Mr. Jones

Note: Mr. Jones closed in June 2009.

*

It was the day after Thanksgiving, and we wanted something casual. I decided on Mr. Jones, the new Yakitori restaurant on the northern edge of the East Village. If Jones doesn’t sound familiar, you haven’t missed anything: he’s fictitious. What he has to do with Yakitori, or Japanese food served on skewers, utterly eludes me.

Restaurant Girl nailed the décor: George Jetson’s bachelor pad. Someone dropped major coin to build it, but the design betrays some indecision about the mission. The inconspicuous exterior looks like a garage door. Inside, it looks more like a party lounge than a restaurant, with its tightly-packed tiny tables and low-slung chairs. “Japanese” isn’t exactly what comes to mind. I’ve been to a few Yakitori restaurants in Tokyo. They look nothing like this.

Neither do the staff: our server was a busty Brazilian girl, dressed in a low-cut frock. The manager looked like the Russian mafia. The chef, Bryan Emperor, isn’t Japanese either, but he has some serious cred., with stints at Nobu, Megu, Bouley, and a kaiseki restaurant in Japan. His job is more boring than a Maytag repair man’s: we found his restaurant almost totally empty. I hope for his sake that the day after Thanksgiving was atypical.

You can have some fun here. The cocktails are a diverse lot, many of them classics,and well made. Most of the food follows the food-on-skewers theme, though with some ingredients I’ve never seen in Japan, like pork belly, foie gras, and chicken wings. There are some misfires, but most of what we tried was enjoyable.

We spent just $114 for two before tax & tip, and that included two cocktails apiece. At that price, one is loath to complain. Nevertheless, several dishes came out not quite warm enough—an odd mistake, given that we had the place to ourselves.

The small-plates format encourages communal ordering, though some items weren’t well designed for it (e.g., why three meatballs?), and when we asked for plates to divide our food, the little dishes they produced were only slightly larger than a cigar box. Like most small-plate restaurants, the kitchen tosses out the food at whatever pace and in whatever order suits the chef. Sometimes you have nothing, and at other times you have two plates at once.

They were also out of several things, on a small menu of about 35 appetizer-sized items in various categories (chicken, beef, rice, soup…), most of them $10 or less. With some help from our server, we chose eight items to share, which proved to be about right. They were all $5–9 apiece except for the Kobe meatballs, which were $12.

The menu has been changing. Those meatballs were originally listed at $16, and some other items shown on the bill don’t agree with the online version.

Berkshire Black Hog Belly ($5; above left) is usually a safe bet, but this skewer was lukewarm and adorned with not much more than a bit of sea salt. Tori Tatsuta Age ($9; above right), or Japanese style chicken wings, were a hit, with a generous allotment of six to the portion.

Chicken is probably the most authentic of Mr. Jones’s Yakitori ingredients. Naturally, it is “Organic Free Range Chicken,” but when it’s drowning in spicy Yuzu sauce ($7; above left), I doubt its pedigree matters very much. It was actually one of the better items on the menu, in an unsubtle way.

I liked the Kobe Meatballs stuffed with foie gras ($12; above right), though as noted above, it wasn’t easy to divide 3 meatballs among two people.

Wagyu Short Ribs ($8; above left) were tender, and the kitchen wisely went easy on the sauce, letting the superior beef speak for itself. The next item was a bowl of mushrooms and rice ($9; above right) that I don’t recognize in the online menu. The mushrooms were a tad under-cooked.

Vegetable tempura ($8; above left) was perfectly done: six pieces in a light and greaseless tempura batter. Calamari tempura ($8; above right) suffered from an excess of sauce. Any calamari beneath all that batter was undetectable.

There are some slips-ups on the menu at Mr. Jones and some faulty execution in the kitchen, but we enjoyed most of what we tried. With most of the items priced under $10, you don’t feel cheated if one or two of them are less than satisfying. For a diverting bit of fun, Mr. Jones is worth a visit.

Mr. Jones (243 E. 14th Street between 2nd & 3rd Avenues, East Village)

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

Back Forty

Note: Back Forty closed in late 2014, due to “a difficult landscape and lease uncertainty.” Its sister restaurant, Back Forty West, remains open.

*

When I reviewed Savoy two years ago, I noted my amazement that chef–owner Peter Hoffman had remained satisfied with just one restaurant after sixteen years in business. These days, any reasonably successful chef feels the itch to open a second place, and soon after, a third.

Sure enough, a year later came Back Forty, a more casual restaurant than Savoy, but in the same haute barnyard style that Hoffman made popular before everyone was doing it. Actually, the décor feels a bit like a gussied-up barnyard, with hefty wooden tables and farm implements hanging from the walls.

In the Times, Peter Meehan reviewed Back Forty a year ago today, finding it inconsistent but promising. Reviews turn up regularly on the food boards, suggesting that this restaurant is pulling in much more than just the East Village neighborhood crowd. Then again, these days practically any good East Village restaurant can consider itself a destination.

The menu is extremely inexpensive for a restaurant of this quality, with starters $4–10, entrées $10–20, sides $3–7, and desserts $7–8. Most of the wines are under $50 per bottle, with ample choices below $40. A quartino of the house red was just $5.

I had come for the burger, which I knew would be quite filling, so I ordered just a small appetizer for my son and me to share, the Pork Jowl Nuggets ($4; below left). Had the server told us that it came with just three extremely small “nuggets,” we would have ordered a second starter. They were extremely good, with just a touch of spice supplied by Jalapeño jam, but after we divided the middle nugget in two, all we had were two tiny bites apiece.

We debated whether to order something else, but we figured our burgers would be quickly on the way. Alas, we waited quite a while for them. At another table that was seated after us, their burgers came before ours did. (The burger seems to be a popular choice; we saw quite a few of them come out.)

This being an haute barnyard, Back Forty doesn’t serve merely a burger, but a Grass Fed Burger (above right). It’s $11 on its own, $2 for cheese (only Farmhouse Cheddar is offered), another $2 for Heritage Bacon (which we skipped), and another $2 for Rosemary Fries on the side.

Meehan at the Times felt that the grass-fed beef “lacks something,” but we thought it was pretty damned good, with a delicious buttery softness, although a tad too small for the bun. The fries were terrific, too. My son, who isn’t easily pleased, thought this was a restaurant he’d happily come back to.

Avenue B is a considerable distance out of the way, so I probably won’t be returning quite as often as Back Forty deserves. There’s a whole pig roast on Monday evening, and I’d certainly love to come back for that.

Back Forty (190 Avenue B at 12th Street, East Village)

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

Prune

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Persimmon

 

Note: Persimmon closed as of August 2009. The space became The Brindle Room.

*

The new Korean restaurant Persimmon opened quietly in the East Village a couple of months ago. So far, it has rave reviews in New York and the Village Voice to its name.

Critics have noted the similarity to Momofuku Ko: low seating capacity (24), backless stools, and a prix-fixe Korean-inspired menu that goes heavy on the pork and kimchi. The staffing level is similar to Ko: four chefs, a dishwasher, and two servers. The head man, Youngsun Lee, even has some Momofuku time on his resume.

The open kitchen

The differences are significant, too. Dinner is $37 for five courses—a stunningly good value. There is a printed menu, which changes bi-weekly, offering four or five choices for the appetizer, mid-course, and main course. The cuisine is more authentically Korean, in contrast to David Chang’s Momofuku empire, which borrows from many cultures and cooking styles.

Most importantly, you can get into Persimmon without playing Momofuku Ko’s website lottery. Reservations are accepted by phone and seem to be readily available. Persimmon caters to a late-arriving East Village crowd: less than half full at 8:00 p.m. on a Saturday evening, but full by 9:30.

Persimmon isn’t as good as Ko, but at roughly one-third the price it is well worth your time and attention. There will be a new menu by the time you read this, but it will give an idea of what Chef Lee is up to.

The restaurant seats twenty at a long communal table, and four at a bar that faces the open kitchen. We were lucky enough to be seated at the bar, so we were able to watch the food being prepared and have a dialog with the chef.

 
Left: Grilled Korean Blood Sausage; Right: Fried Stuffed Squash Blossoms

I started with the Grilled Korean Blood Sausage, served with pig’s liver, pig’s stomach, scallions and Korean herbs. The menu admits that the sausage comes from Min Sok Restaurant in Flushing. It’s an understatement to say that this dish isn’t for everybody, but I loved the salty, hot, intense flavor.

My girlfriend was impressed with the Fried Stuffed Squash Blossoms, filled with scallop, tofu, and Korean miso. Squash blossom season is ending, so this dish is almost certainly no longer on the menu.

Sliced Braised Pork Belly

For the second course, we both chose the Sliced Braised Pork Belly, or Bo Ssäm. Despite the similar name, don’t expect the Momofuku Ssäm Bar version. The pork comes pre-sliced, with kimchi, salted Napa cabbage and salted baby shrimp on the side.

I thought the pork was a bit too bland. As you can see in the photo, it’s unadorned white squares of pork. My girlfriend didn’t share that complaint, perhaps because her portion had more fat. We both loved the intense moo woo kimchi, which I used as a meat garnish.

 
Right: Monkfish Stew; Left: Kimchi Stew

All of the main courses are soups or stews. My girlfriend chose the Kimchi Stew, with onion, tofu, scallions, mushrooms and pork. I had the Monkfish stew with mussels, soybean sprouts, red peppers, chives, garlic and honey.

Both stews came out in their own crockpots, so hot that the broth was still bubbling. Had they spilled on us at that point, we would have been in the E.R. with first-degree burns. It was quite a while before we could dare taste them. Both were spicy and intensely flavorful. Mine was filled with huge chunks of monkfish, vegetables, and a good half-dozen clams. Eating it without a knife (not supplied, and not available) was a challenge, though well worth it. I don’t normally like to work for my food, but this was a rewarding exception.

  
Left: Browned Rice Porridge; Center: Korean cookies; Right: Fermented fish intestines

No choice is offered for the last two courses, and both were letdowns. The chef assured us that Browned Rice Porridge is a Korean standard, but to us it just seemed like dull rice with warm tea poured over it. There was a far better rice side dish served with the main course. A second rice dish didn’t really add much. Dessert came in the form of traditional Korean cookies (sesame, black sesame and wild sesame), which were dry and a bit unexciting.

There were various side dishes served with the meal. I don’t remember them all, but they were mostly terrific, especially a bowl of kimchi-infused vegetables that we regretted we were too full to finish. Then again, maybe it was too much of a good thing. I also liked a serving of dried salted anchovies, but I don’t recommend the fermented fish intestines.

Persimmon is BYOB, and apparently there’s no intention to change that, but they have nice stemless glasses and ice buckets for white wine. Taken with the almost unbelievably low $37 prix fixe, Persimmon must be one of the best deals in town.

The service staff were friendly and kept on top of things, but the restaurant didn’t really get crowded until the end of our meal. The décor is spare but pleasant, assuming you don’t mind the backless stools. The orange placemats and decorative metal chopsticks were a nice touch, but silverware was not replaced between courses.

The New York review said that the multi-course meal “requires the dedication of the greater part of an evening.” We didn’t find that to be the case; our meal took about 90 minutes, of which about 20 minutes was the time it took for our main courses to cool down to a safe temperature.

Some of the food here is adventurous (blood sausage, fish intestines), but there are “safe” choices for every course, such as chicken dumplings, grilled scallops and miso stew with seafood. There is at least one vegetarian option for each course.

Persimmon is a first-class experience of its kind, and a welcome addition to a Momofuku-dominated neighborhood.

Persimmon (277 E. 10th Street, west of Avenue A, East Village)

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

Momofuku Ko

Note: This is a review of Momofuku Ko in its former location on First Avenue. In November 2014, the restaurant moved to 8 Extra Place.

*

The hassle of obtaining a reservation of Momofuku Ko has quickly become the stuff of legend—and that’s for a restaurant barely over a month old. After finally wrestling this bear to the ground, I can finally answer the question: Is it worth it?

Not that my opinion matters, because MoKo has MoJo (hat tip: The Pink Pig). If, by any chance, there were a negative review—and I haven’t seen one yet—it would hardly make a difference for the restaurant that seemingly can do no wrong. In this week’s New York, MoKo earns four stars from Adam Platt (conferred by the frothing critic after just one visit). At the Paper of Record, Frank Bruni is taking his time, but the smart money is betting on another four-star review.

Irrelevant though our verdict may be, the short answer is: Yes, MoKo really does deserve all of that attention. And yes, if you care at all about food, it really is worth your while to jump through hoops to become one of the approximately 32 guests that are served six nights a week. (They are closed Tuesdays.)

The ten-course tasting menu is not the best we’ve had in New York, but it is pretty darned close. And you get it for $85, which is at least $50 per person less than what you’d pay elsewhere for comparable quality. What you lose is the comfort and coddling that the better restaurants offer. You’re seated at a bar on wooden stools; those with back problems needn’t apply.

The chefs also serve the food, assisted by two servers who have to navigate a narrow space and sometimes can’t quite keep up with the demand. Peter Serpico, the restaurant’s executive chef, served most of our courses. He seemed to have very little enthusiasm for that part of the job. Two other chef–servers seemed more cheerful, but our sense was that the real joy for them is in the cooking.

Chef–owner (and media darling) David Chang was in the house. For about the first half of the meal, he was behind the counter doing mostly prep work, along with three other chefs. A photographer from Bloomberg news was snapping photos; everyone lightened up considerably after he left. Chang later disappeared, though we saw him again briefly before we left. There appeared to be two other employees behind the scenes, washing dishes and doing other prep work.

The two non-chef servers had an awful lot to do: greeting and seating guests; checking and returning coats; taking and delivering beverage orders; clearing plates (but not always); and setting silverware (but not always). Though the restaurant’s 14 seats were never completely full at any time during our meal, that is still a lot for two servers to do. Silverware didn’t always arrive when it should, and we detected some uncertainty among the staff about who was responsible for clearing plates.

Want a cappuccino after dinner? Sorry…they only have espresso.

The entrance, unlabeled and easily missedI am not suggesting that service is bad here, but merely pointing out the gulf between Momofuku Ko and traditional three- and four-star restaurants. The service routine will improve with time, but MoKo will probably never offer the kind of pampering and coddling that many diners expect at this price level. It’s not an “occasion place,” but if future menus are as good as the one we had, I would happily go again. And again.

The beverage program is continuing to improve. There’s now a respectable wine list, with bottles as low as $32, as well as those in the hundreds. There is now a premium wine pairing at $85, in addition to the standard wine pairing at $50 that was available before. We ordered the premium wine pairing and were impressed with the choices, which included two sakes, a sparkling rosé, one red, and a number of whites.

Wine pairings are always a crap-shoot. At their best, you get provocative wines from producers off the beaten path—great wines that compelment the food, and that you never would have chosen yourself. At their worst, you get dull, generic wines that make you wish you’d just ordered a “blow-the-doors off” full bottle. The pairings at Ko are firmly in the first category. At $85, the wines are mostly young; you’re not getting anything like the 1962 Madeira we were served at Per Se. But it is still one of the more impressive wine pairings we’ve had, and well worth it.

In the restaurant’s early days, the menu is pretty much the same for everybody, but there are alternatives for most courses, to offer variety for second-time guests or to accommodate diners with dietary restrictions. We reported only one such restriction (my girlfriend doesn’t eat scallops) but we were served alternatives for four out of ten courses. By switching plates, we were able to sample fourteen dishes between us.

 
English muffin with pork fat and pork rinds (left); Fluke sashimi with spicy buttermilk & poppy seeds (right)

The first item—technically the amuse-bouche—was a miniature English muffin slathered in whipped pork fat, with dried pork rinds on the side. Some reviewers have raved about the muffins, but we weren’t quite as impressed. Chang has proved you can pair pork with anything; so what? The wine pairing was a sparkling rosé.

We adored the first savory course: Long Island fluke sashimi with spicy buttermilk and toasted poppy seeds. The cool, bracing freshness of the fluke worked perfectly with the spicy heat of the buttermilk. The wine pairing was a nice Chablis—and that comes from folks who aren’t Chablis fans.

 
Berkshire pork belly & oyster in kimchi broth (left); Louisiana crawfish in a Georgia pea soup (right)

The next course was split. I had the Berkshire pork belly with a Long Island oyster, Napa cabbage and kimchi consommé. You’ll never go wrong when David Chang serves pork (we saw him shucking the oysters), but I must confess I don’t quite get the fuss over the kimchi that many other critics have raved about.

My girlfriend had the Louisiana crawfish in a Georgia pea soup with crumpet mushrooms. The flavor contrast here might have even been better than the pork/oyster combo, but the crawfish should have been a little warmer. And it was probably just a goof, but we had to ask for spoons.

The wine pairing here was a sake.

 
Hen egg, caviar, potato chips (left); White asparagus, caviar, asparagus purée (right)

Another split course came next, again with white wine.

There’ve been snickers about “hen eggs” (anyone ever hear of a rooster egg?), but they can call it anything they want when it’s this good. A lightly smoked egg was supported here with hackleback caviar and candied lemon zest. At the edge of the plate, a pile of fingerling potato chips added very little to the effect.

We saw the chef lavishing plenty of attention over lovely white asparagus stalks, which were grilled, sauced with an asparagus purée and garnished with caviar. This bland and overly salty creation couldn’t compete with the intensity of the hen egg.

 
Scallop (left); Soft-shell crab (right)

While we were eating our caviar, we watched as the chef decapitated live soft-shell crabs and put them the frying pan, their legs still squirming. We did our best to ignore the crabs’ fate, but it wasn’t a sight for the squeamish.

This was another split course, with the crab served to me and the scallop to my girlfriend, even though she is the one who doesn’t eat scallops. The scallop was served with radishes, the crab with ramps, and both dishes had a other ingredients we couldn’t write down fast enough. The wine pairing was a Chardonnay.

The crab didn’t have much flavor, and it was also difficult to eat. Even though my girlfriend doesn’t eat scallops, I persuaded to try a bite, and she agreed it was the more enjoyable of the two.

Shaved foie gras, lychee, pine nut brittle, riesling gelée

If MoKo has fired a “shot heard ’round the world,” it’s surely the dish that came next: shaved foie gras over lychee, pine nut brittle and a riesling gelée. The ingredients join in your mouth, leaving a startling sensation of the foie gras melting and melding with its unlikely companions.

The wine pairing was a sweet sake.

 
Deep-fried short rib as it came out of the fryer (left); and as served on the plate (right)

The deep-fried short ribs are almost as big a hit. They’re slowly braised overnight, then quickly finished in the deep fryer. The chef trims away the ends, a waste that we considered practically criminal, given how tender they are. I would happily eat a meal comprising nothing but the ends Momofuku is throwing away.

There’s also daikon radish and pickled mustard seed on the plate, but the short rib is the star. The wine pairing was our only red wine of the evening, a Cabernet Sauvignon.

 
Miso soup with grilled rice (left); Lychee sorbet (right)

The last few courses weren’t quite as interesting. The last savory course was a miso soup with grilled rice and pickled vegetables. I believe the rice is slathered in more pork fat. The palate cleanser was a lychee sorbet over sesame crumble.

 
Cereal milk panna cotta (left); Deep-fried apple pie (right)

Everyone at MoKo seems to get one of two desserts, so we were pleased to be able to try both. The more interesting of the two is a cereal milk panna cotta with brittle chocolate and an avocado purée. The alternative was a deep-fried apple pie, which was just fine, but not all that far removed from the McDonalds version. On the whole, the desserts didn’t have the same level of invention as the savory courses.

There were no outright duds among the fourteen items we tasted. Setting aside the hype, there were several extraordinary dishes, a number of others that were merely good, and four or five that really ought to be better. A couple of dishes (the foie gras, the short ribs) have already gone platinum, and may be on the hit parade for a long time to come. The lesser stars will, I am sure, give way to new flights of Momofuku fancy.

Not since Per Se has a new restaurant been the subject of such over-heated attention. But sometimes places are hyped because they’re really worth it, and this is one of them. If you don’t mind hard, backless benches and occasionally inartful service, Momofuku Ko is just about everything it’s cracked up to be.

Momofuku Ko (163 First Avenue between 10th & 11th Streets, East Village)

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

First Look: Terroir

Note: Terroir in the East Village closed in January 31, as part of the culinary divorce between chef Marco Canora and sommelier Paul Grieco. The East Village location is now a wine bar called Fifty Paces, which Canora owns. Terroir Tribeca remains open, under Grieco’s control, and there is also a Highline outpost in the warmer months.

*

It takes a lot to draw me over to First Avenue on a weeknight, which is about as far out of my commuting path as I could get without leaving Manhattan. But when I heard that sommelier Paul Grieco (Hearth, Insieme) was opening a new wine bar, I had to give it a try.

It’s called Terroir, for the French word that describes the “sense of place” that gives each wine its personality. Grieco’s partner, Marco Canora, is in charge of the food, which includes several favorites from his tenure at Craftbar, and other snacks that go well with the informal bar setting. There isn’t much of a kitchen in the tiny space at Terroir, but a lot of the food comes from Hearth, which is just 30 yards down the street.

The vibe is very East Village-y, including the gentle price point. There are over twenty wines offered by the glass, from just $5 to $19, with many at $10 or less. All are also offered by the half-glass. The variety is hard to characterize, but rest assured anything Paul Grieco offers will be compelling.

The wine list at Hearth is famously verbose, but for now the much smaller list at Terroir is limited to the bare facts. “There’s not much literature in it yet,” Grieco said. “Right now, it’s like an e. e. cummings poem.” I suspect it won’t be that way for long.

The food menu fits on one page: bar snacks ($4–5, or 6 for $22); fried stuff ($7); salads ($7–8); bruschetta ($6–7); charcuterie ($4–5, or assortment $21); cheese ($3.50, or 6 for $20); soup ($8); panini ($9) and large plates ($15), with generally four or five choices in each category. The large plates include such choices as veal & ricotta meatballs, braised duck leg, sausage, and broiled sardines.

I ordered the charcuterie assortment ($21), which came with about nine different kinds of hand-cut meats (which is more than I saw listed individually on the menu), a terrific pork terrine, and sliced bread. Canora explained each one, but I won’t attempt to duplicate his descriptions.

I asked Grieco to pair wines with it. He chose a contrasting white from southern Italy and a red from France; for both, he opened a fresh bottle and gave me a small taste before pouring a glass. I was charged half-glass prices ($4.00/$4.75) for what seemed to me generous pours. They were wonderful choices, as I have come to expect from anything Grieco recommends.

The small space was full, but I had no trouble getting a bar stool after about five minutes’ wait. This being opening night, a lot of the customers were friends of the owners, stopping in to say hello. For such a small space, it seemed to be well staffed, with everyone pitching in: Canora cleared plates; Grieco dried glassware.

Now that Canora and Grieco have three restaurants, there is one problem: I don’t know where Grieco will be. I trust that the kitchens can execute Canora’s cuisine in his absence, but who will be there to recommend wines? Wherever Grieco is working on any given day, that’s where I want to dine.

Terroir (413 E. 12th Street east of First Avenue, East Village)

Momofuku Ssäm Bar

Is it possible to be more hyped than David Chang? Where should we start? In 2007, he was the James Beard Rising Star Chef of the Year. Both Bon Appétit and GQ named him Chef of the Year. Frank Bruni awarded two stars to Momofuku Ssäm Bar, then named it Best New Restaurant of 2007, despite the little detail that it opened in 2006.

On eGullet.com, a crowd of adoring admirers has all-but canonized him. They said that Ssäm Bar was at the vanguard of a “New Paradigm” of “haute cheap” restaurant dining. Discussion board regulars criticised me, not because I disliked Momofuku Ssäm Bar (which I don’t) but because I failed to exhibit the required paroxysm of rapture. In truth, on two previous visits I found the food at Ssäm Bar very good indeed, though the ambiance leaves a lot to be desired.

That’s the backdrop to the very generous offer I received last week from eGullet regular Nathan, to join him for a Bo Ssäm, the one remaining item at Momofuku Ssäm Bar that I was really dying to try.

The Bo Ssäm is a 10-pound Berkshire pork butt (the shoulder, actually), braised for seven hours. Ssäm Bar serves two of them a night. A Bo Ssäm pre-order is the only way to get a reservation—6:00 p.m. or 10:00 p.m. (11:00 on weekends). It requires a big group, which I’m not quite enterprising enough to put together myself, so I was grateful that Nathan did all of the organizing: he’s so fond of the Bo Ssäm that this is the third time he’s ordered it. And he’ll probably do it again.

Current Menu (click to expand)

Prices at Momofuku Ssäm Bar are gradually inching upward, with many items a dollar or two higher than they were last year. The Bo Ssäm, which was $165 just fifteen months ago, is now $200. There are now two tasting menus ($45 and $75). The wine list has expanded a bit, though I don’t find any of the choices particularly impressive, and most bottles are over $50.

Nathan ordered the appetizers, and our party of nine was able to sample a good deal of the Ssäm Bar menu.

Diver Sea Scallops — lychee, yuzu, watercress (left); Seasonal Pickles (right)

We started with Diver Sea Scallops ($16), which I enjoyed, although Ssäm Bar regulars said that an earlier version of the dish was better. Seasonal Pickles ($10) offer plenty of taste contrasts.

Fuji Apple Kimchi — Burgers’ smoked jowl, maple labne, arugula (left); Steamed Pork Buns (right)

Fuji Apple Kimchi ($13) is one of the regulars’ current favorites, and it can’t be denied that the apple and bacon combination works beautifully. Steamed Buns ($10) with juicy pork belly is a dish that can’t miss.

Fried Brussels Sprouts — chilies, mint, fish sauce (left); Spicy Tripe Salad — poached egg, frisee (right)

I remembered the Fried Brussels Sprouts ($12) from my first visit. They’re terrific, so it’s no surprise they’ve remained on the menu. I was not especially fond of the Spicy Tripe Salad ($15).

Pork Sausage & Rice Cakes — Chinese broccoli, crispy shallots (left); Grilled Veal Sweetbreads (right)

I don’t have a particular recollection of Spicy Pork Sausage & Rice Cakes ($18), but I loved Grilled Veal Sweetbreads ($15)—usually, they’re served fried, breaded or sautéed, but when simply grilled they stand up beautifully on their own.

Santa Barbara Sea Urchin — tapioca, whipped tofu, scallions (left); One dozen oysters (right)

The Santa Barbara Sea Urchin ($16) with tapioca and whipped tofu is a much celebrated dish. I certainly respect the creativity that went into it, but I wasn’t all that enamored with it.

At this point, I felt like I’d already had a full meal, and the pièce de résistance (accompanied by a dozen oysters), hadn’t even been served yet.

The Bo Ssäm in all its Glory

The Bo Ssäm could almost be called liquid pork: it is braised to a point of such tenderness that the meat practically collapses at the touch. It comes with leaves of lettuce; you are supposed to put the pork inside, add sauce, wrap it up, and eat it like a burrito—that’s what the “Ssäm” in the restuarant’s name actually means. I tried this once, but from then on I was content to just eat the pork itself. It is so luscious that one can hardly be bothered to interrupt the appointed journey from plate to mouth. This must be one of the top ten dishes in New York.

 
Cheddar Shortcake — apples, ham cream (left); Hazelnut Torte — parsnip buttercream, grapefruit (right)

Desserts, which could so easily be an afterthought at such a restaurant, were first-rate. I especially liked the Amish Cheddar Shortcake ($9), with an almost wickedly clever “ham cream.” Hazelnut Torte ($9) wasn’t bad either.

With nine certified foodies at the table, it’s no surprise that the State of the Momofuku Empire was a topic of conversation. One of my companions admitted that he had expected to see Momofuku clones springing up; so far, it hasn’t happened. My own view is that Ssäm Bar is sui generis. Impressive as the food may be, it lacks almost every other amenity that a good restaurant should have—a place to hang up your coat, for instance. As prices continue to rise, and Chang is distracted by other projects, I wonder if Ssäm Bar’s charms may start to fade as diners come to grips with its limitations.

There are signs that Chang’s act is starting to wear a little thin. Over on Grub Street, Cutlets suggested that Chang, “earnest and talented as he is…needs to be reassessed.” Over on Eater.com, a contributor complained that the very dish that Momofuku Ssäm Bar was named for—the $10 Momofuku Ssäm—is no longer offered at dinner.

What on earth is Chang up to? Another of my dining companions, a Ssäm Bar regular, conceded that “I’ve never seen him here.” Two weeks ago, Chang announced that “it’s clear some of us need to step aside and let the real talent shine,” naming new chef–partners for his two current East Village restaurants, as well as the still-unopened Momofuku Ko.

You have to wonder if all of the accolades are going to his head. If Thomas Keller—who has more restaurants than Chang—is in the kitchen at The French Laundry on most evenings, then why is Chang “stepping off to work on new restaurant projects” when, less than two years ago, all he had was a noodle bar? As Cutlets notes, “Ko will have to be phenomenal (and, let’s be honest, it very well could be) to shield him from what could be some backlash against the flood of praise bestowed upon the young chef in the past year.”

I don’t think Chang is the certified genius that some people say, but you have to give him credit for the remarkable phenomenon that is Momofuku Ssäm Bar. No one knows where it will go from here, but it certainly won’t be boring.

Momofuku Ssäm Bar (207 Second Avenue at 13th Street, East Village)

Food: **
Service: *
Ambiance: Burrito Bar
Overall: **

Kenka

Masturbation is strictly forbidden at Kenka. That’s just one of many rules at this East Village Japanese restaurant. I hesitate to imagine the unruly patrons it must attract, but the food is surprisingly good.

In Japan, Kenka would be called an izakaya, or drinking establishment. I don’t recall seeing another one like it in New York. The tables are low-slung, with chairs about eighteen inches above the floor. Instead of a coat check, there are piles of open wicker baskets; you take one to your table, and put your coat inside it. The glossy menu is covered with shiny photos of the food, described in Japanese with English translations that are often unhelpful, misspelled, or grammatically incorrect. There are about fifty sakes on offer, all with photos, all inexpensive, and all available by the glass.

  
The décor is unfancy, but authentic, including a row of Japanese pinball machines (above, left). You might have trouble finding the restrooms, as the only signs are the Japanese pictograms for a man and a woman. My friend Kelly guessed that the one that looks like its legs are crossed would be the ladies’ room.

Then, there are the rules:

In case you can’t read them, here are the highlights, all transcribed literally:

• No sake-bomb at all.
• 20% of S.C. will be includes company more than 7 people
• Grafitti or tagging only in japanese. No other language at all.
• No fighting, masturation, having sex or drugs, you will get ejected.
• In the event that a customer breaks any dish or glass on purpose, we will be forced to charge that customer $5 for each thing broken
• In the event that a customer has had too much to drink and vomits outside of the restroom, we will be forced to charge that customer $20 for the cleaning up and inconvenience to our other customers.
• Follow Kenka’s regulation!! Break our regulations or you’ll be thrown out.

Sure enough, both restrooms were full of grafitti, all in Japanese. (The restroom doors are shown above; can you guess which one is the ladies’?)

The menu has about a hundred items, most of them small plates, representing just about every variety of Japanese cuisine, including pig intestines, bull testicles, and turkey penises. (The linked version—the only one I could find online—is incomplete.) We weren’t feeling quite that adventurous, and ordered a more conventionally.

 

Large, fresh oysters (above left) were a salty delight. We paired them with deep-fried oysters (above right), which were just as enjoyable.

 

The next item we had was, I believe, the grilled rice balls (above left). We enjoyed their candied sticky flavor, but they were tough to handle with chopsticks. I barely managed it by “stabbing” mine, and eating it like a lollipop on a stick. Fried rice (above right) had a bounty of fresh-tasting ingredients.

 

The yakitori platter (above left) was the only mild disappointment, as all of the meats seemed tough and overcooked. But everything on the sashimi platter (above right) was first-rate, including a grade of luscious fat-laden tuna (roughly 11:00 on the photo) that I hadn’t seen before.

Service wasn’t fancy, but it was more than adequate for a casual restaurant of this calibre, and all of the food was attractively plated. I didn’t note individual prices, but the total for all of the food shown, plus one drink apiece, was $77 before tax.

As we were leaving, the server gave us a small dixie-cup of pink sugar. Outside the door, there’s a make-it-yourself cotton candy machine. That tiny helping of sugar didn’t make much cotton candy (nor was I hungry for it), but it’s yet another quirk that puts Kenka in a category by itself.

Kenka (25 St. Marks Place near Second Avenue, East Village)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: one of a kind
Overall: *

26 Seats

There’s no mystery behind the name 26 Seats: it’s the capacity of a sweet little East Village restaurant. It’s the kind of quiet French bistro that we like to think the Parisians have on every street. New York ought to have more like it. In the Times, Eric Asimov liked it too, when he reviewed it for $25 and Under in April 2001.

A friend and I had a leisurely dinner there last week. The menu had few surprises, but it’s nice (for a change) to walk into a place where you’re not greeted by a hostess at a computer terminal, where the person seating you remembers your reservation without having to look it up in a book, and where an 8:00 table is yours for the evening.

It’s friendly on the pocketbook too, with appetizers $6–8, entrées $11–16.50,  and desserts $6.50. Wines, I believe, were around $7 a glass for a generous pour, and the server happily accommodated us when, near the end of the evening, we asked to split a glass.

I ordered a duck confit (around $14), which was nothing special, but at that price one can hardly complain. Service was professional and friendly. The space is cozy, but perhaps that is part of the charm.

26 Seats (168 Avenue B between 10th & 11th Streets, East Village)

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

Momofuku Ssäm Bar and the New Paradigm

Note: Click here for a more recent visit to Momofuku Ssäm Bar.

On February 27, eGullet’s Steven A. Shaw (handle: “Fat Guy”) launched a discussion thread called, “Where to get the haute-cuisine experience, cheap.” The premise was Shaw’s observation that, these days, you don’t need to go to a “fine dining” restaurant to get haute cuisine.

Another eGullet member (handle: “Nathan”) dubbed this phenomenon the “New Paradigm” (“NP”), and it stuck—at least with Shaw, Nathan, and one other eGullet member who bought into the idea (handle: “Sneakeater”). Shaw would later claim that it was Bouley Upstairs that got him thinking along these lines, although the discussion thread was launched just six days after Frank Bruni’s two-star review of Momofuku Ssäm Bar.

What exactly is the New Paradigm? The very small band of people who believe in its existence chose a most peculiar lodestar — Frank Bruni himself — though Bruni has never acknowledged a “paradigm” in any review except the one that launched it:

[Momofuku Ssäm Bar] has emerged as much, much more than the precocious fast-food restaurant it initially was. By bringing sophisticated, inventive cooking and a few high-end grace notes to a setting that discourages even the slightest sense of ceremony, Ssam Bar answers the desires of a generation of savvy, adventurous diners with little appetite for starchy rituals and stratospheric prices.

They want great food, but they want it to feel more accessible, less effete. They’ll gladly take some style along with it, but not if the tax is too punishing. And that’s what they get at Ssam Bar, sleek, softly lighted and decidedly unfussy. Most of its roughly 55 seats are at a gleaming dark wood counter that runs the length of the narrow room, though these seats afford more elbow room than exists at the much smaller Noodle Bar.

Many of the remaining seats are at communal tables, and reservations aren’t taken…

There’s a good deal in Bruni’s description that’s patently offensive. Who’s to say that people who want to make a reservation and sit at a table are “effete”? Who’s to say that those who are “savvy” about fine food have “little appetite” for rituals that Bruni finds “starchy”? Bruni’s error, of course, is that he projects his own prejudice onto everyone else. He doesn’t like these things, so he just assumes nobody does—at least, nobody that knows what they’re talking about.

eGullet’s Nathan, who apparently counts mind-reading among his many skills, says that the purported phenomenon “especially appeals to a youthful but knowledgeable demographic.” We can readily believe that Nathan knows at sight who is youthful—although the clientele at Meatpacking District bars, and for that matter the McDonald’s across the street from Stuyvesant High School—seems pretty youthful too. How he discerns that the clientele are knowledgeable is beyond my comprehension. It’s Bruni’s error all over again: he counts himself as knowledgeable, and simply assumes that those dining where he does must be as smart as he is.

Shaw, perhaps realizing that restaurant critics shouldn’t be mind-readers, calls the alleged phenomenon, simply, “haute cheap.” Shaw mined an article (and a paycheck) out of his invention, with an article in the March 19 issue of Crain’s New York Business. He chose five restaurants to illustrate the concept: Momofuku Ssäm Bar, Bouley Upstairs, Degustation, Room4Dessert, and the Bar Room at the Modern.

I’ve dined at all five. Their points in common are not at all new, and can easily be attributed to other explanations. For many years, fine-dining restaurants have been offering casual dining at the bar to walk-in patrons. In a number of places, the “casual front room” takes on the identity of a separate restaurant, though clearly still affiliated with the “mother ship.” Bouley Upstairs and the Bar Room are two of the many examples of this. I love Room4Dessert, but it fails the first test: it may be haute, but it ain’t cheap—bearing in mind that it only serves dessert.

Degustation’s similarity to the others is only skin-deep. Patrons there sit at a bar (as they do at Ssäm Bar and Room4Dessert), and the menu there is “tapas-style” (hardly a novelty these days), but in most other respects it is fairly conventional. Even Shaw had his doubts about it: “Whether Degustation fits the pattern is an open question. I think the food, while quite good, is weaker and less haute than what’s available at Momo-Ssam, Upstairs and certainly the Bar Room at the Modern. Visiting Degustation between Momo-Ssam and Upstairs really emphasized that it’s operating at a lower level…”

Because the New Paradigm is such a tenuous concept, its three advocates have continually struggled to redefine it. Skeptics point out the many holes in their theory, and it morphs into something else. For instance, a no-reservations policy was allegedly a keynote of the paradigm, but three of Shaw’s five examples take reservations. Another canard was “no dress code whatsoever,” but in an age when only about 10 restaurants in town still have a dress code, that hardly narrows it down.

Menu

I paid another visit to Momofuku Ssäm Bar on a weeknight a couple of weeks ago (first visit here), to try to get my arms around this alleged paradigm. As I was by myself, I had no trouble getting a seat at around 7:00 p.m. (Couples who had arrived before me were still waiting, since there weren’t two adjacent bar stools available.) I actually had a pretty good seat, facing part of the open kitchen.

I decided to order two dishes at the opposite end of the Ssäm Bar spectrum: something funky, and something totally conventional. I started with the Veal Head Terrine ($13), mainly because I was alone, and my usual dining companions would have been totally grossed out. If you ignore where it came from, there’s nothing gross about the Veal Head Terrine (photo here). Its bark is worse than its bite.

The terrine is served warm, in a roughly 6”×8” portion sliced as thin as tissue paper. Frankly, I think that if it were sliced thicker, but with a smaller surface area, it would pack a heftier flavor punch. At first, I spread it on the toasted bread provided, but the terrine was overwhelmed. I ate the last half of it without the bread. It had a slightly spicy taste, but was not anything special.

Then I ordered the Milk-Fed Four Story Hill Farm Poulard ($26). For the curious, Frank Bruni had a blog post about this recently. It was a follow-up to his review of Resto. (The Gang of Three have not admitted Resto to the New Paradigm club, despite its similarity to the other restaurants mentioned.) Four Story Hill Farm is, of course, an impeccable poultry source, and Chang’s kitchen knew what to do with it. It was nearly as juicy and tender as you could want chicken to be, but nothing special was done with it. It was just chicken on a plate over a bed of warm leaf greens.

Actually, it struck me that if you ordered the chicken at Blue Hill, this is almost certainly what you’d get. I never had the chicken there, but I’ve dined at Blue Hill often enough to know the style. It would be the same quality of ingredients, and the same style of preparation. They do indeed offer a similar dish on their menu, and according to the website, it’s $30.

This anecdote helps to debunk the idea that Momofuku Ssäm Bar is “haute cheap.” For what is almost certainly the nearly-identical entrée, Blue Hill charges only $4 more. When you consider that dinner at Blue Hill has all of the traditional restaurant amenities, while Ssäm Bar has almost none of them, you could even argue that Ssäm Bar is over-priced. I can’t make any direct comparison of the Veal Head Terrine, because Blue Hill doesn’t serve anything like that. However, Blue Hill’s appetizers are in the $10-16 range, and the terrine was $13.

(I am prepared for the David Chang Army to advise that Chicken isn’t what Ssäm Bar is about. Too bad. They serve it; I ordered it. It was an experiment to see what Chang does with something conventional. It was pretty good chicken, but something I’m sure dozens of other restaurants are offering. Perhaps this section of the menu is meant to be “Ssäm Bar for Wimps,” but it wasn’t labeled that way.)

Before tax and tip, the total cost of my meal was $55, including two glasses of the house sake at $8 each. Obviously if you think Ssäm Bar is serving four-star food (which it isn’t), you could call it “cheap” in a sense. But objectively $55 isn’t a cheap meal, and of course Ssäm Bar isn’t serving four-star food anyway. It’s pretty close to what you’d pay for dinner at Blue Hill, but a whole lot less pleasant. It turns out that “haute cheap” isn’t really that cheap.

Beverage and Wine List

The wine list has improved since my last visit to Momofuku Ssäm Bar, and there seemed to more serving staff behind the counter. Both of my selections were delivered without silverware. Neither one could reasonably have been eaten with chopsticks (though those weren’t offered either). However, my requests for a knife and fork were quickly granted. The sound system played music at a noise level I found annoying.

You might have wondered whether the New York Times review affected business. The server I asked said it had. He said people come in “all the time” and mention the NYT review. As far as I could monitor, most of the orders coming out of the kitchen seemed to be pretty conventional stuff. I did see one additional order of the Veal Head Terrine. In that case, I happened to overhear the server steering a couple towards that choice. It appeared that only the guy could stomach it.

David Chang does some very good cooking, although you have to be willing to put up with a setting that is far from ideal, and verges to the unpleasant. In terms of comfort, it is probably the least appealing of the purported “New Paradigm” restaurants, and the quality of the food doesn’t quite overcome its many disadvantages.

Eating out, like most other things we do, has gotten progressively less formal since about the 1960s. There’s really nothing new about that, and it’s astonishing that a seasoned critic like Steven Shaw thinks so. One expects that from an arriviste like Frank Bruni, but not from Shaw. Momofuku Ssäm Bar, in its radical rejection of amenities we have come to expect in a restaurant, could be called a Paradigm of One. It really has no competitors. And frankly, I’m not aching for more of its kind. I’d rather pay the extra $4 for a table and a reservation.

Momofuku Ssäm Bar (207 Second Avenue at 13th Street, East Village)

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