There’s No Recession at BLT Market

Note: BLT Market closed at the end of 2011. The space is now Auden.

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Hardly a day goes by without another dozen restaurants practically giving their food away — anything to get customers to part with increasingly scarce cash.

But the recession has not yet arrived at BLT Market, Laurent Tourondel’s haute barnyard on Central Park South. I reserved a table for an informal meal with friends visiting from out of town, but my heart sank when I looked at the online menu. The place is more expensive than ever. If they’ve made any compromise for tough times, I sure-as-hell can’t see it.

Appetizers are $14–19, entrées $26–45 (the majority over $35), side dishes $8–12, desserts $9–12. None of the entrées come with vegetables, so for a three-course meal you could easily spend $70 per head before tax and tip.

You’ll likely go north of $100 if you drink wine, as the expensive list has few options below $70 per bottle. It tops out with an 1870 Château-Lafite-Rothschild at the odd price of $11,111.

You do, at least, get some nice extras, starting with the excellent “pigs in a blanket” amuse (right) and the terrific warm bread stuffed with spinach. I wonder, though, why they haven’t come up with any other amuses: I’ve had the same one twice previously. The novelty this time was a serving of warm, cream-filled doughnut holes after dinner.

Both savory courses were faultless: a Chestnut Apple Celery Root Soup with Mushroom Toast ($16; above left) and Roasted Halibut ($27; above right).

There is no mystery about why BLT Market is so expensive: the dining room was full on a Wednesday evening. The chef de cuisine these days is Ed Cotton, formerly of the Michelin-starred Veritas. His work here has flown beneath the radar, as the original reviews pre-dated his arrival, and I don’t believe any of the critics have been back. The Times never reviewed the place at all, an omission that ought to be rectified.

I think there are better options for your money, but if you happen to dine at BLT Market you won’t feel cheated. Everything is well executed, the service is excellent, and the faux barnyard décor is easy on the eyes, if not especially original.

BLT Market (1430 Sixth Avenue at Central Park South, West Midtown)

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

Beacon

Note: Click here for a more recent visit to Beacon.

Beacon, a midtown steakhouse, was completely off my radar until eGullet’s “Fat Guy” raved about the tasting menu served on Thursday nights. It’s currently $98 for 12 courses, including winees. That would be a remarkable value even if a few of the courses were duds—not that they are. Subsequent reports bore out Fat Guy’s recommendation (Frank Bruni reviewed it late last year), but it was impossible to get in (only 6 seats, only on Thursdays), and I don’t usually fancy such a heavy meal on a weeknight.

From the beginning, Beacon was more than just an average steakhouse. In the Times, William Grimes awarded two stars in 1999: “Organized around an open kitchen and a huge wood-burning oven, it delivers uncomplicated, big-flavored food, emphasizing fresh, seasonal ingredients. That’s all, and that’s enough.”

Like many restaurants, Beacon has felt the bite of the recession. The $35 “Restaurant Week” menu has been extended at least until the end of February, and perhaps indefinitely. Deals abound, such as a $44 pp. family style meal on Sunday evenings, with bottles of wine under $35, and no corkage if you bring your own.

The normal menu features dry-aged Niman Ranch steaks, but there’s a wide variety of other choices, most of them revolving around the wood-burning oven.

The chef/owner, Waldy Malouf, has a lot of seats to fill. On a recent Tuesday evening, the vast tri-level space was perhaps 60% occupied, which is better than many restaurants, but probably not good enough, given midtown rents. I also suspect that many patrons are doing as we did, and ordering at the bottom end of the menu.

A mixed green salad with herb vinaigrette and goat cheese (below left) was all you could ask of a $13 salad. The burger and fries ($21; below right) were terrific. It’s Niman Ranch beef and tastes dry-aged. I couldn’t help but compare it to the over-hyped LaFreida Black Label blend served at City Burger.

The Beacon burger is $5 more than the City Burger product. But City Burger is a fast-food joint with styrofoam containers, plastic trays, and minimal counter seating. Beacon is a full-service restaurant, with waiters, white tablecloths, cloth napkins, silverware, three kinds of homemade bread, etc. On top of that, their burger was better (thicker, juicier, tastier) than the one Mr. Cutlets has been shilling at City Burger, and their fries were better too.

It was about as impressive as a salad, burger, and fries can be.

Beacon (25 W. 56th Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, West Midtown)

The La Frieda Black Label Burger

Note: City Burger closed in July 2009.

Mister Cutlets, among others, have been giving lots of love to the LaFrieda Black Label Burger. Cutlets calls it the “Bentley of Beef.” According to A Hamburger Today:

The Black Label blend is aimed at high-end restaurants and features an intoxicating mix of skirt, brisket, short rib, and a secret cut that is actually dry aged! It has an extremely generous 70/30 meat-to-fat ratio, making for an ethereally succulent burger.

It is most curious that a secret blend allegedly aimed at high-end restaurants is available only at the lowest-end restaurant, City Burger in midtown. It’s a slip of a space with less ambiance (though better service) than the average McDonald’s. The only seating is at either of two narrow counters, one of which is along the glass wall. I kept on my winter coat, and I was still freezing.

This Bentley of Burgers comes in a styrofoam box. I’ve nothing against styrofoam at fast food restaurants, but I struggle to comprehend why this ultra-secret, heavily hyped blend is served nowhere else. Anyhow, it is a very good burger, a bit on the small side, with a hint of dry-aged flavor and a foie gras-like richness. The bun that City Burger uses doesn’t quite stand up to such a juicy piece of meat (more photos here and here).

The Black Label Burger sells for $12.99, twice the cost of the regular burger. With french fries ($2.75) and a diet soda ($1.95), the bill came to $19.17. And just one word of caution: City Burger is closed on weekends—as I found out to my dismay when I stopped by on a Saturday evening.

City Burger (1410 Broadway near 39th Street, West Midtown)

Benoit

Note: Click here for a more recent review of Benoit.

After mostly horrendous reviews at Benoit, Alain Ducasse demoted executive chef Sebastien Rondier to chef de cuisine late last year. His new boss is Pierre Schaedelin, formerly of Le Cirque, who had been Martha Stewart’s personal chef for the last two years. We liked Benoit (earlier review here), but the negative critical reaction was unmistakable.

A friend and I had dinner at Benoit the other night, my first visit since Schaedelin’s arrival. In a brief interview for TONY last week, Schaedelin spoke about some of the new menu items. One of them is a choucroute garnie ($32), a weekly special served on Thursdays. It’s an enormous plate of sumptuous sausages and cured meats served over sauerkraut. We skipped appetizers, and I still did not finish it. My friend had the Cassoulet ($26), which she graded B+. A cheese plate ($17) was also quite good.

Business was slow. When we left at around 7:40 p.m., there were still tons of empty tables. Service was attentive, and managers came by several times to ask if we were enjoying ourselves—a trend I’ve observed at numerous restaurants lately. If they’re looking to make improvements, transferring bar tabs to the table would help. I asked, but the bartender shrugged: “It’s too late. I already entered it in my system.”

The menu has changed considerably, and it is no longer presented inside a picture frame that takes up half the table. We didn’t have French Fries this time, but I noted that they’re no longer served “L’Ami Louis style.” Given the disaster they were before, it has to be an improvement.

It’s still early in Schaedelin’s tenure, but I like what I see so far. Benoit deserves more attention than it is getting.

Benoit (60 West 55th Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, West Midtown)

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

A. J. Maxwell's Steakhouse

A. J. Maxwell’s Steakhouse arrived during the steakhouse glut of 2006, when new entries in the genre were opening every other week. Critics ignored the place, as there was no celebrity or concept to distinguish it from all of the others.

The location has a bit of history. In the 1960s and ’70s, it housed Forum of the 12 Caesars, where waiters donned togas, and praetorian helmets served as ice buckets. Elaborate faux Roman mosaics, which more recent restaurants had covered over, were rediscovered during the renovation. At A. J. Maxwell’s, you can see them again, in all their glory.

A few months ago, we dropped in for a pre-theater meal. It’s an attractive, comfortable space, and service is better than in most classic steakhouses. The menu is expensive, even by steakhouse standards, no doubt reflecting midtown rents. There are nearly a dozen seafood and fish entrées, and they don’t seem to be afterthoughts, unlike, say, the salmon at Peter Luger.

Thick-cut Canadian Bacon in the Peter Luger mold ($3.50; above left) was just fine. Dry-aged ribeye wasn’t bad, but at $47 it needed to be terrific. I suspect it was USDA choice (the default assumption when “prime” isn’t stated), as I didn’t feel or taste the marbling a first-class ribeye ought to have.

A. J. Maxwell’s offers a civilized midtown meal, but steak conoisseurs won’t be putting it on their regular rotation.

A. J. Maxwell’s Steakhouse (57 W. 48th Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, West Midtown)

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

Keens Steakhouse

I had an errand to run near Herald Square yesterday. Keens Steakhouse is the only decent restaurant nearby, so I dropped in for a light supper. A bit before 6:00 p.m., they were already nearly full, which is remarkable for a restaurant this enormous that is not in the theater district. Had I arrived just a few minutes later, I would have had to wait for a table.

There’s a casual “pub” at Keens that doesn’t take reservations. You can order from the over-priced dining room menu, but the pub also has its own menu that, if not cheap, is at least reasonable. I’ve written about Keens a number of times, so I’ll get right to the beef.

Prime Rib Hash ($16.50; left) caught my eye. It’s basically a play on corned beef hash, with diced prime rib as the main ingredient, and a fried egg replacing the usual gravy. In the interest of science, I had to try it.

The verdict? It’s pretty good, though surely not meant to be dinner on its own. Four people could share it as an appetizer. It’s that big. So naturally, I ate the whole thing myself (and nothing else).

For its steaks, Keens charges premium prices for a second-tier product. The décor is one-of-a-kind, but you always have the feeling that the staff is thinking about the next thousand customers.

They do have a few dishes no one else is serving, especially the incomparable mutton chop, to which I can now add the Prime Rib Hash.

Keens Steakhouse (72 W. 36th Street, east of Sixth Avenue, West Midtown)

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

Brasserie Cognac

 

Brasserie Cognac is one of several classic French restaurants that have opened in the last year. I am not quite sure where the idea comes from. I haven’t seen any great demand for the genre, and the city’s major critics routinely remind us that no one wants it. Still, it persists, and I’m one of those who hopes it always will.

I had high hopes for Brasserie Cognac based on a promising early visit six months ago. Last weekend, I went back with the whole family. The restaurant isn’t exactly drawing crowds. It was practically empty at 6:00 p.m. on a Saturday evening—not a great sign for a place that ought to be pulling in pre-theater diners.

Alas, I can’t say the pre-theater folk are missing much. Brasserie Cognac does a few things well, but it’s too inconsistent. Those of us who favor classic French cuisine can do better elsewhere.

 

A tomato tart with goat cheese (above left) was the best thing we had, with a crisp, thin crust like pizza. My girlfriend and my son both had the French onion soup (above right), which came out not quite warm enough.

 

For the main course, my son and my girlfriend both had the Blanquette de Veau, or veal stew (above left). Like the onion soup, it came out cold, and had to be sent back. Pot-au-feu, or beef with vegetables, was the daily special (above right). The beef was tender and rare inside, but there was a certain laziness about both this and the Blanquette de Veau. Both dishes seemed dull. The broths and vegetables had a cafeteria quality to them. My mom had the Moules Frittes (mussels with fries), and the kitchen at least got that right.

The bread service was mediocre, with butter so hard it was practically unspreadable.

Brasserie Cognac undermines itself in other ways. The space is gorgeous, clearly the result of a not inconsiderable investment. Why, then, do they play generic pop elevator music out of the loudspeakers? If they’re trying to create the feeling of an authentic French brasserie, why not take it seriously?

There’s a wide range of prices, but there are plenty of appetizers and salads under $15, entrées under $30, and wine bottles under $50—though, of course, you can spend more. If the food were more reliable, Brasserie Cognac could easily be a go-to place for the neigborhood.

My girlfriend had a good summary of the meal: “You know, these dishes may be classics, but it’s still hard to get them right.”

Brasserie Cognac (1740 Broadway at 55th Street, West Midtown)

Food: Uneven
Service: Would be fine, if only the food were warm enough
Ambiance: Nice looking, but no buzz; needs a new soundtrack
Overall: Satisfactory (no stars)

Gray Kunz and the Short Rib Derby

 
Left: Café Gray; Right: Grayz

Note: Café Gray and Grayz have both closed. Café Gray will be replaced by a clone of A Voce. Grayz re-opened in January 2009 as Atria, with Gray Kunz’s former chef de cuisine, Martin Brock, as executive chef. After four short months, it bit the dust.

Café Gray will shortly be closing, a victim of sky-high rents at the Time Warner Center. That will leave the talented chef, Gray Kunz, with just one restaurant, Grayz, which struggles with problems of its own.

Linking both restaurants is one of this town’s great chefs and his destination dish, the legendary braised short ribs. He served a version of the dish at the four-star Lespinasse, and it anchors the menus at both Café Gray and Grayz.

Recently, I tried the short ribs at both places. I wondered: how are they different? how are they alike? I also wanted to bid farewell to Café Gray, and to see if Grayz is as good as some message board enthusiasts say it is.

* * * 

At Café Gray, one can’t help escaping the glimmer of what might have been. In previous visits, I’ve never had the slightest doubt about the food: Kunz can cook rings around anyone. But the room: oh, the room! It’s noisy and ugly, and it interposes an open kitchen between diners and the world’s best view.

If you’re going to visit Café Gray, its final weeks are the best time. I found it mostly empty on a Wednesday evening. There’s no escaping the bone-headed design, but at least I had a pleasant supper without contracting a migraine.

 
Left: amuse-bouche; Right: petits-fours

Service was polished and seamless. The amuse-bouche was a small spoonful of chickpea yogurt, and there was a nice plate of petits-fours at the end.

I left Café Gray with a bit of sadness. This restaurant should have been, could have been, so much better.

* * *

Grayz is living proof of what happens when a promising restaurant botches its opening. The trouble here was that Kunz couldn’t decide if he was opening a bar that served snacks or a restaurant with a bar. The muddled concept was confusing, and early reviews weren’t favorable.

The menu has been revised, and it makes more sense now. The entrées, which numbered just three when I visited in the early days, have now been expanded to six. Whether you want a full meal or just to…well, “graze”—Grayz can accommodate you.

The interior design betrays indecision about the concept. You still feel like you’re in a bar that serves snacks, but the service is very good, and the food is first-class. Think of it as an elegant restaurant where the bar is closer than you’d like it to be, like a social misfit elbowing in on your privacy.

Despite its flaws, Grayz deserves your attention.

Unfortunately, it’s hard for a restaurant to get the word out after the early review cycle has concluded. The tables were less than half occupied on a Wednesday evening, and according to reports I’ve read elsewhere, that’s not unusual. The GM came over after my meal, greeted me warmly, and gave me his card. Grayz is still trying to cultivate a following.

 
Left: Bread service; Right: Weisswurst

To begin, Grayz offers the same wonderful spears of warm bread as before, with a Lebanese yogurt, spice, and olive oil dressing. I was better behaved this time: I stopped after only one.

I ordered the Weisswurst ($12), or German sausage, which comes with a homemade brown mustard. I’m not a connoisseur, so I don’t have much to compare it to. I loved the delicate casings, but the mustard was definitely needed, as the meat didn’t have enough flavor on its own. The bright-red cast-iron serving dish got in the way of my knife and fork.

To close, the petit-four was a hollow cylinder of crisp brown chocolate on a bed of sugar.

The cocktail menu here is a cut above the norm. I tried two of them, the Badminton Cup and the Aviation, both $14. My table was close enough to the bar that I could hear the conversation between the bartender and one of his customers—a post-modern meditation on the “art of cocktails.” I thought, “This is so 2008.”

* * * 

So, what about the short ribs?

 
Short ribs at Café Gray (left) and Grayz (right)

As you can see from the photos, they are quite similar. The manager at Grayz said he believes the meat is prepared identically. At Café Gray, it’s served on a bed of soft grits; at Grayz, it’s creamed spinach. The price is $41 at Café Gray, $39 at Grayz.

If I could have only one before I die, I’d choose the Grayz version. It was served on the bone; at Café Gray, there was no bone. At Grayz, it was slightly more tender, and spinach goes better with beef than grits. You could argue, though, that $39 is awfully dear for short ribs, even Gray Kunz’s.

* * * 

Kunz says that Café Gray will re-open at another location—rumored to be the current Oceana space.. He’s known to be a slow-poke, so I wouldn’t hold my breath for it. Wherever he goes, his first act should be to fire himself as an interior designer. But while we wait for Café Gray’s reincarnation, Grayz will be quietly chugging along.

Give Grayz a try. You could be pleasantly surprised.

Update: Grayz will close on August 10, 2008, for a facelift, re-opening on September 1. The downstairs catering space will become a proper restaurant, and the upstairs space—reviewed here—will presumably become what it was meant to be: a lounge.

Grayz (13–15 West 54th Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, West Midtown)

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

Benoit

[Kreiger via Eater]

Note: Click here for a more recent review of Benoit.

My girlfriend was waiting when I arrived at Benoit last night. “I’ve decided I want the whole menu,” she said. It’s an understandable reaction. If you like French classics, Benoit is the place for you.

Nominally, the proprietor here is the reknowned Michelin star-studded chef, Alain Ducasse. But at Benoit, what you’re getting is not so much Ducasse, but the French tradition that Ducasse has purchased and repackaged. The original Benoit, in Paris, dates from 1912. Ducasse bought the restaurant three years ago and duplicated it, first in Tokyo, and now in New York.

Ducasse didn’t stint here, spending more on the décor than he did at his other new restaurant, Adour. It abounds with wonderful little stylistic touches, such as the cute little paper wrappers around the napkins, the hefty wooden frames in which menus are delivered, and the fire-engine red trivets that hold the copper serving pots. That same red matches the banquettes and the coffee cups.

The menu will bring a smile to anyone who gets weak-kneed at the sight of escargots ($16/doz.), onion soup gratinée ($9), or duck à l’orange ($24). Prices, for now, are bargains by today’s standards, with the most expensive entrée at $29: a lamb chop, medallion & filet, with gratin Dauphinois. If Ducasse were doing market research, he’d have branded it “Lamb Three Ways” and charged at least five bucks more.

A Pâté en Croûte ($17) was wonderful. The menu advises that it’s the “Lucien Tendret recipe since 1892.” Around the pâté itself is a luscious rim of gelatin, and around that a thin, soft coating of pastry. It’s better than any individual pâté at Bar Boulud, though the latter restaurant has a much wider variety of them. If you’re in a charcuterie mood, Benoit offers a $39 platter for two, featuring various hams, sausages, veal tongue, and so forth.

That pâté isn’t the only recipe credit on the menu. The cassoulet ($26) is the J. J. Rachou recipe. Rachou was the chef and owner at LCB Brasserie Rachou, and before that La Côte Basque, which had occupied this space before Ducasse acquired it. The cassoulet sorely tempted us, but we had another order in mind.

The menu’s most expensive item is a Roasted Chicken for two ($48). Ducasse is either crazy or a genius for making such a humble item the centerpiece of the restaurant. He could have served a 40 oz. côte de bœuf at an extravagant price, and no one would have blanched. It’s what we expected of him. Instead, he is serving humble poultry—not a Bluefoot Chicken with truffles under the skin, as he did at the Essex House, but its humble, more rustic cousin.

Benoit has only been open two days, but so far the strategy is working: chickens were flying out of the kitchen. It’s a self-sustaining market. A wonderful aroma of garlic and rosemary fills the dining room as the waiters bring a sizzling chicken out of the kitchen. Those who haven’t ordered yet ask their server, “What is that?” The server tells them, and they say, “We’ll have that too.” Soon, another chicken comes out of the kitchen, to beguile another set of patrons. Lather, rinse, repeat.

After the chicken is presented, the server whisks it back into the kitchen for carving. There’s no magic about it, either. It is simply the traditional dish, expertly prepared. It is a bargain at $24 a person, considering that it is probably more chicken than you can finish. As good as it is, you’ll want to try.

Side dishes weren’t as impressive. The chicken comes with french fries “L’ami Louis style,” which would be $8 if ordered separately. They’re stacked and woven together in a cylindrical tower, which is striking to look at, but fries on the “inside” of the tower needed more time in the fryer, and weren’t warm enough. Those on the outside were too greasy. A side of creamed spinach ($7) was nothing special and arrived too late.

Except for the spinach snafu, the service routine was in very good shape for the second night. Bread rolls were fresh and soft, as was the butter. The restaurant’s liquor license wasn’t approved yet, but the restaurant had warned us in advance, and I’d brought a bottle with me. “La Crema,” our server noted. “That will pair well with our food.”

The city’s French “old guard” has been in decline for many years. Does that mean the old classics have lost their allure? We think they never do, especially when they’re prepared as well as at Benoit. Some formality has been lost in the transition from La Côte Basque to Benoit. There’s no “voila!” as each plate is delivered. A suit and tie are no longer de rigeur. But the food is right out of the old school—or so it seemed to us.

As the Times noted a couple of weeks ago, this type of food, minus the jacket-and-tie policy, seems to be making a comeback. We’re as fond of it as anyone, so we’ll be hoping for many years of success at Benoit.

Benoit (60 W. 55th Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, West Midtown)

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

First Look: Brasserie Cognac

 

The Times’ Florence Fabricant and I may be among the few cheering about the return of classic French cuisine, but perhaps there will soon be restaurants full of us. The other night, I looked in on the newest of these, Brasserie Cognac de Monsieur Ballon, or just Brasserie Cognac for short.

Let’s get this out of the way: Monsieur Ballon doesn’t exist. He’s an invention of the folks who own the Serafina chain, who now envision a bunch of brasseries by Mr. such-and-suches—this being the first. I wasn’t optimistic that the purveyors of formulaic Italian could put out a French restaurant of any distinction, but at first blush they’ve made a very serious attempt.

For starters, they engaged Rita and André Jammet, who had owned three-star La Caravelle, as consultants. The kitchen is in the hands of Florian Hugo, the great-great-grandson of the author Victor Hugo. The décor and menu are in the conventional brasserie style, authentic-looking without going over-the-top.

I would have overlooked a dish called Vol-au-vent, had not the server pointed it out. I don’t recall seeing it on any brasserie menu in New York. The waiter, who was French, assured me that it’s one of the classics, but not often served because it’s difficult to prepare. Wikipedia explains:

A Vol-au-vent (French for “windblown” to describe its lightness) is a small hollow case of puff pastry. A round opening is cut in the top and the pastry cut out for the opening is replaced as a lid after the case is filled. Vol-au-vents can accommodate various fillings, such as mushrooms, prawns, fruit, or cheese, but they are almost always savory.

The Vol-au-vent here was a lovely, light puff pastry that corralled a serving of lobster, foie gras and mushrooms in a lobster sauce. I was astounded that an entrée made with so many luxury ingredients was only $29.

There is some serious talent at the bar, too. I counted 18 house cocktails, and not just rote formula drinks with “-tini” and “-rita” suffixes. Six of them are cognac based, including the terrific one I tried, the Do Ré-my ($12), served in a champagne glass with Rémy Martin, sour mix, St. Germain liqueur, and Charles Heidsieck champagne.

There are 110 cognacs available. The printed list wasn’t yet available (it was only the restaurant’s second night), but the manager recommended an XO (normally $14) and then comped it. Service was slightly helter-skelter, but the staff (mostly Europeans, it appeared) were friendly and apologetic. I assume it will improve after things settle down.

I’ll withhold judgment till I’ve had a chance to sample more, but if the rest of the menu is as good as the Do Ré-my cocktail and the Vol-au-vent, then Brasserie Cognac is very good indeed. At the least, it’s a compelling new option for pre-Carnegie Hall dining.

Brasserie Cognac (1740 Broadway at 55th Street, West Midtown)