu so that I could try Lee’s best known dish, the Tuna Wellington. But my friend rather liked the five-course tasting menu line-up ($105), and as it was her evening, that’s what we ordered, along with the sommelier’s wine pairing ($65).

This was the menu:

Wild Japanese Hamachi Sashimi
Watermelon “Margarita”, Cucumber, Jicama, Anise Hyssop Dressing

Soft Shell Blue Crab
Sweet Yellow Corn, Avocado, Lime Crème Fraîche, Spicy Tomato Broth

Crispy Black Bass
Piperade with Chorizo, Red Bliss Potatoes, Garlic Aioli, Saffron Mussel Broth

Smoked Prime Beef Tenderloin
Creamed Corn, Pickled Vegetables, Pancetta, Bourbon Sweet Potatoes

Chocolate Ice Cream Cones
Peanut Butter Chocolate, Mint Chocolate, Banana Brownie

There was a consistent quality level that could almost be called dull. I liked everything we tried, without loving any of it. There wasn’t any “wow,” but there were no duds either. Most tasting menus I’ve tried have a wider variety of extremes, both good and bad. This was a menu that could have offended no one. The smoked tenderloin was particularly good, and that is somewhat unusual at this type of restaurant. The wines, too, seemed to be chosen for their ability to blend with just about any diner’s sensibilities.

The early courses came out a bit too quickly. My friend and I are both fast drinkers, but when the third glass (of six) arrived, we hadn’t yet finished the first or the second. To their credit, when we asked them to slow down, they did. That point aside, the service was as professional and seamless as you’d expect for a restaurant in Gilt’s price range.

While I would have preferred a bit more sense of adventure in Lee’s choices, clearly he was hired as the conservative antidote to Paul Liebrandt, and he appears to have given Gilt’s owners what they wanted.

Gilt (455 Madison Avenue at 50th Street in the Palace Hotel, East Midtown)

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

Smith & Wollensky

Smith & Wollensky isn’t quite the dean of New York steakhouses, but at thirty years old, it predates most this city’s beef emporiums. There are now S&W’s in nine cities. In New York alone, the same restaurant group also owns Post House and Quality Meats, in addition to the flagship at 49th & 3rd.

I believe I paid my first visit to S&W around fifteen years ago. My only recollection is the after-dinner cigars we enjoyed at the bar, an experience that couldn’t be reproduced today. A few weeks ago, a friend visiting from out of town was in a steakhouse mood. We chose S&W, as it was near his hotel.

S&W offers the same generic menu, at the same generic prices, that you find at most New York steakhouses. We both ordered the filet mignon, which came in a huge double portion. It was charred, nicely aged, and prepared to the correct temperature. The server was no doubt aware that it came with an ample helping of vegetables, but he didn’t mention that as we ordered an entirely unnecessary side order of creamed spinach.

The décor is unremarkable. When I wandered around looking for the restroom, it struck me that the upkeep was a bit sloppy, with various carts and trays left lying around in a hallway.

Smith & Wollensky has enjoyed four full New York Times reviews—a remarkable achievement for a formula restaurant. In December 1977, shortly after it opened, Mimi Sheraton rated it “Fair.” The format has apparently changed over time, as Sheraton described Smith & Wollensky as an “Italian steakhouse,” and there certainly is no vestige of that today. For the record, there never was anyone named Smith or Wollensky; the founder, Alan Stillman, chose those two names at random out of a Manhattan telephone directory.

In 1986, Bryan Miller upgraded the restaurant to “Satisfactory,” and then again in 1990 to one star. In its most recent review, in 1997, Ruth Reichl called it “A Steakhouse to End All Arguments,” awarding two stars. It was a peculiar headline, given her admission that she preferred Peter Luger (to which she had awarded three stars). To her, the difference was that at Smith & Wollensky you could order a fish entrée, and not feel like it had been an afterthought.

In  the last several years, there has been a glut of new steakhouses. Many of them mindlessly follow the traditional format, but a few have actually improved on it, such as BLT Prime, Porter House, and S&W’s sister establishment, Quality Meats. I suspect even Ruth Reichl would agree that, these days, a traditional steakhouse needs a little something extra to win two stars. These newer restaurants have it; Smith & Wollensky does not.

Smith & Wollensky (797 Third Avenue at 49th Street, East Midtown)

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

Mint

My friend Kelly and I paid a visit to Mint a few weeks ago. The décor has a cool, modern vibe that’s calculated to appeal to the East Midtown lunch circuit. At dinner time, it was not particularly busy.

The menu is a mix of Indian standards and a few original dishes. I shot photos, but didn’t take notes at the time. Our general sense was that the appetizers (top row of photos) were better than the entrées (bottom row). Kelly particularly raved about the Crispy Cauliflower tossed in Tomato Garlic Sauce (top right). The platings, however, are rather humdrum and might even be called careless. Prices don’t break the bank, with all appetizers at $12 or lower, and entrées at $20 or lower.

Service was a bit confused. There are different drinks menus at the bar and the tables. Our server had trouble understanding that, although we were seated at a table, we wanted one of the drinks from the bar. I cannot recall another restaurant with such a peculiar arrangement. Our bread order also flummoxed them.

Mint is a slight cut above the usual Indian restaurant in New York City, and certainly acceptable if you happen to be in the neighborhood, but not worth going out of the way.

Mint (150 E. 50th Street in the San Carlos Hotel, between Third & Lexington Avenues, East Midtown)

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

Felidia

Note: Click here for a more recent review of Felidia.

Felidia is the gold standard for Italian restaurants in New York. If the arc of New York Times reviews can be believed, it has only gotten better since it opened in 1981. Just three months after it opened, Mimi Sheraton awarded one star, finding the food “disappointingly inconsistent.” By 1988, Bryan Miller found it “more consistent,” bumping it up to two stars. By 1995, Ruth Reichl found it “charming and professional,” promoting it to three stars, which Frank Bruni re-affirmed last year.

Bruni said that Felidia “hasn’t changed all that much” since Ruth Reichl’s review, which only shows how careless he can be. Reichl referred to “the bare upstairs dining room.” Judging by the photo (which is almost exactly the view we had from our table), the restaurant has been renovated since then. Reichl also referred to “great wines (at great prices),” which today is only half true. The enormous wine list is still terrific (and hard to navigate), but no one would call it a bargain.

More importantly, Felidia got itself a new executive chef a year after Reichl’s review was published. Fortunato Nicotra has helmed the kitchen since 1996. With owner Lidia Bastianich busy running a restaurant empire, writing cookbooks, and hosting TV shows, it’s safe to say that Felidia’s three-star laurels rest on his shoulders more than anyone else’s.

I dined at Felidia with a colleague about a month ago. Everything we ordered was absolutely first-rate. Fortunato makes a terrific appetizer with asparagus, prosciutto, and a sunny-side-up fried egg. At $24 it’s rather pricy, but well worth it. (The rest of the appetizers range anywhere from $7–30.)

Pastas range from $20–36, but the restaurant will gladly divide an order at no extra charge. My colleague and I shared the duck pappardelle ($24), which was again excellent. Entrées range from $24–38. Crusted blue-fin tuna ($34) didn’t knock my socks off the way the appetizer and pasta did, but it was very solidly executed.

Tables are rather tightly spaced—at least upstairs, where we dined. However, it was not crowded, and there were none of the service issues that one occasionally hears about when this restaurant is busy. Service was polished, if perhaps not quite living up to the elegance of the food.

A couple of years ago, Lidia Bastianich teamed up with Mario Batali to open Del Posto, which was supposed to be the first all-out attempt at creating a four-star Italian restaurant in New York. We all know the story: Del Posto garnered only three stars from Frank Bruni, and many people thought he was being generous. Having now dined at Felidia and Batali’s flagship, Babbo, my sense is that Del Posto was less than the sum of its parts. Babbo and Felidia are the royalty of Italian dining in New York, and Del Posto is their bastard child.

Felidia (243 E. 58th Street between 2nd & 3rd Avenues, East Midtown)

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

Le Périgord

Note: Click here for a more recent review of Le Périgord.

In a town where a five-year-old restaurant can seem old, Le Périgord is a survivor. Open since 1964, it is one of the city’s few remaining classic haute French restaurants. Actually, if you’re looking for a certain kind of French elegance, Le Périgord and La Grenouille are your only options. I found La Grenouille fair-to-middling when I visited a few months ago, so I thought it was time to give Le Périgord a try.

For the record, Le Périgord currently carries a two-star rating from The New York Times, per William Grimes in 2000. An oft-reviewed restaurant, it has ranged between one and three stars, depending on the critic and the year. First one critic would find Le Périgord over-the-hill; then, a new chef would arrive, and shake things up. Jacques Qualin, the chef when Grimes reviewed it, left in 2003, replaced by Joel Benjamin, whom I assume is the man in charge today (his name is not on the menu).

The space has never been as lovely as the rival Grenouille. Grimes found it looking much better after a 2000 renovation, but it nevertheless seems a little dull. The curtains don’t quite have the sheen that they should; the lighting, neither bright nor dim, doesn’t help. There’s an “old smell,” as if the space hasn’t had a good airing out. But the banquettes are comfortable, the tables set elegantly.

The Friday before Memorial Day was probably not a typical evening. No more than eight tables were occupied, most of them with patrons not younger than 70. The captain assured me that there’s normally a more varied dinner crowd, as I expect there would be with the United Nations located just a few blocks to the south. Only a skeleton service staff seemed to be on duty on this holiday-weekend evening, but they were attentive and friendly.

The menu for dinner is $65 prix fixe, about $30 less than La Grenouille, although numerous dishes carry supplements. Many of the menu choices are classic French staples. A few choices break that pattern, such as a Kobe-style ribeye.

The wine list wasn’t nearly as over-priced as I expected, but there were very few half-bottles. Make that almost none. There were about a half-dozen choices by the glass, but I wanted a half-bottle, so I landed on a Pouilly-Fuissé basically by default. It turned out to be a wonderful wine to go with fish, so I was none the worse for the lack of choice.

I wasn’t very encouraged when the butter that came with the bread service was rock-hard, clearly sliced long before I arrived, and stored in the fridge. But the food turned out to be very good indeed.

To start, smoked salmon in a pastry crust was beautifully presented, and the vegetable garnish was most enjoyable.

I was especially impressed with the sea bass entrée. The skin was crisp, and the flesh tender. The sauce was described as champagne and caviar. I detected no caviar, but with the fish prepared so immacuately, it hardly mattered.

Four soufflés are available ($6 supplement, and you have to order them before dinner): chocolate, black currant, grand marnier, and armagnac. I chose the armagnac soufflé, which initially looked a lot prettier than the photo shows, before the server split it open and poured a hot armagnac sauce at the table.

It’s probably no accident that restaurants offering classic French cuisine are going the way of the dinosaur: it’s a style of dining that no longer appeals to many diners. Truth to tell, I don’t choose it very often myself. But when I’m in that mood, it’s nice to know that places like Le Périgord are still there.

Le Périgord (405 E. 52nd Street, east of First Avenue, Turtle Bay)

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

The Four Seasons

Note: Click here for a more recent review of the Four Seasons.

*

The Four Seasons is an iconic restaurant. Located in the Seagram Building at 52nd & Park, it opened in 1959 to immediate acclaim. Architect Philip Johnson designed the interior, which cost $4.5 million to build. Even today, that would be a large sum to invest in a restaurant. The space is landmarked—the only Manhattan restaurant to be so designated. (There are other restaurants in landmarked buildings, but no other restaurants that are landmarks themselves.)

Reviewing for The New York Times on October 2, 1959, Craig Claiborne wrote:

There has never been a restaurant better keyed to the tempo of Manhattan than the Four Seasons, which opened recently at 99 East Fifty-second Street.

Both in décor and in menu, it is spectacular, modern and audaceous. It is expensive and opulent and it is perhaps the most exciting restaurant to open in new York within the last two decades. On the whole, the cuisine is exquisite in the sense that la grande cuisine française is exquisite.

The Pool RoomThese days, the Four Seasons is mostly known as a power lunch destination. In the famous grill room, one may rub noses with Hillary Clinton, Henry Kissinger, Mike Bloomberg, or Sandy Weill. The serene pool room is one of the city’s most romantic dining spots. Celebrities have flocked there from the beginning. John F. Kennedy had his 45th birthday party at the Four Seasons, of which the restaurant doesn’t fail to remind you: a copy of the menu for that occasion is bound into the wine list.

For many years, the kitchen at the Four Seasons turned out food that justified all that attention. eGullet historian Leonard Kim found numerous Times reviews from 1971 onward—generally three stars, although in 1979, its twentieth anniversary year, Mimi Sheraton demoted it to two. Her successor, Bryan Miller, restored it to three stars in 1985. He re-affirmed that rating in 1990, as did Ruth Reichl in 1995.

The BarIn recent times, no one has suggested that the Four Seasons is a hotbed of culinary invention. Earlier this year, Frank Bruni demoted the Four Seasons to two stars, where it is likely to remain for a very long time. Christian Albin has been in charge of the kitchen for the last seventeen years, and though the menu does change with the seasons, Albin is not a risk-taker. He dutifully turns out the continental classics that the restaurant’s conservative clientele demands. Bruni found, and I concur, that the cooking can be terrific, but it can be boring and sloppy too.

Though I expected no pyrotechnic fireworks on the plate, I nevertheless craved a visit to the legendary Four Seasons, and my friend Kelly’s 37th birthday provided the occasion. Frank Bruni warned that this is “a restaurant that runs on two tracks — one for the anonymous, another for the anointed.” As Kelly and I are clearly in the former category, I wondered how we’d be treated.

I needn’t have worried on that score. I requested a Pool Room table, and we were indeed seated there, close to the famous pool. The serving staff at the Four Seasons seem mildly bored with their lot in life, but they provided classic, efficient service. When I arrived a bit wet (it was raining, and I’d forgotten my umbrella), the host handed me a napkin to dry off with. I started the evening with a drink at the bar, and the tab was transferred to my dinner bill, as it should be at any fine restaurant. At no point were we made to feel anything less than special.

The prices are eye-popping, with most appetizers $18–42 (not counting caviar at $140), and most entrées $37–56 (with lobster $75 and Kobe beef $125). Of sixteen entrées, eight are over $50, and only three are under $40. As far as I know, it is the most expensive à la carte menu in town. While we enjoyed almost everything we had, it was one of those celebratory occasions when price is really beside the point. Viewed in the cold light of day, very little that the kitchen produces can justify these prices.

To start, I had the Beef Tartare with Osetra Caviar ($38; above right), an assembly-line dish that had none of the tangy, spicy seasoning I was longing for. Kelly started with an assortment of oysters and clams ($25; below), with which she seemed satisfied.

I was keen to have the duck, which was one of the few dishes Frank Bruni really loved. Fortunately, Kelly was of the same mind, since it’s served only for two ($55 per person). As Bruni put it, the duck, carved tableside, “emerges from a Peking-style sequence of many days and steps, is as astonishing as ever, a knockout of crunchy skin and succulent meat.” Have I ever had duck better than this? Not that I recall.

Kelly loves soufflés ($15), so we ordered them for dessert: strawberry for her, Grand Marnier for me. We both thought the strawberry was a little better, though neither one matched the absurdly decadent chocolate soufflé we had at Town.

I alerted the management in advance that this was Kelly’s birthday, and they brought one of the odder birthday cakes I’ve seen: a large ball of cotton candy with a candle on top. It was probably the most creative idea they had, but after a few bites the cotton candy quickly became cloying. There was an attractive selection of petits-fours, and we finished nearly all of them.

For a restaurant of this calibre, I was surprised to find that the wine list was rather unimpressive. Indeed, more pages of the little book are devoted to photos from the restaurant’s past than to wines. However, I was happy to find a wonderful 1999 Gewurtztraminer from Alsace for $76. At the restaurant’s overall price level, I considered it a bargain. It arrived at our table before we were done with our champagne, and the server was astute enough not to pour it right away—a nice touch that many restaurants wouldn’t get right.

While I wouldn’t visit the Four Seasons for the food alone, the whole package is certainly impressive. For the right special occasion, I’d be happy to dine there again.

The Four Seasons (99 East 52nd Street between Park and Lexington Avenues, East Midtown)

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

Wild Salmon

Note: Wild Salmon closed at the end of 2007, yet another failure for Jeffrey Chodorow. The space became Richard Sandoval’s Zengo.

*

Wild Salmon is the latest offering from restauranteur Jeffrey Chodorow. His China Grill Management empire now spans twenty-five restaurants in ten cities—several of them mini-chains, such as Asia de Cuba and China Grill, both in five cities. The first opened in 1987, so it’s clear he turns them out in a hurry.

He’s also a prolific failure. Just three months ago, Kobe Club received zero stars from Frank Bruni of the Times. It was a replacement for another failure, Mix in New York. Wild Salmon replaces the failed English is Italian, which replaced the failed Tuscan, which replaced the failed Tuscan Steak. Across town, there was the failed Rocco’s (made famous in the TV series The Restaurant) and its successor, the failed Brasserio Caviar and Banana. All gone.

The Upstairs Bar

Wild Salmon, described as “A Pacific N. W. Brasserie,” looks to have a brighter future. A solid and moderately priced seafood restaurant, it should have no trouble drawing on an East Midtown corporate audience looking to eat well, if unadventurously.

Chef Charles Ramsayer, who moved to New York from Seattle, flies in everything he serves from the Pacific Northwest. The menu offers the usual raw bar items, including several varieties of salmon, prepared every conceivable way. Or you can have anything from Penn Cove Mussels ($7) to a huge platter costing $160. Other starters are $11–26.

 
Bread service (left); Smoked scallops cocktail (right)

I started with the Smoked Scallops ($13), served with sour cream & chives and cocktail sauce—a happy riff on the more commonplace shrimp cocktail (also available). The bread was mightily addictive.

The entrée menu offers a range of composed dishes ($21–38), along with an à la carte section where you choose a protein, a cooking method, and a sauce. Just considering the à la carte seafood options (there’s beef too), there are seven fish, five cooking methods, and eight sauces, making for a dizzying array of 280 combinations, before side dishes are considered.

Cedar Planked King Salmon with Meyer Lemon Orange Hollandaise Sauce

The server recommended the Cedar Planked King Salmon with the Meyer Lemon Orange Hollandaise sauce. At $37, it was $10 more than the next most expensive à la carte fish. It certainly was a solid choice, but there are 279 more options, and it could take a decade to try them all. If Wild Salmon lasts that long.

Among the composed entrées, more than one server recommended the Black Cod ($28), but I doubted that Nobu’s version of it could be improved upon, so I took a pass.

Cheesecake

I had cheesecake for dessert ($9), which wasn’t particularly memorable.

The restaurant is still in its first few weeks of business. It was not full at 9:00 p.m. on a Saturday evening. Nevertheless, as one would expect at a Chodorow restaurant, I was firmly commanded to retire to the bar until my girlfriend arrived. At least it is a comfortable bar that one doesn’t mind retiring to.

Everyone working at Wild Salmon is excited to be there, or they’re putting on a damned good act. Bloomberg reviewer Alan Richman complained that they were too talkative, and I suspect other visitors will too, but we were merely amused. Lines like “We have a plethora of side dishes” or “We have tons of appetizers” aren’t all that helpful.

The wine list is reasonably priced in relation to the rest of the menu. A sommelier came over unbidden and steered us to a terrific pinot noir ($52), and probably not one I would have thought to choose.

The space is attractive and comfortable. Built on two levels, the dining room is downstairs, the bar upstairs. Hundreds of little sculpted salmons hang above the dining room (they reminded Richman of sperm), reminiscent of Kobe Club’s dangling samurai swords. But here, one needn’t worry of imminent death should one of them fall.

We enjoyed our meal, but wouldn’t rush back. We suspect that’ll be Frank Bruni’s verdict, too. The bartender told us that, as far as they knew, Bruni hadn’t been in yet. I suggest they simplify the menu. Frank doesn’t like to have quite so many choices. Neither did we.

Wild Salmon (622 Third Avenue at 40th Street, East Midtown)

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

La Grenouille

La Grenouille is the grandest and the oldest of the city’s few remaining classic French restaurants. It’s not an every-day restaurant (at least, not for most people), but for that rare special occasion, I’m glad it’s there. My girlfriend and I paid a visit last week with my mom, on her 70th birthday.

The death of this type of fine dining has long been forecast. In a January 1991 review (the last of three that he would write), Bryan Miller said:

If you listen to some restaurant-industry pundits, La Grenouille is just the type of expensive, opulent institution that is slated for extinction as ineluctably as the dinosaurs. In this era of austerity and a return to more ingenuous foods, they say, the dining public is turning away from haute cuisine and embracing little pizzas, pasta, coq au vin and grilled chicken.

So welcome to La Grenouille, Tuesday night, mid-January, traditionally the slowest time of the year for restaurants. The dining room is as packed as Bloomingdale’s during a post-holiday clearance.

That is how we found it last week, on a Tuesday evening. Nor was the clientele composed entirely of retirees and their families. To be sure, while the restaurant’s center of gravity is clearly the 55-and-over set, I saw at least three tables with young couples that appeared to be under 35. I’m sure that some kind of special occasion lured them to La Grenouille.

The experience here may have once been about the food, but those days are long since past. A book for sale in the vestibule, The Flowers of La Grenouille, hints at the restaurant’s calling card. Even in 1980, when Mimi Sheraton awarded four stars in the Times, La Grenouille’s annual flower budget was $75,000. The three-course dinner back then was $35.75. Today it is $95, so I would imagine that the flower budget has nearly tripled.

Bryan Miller, probably the paper’s toughest grader in recent times, demoted La Grenouille to two stars in 1985, and then just one star in 1987, before elevating it back to three stars in 1991. Ruth Reichl reviewed it twice (1993, 1997), awarding three stars on both occasions. In the latter review, she found it “the most frustrating restaurant in New York,” finding both “flashes of brilliance” and “deep disappointment.” She said, “It could so easily be a four-star establishment.”

By all evidence, the current Times critic finds French food boring, so I doubt he plans to spend much time at La Grenouille. But were he to review it again, I doubt that it would retain its three-star status, as I can think of any number of better restaurants to which he has awarded only two. The overall experience is still one of gracious luxury, but the cooking has probably seen better days.

I believe the amuse-bouche was a celery root soup — certainly competent, but not a patch on the sunchoke soup amuse we had the night before at Perry St.

 
Sweetbreads (left); Le Choix des Hors d’Oeuvre (center); Lobster Ravioli (right)

La Grenouille charges $95 for three courses, and it can easily be more, as many of the dishes carry supplements. Prices are in the range of the city’s four-star restaurants, but there were no “oohs” and “ahhs” at our table, except perhaps for my mom’s sweetbreads. I started with the plate of mixed cold hors d’oeuvres, an impressive portion, but entirely forgettable. Equally forgettable were my girlfriend’s lobster ravioli, which carried a $15 supplement.

My mom and my girlfriend had rack of lamb. With only two ribs offered, it was an ungenerous portion, and my girlfriend reported that one of hers wasn’t warm enough. I ordered the Pike Quenelles, a classic French dish that few restaurants serve any more. I’m at a bit of a disadvantage to report on it, as I’ve never had this dish before, but like my girlfriend’s lamb, it seemed not as warm as it should be, and the accompanying white rice tasted like Uncle Ben’s.

We all ordered soufflés for dessert ($9.75 supplement). My mom and I had the grand marnier soufflé, which was the best thing I had all evening. My girlfriend went for the chocolate soufflé, which she found not as impressive as the one we’d ordered at Etats-Unis a few weeks ago.

The wine list at La Grenouille is notoriously expensive, so I was happy to find a very good 2003 Châteauneuf-du-Pape for $95. The service had all of the traditional French trappings, beginning with the host’s greeting, “Bon soir, Madame,” when we arrived. The bill had separate tip lines for the captain and the waiter, a distinction that has disappeared almost everywhere else. (I just tipped a bulk amount; how they divide it shouldn’t be my problem.)

If the food was not the superb experience that it could be or should be given the price, the room remains extraordinary, the service polished and courteous. New York has better restaurants, but for some types of special occasions, La Grenouille remains incomparable.

La Grenouille (3 E. 52nd Street between 5th and Madison Avenues, East Midtown)

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

Return to Aquavit Cafe

My friend and I were wowed by our dinner at Aquavit Cafe in April. The kitchen sent out a bunch of free food, and everything we had was first-rate, so we decided to try it again on Saturday night.

We both decided on the prix fixe ($37), choosing the herring sampler and the Swedish meatballs. I chose the Arctic Circle for dessert. I described these dishes in two earlier reports (here and here), so I won’t repeat myself. This time, there was no free food—not that I had any right to expect any. Service was somewhat less efficient than before.

A $20 wine pairing is available with the prix fixe. The herring sampler came with beer and potato vodka, as in the main dining room. It’s a Swedish tradition, and I can’t complain. But the meatballs came with the most bitter Merlot I’ve ever been served. Didn’t these guys see Sideways? This was an uninspired choice, to say the least. Happily, fizzy dessert wine with our third course washed away the Merlot’s acidic taste.

I continue to like Aquavit Cafe for an offbeat casual dinner. It’s also an excellent date place, as you can actually hear yourself talk—an increasingly rare luxury in Manhattan restaurants.

Aquavit Cafe (65 E 55th St between Park & Madison Aves, East Midtown)

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