Sofia Wine Bar

Nearly six years ago, I had dinner at DeGrezia, which just might be the city’s best Italian restaurant that no one writes about. This week, I had dinner at Sofia, which just might be the city’s best Italian wine bar that no one writes about.

The two spots share the same block and the same founder, Tommaso DeGrezia. Tommaso sold his share in the restaurant in 2001. With his wife, Toni, he opened Sofia in 2009.

If you were led into Sofia blindfolded, and asked to guess the location, you’d probably think downtown—perhaps the East Village. It has that familiar, rustic Italian bric-à-brac look without being derivative. And with just 38 seats in two rooms, it feels like it belongs in a residential neighborhood, not a townhouse a block away from midtown.

Toni DeGrezia designed the space herself (it was formerly an art gallery, which she owned). The larger front room (above) sports an L-shaped bar, a few tables, and broad French windows facing the street. The windowless back room, where we were, seats just 12. It gets loud when full, as the sound bounces off the exposed brick walls and has nowhere to go.

Espcially striking is a hand-sculpted limestone replica of the Bocca della Verità (“mouth of truth”), a Roman relic from the 1st century AD. Legend has it that if you put your hand in its mouth and told a lie, it would be bitten off. Do that here, and you might get burned by the votive candles inside.

These days, there’s no rhyme or reason to the amount of food a wine bar may offer: it can range from a handful of snacks to practically a full menu of appetizers and entrées. Sofia is smack in the middle, with pizza as the only real main course, aside from a lasagne that’s served on Sundays.

A daily housemade pasta will be offered starting in the fall. In the meantime, you can certainly put together a meal several times over from the raw bar, and various meat and cheese platters, hot and cold starters, and panini.

Wine’s the point, and it’s a strength here, with an international list of 200 bottles, many of them from boutique producers. The printed list shows about 70 wines by the glass (most $12–15), though with daily specials that number can rise to 100, and I am told the list changes monthly. There are also around 25 exotic beers, none of which we sampled.

I visited at the publicist’s invitation and didn’t pay for my meal. We asked the server to pair wines with the food, which he did extremely well. I won’t try to describe the wines or to reproduce his explanations of them, but the labels are shown below.

Most items on the menu are in the $12–20 range (some a bit more), desserts $6–12. The cuisine is home-style Neapolitan and Sicilian classics, nothing revelatory but most of them well made, and all from organic ingredients. Shared appetizers and a pizza would run about $60 for two people, which is a fair price for the neighborhood. Food is served on charming distressed pottery china with a fleur-de-lis pattern on the edge.

 

We started with the vegetarian lasagne (above left), in what was described as a Neapolitan style, not as thick or as heavy as that dish typically is. Tomatoes and house-made mozzarella ($12; above right) were excellent.

 

Stuffed mushrooms ($14; above left) with prosciutto, Pecorino Romano, and sour cream, were the best dish of the evening. But meatballs in tomato sauce ($12; above right) seemed too routine.

 

I skipped the Eggplant Crostini ($12; above left), as I don’t like eggplant, but two of my tablemates found it under-seasoned and over-cooked. The Pizza Margherita (above right) was wonderful. It sported a thin crust, just slightly floppy at the center, with a rich, smoky flavor. It’s offered plain, as here, for $14, or with a variety of toppings, most of them either $3 or $5 each.

 

Spinach and artichoke dip ($14; above left) was terrific; Cannoli ($5 for two; above right) were just fine.

If Sofia Wine Bar wants to raise its profile, it ought to begin with the antiquated website, which has a food menu without prices and no wine list. For an establishment where wine is the point, this is a sad state of affairs. In the meantime, you’ll just have to take my word for it that a visit here will amply reward the investment of your time.

Sofia Wine Bar (242 E. 50th Street, slightly west of Second Avenue, Turtle Bay)

Tulsi

Note: This is a review of Tulsi under opening chef Hemant Mathur, who is no longer with the restaurant as of January 2015.

*

Tulsi is the new haute-Indian restaurant from the former Dévi chef, Hemant Mathur. The name, the Times kindly informs us, means “holy basil.”

Dévi attracted a devoted following, including a favorable two-star review from Frank Bruni and, for a while, a Michelin star. I also gave it two stars. The restaurant is still in business, under the supervision of Mathur’s former partner, Suvir Saran. It has survived numerous ups & downs, including closing for a while when the original management gave up on it.

Most of the Indian food in New York is inexpensive and interchangeable. The challenge at such a place is to persuade diners that the price premium is worthwhile. It’s the reason why Dévi struggled at times, and why Tabla is the only restaurant Danny Meyer has ever closed.

At Tulsi, there are recognizable favorites, like Tandoori Lamb and Rogan Josh, but most of the menu consists of more unusual items, such as the appetizers we tried, Tandoori Tofu ($9) and Manchurian Cauliflower ($11) in a chilli garlic sauce. Goat Dum Biryani ($24) was probably the most conventional of our choices, offset by the wacky but wonderful Pistachio Chicken ($22). We found the flavors spicy, bracing, and (at least to us) highly original—at least for New York.

We ordered comparatively inexpensively, but most of the fish and meat entrées are over $25, and there are several over $30. I wouldn’t mind paying those prices for food of this quality, but long-term success will require building up a cadre of regulars who believe in the chef. Fortunately, Mathur brings a loyal following with him, from his previous stops, although the location (not convenient to any subway stop) somewhat discourages impulse visits.

The wine list is expensive too. I didn’t see many options below the mediocre $52 Domaine Chamonard that we ordered. The bill was $128 before tax and tip—certainly well worth it, in our estimation, but more than most diners are accustomed to pay for Indian food. Partly, you are paying for a lovely, romantic space (even nicer than Dévi), which must be one of the nicest ever built for Indian cuisine in New York.

Tulsi (211 E. 46th Street between Second & Third Avenues, East Midtown)

Food: **½
Service: **½
Ambiance: **½

Bistro Vendôme

Bistro Vendôme opened in early February in the former March space, which had been vacant for nearly three years, after its replacement, Nish, quickly flopped in early 2007. The chef here is Pascal Petiteau, who worked at the nearby Jubilee and finally has his own place.

I remember March only vaguely, as my lone visit was nearly six years ago, and I never made it to Nish. The décor now is bare bones, but the space seems much brighter than it used to be, relying on natural light flooding through wide windows on three levels. There will be outdoor terrace dining in good weather.

There is a long, spacious bar at the front of the townhouse that Bistro Vendôme occupies, which I am fairly certain wasn’t there in the March days. The host stand is past the bar, and this leads to mild confusion, as customers coming in are a bit unsure, at first, about where to congregate. The restaurant was packed on a Saturday evening—always a good sign for a place mainly dependent on neighborhood business—but the host was a bit overwhelmed, and we were not seated until half-an-hour past our 8:00 p.m. reservation. A cocktail at ordered at the bar tasted mostly of tonic water. Service at the table, however, was just fine.

The menu offers classic, inexpensive French bistro food, straight up and without complication or distraction. It is all done well, but not beyond the better classic French places that many NYC neighborhoods have. (Disclosure: We had the pleasure of dining here during “Friends & Family,” courtesy of a publicist’s invitation, but our review is of the meal we paid for.)

We wondered about how many bushels of green salad the restaurant consumes per day, given its prominence in two fine appetizers: a Crispy Goat Cheese Cake ($10; above left) and an off-menu special, Crispy Sweetbreads ($10; above right).

Ribeye steak with sauce au poivre ($30; above left) was fine for a non-steakhouse preparation, and the fries were perfect. We’re a bit past Cassoulet season, but I had a hankering for it anyway ($24; above right), and the chef nailed it. Duck confit, bacon, and garlic sausage were on target, and so were the beans.

For a restaurant this inexpensive, I would like the wine list to have a few more choices below $50; a 2005 Guigal Crozes Hermitage was $54, and there weren’t many French reds below that level.

The packed house seemed to be mostly an older, Upper East Side crowd. As far as we are concerned, there can never be enough good French restaurants. Sutton Place agrees with us, if last Saturday’s crowd was any indication.

Bistro Vendôme (405 East 58th Street, just east of First Avenue, Sutton Place)

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

Convivio

Note: Convivio closed in March 2011, along with its sister restaurant Alto on the same day, due to unspecified “business circumstances.”

*

Michael White is obviously not the only chef in this town with multiple restaurants. But the three he has are probably the most similar.

Alto, Convivio, and Marea are all upscale Italian New York Times three-star restaurants. There are slight differences in focus—northern Italian, southern Italian, and seafood respectively—but the menus share a strong stylistic similarity.

There is nothing like, for instance, the huge difference between Daniel and Café Boulud, or between Jean Georges and Perry St.

On the bill, however, there is a huge difference, with four-course prix fixes of $89, $79, and $59 at Marea, Alto, and Convivio respectively. Location has something to do with it—Central Park South for Marea, midtown for Alto, Tudor City for Convivio. The expensive seafood ingredients imported for Marea are clearly a factor.

But after four visits to Marea, I am not yet quite persuaded that you get your money’s worth for $89. It is clearly a very good restaurant, or I wouldn’t have returned. But for $40 less per person, we had a terrific meal at Convivio last week that was better than any one of my meals at Marea. The only drawback is that you have to traipse to Tudor City, which is a moderate inconvenience.

Convivio is in the space that had been L’Impero. Eric Asimov awarded three stars (when Scott Conant was the chef), but Frank Bruni demoted it to two, finding the food inconsistent, and complaining about “lugubrious” décor “evoking the upholstered interior of a very large coffin.” Ouch!

White and owner Chris Cannon took the critique to heart. If ever there were a makeover tailor-made to Bruni’s specifications, this was it. They brightened up the space, lowered the cost of the prix fixe, and added inexpensive tapas-like starters called sfizi.

Voila! Convivio was a three-star restaurant.

Convivio was never very high on our to-do list, mainly because we no longer trusted Bruni to evaulate Italian restaurants correctly. This time, perhaps he got it right.

You can order à la carte here, as at all of the Cannon–White restaurants. The sfizi are $4–7, antipasti $10–16, primi $23–25, secondi $26–35, desserts $11–15. But at $59 the prix fixe is a much better deal. There is only one dish that carries a supplement: the steak, which at $35 is the most expensive entrée. On the prix fixe, you’re basically getting the antipasto at half price and the dessert for free.

What can I say? We loved almost everything. Testa (above left), a deep-fried pork terrine, was complemented beautifully by a fried egg. Polipo (above right), or grilled octopus, was tender and smoky.

Garganelli (above left) came with a seppia & shrimp sausage, zucchini leeks, and peccorino; Gramigna (above right) with duck sausage, broccoli rabe, sage, and marsala.

Maiale (above left), or a pork chop, was large enough to feed all of Tudor City. As good as it was, I had no intention of sharing.

Grilled lamb chops (above right) were delightful, but they were undermined by salsa verde, escarole, tomato and beans, which were far too overbearing and unsubtle.

Heather Bertinetti, the young pastry chef at all three of the Cannon–White restaurants, is a real find. She hasn’t disappointed me yet. Crostata di Mela (above left) was an irresistible crumble of spiced apples, walnuts, and caramel gelato. Brasato d’Ananas (above right) made a hit out of vanilla braised pineapple, coconut custard, and mango sorbet.

Service was polished and professional. I especially appreciated the sommelier, who, when I asked for a recommendation at $60 or less, went all the way down to $45. It was a terrific choice too (the 2001 Majara), and on top of that he decanted it and offered us a copy of the label.

The restaurant wasn’t quite full, but business was certainly brisk. (When I called to confirm, a recording warned that our table would be forfeit if we were more than fifteen minutes late: ugh!) We may have lucked into one of the better tables, a two-top on the restaurant’s upper level, with no one nearby. Some of the tables are a bit more cramped than that.

No one doubts that Michael White is an elite chef. I’ve had my ups and downs at Marea, but I will likely return there somewhat regularly, as it is much more conveniently located, and I still have a lot of confidence in Chef White. But if you can get to Tudor City, Convivio may be the best way to experience his cuisine.

Convivio (45 Tudor City Place at 42nd Street, Tudor City)

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

Le Périgord

 

I always book French restaurants when my mother is in town. Last weekend, we looked in on Le Périgord, one of the city’s few remaining grandes dames of classic French cuisine. My last visit was over a Memorial Day weekend, when I found it a bit deserted and dowdy, though still worthy and essential.

This time, on a more typical Friday night, we found business a bit more brisk—though it was not full. And the décor doesn’t seem quite as dowdy as it did last time. Actually, it doesn’t seem that way at all, though they’re long overdue to fix a tiny hole in the ceiling, which as I recall was there last time too.

At a restaurant this old, strengths and weaknesses aren’t likely to change rapidly. The bread service remains unimpressive, and it comes with cold, hard butter—just like last time. The menu is a $65 prix fixe—just like last time. The menu doesn’t change much, nor does it need to, but there are seasonal specials.

 

My girlfriend ordered the cold hors d’oeuvres (above left), which for most people would be a meal in itself. I loved the vegetable tart (above right) in a tangy butter sauce. My mom had the oysters (below left).

 

My mom and my girlfriend both chose the roasted duck. The kitchen will serve a portion for one, but when it’s ordered for two, they present the whole bird and carve it tableside (above right & below left).

 

I had the elk (above right), an off-menu special, which was excellent. It had a wonderful gamey flavor, though the accompanying rib was a bit tough.

 

The desserts we chose were fairly simple, but no less effective for that: a blueberry cream tart or the same in raspberry, both with a large dollop of fresh cream.

Most critics in town don’t give credit for classics done well, as if it requires no particular talent to execute the same recipes for decades. Yet, over and over again we see new restaurants serving the old favorites, and falling flat on their faces. Just because it’s classic doesn’t make it easy. Le Périgord continues to get it right, and for that it gets three stars.

Now, if only they’d do something about that cold butter.

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

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

Savarona

 

Note: Savarona has closed. It closed so quickly, in fact, that none of the city’s major critics got around to reviewing it. The double gamble we referred to in our opening paragraph did not pay off.

*

The new restaurant Savarona takes a double gamble. The first is that New Yorkers will warm up to haute Turkish cuisine, of which this is practically the only example in Manhattan. The second is that they’ll do so in Sutton Place, a tiny East Midtown enclave not easily reached by mass transit.

I can’t say whether the gamble will pay off. The only thing I can say is: I certainly hope so. Savarona deserves your attention. In a town where so many restaurants are plainly derivative, this one blazes its own trail. The chef, Tevfik Alparslan, comes from Istanbul via La Tour d’Argent and Gordon Ramsay at Claridge’s. His menu has a recognizably Mediterranean tint, but every dish we tried led us to unfamiliar territory, and quite happily so.

The owners have given Alparslan a beautiful stage on which to perform: a comfortable space, elegantly redecorated. The lighting is warm and inviting, the tables generously spaced. The restaurant is on the ground floor of a residential building in the shadow of the Queensboro bridge, but set comfortably back from the street. There is room for outdoor seating in good weather. There is an ample bar and a spacious, semi-private dining room that seats twelve.

Appetizers are generally priced in the teens, entrées in the twenties. The reasonably priced wine list is Mediterranean-centric, though there are no actual Turkish wines, curiously enough. There wasn’t as much variety as I’d like; most of the bottles were fairly young. (We had a 2005 Italian Syrah; $56.)

There was a nice bread service, with four kinds of homemade bread and a fried cheese spread (above right).

 

I enjoyed the Stuffed Mackerel ($12; above left), accented with fresh pine nuts, currants, asparagus, warm fennel, and a fresh red pepper emulsion. My girlfriend had the traditional Mezze Platter ($14; above right). Two of the five items were made with eggplant, which is about the only food I don’t eat, but she said they were terrific. I liked the yogurt cucumber and the chicken salad, the latter topped with pine nuts.

I thought that the entrées surpassed the appetizers, but my girlfriend said, “I’m not so sure; that eggplant was pretty damned good.” 

 

An entrée of Stuffed Grape Leaves ($24; above left) was remarkable: four plump grape leaves stuffed with beef tenderloin in a sweet cherry-apricot sauce. The Sultan Kebab ($25; above right) had tender meatballs and diced beef in a yogurt and light chili sauce.

The pastry chef here trained in French kitchens, and the staff admitted that the deserts are more French than Turkish. Pineapple ($12) with mango sorbet, mascarpone and spun sugar could make an appearance anywhere. It was one of the most enjoyable desserts we’ve had in quite some time.

There were minor service glitches, as one might expect at a three-week-old restaurant. Plates were deposited in front of the wrong diner. The cheese spread arrived a bit too late. One item wasn’t quite as warm as it should be.

The food at Savarona is very good, and the space is as relaxing as any we’ve visited in recent months. Since there is almost zero foot traffic on this stretch of 59th Street, the restaurant will be heavily dependent on word-of-mouth and favorable reviews. This is a restaurant we’ll be rooting for.

Savarona (420 E. 59th Street between First and York Avenues, Sutton Place)

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

L'Impero

 

Note: L’Impero closed on June 29, 2008, re-opening in mid-July as Convivio.

L’Impero is the Italian restaurant that put chef Scott Conant on the map, when in 2002 Eric Asimov awarded three stars—a remarkable accomplishment for a non-Italian chef. Three years later, Conant and his partners created Alto, which was supposed to be the next step up. Asimov liked it, but Frank Bruni, the man in charge of the stars these days, did not. He gave Alto a disappointing two stars in 2005, finding it “haute and bothered.”

Conant and the two restaurants parted company in 2007, with Michael White (formerly of Fiamma) taking over. This gave Bruni the chance to correct his mistake, and Alto was finally given the three stars it deserved in the first place. But the laws of Newtonian Mechanics as applied to restaurants dictate that every star given must be taken away, so L’Impero was simultaneously demoted to two stars.

To be sure, L’Impero needs to work harder for our affections. It’s located in a small elevated enclave called Tudor City on the far east side, a block west of the United Nations. It’s not convenient to mass transit, and if you’re walking (as I was) you could very well miss it. When Tudor City was built in the 1920s, there were slaughterhouses on the land the U.N. now occupies, which is why the three-square-block area is so isolated. Today, it seems like a city within a city.

The décor gives the impression that it’s about twenty years too old. Bruni found it “lugubrious,” while my sense was that I’d missed a party that was hip and cool a long, long time ago. The pleated curtains along the wall could use a spring cleaning; the light blue chairs are comfortable, but decidedly un-stylish.

The staff at L’Impero provide generally fine service, but they could use some polish. When a runner dropped off the amuse-bouche, his description was almost incomprehensible (except that it was a sweetbread something-or-other). We were twice asked for our wine order, even though we didn’t yet have menus in our hands, and didn’t know what we’d be eating. After I chose a wine, the server instantly replied, “Oh, we’re out of that.” However, the wine steward suggested a substitute at around the same price, and then decanted it.

The dinner menu is available à la carte, or $64 for four courses. Judging by the portion sizes we saw, you’d better have a big appetite if you order the prix fixe.  If ordered separately, all menu categories are quite reasonable for the quality and quantity given: antipasti are $14–17, pastas $23–27, entrées $29-42 (most in the low $30s). In contrast, the four-course prix fixe at Alto is $79, and the top prices there are all proportionately higher.

 
Amuse-bouche (left); Polenta with house-made pork sausage (right)

We started with a grilled sweatbread, which was more substantial than one normally gets in an amuse-bouche. Creamy soft polenta ($15) topped with a house-made pork sausage ragu and pecorino cheese was rather unmemorable. But substitute orecchiette for polenta, and you’ve got the pasta dish my girlfriend ordered ($24), which was the hit of the evening.

Loin and sausage of lamb (left); Dry aged beef (right)

Both of the entrées we chose were unadventurous, but impeccably prepared. I had the loin and sausage of lamb ($34). My girlfriend had the dry-aged beef ($42), which was that rare example of beef outside a steakhouse that is actually worth ordering.

Despite the slightly inconvenient location, L’Impero appeared to be doing well. The restaurant was full on a Friday night, with a good mix of young people and Upper East Side elders. Just about everything we had was prepared to a high level, but the pasta stole the show.

L’Impero (45 Tudor City Place at 42nd Street, Tudor City)

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

Le Périgord

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blair Perrone Steakhouse

Note: Blair Perrone closed in 2008.

*

Nowadays, it seems every waiter with a Peter Luger stint on his resume wants to open a Luger clone in Manhattan. With Mark Joseph, Ben & Jack’s, Flames, and two outposts of Wolfgang’s, you are never very far from a faux Luger experience. The newest of the Luger offspring is Blair Perrone, which opened in late 2005. It’s the brainchild of Charlie Blair, who worked at Peter Luger in Great Neck, and Joe Perrone, who was a manager at Mark Joseph.

By steakhouse standards, Blair Perrone offers a comparatively refined atmosphere for your meal. The gargantuan restaurant occupies almost an entire city block between 47th and 48th Streets, with panoramic picture windows looking out on a fairly uninteresting stretch of Second Avenue. If only such a view were on the waterfront. The interior is dominated by the predictable dark wood paneling, but the tables are generously spaced, the seating comfortable, and the double-height ceilings give the usual steakhouse cocophany room to dissipate.

The menu is entirely unoriginal. Thick Canadian bacon ($3.25) was served in the usual Luger style. The NY Strip ($39) came pre-sliced on a sizzling plate, but the exterior char wasn’t as crunchy as the better examples in town, and the marbling was uneven, with several slices at the end not really worth eating. Creamed spinach ($9.50) was pedestrian.

Service was friendly and very good to start with. Joe Perrone himself came over to my table twice to say hello. But as the restaurant filled up, my waiter gradually lost touch with me as, other parties started to compete for his attention. The bread service (a basket of home made onion rolls) was excellent. I didn’t order dessert, but the choices were the usual steakhouse fare. Indeed, you could easily overlook them, as the after-dinner menu is dominated by an impressive selection of cognacs, brandies, single-malt and blended whiskies.

I was encouraged to see a wine list with plenty of choices between $35 and $50. In common with most steakhouses, wines by the glass are not listed on the menu. If you ask, the server simply says, “Merlot, cabernet, pinot noir, zinfandel, or shiraz.” At these prices, can’t they be bothered to put it in writing, so that you at least know what you’re ordering? Anyhow, I didn’t feel overcharged for a $9 glass of pinot noir, but I still don’t know what it was.

If the wine list is gentle on the pocketbook, the other prices are not. At the superior Wolfgang’s, the NY Strip is $36.50, the bacon is $2.75, and the spinach is $8.95. For some items, the differences are even larger. For instance, Blair Perrone serves a 40-ounce ribeye at $48, while the ribeye at Wolfgang’s is $36.50. I am not sure if Wolfgang’s serves a 40-ounce cut, but I’ve had it several times, and it is more than most people can consume, assuming you’ve ordered appetizers, side dishes, and wine.

The attractive space is Blair Perrone’s selling point. But it is surprising that owners who took such care in remodeling the space didn’t have a single original thought in the design of the menu. They have done a competent job at reproducing the standard New York steakhouse, a durable format that seems to do well almost anywhere. But unless you have other reasons for a visit to East Midtown, you might as well visit another steakhouse closer to home.

Blair Perrone Steakhouse (885 Second Avenue between 47th and 48th Streets, Turtle Bay)

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

Sushi Yasuda

Which New York restaurant has the best sushi omakase? Leaving aside Masa and its stratospheric $375 prix fixe, the debate usually comes down to Sushi Yasuda and Kurumazushi. Over at eGullet, a discussion thread comparing the two is now in its fifth year.

Last night, I decided to give Sushi Yasuda a try. The experts all suggest reserving a place at Yasuda-san’s station, but he was off-duty, so I was seated at the bar before Hiro-san. There is no “fixed” omakase at Sushi Yasuda. Rather, there is an ongoing dialogue with your sushi chef, who prepares pieces one by one according to your taste. I eat basically everything, so I asked him to surprise me. I’m sure (or I like to think) that he reacted to my expressions of delight as the meal progressed, and we talked about the fish as each piece was presented. This is the experience you simply don’t get if you sit at the tables.

With only a few exceptions, everything I had was a simple piece of raw fish atop a molded wedge of rice. Hiro-san applied just the right amount of house-made soy sauce and wasabe (checking that the degree of heat was agreeable to me). It’s hard to think of a dining experience for which the connection with the chef is more personal. He molds a wad of rice into the right shape with his hands, applies the fish, adds seasoning, and puts it in front of you. With your hands or a pair of chopsticks, it goes into your mouth in one bite.

Hiro-san was midly offended that I wanted to use chopsticks most of the time. For one particular piece, he directed, “This time, you must use your hand.” However, at the end of the meal he opined that I must be used to eating quite a bit of sushi, so I guess I didn’t come off as a complete novice.

There is no fixed end to the meal; it ends when you finally declare you’ve had enough. I had 25 pieces, which I suppose is a lot (Hiro-san said it was). I won’t enumerate all the different kinds of fish I had. The list includes tuna, yellow tail, salmon, trout, mackerel, crab, oysters, roe, and eel, among others. The quality of the fish and the delightful parade of flavors were superb. Most of the items were raw, of course, but for one fish he carefully removed the skin and fried it on an open fire. Three little pieces of fried fish skin were the last thing I had.

I was prepared for a staggering bill, but the whole thing added up to just $105.75—not inexpensive, but I was prepared for something like $140, and I tipped rather more generouslly than I normally would. A small pitcher of cold sake was just $10. The efficient staff kept my water glass full throughout the meal.

The sublime space is decorated simply, in blonde woods, and comfortably lit. There are only about a dozen seats at the bar, which must be reserved in advance. The tables are quite widely spaced, and the noise level is insignificant.

I look forward to giving Kurumazushi a try one of these days, and perhaps I’ll even work up the fiscal courage to visit Masa. But for now, I can say that Sushi Yasuda fully lives up to the billing.

Sushi Yasuda (204 E. 43rd Street between Second & Third Avenues, Turtle Bay)

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