Untitled

Note: Untitled closed in October 2014 as part of the Whitney’s move from the Upper East Side to the Meatpacking District. It is expected to re-open there in the spring of 2015 with Gramercy Tavern’s Michael Anthony as executive chef.

*

Danny Meyer is about as close to restaurant royalty as there is in this town. He has put his name on a wide variety of cuisines and concepts, from casual to formal, and he has never had a flop. (Tabla, his Indian restaurant, closed in 2010, but only after 15 years—certainly not a failure, by any reckoning.)

One factor in his success is that—except for his burger stand, Shake Shack—he has never opened outside of New York City, where he can personally supervise to the attentive service that his restaurants are famous for. Whether you like the food or not, there’s no doubt you’ll be treated well.

Meyer’s latest project, Untitled, carries some risks. Located in the basement of the Whitney Museum, the odd name is a pun on the establishment’s fondness for avant garde modern art works that lack titles.

The space, which was formerly Sarabeth’s Kitchen, is needed frequently for evening events, so it serves dinner only three nights a week (Fridays to Sundays). At breakfast and lunch, it serves sandwiches, salads, pastries, and the like.

Danny Meyer has a deep bench. When he opens a new restaurant, he reaches down to the triple-A farm team and promotes someone to the big leagues. Chris Bradley, the lucky guy at Untitled, worked four years at Gramercy Tavern as a sous chef and executive sous chef.

As the kitchen is quite small, the dinner menu is limited to a $46 prix fixe, where everyone gets the same appetizer, side dishes, and desserts. The only choice is the entrée: meat, fish, or vegetarian. It’s updated every week and posted on the website. (Last weekend’s menu is shown above; click on the image for a larger view.)

The wine cellar is also limited, with 5 whites and 5 reds, but you can bring in outside wine for just $10 corkage.

Untitled reminds me of Torrisi Italian Specialties, another restaurant that forces everyone into the same fixed menu, with a limited entrée choice being the only decision the customer makes. Torrisi costs $4 more and offers a few more courses, but not necessarily better food. Torrisi has an attitude, fostered by fawning critics who imagine it’s better than it is. If you build a Torrisi without the pretension, one that is larger, more comfortable, and more attractive; one that takes reservations and has better service, then you’ve got Untitled.

The meal starts with fresh vegetables and dipping sauce (above left); a thick, chilled avocado soup with specks of blue and red onion as amuse bouche (above center); and a warm roll with soft butter (above right).

I loved the Baby Spinach Salad (above left) with goat cheese, strawberries, and a tarragon vinaigrette; and also the main course, Pork Loin & Belly (above right) on a bed of spigarello. (I didn’t taste much of the garlic and chili mentioned on the menu, but the dish didn’t need them either.) Side dishes, served family style, included a Carrot & Barley Risotto (below left) and a Zucchini–Tomato Gratin (below center).

None of this was ground-breaking or complex food, but it was very much in the Gramercy Tavern greenmarket esthetic—lists of purveyors are written on a chalkboard above the bar. On a value basis, I would rather dine here than Gramercy.

I found the dessert less impressive, a forgettable Blueberry–Lemon Meringue Pie (above right) that you could find at just about any diner. How hard could it be, to offer at least one other option to guests who don’t want that much sugar?

As I was dining alone, I chose the two house cocktails over wine. Both ($12) were excellent: a Bourbon Lemonade (basil-infused lemonade, Maker’s Mark, mint leaves); and the Hemingway (white rum, prosecco, lemon and lime juice).

The bright, attractive space admits an abundance of outside light. Starchitect David Rockwell designed it, and used plenty of the blond woods he’s so fond of. The restaurant seats 70 at the tables and 10 at the bar; just 14 seats were occupied when I left, a bit after 7:00 p.m. on a Friday evening. However, Friday dinner service was only recently added (it was only Saturdays and Sundays, at first), and the word might not be out yet. The service, of course, was according to the Danny Meyer playbook.

If Untitled had a full menu, it might be a two-star restaurant. Points need to be deducted for a restaurant that offers so few choices. If you have any food allergies or other limitations, you may find that the limited options at Untitled become no choice at all. If you don’t mind being shoehorned into the menu du jour, you get a good value out of your $46 investment.

Untitled at the Whitney (945 Madison Ave. at 75th Street, Upper East Side)

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

Hospoda

Note: In July 2013, Hospoda hired chef René Bastien Stein, a former chef de cuisine at Seäsonal. The Czech theme was abandoned, in favor of New American beer-inspired cuisine—whatever that meant. That didn’t work, and Hospoda is now closed. As of February 2014, the space is Bay Kitchen Bar (BKB), a Hamptons-themed restaurant.

*

There’s always a place in my heart for restaurants that come out of nowhere—that neither set nor follow any discernable trend; that exist, for no other reason than someone believes in an idea.

Hospoda (“beer hall”) is such a place. Featuring Czech cuisine, it’s located in the newly renovated Bohemian National Hall, a landmarked building owned by the Czech government itself. No market survey could have inspired the idea; no restaurateur is likely to copy it.

I have visited no other Bohemian beer halls for comparison. This is probably a slightly more fancy version of the genre, with its striking black and gold panels and a glass floor in front of the bar that gives view to kegs of beer down below.

The company that operates the restaurant has 15 others in the Czech Republic. The executive chef, Oldřich Sahajdák, makes his home at one of these, La Degustation, which, according to a reliable report on Mouthfuls, is more upscale.

There is some evidence of cold feet, as a March post on DNAinfo.com mentioned a $76 prix fixe, later abandoned. That might have been a tough sell in a conservative neighborhood, when neither the cuisine nor the chef is well known.

In lieu of that, at least for now, the restaurant is offering two plates for $32, a remarkable deal. Each additional course is $12; desserts are $9. Somewhat confusingly, there’s also a separate beer menu that lists à la carte “beer plates” at $8 each, perhaps intended for snacking before dinner, although there is no bar at which to try them. The purpose of these wasn’t really explained, and we didn’t order any.

(Click on the beer menu (above right) or the full menu (left) for larger images.)

There’s only one kind of beer, Pilsner Urquell, but they serve it four ways, varying only in the ratio of foam to liquid. The foamiest, called “Sweet,” of which a sample is given as amuse bouche, is practically all head. The other extreme, called “Neat,” has practically no head at all. For $19, you can sample all four—not a bad deal, as it’s almost two full pints before you’re finished.

Right now, the wine list is almost a nullity, consisting of just two reds and two whites. Pours are stingy, but at $8 apiece one can’t complain. (The server told us that we could have brought in our own wine for free, but call ahead to ensure this policy is still in force, as they may not be so generous after their own list is beefed up.)

There is a nice bread selection. First comes a plate of sourdough slathered in cream cheese and topped with radishes (above left), then a dish of plain bread and rolls (above right), though without butter.

On the main menu, there are seven appetizers and seven entrées, each consisting of a list of three to five ingredients, with no indication of what is done with them. Fortunately, the servers know the menu well and answer questions patiently. An example is: “duck breast, celery, pear, sour cream” (above left): a thin, and somewhat bland, slice of breast, served cold, wrapped around a pear salad and topped with a celery foam.

Our other appetizer, “white asparagus, warm mayo, quail egg, bacon,” was breakfast topped with asparagus—fine for what it is, but unremarkable.

Lamb leg (above left) was the evening’s best dish, a tender (although small) piece of lamb in a carrot purée with thyme sauce and a bit of spinach. Beef oyster blade (above right) tasted like the inexpensive cut of meat that it is, but the creamy dill sauce was very good, as were the barley dumplings.

Macaroons (right) were served with the check. The dining room seemed to be about half to two-thirds full on a Thursday evening. Service was good, for a ten-day-old restaurant.

Hospoda is enjoyable, especially at the current price, and we appreciated a menu that’s entirely free of clichées. The chef isn’t working any miracles: the ingredients aren’t the best, and portions are on the small side. The cuisine is neither upscale nor rustic, but something in between.

With the Czech government invested in the restaurant’s success, presumably they’ll be given time to work out the kinks. I would dine here again, but I have to wonder how such an odd concept will play in the long term, after the curiosity-seekers have come and gone.

Update: As I expected, Hospoda continues to improve. On a subsequent visit, a substantial and fairly priced wine list had arrived, with suggested wines by the half-glass or full glass that pair with the menu, which is reprinted daily. Prices remain compelling: two courses for $32, three courses for $45, or a seven-course tasting for $88. I loved a snow pea salad (greens, kirby cucumber, peach, malt biscuit) and slow cooked rabbit (bacon, red cabbage essence, dumpling).

Hospoda (321 E. 73rd Street between 1st & 2nd Avenues, Upper East Side)

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

Park Avenue Spring

Note: Park Avenue ______ lost its lease at the end of 2013. A new restaurant from Chef Michael White’s Altamarea Group was expected to replace it. The restaurant has re-located to 360 Park Avenue, site of two failed projects from the same owners, Hurricane Club and General Assembly.

*

There is a fine line between gimmick and inspiration. When Park Avenue Summer opened on the Upper East Side three years ago, I was inclined to think it was the former. The time has come to revise that view.

The restaurant’s conceit remains the same: four times a year, it closes for a couple of days and completely re-does its décor, signage, menu, website—everything. Design firm AvroKO configured the space with removable wall panels and seat cushions, which permits a total make-over every three months.

But what seemed like an overwrought ode to seasonality has withstood the test of time. Despite stratospheric prices, the restaurant is perpetually packed, no matter the time of year. On a recent Saturday evening, the food was much improved since my visit in 2008, when I gave it no stars.

With opening chef Craig Koketsu now splitting his time among three restaurants, the kitchen is in the hands of executive chef Kevin Lasko, who has worked at the space since it was called Park Avenue Café. The menu is spackled with vegetables and fish in season, though most of the proteins (steak tartare, filet mignon) could be served without apology all year long.

I had long suspected that Park Avenue _____ was worthy of a revisit, ever since Frank Bruni awarded two stars, a rating that had surprised me. Prices are a significant deterrent. With appetizers averaging $16, entrées $35, and desserts $15, you’re unlikely to get out for less than $100 per head, unless you drink water. Our bill was $175 before tax and tip, and that was with a shared appetizer and dessert comped.

Even when the place opened, there was nothing novel about its seasonal approach to cuisine. For about the same price, you can dine at Blue Hill in Greenwich Village, where the cuisine, service, and atmosphere are all better. ABC Kitchen in Chelsea is roughly similar, and slightly less expensive. Which restaurant you prefer may come down to a neighborhood preference or your mood on a given day.

For many diners, the price point will remain a turn-off, when every Brooklyn neighborhood has a much less expensive, come-as-you-are, rustic chic restaurant that doesn’t take reservations, with a farm in the back yard, and some long-bearded guy in the kitchen. If you’re in the mood for the haute barnyard motif in more upscale (but yet not formal) surroundings, Park Avenue _____ might be the place for you.

The amuse bouche (above left) of root vegetables and yogurt was served in a witty bird-sculpture vessel. This came with a basket of house-made bread: a spring herb roll, a red pepper and jack cheese cornbread, and a flat bread with red lentil, bulgur wheet, and quinoa.

As it was late, we shared an appetizer: a crab cake ($18; above right) with raspberries and avocado. There was nothing special about the crab itself, but such an unusual combination of ingredients made a curiously effective impact.

A pork chop ($29; above left) and filet mignon ($42; above middle) were served with appropriate vegetables of the season. Taken on their own, the proteins were as well executed as they should be at a restaurant as expensive as this, but otherwise unmemorable. A side dish of peas and carrots ($9; above right) was excellent.

Dessert was comped, either because I was recognized, or to make up for a minor service snafu before we were seated. After a small chocolate crumble (above left) came the Chocolate Cube (normally $15; above right), which the server said is so popular that it is served all year long. One of the most remarkable desserts I have had in a long time, a thick hard chocolate cube gives way to a remarkably moist custard, with a texture between cake and panna cotta. If the rest of pastry chef Kevin Leach’s desserts are as good as this, he deserves to be far better known.

It is not the restaurant’s fault that it is popular. We arrived fifteen minutes before our 9:30 p.m. reservation, to find that we could not be seated early, and there were no seats available at the bar. We milled around the crowded vestibule and put in a drinks order, which took a while to come. The dining room is on the loud side when full, and at some two-tops, including ours, you’ll be very nearly in your neighbors’ laps. You’ll admire the pretty space, but you’ll be a bit frustrated that there is nowhere to put down the wine list. Service is courteous and professional.

Park Avenue _____ doesn’t get much press any more. The Upper East Side crowd it predominantly caters to is happy, and its quarterly revamp ensures that the restaurant always seems new.

Park Avenue Spring (100 E. 63rd Street at Park Avenue, Upper East Side)

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

Desmond's

Note: Desmond’s closed in July 2012. What were originally described as mere “renovations” turned out—as is so often the case—to be permanent. The space is now a gastropub called Brinkley’s Station.

*

Suppose you’re teleported into the dining room of a random restaurant. Could you take one look, and guess what neighborhood you’re in?

If it’s Desmond’s, you probably can: the Upper East Side. Situated in a gorgeous alabaster neoclassical townhouse that was once a bank, and later a design studio, the room makes an instant impression, with a soaring double-height ceiling, skylight, and a witty modern-art chandelier.

Comfortable banquettes line either side, with white tablecloths and pineapple-shaped silver lamps on each table. It has the same clubby look as other successful places in the neighborhood, like David Burke Townhouse and The Mark by Jean Georges. (See the slideshow at nymag.com.)

This is the first solo venture for the chef and co-owner, David Hart, who was previously at Soho House and Claridge’s in London. The place opened quietly in early March, with little notice in the usual media sources and no professional reviews to date.

According to Eater.com, the opening press release described Desmond’s as “suave and clubby”; Time Out calls it a “supper club,” a term likely to repulse more diners than it attracts. As far as I can tell, it’s simply a restaurant, albeit one that the downtown crowd will probably not find very appealing.

If you’re more broad-minded than that, Desmond’s is an easy restaurant to like. It’s a beautiful space, service is just fine, and if the menu strikes you as unadventurous, at least it is executed well, and fairly priced for the neighborhood, with appetizers and salads $11–18, entrées $22–34, side dishes $9.

We were there late on a Friday evening and ordered only entrées. Crab Risotto ($29; above left) was wonderful. Double-cut Lamb Chops ($34; above right) with mint sauce were tender and flavorful. There was no bread service.

Tables are rather close together, and even with the restaurant less than half full at 10:00 p.m., it was a shade on the noisy side. I am not sure I would want to be there at prime time. There is a mezzanine with just a few tables that looks to be a bit quieter.

The proffer at Desmond’s falls a bit short of destination cuisine, but there are never too many refined, dependable restaurants, and this one delivers on its promise with considerable charm.

Desmond’s (153 E. 60th Street between Lexington & Third Avenues, Upper East Side)

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

Luke's Lobster

The admirable Luke’s Lobster succeeds like many I’ve been visiting lately—by doing one thing well. Or slightly more than one: there’s an admirable assortment of seafood rolls (lobster, crab, shrimp), chowders and bisques, but the centerpiece is the lobster roll, $15.

The eponymous Luke Holden, a native of Cape Elizabeth, Maine, is the company president. Jeff Holden, his father and a co-owner, is a former lobster fisherman who now runs a lobster processing plant. In this restaurant’s version of farm-to-table sourcing, Luke says that the catch comes directly to him without a middleman, and he can tell you precisely which Maine harbor your lobster was harvested from.

The original Luke’s, which opened in the East Village in late 2009, is mainly a take-out business: it has just eight stools. Another, on the Upper West Side, is scarcely larger, with 13 stools. That makes the Upper East Side Luke’s, with 23 stools, downright spacious.The two uptown branches opened in 2010; a fourth, in the Financial District, awaits approval of a beer license, which it should win easily.

I visited the Upper East Side Luke’s at around 10:45 p.m. on a Saturday, shortly before closing time. Even there, a lot of the business is take-out and delivery. A man came in with a take-out order at 10:55, just in time. (Luke’s doesn’t “cheat,” as some restaurants do, and close the kitchen before the nominal closing hour.)

The so-called “Lobster Ale” ($6) is one of the world’s worst beers. But the lobster roll was packed full of tender lobster meat. I can’t imagine better.

If the company can keep doing the important things right, Luke could soon have more lobster shacks than Danny Meyer has Shake Shacks.

Luke’s Lobster (242 E. 81st Street, west of Second Avenue, Upper East Side)

Le Caprice

Note: Ever in search of that ellusive “buzz”, in May 2011 Le Caprice hired a new chef, Ed Carew, a veteran of Gramercy Tavern, Craftbar, and Fiamma, and closed soon after. Sirio, from Le Cirque owner Sirio Maccioni, replaced it.

*

“I want buzz,” owner Richard Caring told the Times a year ago, just before the opening of his restaurant imported from London, Le Caprice, in the Pierre Hotel.

So Caring said that he would “hold back several [tables] each night,” but never fear: “If they are loyal,” meaning the customers, they might hope to be seated. “Several” turned out to be the whole dining room. In the early months, for the riff-raff like me, 5:30 and 10:30 were the only reservation times offered. Le Caprice dropped down, and eventually off of my list of restaurants to try.

Meanwhile, Caring learned that buzz cannot be manufactured. He was holding those tables for an A-list crowd that never came. Sam Sifton of the Times — who, unlike me, gets paid to keep trying to get into these places — found it perpetually empty, despite assurances that they were fully booked. He awarded no stars.

Nowadays, you can get into Le Caprice whenever you want. At 6:00 p.m. on a Wednesday evening, the only buzz is the sound of crickets chirping in a deserted room. By 8:00 there is a decent crowd, though it is by no means full.

From noon to three, 5:30 to 7, and 10 to close, the set menu is just $29, with three choices for each course, and it is not a bad deal at all. Even the à la carte menu isn’t overly expensive, for a restaurant in a luxury hotel on Fifth Avenue facing Central Park. If I were in the neighborhood again, I would go back. It is certainly far preferable to the disgusting Harry Cipriani down the street.

The Smoked Haddock and Quail Egg Tart (above left) is wonderful — excellent in its own right, and I am not aware of any other Manhattan restaurant that serves it.

Swordfish (above right) tasted like generic hotel food. One of my dinner companions had the Chicken Milanese (below left) with parsley, lemon, and garlic, which he seemed pleased with.

Scandinavian Iced Berries with White Hot Chocolate Sauce (above right) is one of the best desserts I’ve had in a long time, and like the haddock tart, not available anywhere else that I know of.

The room is a real stunner, a perfectly civilized place for a catch-up dinner with old friends. The staff are eager to please, and they generally manage to do so.

Le Caprice (795 Fifth Avenue at 61st Street, Upper East Side)

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

Café Boulud

 

Last week I paid a return visit to Café Boulud, my first since a renovation last year that brightened up the main dining room and added a cocktail lounge called Bar Pleiades.

As it has been from the beginning, the menu is in four sections: La Tradition, La Saison, Le Potager, and Le Voyage, as well as a separate printed list of daily specials. After two prior visits (here, here), I finally learned my lesson:

Order Anything but Le Voyage!

The only really disappointing dishes I have ever had here, have been from Le Voyage. Avoid them and you will have a happy experience. This was the best meal I have had at Café Boulud.

Full disclosure: my mom and I received a version of the VIP treatment, with a triple amuse-bouche (left), a comped mid-course, and a comped dessert. Perhaps the staff recognized my name, but I have never received extras at any of Boulud’s other restaurants.

For whatever the reason, service was superb—practically clairvoyant—but no amount of pampering could create excellent food unless the kitchen is already capable of it. Which it clearly is.

 

To strart, my mom had the oysters ($21), while I had the Jersey Corn Agnoloti ($18), with flavors wickedly fresh and vibrant. The kitchen comped a bright, colorful Heirloom Tomato Salad (below).

 

I love the wine list at Café Boulud. You can spend a whole paycheck, if you want to, but there is more variety under $100 than at just about any other restaurant in its class. There is still a whole page of wines under $60, but I decided to spend a bit more than that—a 2002 Bernadotte, a comparative bargain at $80, but still more than we normally spend. Not many restaurants right now have any 2002 Bordeaux at that price. We ordered it before the food (the only reliable strategy), and the sommelier offered to decant it for us, giving the wine time to bloom.

 

I can’t begin to describe the excellent and beautifully plated entrées in detail—they were far too complex for that, and the joy of being an amateur blogger is that I don’t have to. (If I were Sam Sifton, I’d need to call the chef and write down every ingredient, for fear of misstating one.) So go, and order them: cherry-glazed duck ($38; above left) and rabbit three ways ($37; above right).

 

Goat’s milk sorbet ($10; left) was a fulfilling, uncomplicated way to end the evening. The kitchen comped an extra scoop for my mom, along with a “fruit soup” (above right) that was somewhat underwhelming. We did our best to lay off of the traditional beignets that come as petits-fours, but resistance was futile.

Frank Bruni once said that Café Boulud was his favorite of the Boulud restaurants. It took me a while to see why. Daniel, the flagship, is a formal dress-up evening, and I’ve never quite had the feeling that it lived up to its price point. The other three (DB Bistro Moderne, Bar Boulud, and DBGB) are all very good, and I enjoy them, but they are casual, quick-bite places. (Two of the three are dominated by pre- and post-theater business.)

Café Boulud is fancy enough to make you feel special, but casual enough that you don’t need an occasion to dine here. The restaurant used to be booked solid weeks in advance, virtually precluding an impulse visit, unless you were a regular. They’re still doing fine, but the reservation book has loosened up, and there’s even the occasional 1,000-point booking on OpenTable. We should go more often.

Café Boulud (20 E. 76th St. between Fifth & Madison Avenues, Upper East Side)

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

Flex Mussels

I don’t know if it was good planning or good luck, but when Flex Mussels arrived on the Upper East Side in late 2008, it was just in time to salve the wounds of a recession-scarred city.

With scarce exceptions, the neighborhood has never been known for culinary adventure. But the last eighteen months have been a particularly good time for focused restaurants that fill a narrowly defined, inexpensive niche. Hence, we’ve got places dedicated to sausages, mac ’n’ cheese, meatballs, and of course, pizza.

Flex Mussels does that admirably. No need to guess what to order, except for which variety of mussels you want—and in that regard, the restaurant is very, um, flexible. I know, bad joke. Couldn’t resist.

Anyhow, they come in nearly two dozen variations, such as the Maine (lobster, smoked bacon, corn, white chowder, parsley) and the Bisque (lobster, brandy, tomato, garlic cream), both of which we had.

Another, called “The Number 23” on the menu, varies daily. I believe it had sweet corn and ham when I tried it. Whichever version you choose, you get a stainless steel bowl full of plump, steamed mussels, and a deep, nearly inexhaustible broth that you’ll want to drink like soup or sop up with bread.

The mussel dishes are priced between $18.50 and $20.50. There’s a handful of other entrées priced from $21–29, and a steak for $32. If you’re tempted to order them, I’d have to ask why you came to a place called Flex Mussels.

The appetizers, all competently executed, are more routine. You can’t go too far wrong with a goat cheese salad ($13; above left) with yellow beets, candied walnuts, and apples. Nor with a very good chowder ($10; above center), made not with clams, but with mussels and bacon.

A dish called Burnt Fingers ($16; above right) offers fried calamari, shrimp, oysters, and shallot rings, with a spiced aioli dip. The point of serving it on a square of butcher paper somewhat eluded me.

The mussel dishes look mostly the same and are somewhat immune to photography—at least with my amateur equipment. The fries ($6) are wonderful.

The space is deceptively large, as the storefront is narrow, but it goes back a long way. You enter into a cramped bar area, with a separate dining counter lined with stools for walk-ins. If you sit there, you won’t have much elbow room. Then you go back, and you realize there is a lot more space. The decor isn’t fancy, but it suits the restaurant’s nautical theme. It works on the Upper East Side, and it would work on Martha’s Vinyard, or on Prince Edward Island, where the first Flex Mussels opened.

The wine list is wallet-friendly, with most of the whites less than $65 a bottle. An enjoyable 2005 white Burgundy, “Les Coeres,” was $52.

Frank Bruni gave Flex Mussels one star last year, generally agreeing with our assessment of the food, but complaining about several service issues. We experienced none of that; if anything, service was better than it had to be, especially on a lovely Saturday evening with the restaurant nearly packed to the gills.

Flex Mussels (124 E. 82nd Street between Third & Lexington Avenues, Upper East Side)

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

The Mark by Jean Georges

Among four-star chefs, none has syndicated himself more broadly than Jean-Georges Vongerichten. His flagship, the eponymous Jean Georges, remains one of the sublime dining experiences in the city. There are at least fifteen more restaurants (in multiple cities) that he owns directly, and many others—various Vongs and Spice Markets—where he pockets a consulting fee without managing the property.

The rap against these places is that they seldom command his attention after they’ve opened and the (usually) rave reviews have rolled in. This spring brings two new Vongerichten restaurants to New York, raising the city’s total (by my count) to nine. Even for him, it’s an ambitious agenda.

The Mark by Jean Georges is a fancy place in an even fancier Upper East Side hotel, but the menu is surprisingly low-brow, with its $22 hamburgers and pizzas in the teens. There’s the obligatory $89 ribeye for two, but most of the entrées are below $30, and very few of them set the pulse racing. The servers marching through the dining room with their silver platters are incongruous with the lack of ambition on the plate.

The fit-out is gorgeous. On a recent Saturday evening, the Mark was a mixture of the old-school Upper East Side crowd, European and Russian accents, and fashion-plate trophy dates in party dresses. Many of the women could be illustrations in a costmetic surgery textbook, illustrating both the right and the wrong way of doing it.

The restaurant, at least early on, is not lacking for business. We couldn’t do any better than 9:30 p.m., even a month in advance. We arrived early for drinks, only to find a cocktail menu as uninspired as the food. However, it was worthwhile for the people-watching alone.

I’ve never seen so many rent-a-dates. One seated near us had been promoted to concubine. “Can I rent an apartment under $10,000?” Her apparently stoned companion, who was at least twice her age, didn’t have an intelligible answer. Later on, she pouted, “I’ve been waiting patiently for a week!”

What about the food? Oh yes, they do serve food here. Some of it is good. A small black truffle fritter was served as an amuse-bouche.

A black truffle pizza with fontina cheese ($16; right) continued the theme. We shared it, and that’s the way to go. Although it is excellent, even truffles can be cloying if you eat too much of them. But I can’t complain about the price. At $16, this wouldn’t have been a bad deal even without truffles.

The entrées were standard-issue hotel fare: a pedestrian linguine with clams ($30; left); an overly salty parmesan crusted chicken ($23; right).

The wine list has decent selections that don’t break the bank. I chose a $43 Syrah. Rather oddly, the sommelier brought a $65 bottle, which he opened before showing it to us. As it was quite clearly not what I had ordered—not even close, actually—the restaurant had to eat it, which was done without complaint.

There is, of course, much more to the menu than what we tried, but we were left with the impression of decent hotel food served in a gorgeous room where the people-watching trumps the cuisine. Perhaps Vongerichten is skipping the inevitable decline, and launching with mediocrity in mind from the beginning.

The Mark by Jean-Georges (25 E. 77th St. near Madison Ave., Upper East Side)

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

Shalezeh

Most of the New York City restaurants with Michelin stars are sensible choices, but there are a few head-scratchers. In December we reviewed Rhong-Tiam, which has since moved to a new location after being shut down by the health department.

Then there’s Shalizar, which recently changed its name to Shalezeh, to avoid confusion with an unrelated Shalizaar in California. It’s a rather half-hearted name change, as the menu, the signage, and the credit card bill all still say “Shalizar.”

Like Rhong-Tiam, Shalizar Shalezeh had received no critical attention whatsoever that would suggest it is Michelin material. It has been open since mid-2008, and most of the city’s major publications haven’t reviewed it at all. Its food rating on Zagat is a mere 21 (that is, just a shade above mediocre).

Did Michelin find a hidden gem that all of the other critics had missed? I am afraid not. Shalizar Shalezeh is the kind of moderately diverting place where you’d be happy to drop in if it were nearby, but it is not even remotely close to the kind of “destination restaurant” normally associated with a Michelin star.

The atmosphere is at least comfortable and pleasant, the service friendly and attentive. Prices are modest, with appetizers $8 and under, and entrées mostly $23 and under. Our food bill for two was just $56, and we had plenty to eat for that amount. The warm, house-made bread (right) was wonderful.

We do not have much expertise in Persian cuisine, so we cannot rate Shalizar Shalezeh on authenticity. The menu is heavy on eggplant, yogurts, chicken, and lamb—all very sensible. But are halibut and filet mignon Persian specialties? There we are less sure.

We ordered a tasting of three salads ($14; above left), which would be $6–7 if ordered separately. These are the Shirazi (cucumber, tomato, onion, parsley, and citrus jus), the Tabuleh (diced tomatoes, cracked wheat, chopped parsley, mint, olive oil, and citrus jus), and the Labu (marinated beets, tomato, feta cheese, wild berry, and cherry vinaigrette). I liked the Labu best, but I have a weakness for beets. The Shirazi seemed to be missing the tomatoes that the menu promised, and it tasted a bit monotonous.

We were comped an Olivieh Salad (above right), made with pickles, chicken, potato, English peas, cucumber, eggs, and mayonaise. In short, it was a terrific chicken salad. It would have made a first-class sandwich.

Lamb Kebab ($16; above left) and the Vermont Lamb Shank ($20; above right) both felt under-seasoned to us. The kebab was nicely cooked to a medium rare, and the meat was tender, but there wasn’t much going on besides that. However, we loved the basmati rice with lentil, saffron, and raisin.

The lamb shank was properly braised, but we couldn’t make out the alleged Middle Eastern herbs, and without them it tasted flat. The raisin couscous were more interesting.

We enjoyed most of our meal, especially at these prices, and would happily return when we have business in the neighborhood. Those expecting Michelin-class culinary fireworks will be disappointed.

Shalezeh (1420 Third Avenue between 80th–81st Streets, Upper East Side)

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