Print

I remember when Hell’s Kitchen was home to vagrants, prostitutes, car dealerships, strip clubs, and idling buses. No more. The car dealers remain (nowhere else to go), but the seedy side of Hell’s Kitchen is history.

Walk the neighborhod now, and you find spanking-new Off-Broadway theaters, upscale apartment towers, boutique hotels, and trendy bars. There’s something new on almost every block. A restaurant boom promised in the Post two years ago hasn’t quite materialized. It’s getting better, but it’s not there yet.

Print Restaurant opened three years ago in the Ink48 Hotel, at Hell’s Kitchen’s most remote address, 48th Street and Eleventh Avenue. There’s nothing wrong with the neighborhood any more, but it’s a loooong hike from the subway.

You can guess the theme here, in this renovated printing plant. The rooftop lounge/bar is called Press, which I visited a while back. You’ll quickly forget the drinks, but the view is one of the city’s best. Even the NYT’s Frank Bruni loved it.

It’s pretty clear that Print was meant to be more than just a hotel cafeteria. Early publicity mentioned chef Charles Rodriguez’s past work with Thomas Keller and Charlie Trotter—maybe just a stage, but still. Starchitect David Rockwell, who never met a dark wood he didn’t like, designed the dining room.

But Print received scant critical attention: a perfunctory Dining Brief from Sam Sifton in The Times, and a “very good” from Serious Eats’ Ed Levine, each in 2010. Both mentioned the car dealerships, and little else in the neighborhood, which shows how much has changed in three years.

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Whym

Note: Whym closed in late 2013.

*

Whym is “A Restaurant,” as both the outdoor sign and the credit card receipt remind you. I’m glad they cleared it up. Just in case you wandered in, and thought it was a shoe store.

Actually, there’s no chance of confusion. Whym is exactly what it appears to be: a comfortable, informal, stylish New American dining spot. It’s in a good location, within walking distance of Lincoln Center, and on the edge of gentrifying Hell’s Kitchen.

Open since 2006, Whym sits blissfully outside the culinary conversation, devoid of any media attention. It’s one of those acceptable, functional restaurants that the city is full of, neither objectionable nor especially praiseworthy.

For a family dinner before a show, Whym fulfilled its purpose. Most of the food was good, or good enough, and a family of five got out for $264 before tip (that was with two of us not drinking alcohol).

The cuisine at Whym is in the upscale comfort food idiom, with prices that all end in “.95”. I thought they only did that in the suburbs. Appetizers, soups and salads are $6.95–12.95, entrées $14.95–27.95, side dishes $6.95–8.95, desserts $7.95–9.95. There’s a good selection of vegan and gluten-free dishes.

  

Artichokes ($11.95; above left) were panko-crusted and pan-fried, tasting a bit like a vegetarian fried calamari. The arugula leaves that come with it were dry, and needed some dressing. I heard murmurs of approval from the crew that tasted the Butternut Squash Ravioli ($11.95; above center), but I didn’t try it. Pulled Duck Sliders ($12.95; above right) had a satisfying tang, but shouldn’t have contained bones.

  

Wild Mushroom Cavatelli ($20.95; above left) could have used some salt and were a shade too mild, the table said. But Thai Linguini ($22.95; above center) got the seal of approval from those who tried it. Maple Blackened Salmon ($23.95; above right) was just fine.

  

There was a Duck Breast special with sweet potato ($24.95; above left), which my son loved. I didn’t expect a Pork Chop ($25.95; above center) to be pounded flat. For almost the most expensive item on the menu, this undistinguished specimen was a disappointment. I was much more fond of the garlic-scallion mashed potatoes underneath it.

A side dish of so-called Sexy Mushrooms ($7.95; above right) was just a side of mushrooms (three kinds) with almonds in a mascarpone cheese sauce: a good dish, but the sexy angle entirely eluded us.

 

A trio of sorbets ($8.95; above left) included plum, coconut, and mango-banana flavors. The S’mores-wich ($9.95; above right) was by unanimous agreement the best thing on the menu, a terrific dessert with chocolate ganache, graham cracker crust, and melted marshmallows.

The space is arguably over-decorated, but the booths are comfortable, and the space is not loud. It was about two-thirds full on a Saturday evening. The service, like the prices, felt suburban, but was certainly good enough.

Whym (889 Ninth Avenue, north of 58th Street, Hell’s Kitchen)

Food: New American comfort food, unadventurous but mostly successful
Service: Like an upscale suburban place
Ambiance: Comfortable, modern, and not loud

Rating: ★
Why: A deservedly below-the-radar spot, good enough for a family outing

Hakkasan

Hakkasan is a restaurant practically designed for the New York critics to hate. It’s the tenth branch of an international chain, and the critics seldom have much love for imports. Parts of the menu could almost be considered arrogantly expensive: Peking Duck with Caviar, $295. And it’s built in a “big box” style that hit its apogee in the early aughts, but is now very much passé.

Critics be damned, Hakkasan opened on the eastern edge of Hell’s Kitchen. Damn it, they did. Adam Platt of New York awarded no stars, calling it “Ruby Foo’s for Rich People.” The Post’s Steve Cuozzo gave half a star, calling it “all wet.” Pete Wells of The Times gave it one star, complaining that “prices are too high for extremely restrained portions of food that is, in too many cases, about as interesting as a box of paper clips.”

Then there’s Michelin, the tire man, which gave it one star—the equivalent, on their scale, of two or three stars on the other guys’ systems. The original Hakkasan in London is starred too. I was there six years ago, and for the most part enjoyed my meal.

Here in New York, Hakkasan is a hair too expensive for what it is, and the dining room feels like a Meatpacking District attrocity gone haywire. But the food is very good.

Prices are skewed by a handful of trophy dishes for hedge fund babies and oil barons. Scratch those from the list, and you’re left with prices that are certainly dear, but not downright crazy. Dover Sole in XO Sauce is the most expensive of the “normal” entrées. It’s $46, but you’d pay about that much at any serious restaurant.

Not counting a few outliers, soups and appetizers are $9–26, with most $20 or less. Meat, fish, and poultry entrées are generally in the range of $24–39, with vegetarian and tofu dishes $14–21 and rice dishes $9–18.

We began with the dim sum platter ($24; above), which got a shout out in The Times last week (and even Pete Wells had liked it). According to the published menu, you get two apiece of scallop shumai, har gau, prawn and Chinese chive dumpling, and black pepper duck dumpling. We didn’t take notes, but found the selection as enjoyable as it was colorful.

(There are several other dumpling assortments offered, but you can’t pick and choose from individual varieties, as you can at a traditional dim sum parlor.)

 

The kitchen did a first-class job with a sumptuous braised Maine lobster with noodles in a so-called (slightly spicy) Royal Supreme sauce ($31; above left). The Pipa duck ($32; above right) is in essence half of a Peking Duck without the pancakes or plum sauce, with a crisp skin and luscious layers of fat.

The bill for two came to about $200 before tip, including wine—not a bargain, but the food was well above run-of-the-mill Chineese food. I didn’t look at the wine list, but cocktails, in keeping with the evening’s theme, were well made, but a couple of dollars above par: order the smoky Negroni ($17).

The service is not as coddling as it ought to be at these prices. A host walks you to a seat at the bar, but getting a drink ordered and delivered is too much of a hassle. Service isn’t bad at the tables, but the staff’s attentiveness befits an establishment charging only half as much.

The clubby space isn’t my cup of tea, but the music isn’t so loud that it precludes conversation. The food is compelling, and worth a try if you don’t mind the tariff.

Hakkasan (311 W. 43rd Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues, Hell’s Kitchen)

Food: Modern Chinese cuisine, skillfully prepared, but at a cost
Service: Good enough, but it ought to be better
Ambiance: A clubby space that would have been chic ten or twelve years ago

Rating: ★★
Why? The food is worthwhile, even if the space isn’t my taste 

Danji

Is there a “right way” to ration access to a popular restaurant? Our experience at Danji last weekend makes me wonder about that. (If you don’t want to read a rant about getting seated, page down to the asterisk below.)

Danji doesn’t take reservations, which is hardly a novelty in the casual dining scene. But many such places will at least take a phone number, and offer to phone or text when space frees up. Danji won’t even do that. The frequently-disappearing hostess quoted us a 30–45 minute wait, although it later became clear this was extremely optimistic.

“Can we put in our name?”

“What’s your name?”

“Marc.”

“OK, Marc.” She said it quickly and darted away, obviously not writing it down, not keeping a list, or offering to call whan a table freed up.

Had we elected to wait, there is nothing to do but stand against the wall in the narrow slip of a restaurant, as many do. (It’s even worse down the street at Totto Ramen, where a long line snakes out the door.) Instead, we hiked over to Ardesia for wine and crab dip (excellent!).

When we returned, about an hour later, we found the situation not much changed. A 2-top was vacant, and the hostess was nowhere to be seen. When she re-appeared, she gave it to a party whom she said had been waiting an hour; no indication of where we stood on the (non-existent) list.

We were ready to pack it in after another 20 minutes, before she finally seated us. At least we got one of the few tables, where the banquettes are comfortable (although very cramped) and the chairs have backs. Most of the seating is on stools at the bar or a communal table.

I don’t usually spill so much ink on the process of getting admitted to a restaurant, but we thought the service here was particularly poor—even within the context (with which I do not disapprove) of the no-reservations business model.

*

Having said all that, once you finally make it in here, the food is fine. It is not, in my opinion, good enough to justify the effort of getting in, especially as there aren’t any good bars nearby, where you can cool your heals. (Ardesia is a long walk.) But plenty of people endure the wait every day. Their priorities must be different than mine.

The chef here, Hooni Kim, has a distinguished pedigree, with brief stints (or stages?) at Daniel and Masa. He serves Korean small plates, designed for sharing, in a style somewhat resembling Momofuku Ssäm Bar, but the menu is more static and not nearly as good.

The plates are in two categories, Traditional and Modern, with about ten choices for each, $8–20 apiece (most in the $10–15 range). The menu has the usual nods to sourcing, with shout-outs for Satur Farms, Creekstone Farms, Niman Ranch, and Bell & Evans.

The server suggested that four to six plates was about right for two people, and that we could start small and order more later on. Kudos, at least, for that last bit: most places of this ilk ask for the whole order at once. It takes a while to get seated, but once you’re in they are in no hurry to push you out the door.

And to their credit, the four items we ordered came out in a sensible sequence, one at a time, as opposed to the dreaded “as-and-when they’re ready”; but the sharing plates were not replaced.

 

The first two dishes were from the “Modern” section of the menu. Spicy yellowtail sashimi ($15; above left) packed delightful heat from jalapeño and chochang, which (according to Wikipedia) is “a savory and pungent fermented Korean condiment made from red chili, glutinous rice, fermented soybeans and salt.”

Bossam ($20; above right) would impress you, unless you’d had the much better version of it at Momofuku Ssäm Bar. The idea remains the same: braised pork, scallions, daikon, and cabbage wrap. The pork was terrific, but you get only six bites of it for $20.

 

Our second pair of dishes was from the traditional side of the menu. Poached Sablefish ($18; above left) in spicy daikon was flavorful and tender, although the sauce was a bit goopy.

Short Rib ($14; above right), with fingerlings, pearl onions, and toasted pine nuts, may have been the least satisfying: properly cooked short ribs are pretty easy to come by, and this version did little to distinguish itself.

The wine and sake list is short, on the order of twenty-five bottles. The server recommended the 2010 Cuvée Gyotaku Riesling ($38), a Pinot Blanc from Alsace that pairs well with the food. He offered to keep it on ice at the bar, but was too busy to keep tabs when we needed refills.

The reviews here have been all favorable: a Michelin star, one star from Sam Sifton, two stars from Bloomberg’s Ryan Sutton, and four out of five underground stars in New York. The project was obviously assembled with some care (see this blog chronicling its construction).

But Danji has not dealt well with prosperity. The menu has stagnated, and the servers cannot cope with the crowds. Considered on its own, the food is good enough (and inexpensive enough) to be of interest. But I do not think it is worth bothering with, given the hurdles you must jump to get seated. You can do better elsewhere.

Danji (346 W. 52nd Street between Eighth & Ninth Avenues, Hell’s Kitchen)

Food: Traditional and Modern Korean, adequate but not truly exciting
Wine: 25 bottles of wine and sake, well suited to the cuisine
Service: Hostess with an attitude; competent servers stretched to the limit
Ambiance: A cramped, minimalist space, seating 36, many at communal tables

Rating: Not recommended
Why? The food is good enough, but not worth the extremely long waits

Tout Va Bien

Tout Va Bien, which opened in 1948, claims to be the Theater District’s oldest French restaurant. There can’t be many older than that anywhere in the city. It’s family-owned, now in its third generation.

The restaurant is low-key, old-school, and not especially charming. The cramped dining room has two dozen closely-spaced tables covered with butcher paper (and one lonely table outside). An old-fashioned L-shaped wooden bar has a TV showing a hockey game. The usual French posters share wall space with photos of B-list celebrities who’ve visited (probably none recently), augmented by chintzy Halloween decorations. A low ceiling lends an air of claustrophobia.

But I heard French spoken at the bar and at the tables, so to some visitors this must be a reminder of home.

The menu doesn’t change frequently (mine sported a cigarette burn), although I noted they now have a burger, which was probably not offered in 1948. Otherwise, it’s all French bistro classics, with many entrées under $20. A breaded pork cutlet in mushroom sauce was strictly diner food. My friend enjoyed the steak frites, but I found the fries a bit greasy.

I booked a 7:30 p.m. table, to avoid the pre-theater crowd, but they had a decent crowd even after that, so apparently the place is still popular. I suspect the pork was not their best performance, but I won’t be rushing back.

Tout Va Bien (301 W. 51st Street, west of Eighth Avenue, Theater District)

Esca

I read the occasional bad reviews of Esca from sources I trust, but never enough to persuade me that the restaurant had lost a step since my last visit, four years ago, when I gave it three stars.

The proffer hasn’t really changed: it’s an Italian seafood restaurant from the Batali–Bastianich empire, it remains insanely popular, and I haven’t been served a bad dish yet.

Many of the Batali–Bastianich restaurants take the attitude that you should tolerate the horrible service they mete out, and just consider yourself lucky that you’re fortunate enough to be in their orbit. It has happened often enough to persuade me that it’s not an accident.

I saw none of that at Esca, where the service was so pleasant and solicitous that you’d almost think Danny Meyer had taken it over. The staff even seated me before my girlfried had arrived—practically unheard of at a Batali restaurant.

Prices have risen only modestly in the four years since my last visit. It looks like every course is about two dollars more, bringing the cost of a four-course meal to around $90 before wine, tax, and tip—about comparable to most of the other New York Times three-star restaurants. But it’s also a menu that’s built for grazing, and you can have an extremely satisfying meal for a lot less than that.

The amuse bouche, chickpea crostini (above left), seems to be unchanged from my last visit. It’s the least satisfying part of the meal.

To start, my girlfriend had the Polipo, or grilled octopus ($17; above left). It’s an Esca specialty, and the kitchen nailed it. After all these years, it is still hard to find crudo better than Esca’s: Bonita, a fish from the tuna family, was served raw ($18; above right), spackled with crushed almonds and resting in a drizzle of olive oil.

The pasta section of the menu offers just six choices, and four of them are made with chilis or hot peppers, which rather limits the options of a diner who prefers to avoid hot food, as my girlfriend did. Fortunately, the Maccheroni alla Chittara ($25; above left) is a winner. The word chittara refers to a pasta-cutting machine that resembles a harp. Most references spell it “chitarra,” but the team at Esca prefer one ‘t’ and two ‘r’s. Here, it’s served in a subtle, exquisitely balanced sea urchin and crab meat sauce.

I ordered an old favorite, the Spaghetti Neri ($24; above right), a squid ink pasta with cuttlefish, green chilis and scallion, which is as good as it was last time. Esca ought to offer more pastas, as the kitchen has obviously mastered them.

The wine lists are strong at all of the Bastianich restaurants, but at Esca it’s not the epic-length tome as at some of its sister restaurants. Vinosia’s Fiama di Avelino (above left) seemed slightly over-priced at $51, but it paired well with the food.

The restaurant is split into several dining rooms, bustling but not overly loud. The space is functional, but it does not have much charm. The food remains the main attraction.

Esca (402 W. 43rd Street at Ninth Avenue, Hell’s Kitchen)

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

Elsewhere

Note: Elsewhere closed in December 2011.

*

I yawned when I read the publicist-massaged opening press for Elsewhere: “an Eclectic American menu of farm-driven, shareable plates.” As if no one had ever thought of that before.

I’m not sure if the proffer has changed, or if they had a particularly uncreative publicist. Eight months later, none of that seems especially true. There are a few sharable items at the top of the menu, but you don’t build a meal that way, and the restaurant seems no more farm-driven than any other.

Elsewhere is appealing for other, better reasons. It’s owned by the same people as Casellula Cheese & Wine Café, and as you’d expect, both the wine and cheese programs are strong. Chef Megan Johnson’s cuisine is firmly in the American bistro idiom, but it’s a lot less cliché ridden than the press release was. She might not be the first to serve an appetizer of Duck Confit Rillette with Pickled Miso Eggs, or an entrée of Roasted Bone Marrow with French Fries, but at least you don’t see them every day.

Let’s hope they have better luck than the last tenant, Le Madeleine, which was evicted in 2008 after a lengthy court battle. The owner had a “demolition clause,” which allowed him to take back the space if he planned to tear it down. So after 30 years, a popular restaurant was forced out for a demolition that never took place. After being vacant for two years, the building is a restaurant again.

The menu is mid-priced, with snacks (“to share”) mostly $4–10, appetizers $9–14, entrées $16–32, and sides mostly $7–9 (a “5-Spoke Tumbleweed Poutine” is $14).

Cheeses are $6 each, or five for $27. We let the server choose for us, and she came back with a hard blue Dumbarton (above left) that was very good. Chicken Liver Pâté ($14) was unremarkable; I would prefer that it not come pre-spread, as it did here.

Black Bass ($26; above left) was fine, with artichokes, rosted tomatoes, and polenta, but we thought there ought to be less lemon jus: the bass was practically swimming in it. Pork Sausage Meatballs ($24; above right) had a robust, tangy flavor, with egg noodles and mushroom gravy. One might quibble, though, that it comes out to eight dollars a meatball.

We wrapped up with bite-sized chocolate petits fours (left).

The wine list is around 150 bottles, in silly categories like “Pretty Young Things,” “Va-Va-Voom!” and “Do You Feel Lucky?” But there is a good price range, with a few options off the beaten path, and a Vieille Julienne Côtes du Rhône for $56 was one of the better inexpensive Rhones I’ve had in a while.

My one and only visit to Le Madeleine, the previous tenant, was about twenty years ago, but I instantly recognized the space, especially the spectacular garden room with its skylight and decades-old ficus tree. But we were seated in the main dining room, which was awfully loud, with sound ricocheting off of the exposed brick. I thought it would let up after the pre-theater crowd got out, but the restaurant remained nearly full. I have about it with noisy restaurants lately. I would hesitate to return to Elsewhere for that reason alone.

Service was efficient and attentive. I especially appreciated being shown to my table a full twenty minutes ahead of my reservation, before my date had arrived, a courtesy few restaurants extend these days, especially if they are at all busy.

Elsewhere has not had a single professional review that I can find. Perhaps it’s time they hired a new publicist. There is much here that is worth publicizing.

Elsewhere (403 W. 43rd Street, near Ninth Avenue, Hell’s Kitchen)

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

La Silhouette

 

Note: La Silhouette closed in November 2013, after cycling through three chefs in three years. This is a review under chef David Malbequi, who left the restaurant in July 2011.

*

It seems like an absurd quest these days, to open a French restaurant without a well known chef at the helm. This is in contrast to Italian restaurants, which proliferate in such excess that it is impossible to try them all.

It wasn’t always this way: French cuisine was central to the Western canon, as obviously essential as Shakespeare’s plays and Beethoven’s symphonies. It’s not so much that new French restaurants are rare these days, but they aren’t common either, and the few we have are drowned out by baser fare.

Todd English hasn’t opened an important restaurant in years, and two weeks ago the Times featured a glossy photo of him pumping iron. The accompanying article didn’t even attempt to assert any culinary importance, even though it appeared in, you know, the DINING SECTION. Heaven forbid they should actually focus on, you know, FOOD.

So of course, when two former Le Bernardin managers and a former Boulud chef open La Silhouette, does the critic-in-chief even bother to review it? No, he sends an underling, who pooh-poohs it, while he reviews his eighteenth hotel restaurant cum lounge, with which he is, of course, unimpressed. For once it was Adam Platt and Gael Greene who got it right, awarding two stars (or “hats” in Greene’s case).

The chef at La Silhouette is Frenchman David Malbequi, who arrives via Daniel, BLT Steak, BLT Market, and the Standard Hotel. Entrées are mostly in the $30s, which the Times describes as “quite expensive,” but these days you’ve got to hit $40 (which La Silhouette doesn’t) before I would say that. For anything beyond a bistro or its non-French counterpart, this is the going rate.

There’s a luscious Porcini Cappuccino Soup ($16; above left) with smoked foie gras and a dreamy Wild Burgundy Snail Risotto ($16; above right) with Hen of the Woods mushrooms and a garlic parsley sauce.

I heard nothing but praise for Mustard Crusted Lamb Loin ($34; above left) with stuffed artichoke and tomato confit, and Pan Seared Striped Bass ($30; below left) with spring peas, asparagus, mint, and vinegar jus.

It was, perhaps, lazy of me to order the New York Strip ($39; above right). If it wasn’t steakhouse quality, it was nevertheless better than most non-steakhouses serve—rare, rich, and beefy, with a satisfying marrow and porcini crust.

The kitchen offers neither an amuse bouche nor petits fours (although one review, curiously, mentioned the latter). But there is a solid bread service: toasted bagel chips with a sour cream and chive spread, and an assortment of baked breads afterward. The staff are on top of their game, although an uncrowded Sunday evening might not be the acid test. Laminated menus sound the only off-key note.

The one cocktail I tried was very good: A Little Hell ($13), with Rittenhouse rye, sweet vermouth, and whisky marinated morello cherries, on the rocks. The seven-page wine list is slightly more than half French. There aren’t quite enough bottles under $60, but there’s a reasonable selection under $75, along with pricer bottles. Right at $60 is a 2002 Château La Vieille Cure (above right), which the sommelier decants at the table. After a few minutes, it opens up nicely.

Almost every reviewer has harped on the remoteness of the location. Is it really that unusual, today, to venture west of Eighth Avenue? It is less than ten minutes’ walk from Columbus Circle, not even all the way to Ninth Avenue. You could easily miss the entrance, though: a small, barely-marked door on a side street. The owners got a sleek, modern design from Richard Bloch, the starchitect whose work includes Masa, 15 East, Dovetail, and Le Bernardin.

This is an enjoyable place to eat.

La Silhouette (362 W. 53rd Street, east of Ninth Avenue, Hell’s Kitchen)

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

Pier 9

Note: This is a review under chef Eric Hara, who is no longer with the restaurant as of May 2012. The restaurant closed in March 2013. The other restaurant mentioned in the review, 9 Restaurant, had closed a while earlier.

*

A month ago, the Post ran an article about the burgeoning Hell’s Kitchen restaurant scene—once desolate, lately an embarrassment of riches.

When you think about formerly downtrodden neighborhoods that became dining destinations, usually it took one major success story that made the area a magnet for the food wonks: Montrachet in Tribeca, 71 Clinton Fresh Food on the Lower East Side, to give but two examples.

Hell’s Kitchen doesn’t yet have that kind of restaurant, as far as I can tell. (I don’t count Esca, which is geographically in Hell’s Kitchen but functionally in the Theater District.) What it has is a passel of new places that make it worth traveling the extra long block or two from Eighth Avenue. Perhaps, from one of these, the breakout hit will come.

Chef Eric Hara owns two of these, the adjacent and recently-opened 9 Restaurant and Pier 9 on Ninth Avenue between 53rd and 54th Streets. Hara has bounced around a bit, but his solid background includes three years as executive chef at David Burke Townhouse and a shorter stint at Burke’s Fishtail.

A move to the Oak Room at the Plaza was ill-advised, but it’s surely not Hara’s fault that the owners took the space in a more frivolous direction. A couple of brief detours brought him finally to Ninth Avenue, where he is chef and partner in these two similar restaurants.

Both 9 Restaurant and Pier 9 are relatively informal and inexpensive, with brunch menus for the weekend crowd, outdoor cafés in nice weather, and plenty of space at the bar. At a recent opening party, I found Pier 9 more attractive, and its all-seafood menu more compelling. I didn’t think I’d have the time to try both, so I made a reservation at Pier 9.

Full disclosure: I was there at the publicist’s invitation, and although I paid for my meal, I was charged much less than full price. (I show the à la carte prices in parentheses below, where I know them, but we paid a flat $60 per head.)

Jalapeño and jack cheese biscuits with honey butter (above right), served on a warm skillet, were a perfect start to the meal.

Half-a-dozen fresh, briney oysters ($17; above left) were served raw, in the usual style. A Warm Giant Brady Oyster ($8; above right) was dusted with yuzu, scallions, and tempura flakes. I have never seen this on a restaurant menu, and google is silent as to the identity of the species. Such a remarkable specimen, probably eight inches long, must be seen to be believed.

A ceviche tasting ($18; left top) included, from left to right, Shrimp Tacos with tomatilla and cucumber salsa; Big Eye Tuna Tartare with yuzu, radish, and pears; and Scottish Salmon with orange, pickled chilli, and citrus oil. The salmon was the most successful of these, with its unexpected citrus tang, followed by the shrimp tacos. The tuna tartare was a bit flat, as was a Razor Clam Ceviche ($13; left bottom) with Tuscan olive oil, cilantro mint, and Arbequina olives.

We didn’t much care for Crab & Shitake Mushroom Arancini in spicy tartar sauce ($13; above middle), which were on the greasy side. But Lobster “Mac N Cheese” ($12; above right) might be one of the restaurant’s instant hits.

Entrées, as in many seafood restaurants these days, are either composed or “simply prepared.” We were a shade less fond of the composed dishes. Sourdough Crusted Sea Bass ($25; above, far left) with prawn, mussel, and clam in a ciopino broth had too many ingredients in competition with one another. Tuna au Poivre ($28; above, middle) was a tad too salty.

But a Grilled Whole Branzino ($28; above right) with baby bok choy was terrific.

Halibut (above left) came with a choice of three sauces (above right): green curry and shitake mushroom (the best of the group), lemon, tuscan olive oil & capers, and verjus emulsion. It seemed to us that a couple of the sauces were too heavy for the fish, which couldn’t quite stand up to them.

Both desserts we tried will work for you if you’re in a playful mood: a Rice Krispie Candy Bar with mascarpone ice cream (above left) and a Pretzel & Tapioca Pudding Sundae (above right).

There were no unsuccessful dishes per se, but a few were (to our taste) a bit over-salted or over-fried, and in some instances we felt the chef would be better off letting superior ingredients shine without as much interference.

Both restaurants, Pier 9 and 9 Restaurant, were doing a brisk bar and sidewalk café business on a Wednesday evening, but could use some more patronage to fill the large space in back. Pier 9, especially, is an appealing space, done in an urban seaside motif. Nowadays, it’s fun to dine on Ninth Avenue.

Pier 9 (802 Ninth Avenue between 53rd & 54th Streets, Hell’s Kitchen)

Daisy May's BBQ

Perhaps I’m better off that Daisy May’s BBQ isn’t better located. If it were easily reachable by subway, I’d be there a lot more often, and I’d be doing even worse on my diet.

Daisy May’s is at 46th Street and Eleventh Avenue. They could hardly have chosen a less accessible location in Manhattan. Not even buses go there, and the closest subway is a solid fifteen minute walk away. The neighborhood itself is ugly, much favored by auto repair joints and strip clubs. Despite that, Daisy May’s is clearly not doing badly, but in the East Village they’d be minting money.

But Daisy May’s is where it is, so I seldom go. Our last visit was three years ago, when we had the rack of lamb for two, a special that needs to be pre-ordered. Recently, I saw a couple of blog posts about the Oklahoma Beef Rib (HowFresh Eats, Cynical Cook)—a cut of meat most BBQ places don’t serve—and decided I had to have one.

Unfortunately, the cashier misheard my order, and I got the beef brisket combo instead (photo below). I should have been suspicious, as the brisket combo is only $14, while the beef rib combo is $21.50. I just shrugged, and assumed I was getting an early-bird special, or something like that. Bad assumption.

As you can see, Daisy May’s is still bare-bones, although they’ve now got a beer license, so it’s no longer strictly BYO. The brisket (lower-right in the photo) came with two sides; I chose the mac & cheese and the baked beans with burnt ends. It was all very good, but not worth the long walk from Eighth Avenue.

They clearly had the beef ribs—other diners were eating them, as I looked on with envy. It was just a misunderstanding. Perhaps it was all for the best. I wasn’t that hungry, and the beef ribs are huge. There’s always another day.