Daniel

When Frank Bruni re-affirmed the four-star rating for Daniel earlier this year, his endorsement came with caveats not usually found in such a review: “it yields fewer transcendent moments than its four-star brethren and falls prey to more inconsistency,” and a clunker rate “slightly higher than a restaurant as ambitious as this one’s should be.”

I gave Daniel four stars in March 2007, but as I look back on that meal, I think it was the least satisfying of those to which I’ve given the highest rating. This must be taken in relative terms: obviously the food was very good. But four stars, meaning “extraordinary,” must be something more than that. When I looked back on that meal, and realized I couldn’t even vaguely recall very much of it, I realized that I must have overrated the place.

This feeling was cemented by a return visit last weekend. The décor has been brightened, the plush red velvet banished, but the food remains unexciting. I should clarify that our tastes are distinctly not biased against Chef Boulud because he has been cooking the same food for twenty years. We love the classics done well. Actually, there is nothing more exciting than breathing life into an old standard.

But among seven courses we had on a $185 tasting menu (click on image for a larger copy), there was not one I would especially care to have again. That’s not because there was anything wrong with them—to the contrary, I have great respect for the care with which most of them were put together. But all of that effort yielded curiously dull effects.

Part of me wished we had selected the $105 prix fixe. Several of the items offered there sounded a lot more interesting. On my next visit to Daniel—though I assure you, it probably won’t be anytime soon—we will probably go that route.

The bifurcated service at Daniel—one level for the anointed, another for everyone else—is the stuff of legend. We experienced none of this. We found all of the servers friendly, efficient, and highly professional.

But there were several inexplicably long waits, which struck us more as inattention than snobbery. We figured that by 10:15 p.m., the time of our reservation, the restaurant would be starting to thin out. To the contrary, we were kept waiting until 10:45.

While we cooled our jets in the bar, it seemed like forever until someone came to took our drinks order. The party next to us endured a similar wait, and they appeared to be known to Chef Boulud, who came over to say hello; they were later seated in a secluded nook designed (or so it appeared) for V.I.P.s.

We do understand that restaurants sometimes run behind for reasons beyond management’s control, but we think an explanation—or at least an apology—was in order, and under the circumstances our drinks should have been comped.

The one thing they did to help us bide our time, was to serve the amuses-bouches in the bar (photo right).

When we were seated, there was another fairly long wait before bread (many varieties of it—none warm) was served. Once our tasting menu was underway, service moved along at a good, but not hurried, pace. As it was, we were not out of there until 1:00 a.m., by which time only one other table was still seated.

The tasting menu format offers choices for every course, and we diverged on all but one of them, which allowed us to taste a good cross-section of the menu. (Most of the tasting menu items are also available on the prix fixe.)

First Course:

• Mosaic of Capon, Foie Gras, and Celery Root. Pickled Daikon, Satur Farms Mâche, Pear Confit (above left)
• Pressed Duck and Foie Gras Terrine. Chimay Gelée Chestnuts, Red Cabbage Chutney (above right)

These were both labor intensive dishes, and you had to respect the artistry involved. The Mosaic of Capon was the more satisfying of the two.

Second Course:

• Maine Peekytoe Crab Salad. Celery, Walnut Oil, Granny Smith Sauce (above left)
• Olive Oil Poached Cod “en Salade”. Artichoke Puré, Tarragon Dressing, Lemon Zest (above right)

The crab salad was the more successful of the two. The juxtaposition with apples struck us as especially clever. The poached cod salad didn’t have much flavor.

We both made the same choice for the third course: Handmade Spinach Tortelloni. Chanterelles, “Tomme de la Chataigneraie,”, Lomo, Black Garlic (left).

(The other choice for this course was a butter poached abalone with yellow curry braised greens, crispy rice, and chayote.)

Once again, we were impressed by the amount of labor that had gone into this dish, but the flavors were far too muted.

Fourth Course:

• Whole Grain Crusted Skate. Chanterelles, Swiss Chard, Caper Chicken Jus (above left)
• Loup de Mer with Syrah Sauce. Leek Royale, “Pommes Lyonnaise” (above right)

The blizzard of vegetables surrounding the skate was arguably more impressive than the skate itself. The Loup de Mer was somewhat unappetizing; on the plate, it resembled an eel.

Fifth Course:

• Elysian Fields Farm Lamb Chop. Garbanzo Bean Fricassé, Chorizo, Rutabaga, Chickpea Tendrils (above left)
• Duo of Dry Aged Black Angus Beef. Red Wine Braised Short Rib with Parsnip-Potato Gratin, Seared Rib Eye with Black Trumpets. Gorgonzola Cream (above right)

The lamb and the short rib, although correctly prepared, seemed pedestrian for a restaurant on this level—or should I say, purported level. The ribeye was tough, and had none of the marbling that it should.

Sixth Course:

• Citrus Biscuit with Pink Grapefruit. Buddha’s Hand Lemon Confit, Mandarin Sorbet (above left)
• Warm Guanaja Chocolate Coulant. Liquid Caramel, Fleur de Sel, Milk Sorbet (above middle)
• Birthday Cake (above right)

The citrus biscuit was the best of the three. The chocolate coulant was dry, and we didn’t bother finishing it. The birthday cake was better.

The meal finished with petits-fours (average) and the warm beignets (excellent) that, by this time of the evening, sadly went to waste.

While Daniel has the format of a four-star restaurant, with its high ratio of servers to customers, high-end servingware, labor-intensive preparation, sauces poured at tableside, and so forth, we found the food uninspired and dull. We hold nothing against Daniel for serving the same classics year after year. But they need to inspire more than just “respect” for the level of effort involved.

We respect Daniel, but we did not love it.

Daniel (60 E. 65th Street west of Park Avenue, Upper East Side)

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

The crab salad was the more successful of the two. The juxtaposition with apples struck us as especially clever. The poached cod salad didn’t have much flavor.

Lunch at Jean Georges

Note: Click here for a more recent review.

For years, I’ve heard about the remarkable lunch menu at Jean Georges: any two courses, $28; additional courses, $14 each; desserts just $8 each. It also includes the same amuses-bouches and petits-fours served at dinner.

Few luxury restaurants come close to offering that kind of deal at lunch. Le Bernardin, for instance, is $68. The Modern is $55. Eleven Madison Park recently started offering two courses for $28, but Jean Georges was doing it before there was any recession. And Jean Georges has four stars.

For such a low price (the normal dinner menu is $98), you’d expect limited choices, but that’s not the case. There are twenty-one options (just two carry supplements), and most are recognizable versions of those offered at dinner. The list isn’t divided into the standard appetizers and entrées, just a long list: if you want two meat courses, you’re welcome to have them.

Even more remarkable, the prix fixe in the adjoining Nougatine, the casual front room, is $24.07, so the dining room is charging only a four-dollar premium for considerably more ambitious food. A friend and I had lunch there today. We ordered the standard two courses each and shared a third, bringing the savory total to $63. After a couple of glasses of wine, the bill was just $98, including tax.

The trio of amuses-bouches was nearly identical to those my mother and I had at dinner last month: a disc of homemade mozzarella, a crab fritter in mushroom sauce, and an herbal chicken broth. After we tasted the crab fritter, my friend said, “The wonderful thing about Jean Georges is that he never makes a mistake.” Then we tried the chicken broth, which tasted like dishwater.

A Warm Green Asparagus Salad was just fine, but overly simplistic. My friend’s appetizer of Tuna Ribbons with avocado, spicy radish, and ginger marinade, seemed a lot more interesting. We shared the Foie Gras Brulee, a Jean Georges staple, which must be the best foie dish in the city. It has been perfect both times I’ve had it.

For the main course, my friend had the same remarkable Goat Cheese Gnocchi with baby artichokes that I tried last month. He was equally impressed. I loved the Red Snapper crusted with seeds and nuts, and served in what appeared to be a stew of baby heirloom tomatoes.

It used to be that Jean Georges was my least favorite of the four-star restaurants. More than the others, it seems more prone to the inevitable minor screw-up (in this case, the dishwater chicken broth). But I have to admit the place is growing on me.

Vongerichten himself was in the house and came over to say hello. The dining room was full (as was adjoining Nougatine), which makes me wonder why the chef is quite so generous at lunchtime.

Jean Georges (1 Central Park West at 60th Street, Upper West Side)

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

Rouge Tomate

[Horine via Eater]

Note: Rouge Tomate closed in August 2014, due to “economics.” The huge space was never full, but somehow, Rouge Tomate eked out a Michlein star and held onto it for five years. As the review notes below, we weren’t impressed at all, but perhaps the restaurant improved. The owners re-opened in 2016, in a new space dubbed Rouge Tomate Chelsea.

*

It’s a coincidence that we dined at Rouge Tomate just days after Frank Bruni’s one-star review came out—we made our reservation weeks ago. I went in suspecting that Bruni had been too stingy. I went out convinced he was too generous.

Rouge Tomate is a health lecture disguised as a restaurant. Its “mission” is to provide “a harmonious alignment of balanced cuisine, well-being, and social and environmental consciousness.” It adheres to the principles of Sanitas Per Escam (S.P.E.), a Latin phrase meaning “Health Through Food.”

Perhaps a better principle would be, “Avoid restaurants with mission statements.”

There’s a serious chef: Jeremy Bearman, who has worked for Joël Robuchon and Daniel Boulud. You almost get the sense that if he could toss the S.P.E. rule book, Bearman could rustle up a a memorable meal.

But almost nothing we had at Rouge Tomate tasted very good. With the exception of one dish, it was all very bland and forgettable. And it doesn’t come cheap. Although a $72 prix fixe was wisely jettisoned in the restaurant’s early days, dinner for two still set us back almost $175 (before tip), including cocktails ($12 each) and a $42 bottle of wine.

The bread service (above left) was typical of the many culinary blunders at Rouge Tomate. The bread itself was wonderful, but puréed spinach was a poor stand-in for butter. We love spinach—truly, we do—but in this role it was miscast.

The trio of amuses bouches (above right) were a mixed bag. Puréed beet leaves were awful. A beet gelée tinged with horseradish was arguably too intense, but at least it had flavor. A “beet tartare” had very little flavor at all.

Market Potato and Farm Egg (above left; $15) got a boost from a poached egg, but the potato hash and a streak of “foraged mushrooms” contributed no excitement on their own.

The mushrooms were a more welcome presence in a faux risotto with barley, winter truffles, parmesan, and a Maderia wine reduction (above right; $19). This was the only really enjoyable dish we tasted at Rouge Tomate.

In the Daily News, Restaurant Girl gave Rouge Tomate an improbable four out of five stars. Among her standout dishes was the Rabbit Fleischnacke (above left; $27), a concoction of minced rabbit, chestnut pasta, apple and celery root. But we discerned no flavor at all in the rabbit, while the poor chestnuts proved a poor substitute for flour in pasta.

Duck (above right; $28) was competently prepared, and served in an ample portion. It came on a bed of root vegetables and barley with all the flavor cooked out of them.

The stunning bi-level décor makes an instant impression, but after a while it seemed as soulless and sterile as the food. We were at the far end of the dining room, cut off from whatever warmth the space might have had. Another couple seated near us had to ask twice to be moved. We couldn’t imagine why the staff hesitated, since there were plenty of empty tables to choose from at 8:00 p.m. on a Saturday evening.

With that curious exception, the service was excellent, to the point of suffocation. We appreciate being asked if we’re enjoying ourselves, but various servers and managers must have asked the question eight or ten times.

Eagerness to please is not the problem at Rouge Tomate. The “mission” is.

Rouge Tomate (10 East 60th Street between Fifth & Madison Avenues, Upper East Side)

Food: Fair
Service: Very Good
Ambiance: Sterile
Overall: Disappointing

Fishtail

[Kreiger via Eater]

Note: As I predicted, Fishtail followed the pattern of other David Burke restaurants, and sank gradually into irrelevance. It closed in early 2016, long after Burke himself had moved on to other ventures.

*

We’re in a seafood moment, or maybe it’s just a coincidence. Over the last month, we have compelling new entries at the opposite ends of town, The John Dory in Southwest Chelsea and Fishtail on the Upper East Side. They’re stylistic opposites too: an edgy downtown vibe at one, old-money splendor at the other. Both places work more fish art into their décor than I ever believed possible.

I expect Fishtail to face a lot of skepticism among the Internet chattering class, many of whom believe the civilized world ends at 59th Street. But Fishtail in its early days is a surprisingly good restaurant. Ignore, if you must, the Park Avenue ladies and their face lifts. Focus instead on the bounty of fish, impeccably prepared.

The ringmaster here is David Burke. No mere chef, the owner (says his website) is “blurring the lines between chef, artist, entrepreneur and inventor.” Most conglomerate chefs at least adopt the pretense of dressing the part, even if you know they won’t be there after the review cycle is over. Burke doesn’t even bother. He was there on a Saturday night working the room, dressed in civvies.

I had my doubts about Fishtail. I paid three visits to his other Upper East Side restaurant, David Burke Townhouse (formerly David Burke & Donatella). Each time, I liked it a bit less than before. Many of Burke’s clever ideas looked interesting on paper, but didn’t quite work on the plate. And he’s spread awfully thin, lending his name to dubious enterprises like the laughable Hawaiian Tropic Zone.

At Fishtail, Burke and his culinary wit are on full display, but in the dishes we tried, practically all of it worked. Go ahead and serve a Rice Krispy Crabcake or Lobster Dumplings, but they’d better be good. And they were.

The menu features raw bar standards, small plates ($11–14), soups, salads & appetizers ($11–18), simple and whole fish à la carte ($21 & up, up, up), composed plates ($29–40) and side dishes ($6.50). You can spend a bundle, but with judicious ordering can have an excellent meal for around $50–60 a head (before wine).

Even the more expensive items seem reasonably priced for this kind of restaurant (e.g., Dover Sole, $40). A couple of items on our bill were were a bit lower than the amounts shown online, which suggests the menu is being adjusted to reality. Nevertheless, this is a luxury restaurant, and the service has most of the flourishes you’d expect at such a place.

As mentioned, Rice Krispy Crab Cakes ($15; above left) and Lobster Dumplings ($12; above right) were excellent. Both dishes had examples of Burke’s wit—the clever glass serving plate used for the crab cakes, the little tiny tails poking out of the dumplings. You can’t eat humor, but I’d gladly order these dishes again.

A whole Branzino ($27; above left) and a whole Red Snapper ($33; above right) were both prepared perfectly. In each case, the whole fish was presented in a skillet and then filleted at a serving station. Both were listed as portions for one, but the Snapper could easily have been for two.

There are sauces and garnishes for the whole fish, in a menu category called “Top Hats”—complement to Tails, get it? These are $7.50 apiece and ample enough to share, but I wouldn’t bother. A Gnocchi & Wild Mushroom sauce added nothing to these already excellent fish, and it was served slightly lukewarm.

Several of the whole fish are priced “by the pound,” a practice that can only lead to confusion. That Snapper, for instance, was $22/lb., but the menu stipulated it was 1½ pounds. So why not be done with it, and just put $33 on the menu? The Branzino, on the other hand, was listed at its correct price of $27.

 

French fries ($6.50; above left) were served in a miniature frying basket with homemade mayo. The first batch was cold and soggy. After we complained, they brought up another batch moments later, which was perfect. Cauliflower Brûlée ($6.50; above center) didn’t need a do-over: it came in a sizzling hot cast-iron dish, and was terrific.

The wine service, already very good, still needs some tweaks. A server offered to send over a sommelier before we’d even seen menus. The wine list, printed in 8-point type, is practically unreadable. What could they have been thinking? After I’d squinted my way through it, I found a great Crozes Hermitage ($50; above right). It would have been harder to find a bargain among the reds. There are some compelling verticals with real age on them, but at prices well above our budget.

The “petits-fours” (right) were little daubs of sorbet inside a candy wrapper, served on ice. It was the only time in the meal when the “chef–inventor” got too cute for his own good.

Aside from that, service was impressive, with plenty of staff in ties and vests scurrying efficiently. There were warm baguettes at the beginning of the meal, though two people shouldn’t be asked to share one butter knife.

The restaurant is set up on two floors of a townhouse, with the bar and the kitchen downstairs, and two dining rooms up above. Food runners will get plenty of exercise shuttling food upstairs, and as noted, a couple of items came out not quite warm enough.

The space is lovely, if you don’t mind bright red. It is not quite as cramped as David Burke Townhouse, but you still get a sense that there isn’t an inch to spare. Our two-top was just six inches away from the next one.

David Burke seems to have a built-in Upper East Side fan club. His earlier restaurant is perpetually packed, and his clientele seems to have followed him over to Fishtail. If I have a concern, it’s whether Burke and executive chef Eric Hara can keep up the quality after Burke moves onto other projects.

But for a one-month-old restaurant, Fishtail is impressive. I hope it will stay that way.

Fishtail (135 E. 62nd Street between Park & Lexington Avenues, Upper East Side)

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

Café Boulud

[Kalina via Eater]

Unlike the professional critics, I don’t have the time, the inclination, or the pocketbook to pay multiple visits to a restaurant before venturing an opinion. My posts are snapshots of individual meals. I can’t help it if my impressions are either much better, or much worse, than the prevailing “conventional wisdom.” I may have caught the restaurant on an unusually good or bad day. I might, by dumb luck, just happen to have ordered the best couple of dishes on an uneven menu, or the worst ones on a very good menu.

Sometimes, though, I have the distinct impression that a restaurant deserves a second chance. And that was what I thought after a friend and I had an exceedingly dull meal at Café Boulud two years ago. It’s not that we had anything bad, but that, for the price point, the food struck us as uninspired. There were also some service miscues.

In its ten-year history, Café Boulud has probably had some ups and downs. It seems to be a proving ground for chefs, who benefit from Daniel Boulud’s mentorship and move on to better things. The opening chef, Alex Lee, was around just long enough to win three stars in the Times from Ruth Reichl. Andrew Carmellini had a six-year run (1999–2005) before leaving to open A Voce. Boulud then promoted Carmellini’s sous chef, Bertrand Chemel, who won three stars from Frank Bruni and promptly departed for Falls Church, Virginia.

Gavin Kaysen has been running the kitchen since December 2007, though presumably with plenty of input from Boulud. The menu, as it has always been, is divided into four sections: La Tradition (French classics), Le Voyage (world cuisine), La Saison (seasonal items) and Le Potager (vegetarian choices). The pattern persists through dessert and even the cocktail menu.

Prices are about par for a three-star restaurant, with appetizers $16–28 (most in the high teens), entrées $27–55 (most in the $30s), and desserts $10–24 (most $14).

 
“Red Snapper” cocktail (left); Amuse-bouche (right)

My girlfriend and I tried a couple of the seasonal cocktails. The terrific, labor-intensive “Red Snapper” was made with jalapeño-infused gin, celery ice cubes, and tomato juice poured tableside from a glass caraffe. My girlfriend had a Rhubarb Mojito. They were both $12, which is extremely reasonable in a town where cocktails north of $15 are increasingly common.

 
Spring Risotto (left); English Pea Raviolini (right)

Our appetizers, chosen from the potager section of the menu, were full of bright flavors of the season: Spring Risotto ($19) with ramps and watercress; English Pea Ravioli ($18) with bacon, pea leaves, and a sherry-shallot jus.

 
Butter Poached Halibut (left); Greek Lamb Trio (right)

I loved the soft, buttery Poached Halibut ($36) from the Saison section of the menu, which featured an excellent supporting cast of whole grain mustard sausage, tiny potato gnocchi, English peas, and tomato fondue.

The Greek Lamb Trio ($41), from the Voyage section, wasn’t as exciting as the other items we had. The roasted loin was lovely, but as girlfriend noted, “This isn’t really very Greek.” Oddly enough, both Times critics (Reichl and Bruni) found Le Voyage the weakest portion of the menu here; this has been true both times I visited.

 
Rhubarb & Almond Tart (left); Madeleines (right)

We shared a Rhubarb & Almond Tart ($14), and to finish, the server dropped off a folded napkin full of warm , delicious sugar-coated madeleines.

The wine list has a section dedicated to bottles $60 and under. This part of the list seems to have shrunk since my last visit, but there are still some wonderful finds. The sommelier suggested the 2004 Stéphane Tissot Singulier ($60), made from the seldom encountered Trousseau grape from the Arbois region of France. We were struck by its light, fruity texture, resembling a pinot noir. We appreciated the recommendation, as we’d have never have found it on our own.

I wouldn’t choose Café Boulud for a special occasion, but rather, for food that is reliably excellent. The dining room is lovely and fairly quiet, though it also has the feel of an Upper East Side neighborhood place. One family was there with a two-year-old, and the staff dutifully produced a high chair. Fortunately, he was well behaved.

The service is polished and elegant, with a high ratio of staff to diners. Sometimes they get a bit confused, as when one asked us for our cocktail order after another had already taken it. Our cocktail order took a bit too long to be filled. It was a good thing I delayed our order, as otherwise the appetizers would have arrived before the wine was poured. These are minor complaints, and didn’t at all detract from our excellent meal.

There aren’t enough days in the week to give every restaurant a second chance, but Café Boulud is one that deserved it. With Gavin Kaysen in the kitchen, Café Boulud is in good hands.

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

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

Etats-Unis, Twice

Note: Etats-Unis closed in November 2009.

*

A friend and I were overdue for a “catch-up” dinner, and I suggested Etats-Unis. I had good memories of the restaurant when I dined there about a year ago, and the neighborhood was convenient.

Everything that made Etats-Unis worthwhile then is true now, but we had a peculiar experience. My friend asked for a tissue, or in lieu of that a cocktail napkin, or a paper towel, or anything made of paper that one could wipe the nose with—and for some reason the server refused, and in fact, was quite insistent that she would not. It was not, to be sure, a run-of-the-mill request, but why refuse?

Eventually the server complied, but after that we were all but ignored. As my friend lives nearby, she went back the next day to complain. The restaurant was very apologetic, admitted they’d had problems with that server, and gave us a gift certificate more than ample to cover the cost of a second meal.

So this is a review of Etats-Unis, twice. The second time, we had a different server, and Etats-Unis shone—as I’m sure it usually does.

The printed menu changes daily. And it really does change. I brought home copies of the menus from both visits. Two weeks apart, only two of five appetizers and one of five entrées were identical. And the others hadn’t just changed slightly; most had changed totally, aside from the chicken entrée (present both times, but with different preparations and accompaniments).

Frank Bruni wrote up Etats-Unis on his blog about five months ago. He clearly was reviewing it through the prism of the restaurant’s Michelin star status. Most restaurants so honored are considerably more luxurious than this one, and he expected more of the dishes to be knock-outs.

What strikes me, rather, is that so much of the food at Etats-Unis is just incredibly solid. After three visits, I remain impressed. Everything is robust, hearty, and impeccably prepared.

Its failing, if you’d call it that, is that Etats-Unis goes straight for the gut. These aren’t meticulous, composed artistic creations, with sauces laid out in squiggly lines, plates with funky shapes, and dollops of caviar or truffles. Most could be described as comfort food, but executed at a level that commands attention.

The portions are also enormous. I have never finished a meal at Etats-Unis, and I probably never will. It’s not for a lack of desire. It’s just more food than I can eat.

It is also expensive. Appetizers are $17–22, entrées $28–38. On my second visit, there was an aged prime rib for two, for $96. The wine list somewhat makes up for it, with plenty of reasonably priced bottles. There are about 20–25 choices by the quarter-bottle (a little more than the standard glass), and almost twenty half-bottles.

 
Tiger shrimp and Dungeness crabmeat chowder (left); Twice risen wild mushroom soufflé (right)

On our first visit, my friend started with a shrimp and crabmeat chowder ($18), while I had a wild mushroom soufflé ($17), which for me was the knockout dish of the evening—an impressive creation.

 
Seafood paella “Etats-Unis” (left); Veal chop (right)

Seafood paella ($38) is the one entrée that was on the menu both times we visited. I hesitate to order paella sometimes, because the seafood is usually in the shell, and the effort to eat it isn’t always repaid in flavor. At Etats-Unis, all of the seafood is out of its shell, and therein lies much of its merit. It includes lobster, shrimp and scallops, along with onions, chorizo, artichokes, bacon and rice. My friend loved it so much that she ordered the same thing two weeks later.

I had the veal chop ($38), which was one of the least interesting things we tried. It was perfectly done, as is everything at Etats-Unis, but not much was done with it, aside from supplying a boatload of rather unmemorable vegetables.

 
Date pudding (left); Chocolate soufflé (right)

Among the desserts, date pudding ($12) and the chocolate soufflé ($14) never leave the menu. Both are baked-to-order, and you need to request them at the beginning of your meal (the server will ask). As I mentioned last time, either one is easily shareable, especially given the size of the appetizer and entrée portions.

Anyhow, we ordered both anyway. The data pudding is the better of the two, particularly given that no one else in town is serving anything like it. The soufflé is very good, and you won’t go home unhappy, but there are plenty of restaurants that do it as well.

 
Fresh pea soup (left); Organic roasted chicken (right)

The second time back, we both chose the same appetizer: a terrific pea soup ($18) garnished with chives, lemon, and Dungeness crab meat.

Lemon poppyseed soufflé

For the main course, my friend had the paella again, while I chose the organic boneless chicken ($28). Whereas my veal chop last time was rather simplistic, there was much more going on here. The chicken was rolled and stuffed with cilantro, onion, and avocado. On the side was a luscious potato terrine, made with six-year aged Gouda cheese.

To finish, we re-ordered the date pudding, but this time there was a new soufflé to try: lemon poppyseed ($14). It was just fine, but not quite gooey enough. If you’re going to have a soufflé, the chocolate is better. (There are always four desserts; both times, there was a lemon pudding cake available. On the first visit, a key lime cheesecake took the place of the lemon soufflé.)

I was impressed that the staff at Etats-Unis essentially comped an entire meal because of the poor service we experienced the first time. Any restaurant would abjectly apologize, but an entire comped meal at this price level is unusual, especially for a restaurant like Etats-Unis that generally has no trouble selling out.

The space remains spartan and somewhat cramped, but the service (aside from a certain individual) is otherwise very good.

Etats-Unis (242 East 81st Street between 2nd & 3rd Avenues, Upper East Side)

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

davidburke & donatella

 

Note: In 2009, davidburke & donatella was renamed David Burke Townhouse, after Donatella Arpaia severed her ties with the restaurant. The restaurant closed in 2014, for what was supposed to be a month of renovations. Not long after that, Burke “took a backseat” in the operation of his various restaurants. David Burke Townhouse never re-opened, and as of May 2015 the building was for sale.

*

Davidburke & donatella is a frustrating restaurant that is hard to ignore. The first time I visited, I rated it a shade below three stars. The second time, I was so disgusted that I wasn’t sure I’d ever return. But David Burke’s witty menu, now under chef de cuisine Eric Hara, drew me back.

Some of the restaurant’s drawbacks are destined never to be remedied. Tables are squished so tightly together that you’re practically in your neighbors’ lap. This is certainly not the place for a romantic tête-à-tête. To get to the restroom and back, you must navigate an obstacle course. Given the price range, you’d like the service staff to be more attentive; given the cramped quarters, I’m not sure how they’d squeeze in any more of them.

The comely Ms. Arpaia and her Vespa

The wine list remains exorbitant. A mediocre pinot noir was $75, and I saw nothing for much less.

Both David Burke and Donatella Arpaia have since drifted on to other adventures. Arpaia’s latest is Mia Dona, with chef Michael Psilakis. Burke has opened six restaurants in the last four years, of which David Burke Las Vegas is the most recent.

But despite the distractions, the menu at davidburke & donatella has not remained stagnant. There were several items I had not seen before, and Burke’s abundant wit remains evident in all of them. I don’t know if he is still contributing, or if in Eric Hara he has found a worthy deputy.

When you sit down, the evening’s tasting menu ($75, five courses) is already in front of you. There are also several hand-written specials. It is admirable to have them in writing, especially given the dense complexity of Burke’s (or Hara’s) creations. If they were recited, I suspect they would be inaudible through the din.

A three-course prix-fixe (which wasn’t available before) is $55, although numerous dishes carry supplements. On the à la carte menu, appetizers are $15–24, mains are $28–44.

Scallop Ceviche (left); Bread service (right)

The amuse-bouche was a rather bland scallop ceviche. As before, the wonderful hot bread rolls are served in a copper pot, and the butter is an artful sculpture that one is almost sorry to cut into.

 
PB&J (left); Parfait of Salmon and Tuna Tartars with Crème Fraiche (right)

“PB&J” ($21) seems to have undergone some refinement since it was featured in New York. Earlier photos (example here) showed a hunk of pan-seared foie gras between two slices of toasted brioche, with strawberry jam and a macadamia nut spread. But the version of served yesterday was a lot less interesting. The foie gras itself was more like a tennis-ball-shaped terrine cut in half, with the jam and peanuts on the side. Though visually arresting, it was not as interesting with the contrasting ingredients demoted to observer status.

My girlfriend adored the parfait of salmon and tuna tartars ($16). The version served last night was handwritten on the menu, so it might not be exactly the same recipe shown on the restaurant website, although I believe it is close.

 
Organic “Ostrich” Scramble (left); Handmade Cavatelli & Braised Short Ribs (right)

For the main course, I decided on one of the handwritten specials, described as an “Organic ‘Ostrich’ Scramble” ($44 as an entrée; also available as an appetizer). The ‘Ostrich’ in quotes refers to the serving vessel: half an ostrich egg. There is otherwise no ostrich in the dish, which includes scrambled organic eggs, lobster, tomato, caviar and crème fraiche.

I give Hara (or was it Burke?) full credit for dreaming up something that, I think we may safely say, no one anywhere else is serving. But in the end it was just a tasty mash-up of luxury ingredients that didn’t really sustain enough interest to be a main course.

My girlfriend was quite happy with the Homemade Cavatelli & Braised Short Ribs ($32).

We concluded with a shared order of Burke’s Cheesecake Lollipop Tree ($18; left). I’ve now had it three times, and like many Burke creations, I think it’s more notable for how it looks than how it tastes.

More than four years after it opened, davidburke & donatella has lost none of its popularity. It seems to be nearly always full, drawing heavily on a well dressed Upper East side crowd.

It would be easy for such a place to lapse into dull repetition, but Burke and Hara continue to swing for the fences with their inventive cuisine. If not every item is a hit, one has to respect the creativity. But in so many other ways the restaurant is incredibly unpleasant. After three uneven visits, I am not sure I’ll be back again anytime soon.

davidburke & donatella (133 E. 61st Street between Park & Lexington Avenues, Upper East Side)

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

Bruno Jamais

 
Left: The walk-thru wine cellar; Right: The dining room

Note: Bruni Jamais has closed.

*

Five years ago, Bruno Jamais opened his “exclusive” restaurant club on the Upper East Side. The Times reported that admission was open only to Mr. Jamais’ exclusive client list, honed over his years as maître d’hôtel at Daniel and Alain Ducasse. Membership in the club was $7,000 a pop.

The restaurant is on a quiet Upper East Side block in an elegant townhouse, just steps away from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Starchitect Tony Chi’s interior, featuring a spectacular walk-through wine cellar, won Hospitality Design’s Best Restaurant Design award in 2004. The dining room now doubles as a one-man show for the French artist Cyrille Margarit. Even Donald Trump might find it too opulent.

Critics mostly ignored the restaurant, which was evidently as Mr. Jamais wanted it. The only pro review was in the New Yorker, which found the food mediocre. The critic was more intrigued by diners whose dates seemed to be paid by the hour.

The supper club idea didn’t last; these days, anyone can get in. Indeed, there’s a distinct sense of almost begging, with the menu reminding you—in capital letters, no less—that the space is available for “BIRTHDAY PARTIES, SPECIAL OCCASIONS, WEDDING RECEPTIONS & CORPORATE EVENTS.” Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays are singles’ nights, and there’s a half-price prix fixe on Sundays.

There’s a decent number of reviews on the web, though some of the writers may be shills. The food seems to have been uneven over the years—sometimes terrific, but not dependable. The revolving door in the kitchen cannot have helped: the restaurant opened in late 2002, and it’s already on its fourth chef.

With that background, this isn’t a restaurant I would have chosen without an invitation. Full disclosure: our food and drinks were on the house, though I paid for the wine myself. Having said that, we were extremely impressed. The cuisine at Bruno Jamais is serious and excellent.

John Keller, who previously worked at Le Bernardin and Nobu, has been executive chef since 2006. His deft menu, which changes daily, is mostly conservative, but Keller can be clever too. Ingredients like caviar and foie gras are deployed liberally, but not in the lazy ways of chefs who use luxury as a substitute for thought. This is cooking of a high order.

The wine list is impressive, with one of the city’s better selections of Bordeaux and Burgundies. It skews expensive, but there are bottles as low as $40 (not many, though). A 1993 Chateau Lynch-Moussac Pauillac seemed to me fairly priced at $140.

There are some good house cocktails, too, but I failed to note all the ingredients in the one I liked best—something called “Sexy Back,” which the bartender recommended. The house signature cocktail, the Bruno’s Martini Platinum, was decent but crazily over-priced at $38.

The early New Yorker review complained of stratospheric prices: in 2002, a $42 entrée was sufficient to provoke outrage. Today, it’s at the high end of mainstream. Appetizers are $12–25, main courses $22–42 (most in the low thirties), side dishes $7–10. While clearly not inexpensive, there are plenty of Manhattan restaurants at this price level, including many that aren’t nearly as good.

The menu is reasonably focused, too, with just ten appetizers and ten entrées. There are a few nods to Asia and a number of French classics, but the menu is written in English. Portion sizes are ample.

  
Toast points with tomato chutney (left); Bread service (center); Goat cheese and mushroom strudel (right)

The bread service began with warm toast points and a tomato chutney spread. There was also a basket of excellent fresh breads, which cold triangles of butter didn’t live up to. The amuse-bouche continued the tomato chutney theme, with a terrific goat cheese and wild mushroom strudel.

 
Lobster Brûlee (left); Foie Gras Terrine (right)

Lobster Brûlée ($25) was an absolute knockout—think crème brûlée, but with lobster. This is one of the cleverest items on the menu A foie gras terrine ($25) was one of the menu’s more conservative choices, which the kitchen executed well.

 
Filet mignon au poivre (left); Duck Breast (right)

Steak in a non-steakhouse is often disappointing, but my girlfriend’s Filet Mignon au poivre ($35)—a boring choice, I know—was excellent. Duck breast was just about perfect, served with champagne-vanilla poached pear, chanterelle mushrooms and foie gras. It’s as good as any duck entrée in town, and at $26 you would have to consider it a bargain.

   
Left to right: Creamed spinach; Truffle mashed potatoes; Potato croquettes with gruyère cream; French fries

The four side dishes that we tried were far more than we needed, but they were all first-rate. The next morning my girlfriend said, “I’m still dreaming about those french fries.”

  
Homemade cookies (left); Floating island (center); Chocolate soufflé (right)

Our desserts were French standards, executed as well as they are anywhere.

We were seated at a comfortable banquette. The tables are a variety of sizes: ours would have comfortably accommodated four, but others looked seemed awfully small even for two. Service was polished and enthusiastic. Servers’ menu recommendations were sensible and accurate. 

The publicist said that Bruno Jamais attracts a late-night crowd (the kitchen takes orders until 3:00 a.m.). She recommended an 8:30 p.m. reservation—later than I normally prefer—so that we could get a better feel for the ambiance. Yet, over the course of three hours, the space was never more than half full. For much of the time, the staff outnumbered the customers. It was a varied clientele, both young and old, not fitting the stereotypes normally attached to such a place.

Does Bruno Jamais want to be taken seriously as a restaurant? If the rest of the food is as good as we had, it certainly should be. It could start by upgrading its website. Even fifteen years ago, it would have looked tacky; today, it is an embarrassment. Memo to Mr. Jamais: the only places that call themselves “ultra elegant” are the ones that are not.

Bruno Jamais—the restaurant, not the man (whom we did not meet)—seemed schizophrenic to us. The supper-club vibe leads you to expect cruise ship cuisine for aging plutocrats, courtesans, and B-list celebrities.  Some of the literature still has the quirky, off-putting name, “Bruno Jamais Restaurant Club.” But the kitchen turns out three-star food: there wasn’t a single dud, or anything remotely close to it, among the many things we tried. (Dining on a publicist’s dime, I’ve learned, is no guarantee of excellence.)

We had a wonderful meal, which we did not expect at all. If you pocket your aversion to the faux exclusivity that Bruno Jamais wears on its sleeve, you’ll find that the food is worth your attention.

Bruno Jamais (24 E. 81st Street between Madison & Fifth Avenues, Upper East Side)

TBar Steak & Lounge

I found out about TBar Steak & Lounge via an Eater post, which lampooned the place for its dorky décor. I wouldn’t normally go to the Upper East Side for a steakhouse, as there are plenty of great ones in my neck of the woods, but hey, I was feeling adventurous.

The good news is that it’s nowhere near as dorky-looking in real life as it looks in that Citysearch photo. And the restaurant seems to be doing well. When I walked in at around 6:00 p.m. on a Thursday without a reservation, they could seat me only in the lounge. That was just fine: the lounge is spacious and comfortable.

The bad news is that they’re serving USDA Choice at a Prime tariff.

I took one bite of my Ribeye Steak ($42), and I knew immediately it wasn’t headed for the pantheon. The conversation with my server was almost surreal.

“Excuse me. Is this prime or choice?”

She looked at me with a puzzled stare. “In terms of…what?”

“Have you heard of Prime beef, versus Choice beef?”

“Uh, no.”

“Can you ask the kitchen if it’s Prime or Choice?”

By this point, I already knew the answer. At any restaurant serving Prime beef, the servers know it. Her response, a few moments later, was just a formality: “It’s Choice.”

For a Choice steak, it wasn’t bad. But it was $42, which is as much as, or more than, many restaurants charge for aged Prime. Any steak-lover will instantly know the difference.

I also ordered the Potato Cake ($12), a luscious creation made with potatoes and gruyère (upper left in the photo). Servers were young and friendly. And obviously not schooled in the difference between Prime and Choice.

TBar Steak & Lounge (1278 Third Avenue between 73rd & 74th Streets, Upper East Side)

Food: Satisfactory
Service: Satisfactory, but the servers aren’t meat scholars
Ambiance: Good
Overall: Overpriced, for what they’re serving

Accademia di Vino

Note: Accademia di Vino closed in January 2012.

*

Accademia di Vino opened last month on the Upper East Side, in a cursed space that was home briefly to the Chinese restaurant Mainland, and even more briefly Ollie’s Brasserie. The new owners are the team from ’Cesca on the Upper West Side. Eager to ensure a success where previously there was none, they’ve taken no great risk here. What could be more trendy than an Italian restaurant/wine bar?

They have also attracted plenty of critical attention, most of it favorable, including a feature piece in the Sun, and reviews from Adam Platt, Gael Greene, and Andrea Strong. Restaurant Girl dissented, awarding just one star (the equivalent of zero in other publications). So far, the Times has given it only the Dining Briefs treatment (per Marian Burros). Could it be that Frank Bruni would pass on the chance to review another Italian restaurant?

The space has received a smart-looking makeover. There are bars on two levels and a large dining room in dark woods, with wine storage almost everywhere you look. The formula is working so far: 6:15 p.m. was the only reasonable reservation time I could get on a few days’ notice. The bar was already full when I arrived at 6:00—naturally, they wouldn’t put me at a table until after my friend Kelly arrived. Every table seemed to be taken by the time we left two hours later.

The menu is dizzyingly complicated, with appetizers in ten categories, pizzas, pastas, and entrées. I suppose there could be worse problems than overly attentive service, but something like four different servers approached our table within the first three minutes, and we hadn’t yet gotten our bearings on the lengthy menu. We eventually settled on three starters and two entrées to share.

The wine list has about 500 bottles, with a good selection by the glass—as you’d expect at a wine-themed restaurant. After discussing our interests, the server recommended a 2006 Bastianich Rosato Refosco by the glass ($10), which was excellent on a warm evening, and nicely complemented the food.

Salmon Carpaccio (left); Crudi Flight (right)

Roasted Cauliflower

Salmon Carpaccio ($14) was beautifully prepared, with tomato, basil, scallions, olives, capers, and oregano basil—and no, I didn’t remember all of that. A flight of crudo ($24) was almost as brilliant, including an unexpected sliver of Wagyu beef that crashed the all-fish party. My friend Kelly got more of a thrill out of Roasted Cauliflower ($4) than I did, but it certainly seemed competent enough.

Somewhere along the line, fresh bread came. Later on we wanted more, but by then the restaurant had filled up, and servers were much harder to come by—though we eventually flagged one down.

We ordered two entrées to share, but oddly enough they brought both at the same time. I assume it was a considered choice, as there was no apology made for it, but it seemed a strange way to serve dinner.

Linguini Pescatore (left); Pork Chop (right)

Linguini Pescatore, or seafood pasta ($21) was nicely done. The pork chop ($27) came out whole, but when we sent it back to be divided, they made good work of it—making it look as if the chop was meant to be ordered for two. The preparation was entirely respectable, if not exactly inventive, but this time it was Kelly’s turn to be underwhelmed.

The final bill for two, including two glasses of wine apiece, came to $132 before tax and tip, which is a relative bargain for the amount of food we had. Accademia di Vino may not be breaking any new ground, but it’s a welcome and dependable entry on the Upper East Side dining scene. Service will surely get smoother over time, and the menu could use some serious pruning.

Accademia di Vino (1081 Third Avenue at 63rd Street, Upper East Side)

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