Ilili

I love it when restauranteurs take a chance—bringing something truly new to New York, rather than just copying what everyone else is doing.

But there is a line between risk-taking and recklessness, and I almost wonder if the owners of Ilili have crossed it. The massive 5,000-square-foot space accommodates 330 people in multiple bars and dining rooms on two levels. The high-rent neighborhood (Fifth Avenue between 27th and 28th Streets) is dead to evening foot traffic, and Lebanese cuisine has never been especially popular in New York.

It won’t be easy to keep all of those seats occupied. Shortly after it opened in late 2007, Steve Cuozzo of the Post filed a blistering review. They were apparently busy enough that they couldn’t be bothered to give Cuozzo a walk-in table. The Sun’s Paul Adams enjoyed himself, mainly because he didn’t expect much.

An Eater deathwatch may be premature, but on a Friday night in January we found it dead at 6:30 p.m., and only around half-full by the time we left, around 8:00. That’s not good enough. The high-concept design didn’t come cheap, and the owners surely have a huge investment to recoup.

I haven’t figured out what the name means, but it has attracted its share of ridicule. Eater.com readers voted it the worst name of Fall 2007, beating out Bobo, Kurve, and Say.

Bread service

The menu is a mixture of small and medium-sized “tapas-style” plates in various categories, without the usual appetizer–entrée distinction. There is no clue or suggestion about how much to order, which leaves the guest vulnerable to up-selling—which apparently has been a problem at Ilili. However, we must have had one of the more honest servers: when we chose four dishes to share (which turned out to be plenty), he didn’t try to talk us into a fifth.

Fried Brussels Sprouts

Chef Philippe Massoud comes to New York from Washington, D.C., where he served Mediterranean fare at Nayla. The cuisine is nominally Lebanese, but alongside traditional dishes, like shish kebab and falafel, are ingredients probably not common in Beirut, like foie gras and Kobe beef.

The bread service, which the server called an amuse-bouche, consisted of spicy thin crackers with olives. I loved the goat cheese yogurt spread, but the crackers were over-seasoned.

Our server suggested fried Brussels sprouts ($12), with grapes, a fig puree, walnuts and mint. It is a justly popular dish, but as it came out almost instantly, I strongly suspect it was pre-made, and waiting under a heat lamp. The Brussels sprouts were not quite warm enough.

 

Our remaining three dishes were delivered all at once. Manti, or Lebanese Pasta ($14; above left), was the best of the lot, with a nice balance of beef, lamb, mint, and yogurt. Mekanek, or Lamb Sausage ($13; above right) was lightly sautéed in olive oil and lemon, but it didn’t have a very lamb-y taste.

The Mixed Grill ($20) offered a Kafta (spiced ground beef with parsley and onion), chicken kebab and beef kebob. With thought it peculiar that the chicken and beef were sliced in threes, on a plate clearly designed for sharing. The beef kebab was the best in this grouping, as the cubes of meat were tender, rare, and not at all over-cooked.

The wine list was over-priced in relation to the rest of the menu, with few bottles below $50. Several Lebanese wines are offered, but we weren’t feeling that adventurous, so we settled on a Crozes-Hermitage right at $50.

Service was generally competent. We appreciated the server’s sensible ordering advice. But we weren’t as happy to have dessert plates dropped suggestively on our table before we’d indicated whether we wanted any (which we didn’t).

If Ilili isn’t quite hitting its stride, one can nevertheless put together an enjoyable meal here, and the prices (except for alcohol) are reasonable.

Ilili (236 Fifth Avenue between 27th & 28th Streets, Flatiron District)

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

Pamplona

Note: Pamplona closed in October 2009.

*

When the restaurant Ureña opened last year, it quickly earned a place in the hearts of adoring foodies, but not, alas, their pocketbooks. Stuck on a drab block without much foot traffic, chef Alex Ureña closed earlier this year, re-opening after a brief makeover as the more downmarket Pamplona. Gone are the foams, the foie gras, and the degustation menu. A tapas menu and hearty comfort food replace them.

 
Salt Cod Croquettes and Dates wrapped in Bacon (left); Confit Suckling Pig (right)

I started with a couple of tapas. Salt Cod Croquettes ($5) were were delicate and not at all heavy. Dates wrapped in Bacon ($4) offered a well judged mixture of sweet and savory. None of the tapas were over $6, and on a list of appetizers none were over $12.

Among the entrées ($18–24), I was intrigued by the “Hamburguesa,” evidently a hamburger made with beef and suckling pig.  However, there are several entrées for two, and we were drawn to the Cochinillo, or config suckling pig, a tender brick of braised pig at $35 for two—Ureña had offered a similar dish at $25 for one.

Like the rest of the menu, the wine list at Pamplona is fairly priced. I forgot what we paid for the wine pictured at right, but it was reasonable, and as it went well with our food, I thought I’d show the label. 

The restaurant was full on a Saturday night. Everything we tried was prepared to a high standard, but it is hearty, uncomplicated, and not likely to challenge diners very much. That just might be what Alex Ureña’s customers want right now. We’d rather see him succeed at something—even if it’s not the ambitious restaurant he had before.

Service was competent, but it felt a bit rushed. 

The décor at Ureña was much scoffed at. Even after the makeover, no one would call it a romantic spot, but the hard edges of the lighting seem to have been smoothed, and it is now a perfectly pleasant inexpensive restaurant.

Pamplona (37 E. 28th Street between Park & Madison Avenues, Gramercy)

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

Primehouse New York

It was only a matter of time before Stephen Hanson, that past-master of formula restaurants, opened the ultimate formula restaurant, a steakhouse. David Burke’s Primehouse opened in Chicago last year, and now comes Primehouse New York, sans Burke, but with a very similar steak program.

Primehouse has a more modern vibe than the average steakhouse: a quieter version of BLT Prime. Booths and tables are more generously spaced than at BLT, and there are soft surfaces to absorb the sound. The space feels “dressy” by steakhouse standards. You could bring a date here, and have a conversation without shouting.

There weren’t any tables available when I walked in at around 6:00 p.m. on a weeknight, but the bar area is large and comfortable, with soft, high-backed chairs. Bar dining must have been planned from the beginning, as these are about the plushest bar seats you’ll find anywhere in town. Once you sit down, you’ll want to stay a while.

The menu offers typical steakhouse starters ($8–18), a raw bar (platters from $16–79), seven cuts of steak ($34–49) plus porterhouse for two ($86), eight other meat and fish entrées ($21–42), and side dishes ($9). At $46 for a ribeye and $48 for a New York Sirloin, Primehouse sets the high water mark for NYC steakhouse pricing (though the now-closed V Steakhouse was worse).

Are those stratospheric prices worth it? If the 20-ounce “Kentucky” bone-in ribeye aged 28 days (which my server recommended) was any indication, they just might be. The mineral tang of the dry aging was all you could ask for, and the marbling was as even as on any ribeye I’ve encountered. The kitchen executed without fault, with a deep char on the exterior and a perfect medium rare inside.

I also tried the Smoked Bacon Brussels Sprouts (top right corner in the photo). I liked how the musky taste of burned bacon enhanced the sweetness of the Brussels Sprouts, but the bacon bits themselves were tough and tried out.

The wine list is a large tome, and only high-rollers will be pleased. The reds go on for many pages, but I counted only seven bottles under $60, and only two under $50. None of the California Cabernets were under $60, and none of the French Bordeaux were under $80. If Café Boulud can offer an entire page of red wines under $60, it’s hard to believe that the prices at Primehouse are justified. I was glad to see a page of half-bottles, which one seldom sees at a steakhouse; more restaurants should have them.

Is Primehouse New York for you? It depends on whether you mind spending a few dollars more for a commodity item. But if future visits confirm that the ribeye I enjoyed was no fluke, then Primehouse just might be a top-tier steakhouse.

Update: Since this review, Brian O’Donohoe has replaced Jason Miller as chef. We doubt that this will make a tremendous difference to the average diner, but it is worth noting that O’Donohoe has stints at Le Bernardin, Barça 18, and Fiamma on his resume. Perhaps seafood dishes here will be worth a closer look.

Note: Click here for a review of the burger at Primehouse New York.

Primehouse New York (381 Park Avenue South at 27th Street, Gramercy)

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

Posto Thin Crust Pizza

 

Yesterday wasn’t much fun, as my girlfriend was at the NYU Hospital for Joint Diseases having shoulder surgery. (She’s doing just fine, but it’s a painful operation.) The day’s lone bright spot was lunch at Posto Thin Crust Pizza.

I can’t compare Posto to other places, as I don’t eat pizza on a regular basis—my waistline just won’t tolerate all those carbs and calories. But if I were a pizza guy, I have to think that Posto would be near the top of my list. A number of other bloggers evidently think so (Mona’s Apple, Lulu Loves Manhattan), and it’s had good write-ups in New York and the Village Voice. The folks at 10best.com rate Posto the city’s 10th-best pizzeria.

The rustic décor festures a tile floor, wooden tables, exposed brick, and a low tin ceiling. There is also outdoor seating in the summertime. Service was just fine, but I was there at an odd hour, so it wasn’t very busy. They deliver anywhere between Fifth Avenue and the East River, from 14th–26th Streets. The same team also own Gruppo on Avenue B between 11th and 12th Streets, and Vezzo at 31st & Lex, both with substantially the same menu.

The main event here is thin-crust pizza, which means crust the thickness and crispness of a Ritz cracker. You can start with a 9-inch ($6) or 16-inch pie ($12) and choose your toppings ($1.00–2.50 each for the smaller size, $2–5 for the larger). Or, you can choose from one of the special house pies ($9–11 in the small size, $18–22 in the large). There are also salads and appetizers ($5–12). Iced tea and lemonade are home-made, and I counted around a dozen wines by the glass.

I chose a pizza called The Big Pineapple ($10 in the personal size), which comes with marinara sauce & cheese, fresh pineapples, fresh tomatoes, smoked bacon, and fresh basil. It had a fresh, lively taste, and thanks to the thin crust, I didn’t feel over-stuffed after I’d finished it. The thin-crust pizza cooks quickly too, so I wasn’t kept waiting for very long.

Posto is pretty far away from my usual stomping grounds, but I’d gladly go back if I’m ever in the neighborhood again.

Posto (310 Second Avenue at 18th Street, Gramercy/Stuyvesant Square)

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

BLT Prime

I previously awarded three stars to BLT Prime, based on two earlier visits—especially my first visit (the second wasn’t so impressive). Three stars for a steakhouse? Was that irrational exuberance?

Recently, I sampled the BLT experience yet again. Do Laurent Tourondel’s steakhouses kick ass? Yes, they do. Does that accomplishment warrant three stars? Probably not.

We visited on Mother’s Day at around 7:00 p.m. without a reservation. The restaurant was perhaps a little over half full. That fact signals BLT Prime’s limitation, for though the food is excellent, its heavy-handed informality is a deterrent on special occasions. (On most other nights BLT Prime seems to fill up easily—that’s my unscientific observation based on periodic OpenTable scans.)

Some aspects of the service remain incomprehensible. Given that the menu is a loose sheet of paper that obviously must be reprinted frequently—probably daily—why must the specials be printed on a separate piece of paper? And why drop off two copies of the menu, but only one of the specials? And why is the menu also displayed on large boards in a corner of the restaurant where perhaps only 20% of diners can see it?

 

The BLT restaurants are a carb-o-phile’s dream. First come two slices of country bread, with a terrific pâté to spread. Then come the legendary popovers with soft, creamy butter. At this point, anyone with a normal stomach is already feeling half-full, and the appetizers haven’t even arrived yet. Knowing this would be the case, we didn’t order appetizers and went streat to the steaks.

We were both drawn to the five-pepper crusted bone-in New York strip ($42), one of the daily specials. The mineral taste from dry aging was superb, and the steak had a beautifully charred exterior, with just the right fat content. This was about as good a preparation of NY strip as they come. Horseradish sauce (one of nine offered) complemented the steak nicely. Potato skins ($8) were competently done, but a tad too dry.

Two small petits-fours after dinner were a bonus not normally expected at a steakhouse, though we hardly needed any more calories at this point.

As it was a Sunday evening, we didn’t order a whole bottle of wine, but I noted there were no bargains to be had on the list, and wines by the glass didn’t come cheap either. We each had a glass of the house pinot noir ($14).

With Laurent Tourondel constantly opening new BLTs, he can’t be paying much attention to the existing ones. I’ve paid about nine visits in total to his various restaurants, and they can be maddeningly uneven. Brasserie Ruhlmann, the only kitchen he runs that doesn’t have his initials in the name, is an embarrassment. But at BLT Prime, he left a solid management team in place. It’s a “BLT” still worth visiting, even if Tourondel is busy elsewhere.

BLT Prime (111 East 22nd Street between Park and Lexington Avenues, Gramercy)

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

Eleven Madison Park

Note: Click here for a more recent visit to Eleven Madison Park.

In 1998, Danny Meyer did the absurd. Within a month’s time, he opened two contrasting luxury restaurants in a neighborhood not then known for fine dining. The location, a landmarked Art Deco building, ought to have been perfect, but it adjoined the dilapidated Madison Park, better known at the time for drug dealers, broken fences, and crumbling asphalt. The park was eventually rebuilt (Meyer himself contributed $60,000), and both restaurants were hits.

Apparently, Meyer’s original intention was to open just one restaurant on the ground floor of the old Met Life building, but the wall separating two dining rooms had landmark status, and couldn’t be removed. So in the smaller of the two spaces, he opened the Indian-fusion restaurant Tabla; and in the spectacular former Assembly Hall, he opened Eleven Madison Park.

Though both restaurants were a success, Ruth Reichl in the Times found Tabla more impressive, awarding three stars. To Eleven Madison Park, she awarded only two in a 1999 review, finding chef Kerry Heffernan’s main courses “disappointingly uneven.” Six years later, for no apparent reason, Frank Bruni re-reviewed Eleven Madison Park, again awarding two stars, finding “much of his food…unremarkable” and “some of it…poorly executed.”

My only visit to Eleven Madison Park under Chef Heffernan was on Mother’s Day in 2005. I was impressed with a five-course tasting menu, especially bearing in mind that most restaurants under-perform on major holidays. But most observers didn’t share my three-star assessment. By the end of the year, Chef Heffernan had departed, replaced by wunderkind Daniel Humm. Suddenly, the food community was buzzing that Eleven Madison Park was practically a new restaurant.

The Gourmand Tasting MenuFrank Bruni took notice, issuing using the first self-re-review of his tenure to elevate Eleven Madison Park to three stars. (He then managed the peculiar feat of insulting the restaurant by absurdly awarding another three stars to the casual Bar Room at The Modern in the same review—in the process dissing the best restaurant in Danny Meyer’s empire, the main dining room at The Modern.)

Last week, my girlfriend and I returned to Eleven Madison Park, our first visit since Chef Humm took over. Nowadays, the restaurant offers a three-course prix fixe at $82, a four-course prix fixe at $96, or a Gourmand tasting menu, which we ordered, at $155. Counting hors d’oeuvres and petits-fours, that tasting menu weighs in at 13 courses, making it one of the city’s more ambitious of its kind.

A full description of 13 courses would extend this post to the length of a minor novel, so an impressionistic fly-by will have to suffice. The full menu is pictured above right (click for a larger image).

Hors d’oeuvres (left); Maine Diver Scallop with caviar (right)

The hors d’oeuvres were mind-blowingly good. From left to right, I believe they were a foie gras sandwich; a sweetbread; hamachi in a cucumber wrap; and sorry, I cannot recall the fourth.

I loved the first savory course, a diver scallop with caviar. My girlfriend doesn’t eat scallops, so they just gave her a version of the dish with the scallop omitted, which we thought was a rather unimaginative substitute.

California Celery, Cappuccino with Celery Root, and Black Truffles (left); Peekytoe Crab Cannelloni (right)

A celery and cappuccino puree with black truffles was topped with a fried quail egg. Peekytoe Crab Cannelloni was satisfactory, though it did not eclipse our memory of the crab salad we had at Daniel a couple of months ago.

Foie gras with Venezuelan Cocoa and Quince (left); Mediterranean Loup de Mer (right)

It’s hard to go wrong with foie gras, but the torchon here was particularly dreamy. The accompanying soft brioche was wonderful—but also, in a way, superfluous. Chef Humm has a delicate touch with fish, and the Loup de Mer was wonderful.

Scottish Langoustine (left); Four Story Hill “Boudin Blanc” (right)

The next couple of courses didn’t register as impressively. A Scottish Langoustine was slightly dull, as was the boudin (a kind of sausage), though I was a bit more fond of it than my girlfriend was.

Three variations of Vermont Farm Suckling PigSuckling pig is apparently Chef Humm’s signature dish. Frank Bruni raved about it. When he came out to greet diners late in our meal, he made sure to ask, “How about the pig?”

My girlfriend was transported, though I found it a bit too dry. We overheard diners at the next table, and their views were exactly reversed: it was the lady who thought hers was too dry. I’d love to come back and try the full entrée version of it.

My sense was that this is precisely the kind of dish that suffers from being served in a tasting menu portion. You need more of it, to give the fat room to spread out, to give alternating crisp and gooey textures the chance to shine.

Lynnhaven “Chèvre Frais” (left); Coconut sorbet with pear and parsnips (right)

The next two courses are perhaps best classified as palate-cleansers. Nothing stands out about them, and I present them (above) without comment.

Chocolate cake with Passion Fruit Bourbon Sour (left); Candied lollipops (right)

The main dessert course was a wonderful chocolate cake with a passion fruit bourbon sour for contrast. I only wish I had had enough appetite left to enjoy more of the candied lollipops.

Service throughout the evening was up the the standard you come to expect at a Danny Meyer restaurant. Given his success, I wonder why more restauranteurs don’t emulate him? When I arrived, the host offered immediately to show me to the table—rather than insisting I wait at the bar until my date arrived, as so many restaurants do these days.

The wine list is excellent, with a good selection of half-bottles. I was also pleased to see a decent selection below $60, an price level often not available at restaurants in this class. Our wine selection was unimaginative: a Barolo that I chose for no other reason than I was happy to find it at $89. The staff decanted it, a service few restaurants offer these days. Wine decanters are an Eleven Madison Park specialty, and you see them on display in a wide variety of shapes.

The bread service, too, was excellent, with nice soft butter in a silver serving dish, and several home-made breads to spread it on. The whole meal took around 3½ hour, and I was never conscious of it being either too fast or too slow.

The large space, with its soaring Art Deco ceilings, leave some people cold. We find it coolly elegant and understated, but it won’t be to all tastes. We were happy to find that those high ceilings gave ample room for the sound level to dissipate, but the restaurant wasn’t quite full, so we didn’t have the acid test. We were seated at a table that could normally accomodate four, so we had a bit more space to ourselves than we normally would.

A few of the courses on our Gourmand tasting menu misfired slightly, but I say this only in relation to the high expectations one has at a price level that puts Eleven Madison Park near the top of the heap in this already expensive city. Overall, it was a wonderful experience. I would be delighted to return.

Eleven Madison Park (11 Madison Avenue at 24th Street, Flatiron District)

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

BLT Fish revisited

The raw bar downstairs at BLT Fish

Note: BLT Fish “closed for renovations” in July 2014. We shall see if it ever re-opens.

*

My last visit to BLT Fish left me so utterly disgusted that I vowed to take a long break before I would visit another BLT restaurant. The fish was excellent — how could it not be? — but the service was risible.

In the meantime, Laurent Tourondel continued to expand his BLT empire, with the widely panned BLT Burger here in New York, the forthcoming BLT Market in the former Atelier space, and clones of BLT Steak in several cities. BLT Fish lost its Michelin star this year, confirming the generally held view that Tourondel was too over-extended to mind the store.

Despite all of that, I decided to revisit BLT Fish the other night with my mom, who is visiting from Detroit. This was, by far, the most pleasant of all my visits to the various BLT establishments. The food was superb, and we were blessed with a four-top table set apart from the noisiest part of the restaurant. Service was solid, though this must be taken in the context of the comparatively low grade of service in Tourondel’s restaurants.

 
The bread amuses at BLT Fish

We began with a couple of bread courses. First came crackers with a delicious tuna spread. As usual, the number of crackers was about half as many as needed—a fairly consistent screw-up at the BLT establishments. On the other hand, they are so justifiably proud of their luscious warm bread rolls that they even provide the recipe (see the little “BLT” brochure in the photo).

Grilled Sardines / Caponata / Aged Xeres Vinegar / Basil

The waitstaff at the BLT restaurants are black-belt masters of plumping up the bill. Our server advised that the whole fish we had ordered would take about 25 minutes, so she strongly urged us to order an appetizer to tide us over. Grilled sardines ($12) came perched on crisp toasted bread, but for a dish so likely to be shared, why were there just three of them?

Sea Salt Crusted New Zealand Pink Snapper

The menu offers a number of whole fish, most of them suitable for sharing. They are priced by the pound, which means you really don’t know how much you’ve signed up for until the end. We chose the Pink Snapper grilled in sea salt. After dinner, we were put out of our suspense: it weighed 2.188 pounds, which at $35 per pound came to $76.58. Aren’t you glad you asked?

The fish was presented tableside, then whisked away to be filleted. I would have preferred to watch them do it, though given the tight spacing of the tables, perhaps this would have been impractical. Any of my numerous complaints about the restaurant were completely erased once we started eating: it was simply the most sweet, succulent, tender fish imaginable. Two wonderful sauces came with it, which I’m afraid I can’t recall, but they were pitch-perfect accompaniments.

A two-pound fish is a lot for two people to eat, but when it’s this good you find a way to finish it. Had we bulked up on appetizers and side dishes, as our server advised, the snapper might have sufficed for three. When we thought we were done, the server returned to serve the tender, delicate “cheeks” from the fish head. It was an impressive encore.

At BLT restaurants, vegetables and starches are always à la carte. Our sever advised ordering two or three of these, which at $8–9 apiece can quickly add up. I was prepared for this bad advice, based on past visits. Although the side dishes are uniformly terrific, you almost never finish them. One is normally enough. We had the Sautéed Garlic Spinach ($9), which was just right.

After dinner, the server brought a small plate of petits-fours. But why only three of them, for a table of two people? A large clump of green cotton candy was too cloyingly sweet to be tolerated for more than a couple of bites.

Many other aspects of the service remain peculiar. The menu is a cheap, loose sheet of paper, which I’m sure doesn’t last much more than a day. So why must there be a separate sheet of paper listing the raw bar selections and daily specials? And why is only one copy of that sheet distributed, when there are two diners? We observed this at other tables, so I know it wasn’t just a mistake.

About the wine list there can be no complaint. Here, as at the other BLT restaurants, they take the wine program seriously. We were perfectly happy with a $45 bottle of Beaujolais, which was served (as it should be) slightly below room temperature.

With a critic installed at the Times who positively abhores traditional formality, I suppose Laurent Tourondel has perfectly captured the mood of the age. Even Frank Bruni couldn’t quite forgive the conceit of sacrificing a restroom for an open kitchen, one of the more boneheaded restaurant design decisions of recent years. But Bruni was smitten with the food, awarding three stars. For food alone, that is the correct verdict. You have to be willing to put up with some annoying conceits, but on this occasion it was well worth it.

BLT Fish (21 W. 17th Street between 5th & 6th Avenues, Flatiron District)

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

Valentine’s Day at Country

Note: Click here for a more recent Valentine’s Day visit to Country.

It was only a couple of weeks after New Year’s Eve, and we were faced with a new dining dilemma: where to book for Valentine’s Day? It’s one of those days when restaurants tend to serve sub-par menus at exorbitant prices. I have generally not had good luck on such occasions, although last New Year’s Eve we hit the jackpot at WD-50.

I do understand the restaurants’ position. Valentine’s Day is their single busiest day of the year. It’s a day that attracts guests for whom a three-star meal is a once-a-year occasion. The restaurants respond by offering a simplified and unchallenging menu that will offend no one, and that can be turned out efficiently for as many covers as possible.

One eGullet poster went into the bar at Picholine, and was told the only option was the “price-inflated, dumbed down Valentine’s menu.” As he put it, “there’s no way in the world I’m going to pay a premium for a more boring version of your normal menu.” And then he walked out, and headed over to Café Gray. Another eGulleteer walked into Eleven Madison Park, where they wouldn’t serve him at the bar at all.

 
The tables set for Valentine’s Day — all two-tops.

We decided to give Country a try, remembering our four-star meal last year. It would have been madness to expect Country to reach those heights again. But considering the occasion, Executive Chef Doug Psaltis’s menu was impressive indeed, and everything that came out of the kitchen was uniformly excellent. Service was a bit sloppy, but the only real annoyance was the rather tardy appearance of the wine list.

For Valentine’s Day, Country was serving six-course tasting menus for $135—their usual price. However, the restaurant took my credit card at the time of the reservation and charged $270 a month in advance. I see the need to protect against no-shows, but I thought that this went beyond what is reasonable.

 

After we were seated, the server presented us with printed menus that appeared identical on the outside, but were in fact quite different. I am not sure if he was supposed to tell us this, or if we were meant to be surprised. (We had checked the website in advance, but I’m sure many diners did not.)

In any case, I thought it was a neat idea, as we both had different meals and got to sample each other’s plates. And it showed that Country was not satisfied merely to do the obvious. Psaltis could easily have served the same menu to everyone, and no one would have complained. He went the extra mile.

We begain with gougères spiked with truffles, which could easily be the world’s most addictive snack food. Warm Parker House rolls were as good as I remembered them, but the butter was cold.

 

The amuse bouche was a delicious cream of mushroom (above, left) so thick that it could have been a pudding. Heirloom potato velouté (above, right) sounded all the right notes. I tasted a bit of my girlfriend’s foie gras torchon, which was one of the softest and richest preparations of that dish that I’ve ever encountered.

 

I was similarly enchanted with the black truffle risotto (above, left) and the grilled sea scallop (right).

 

The next two courses weren’t as exciting. Bison bordelaise (left) may have sounded daring, but it was boring. I didn’t taste much truffle in brie de meaux (right), which was a forgettable sliver of soft cheese, with a tiny slice of bread and a bit of apple jam.

 

My girlfriend hit the dessert jackpot. I had never heard of “Pavlova,” which was a half-moon shaped mound of baked frosting, with a running river of red berries inside. It was as enchanting and seductive as it sounds. My dark chocolate dessert (above, left) couldn’t stand up to this. Memo to Country: If you can’t think of two great desserts, then just serve us both the same thing. After dessert came a bowl of sugar-coated baked macaroons (above, right).

There were several service lapses, most of which I would ignore at a lesser restaurant. Inexplicably, we weren’t offered a wine list. By the time I realized it, the food had already started coming. When I brought this to a server’s attention, he presented a small pre-printed card with just three whites, three reds, and three champagnes. I flagged him down again. He explained that these were the sommelier’s recommended wines to accompany the evening’s tasting menu. The lowest-priced red wine was $97 per bottle. I asked to see the full wine list. There was another delay before this was presented, and yet another delay before he showed up again to take our order. By the time we finally had the bottle we wanted, we were already past two courses.

On this day, Country had no interest in serving leisurely, multi-hour meals. The courses came lickety-split, and I think we were out of there in two hours flat. I have no serious complaints about what we were served, but it was probably only 80% of what the restaurant was capable of. Even at that level, I rate the hit-to-miss ratio higher than we experienced a year ago, in a very respectable Valentine’s Day meal at three-star Oceana.

The setting was lovely as ever. The remodeled ball room, with its gorgeous Tiffany skylight, is one of New York’s great romantic dining spots. Some may argue that my original four-star rating was overly exuberant, but I don’t think any major restaurant does its best work on a major holiday, so for now I will leave Country in the top echelon.

Country (90 Madison Avenue at 29th Street, Flatiron District)

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

Parea

Note: Parea is now Parea Prime, a Greek steakhouse.

*

Parea is probably the most seductive of the new wave of haute Greek restaurants. The walls are sculptured in the shape of an undulating wave. In the ceiling, there’s a leafy gauze backlit with a warm orange glow. The center of the dining room is dominated by a long communal table, with tables for two or four tracing the room’s periphery.

 

The menu advises that the appetizers are recommended for sharing. We ordered the spicy sausage ($12) and the tiropita ($15), the latter being doughy dumplings filled with light cheese and minced meat. They arrived together and were gone rather quickly. 

We both ordered the strip steak ($28), violating our usual practice of ordering steak only in steakhouses. We were rewarded for our bravery, as it was quite good, with a nicely marbled texture and exterior char. The steak was not as thick as most steakhouses serve, but this is not a critique—steakhouse portions are often obscene. It came with “greek fries,” which had a consistency somewhere between baked and deep-fried potatoes, and which neither of us could finish. There was a yogurt-based sauce (lower left-hand corner of the photo), which I used as a dipping sauce for the steak.

Portion sizes were large—not only at our table, but at others we spied on. Though the appetizers were modest, we were plenty full after our strip steaks.

Frank Bruni complained about excessive noise in a two-star review shortly after Parea opened, but it was not busy when we visited for dinner on a Monday holiday. Service could have been better. No spreading knives were supplied for the bread service, and a busboy looked at me like I was crazy when I asked for another knife to eat the appetizers with. Our server never even asked us for a beverage order. By the time I noticed this, we were already in the middle of appetizers, so we skipped wine for the evening.

Despite some service lapses, we enjoyed the comfortable space and inventive menu, and would be happy to return.

Update: On a subsequent visit, Parea was considerably less impressive. Service was inattentive, and several dishes came out of the kitchen cold.

Parea (36 E. 20th Street between Broadway and Park Avenue South, Flatiron District)

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

Dévi

Note: Dévi closed in April 2012 and, a short time later, quietly re-opened under new management. Eventually, it closed for good (I am not sure of the date).

*

Indian cuisine, like Mexican, Italian and Chinese, can be found in New York just about everywhere you look. Nine out of ten restaurants offer the standard dishes that you could name in your sleep. Truly memorable Indian restaurants are rare.

Dévi, which opened in 2004, is that rare exception. It earned two stars from Frank Bruni, which is almost the high-water mark for an Indian restaurant, as only Tabla carries three. This year, the Michelin Guide agreed, awarding a star — one of the few granted to a restaurant not serving European (or Euro-inspired) cuisine.

I dined at Dévi not long after it opened, and it was on my short list for a return visit. On Saturday, my friend and I had the six-course tasting menu, which at $60 is a bargain. We made different choices for most courses where a selection was offered, so I got to taste most of the menu.

Calcutta Jhaal Muri (rice puffs, red onions, chickpeas, green chilies, mustard oil, lemon juice)
or
Salmon Crab Cake (tomato chutney mayonaise)

I had the salmon crab cake, which was just fine, but I would have liked a little more spice in the tomato chutney mayonaise.

Tandoori Quail (spicy fig chutney)
or
Grilled Scallops (roasted red pepper chutney, Manchurian cauliflower, spicy bitter-orange marmelade)

I think the quail was the better deal here, as it was the whole bird, and the piece I tasted was wonderful. The “scallops” were in fact a single scallop, and tasted just a tad under-cooked.

At around this time, the server dropped off a plate of the spinach & goat cheese bread, which was probably the best bread I’ve ever had in an Indian restaurant. We were glad to have eight slices of it to share; we noticed that a nearby table of four received the identical portion.

Mirchi Wali Machi (roasted pepper chutney, spiced radish rice, fish of the day)
or
Veal Liver & Brain Bruschetta (veal with quail egg and green chilies, liver with cinnamon, tomatoes and onions)

I’m pretty adventurous, but neither of us had the guts to try the liver & brain dish, so that left us both with the fish, which I believe was a black bass, enjoyably spiced.

Tandoori Prawns (eggplant pickle, crispy okra)

Once again, the restaurant had a little trouble distinguishing singular and plural. This was a prawn, not prawns. Eggplant is one of the few foods I never enjoy, but my friend thought this dish was just fine.

Tandoor-Grilled Lamb Chops (sweet & sour pear chutney, spiced potatoes)

You can probably guess what’s coming: one chop from a rack of lamb, not chops. I thought this was competently done, but I would have liked a more crisp exterior to the chop.

Emperor’s Morsel (Shahi Tukra) (crispy saffron bread pudding, cardamom cream, candied almonds)
or
Pistachio Kulfi (Indian ice cream, candied pistachio, citrus soup)

I get almost weak-kneed at the thought of bread pudding, and Dévi’s presentation didn’t disappoint.

The alcohol, just like the tasting menu, is very reasonably priced. Specialty cocktails I tried ($12) included the Cilantro Tonic (Hendrick’s gin, cilantro, tonic, lime) and Hard Limeade (Kaffir lime vodka, guanabana nectar, lime juice). Paired wines with the tasting menu would have been $40 apiece, but we decided to spend that amount on a bottle to share between us.

The bi-level space is striking. Like most of Dévi, it isn’t cut from the same generic cloth as most Indian restaurants. We were seated upstairs, where it almost feels like you’re at a small private dinner party. Service was solid and assured throughout.

Dévi (8 East 18th Street between Fifth Avenue & Broadway, Gramercy)

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