The Rusty Knot

The Rusty Knot is a bar no one would have noticed, if it didn’t have Ken Friedman (The Spotted Pig, The John Dory) and Taavo Somer (Freemans) as co-owners. It is carefully gussied up to look like a dive bar, which is exactly the point. You would think, “this has been here forever,” unless you knew that it opened last year.

The still-evolving menu isn’t long, but what they serve is cheap, and mostly successful. Restaurant industry types show up here, as they do at the Pig, Momofuku, etc., because pretty damned good comfort food is served without much pretense.

As for critical opinion, Sarah DiGregorio of the Village Voice hated it, but a delighted Frank Bruni in the Times was “too content to care.” Bruni’s view, in this case, is closer to the consensus.

The location isn’t ideal: cold, inhospitable West Street, a very long walk from mass transit. But if you manage to get there early enough, there are priceless views of sunset over the Hudson River, and you avoid the crowds. If you prefer dining late, the kitchen is open till 3:00 a.m.

Oddly enough, there are three Michelin-starred restaurants less than five minutes away: Perry St., Wallsé, and the Spotted Pig. Which just goes to show that West Street is a lot more hospitable than it used to be.

The Pretzel Dog ($4; above left) comes freshly baked. It’s not noticeably better than Auntie Anne’s, except for Gray Poupon on the side and handi-wipes to wash your hands afterwards. Potato Wedges ($8; above right) are dipped in thyme, oregono, rosemary, paprika and chives, with a house made sour cream on the side. For bar food, it’s a pretty memorable dish.

To go with that, I had a couple of beers I’d never heard of: Red Stripe and Abita Light, both in bottles, and both $6.

It’s not your average dive bar.

The Rusty Knot (425 West Street at W. 11th Street, West Village)

The Bobo Burger

Ah, Bobo…poor Bobo…the restaurant that could never catch a break.

When last we saw our poor suffering hero, Bobo was on its second chef, soon to be deposed for a third chef. Alas, that wasn’t good enough to impress New York’s Adam Platt or Frank Bruni of the Times, both of whom awarded one star, finding the food too uneven to earn two.

For our part, we are still betting that Bobo will succeed. The new chef, Patrick Connolly, comes with a successful stint at Boston’s Radius to his credit. We still love the space, the prices are reasonable for the neighborhood, and the service is better than you find at many restaurants in its peer group. There are some conceits that a cynical reviewer would call precious, but we still want to give Bobo a big hug.

Many restaurants are serving gourmet burgers these days, and one day I decided on impulse to give Bobo’s a try. I hadn’t written down the address, and I very nearly couldn’t find the place. The graphic on Bobo’s website, shown above, seems to be making a joke about the restaurant’s secluded and unlabeled location in an old townhouse on W. 10th Street.

In the casual downstairs bar, old albums are the theme. The bar menu is pasted onto the center label of an old 33rpm record, and the wine list is pasted inside a double-album cover. (You can also order the main restaurant menu downstairs.)

Even though I was only having a burger, there was a full bread service with soft butter. The wine I ordered was a very reasonable tempranillo at $10 a glass, and the server offered a taste before I committed to it. These are small points, but plenty of more expensive restuarants get them wrong.

What about that burger? Owner Carlos Suarez described it on Eater.com:

The development/thinking on the Bobo burger is all about simplicity, though. Its five key ingredients: a potato roll, gruyere cheese, crispy fried leeks above the meat, house-pickled leeks underneath, and the meat. There’s a spice to the meat—it just has a slightly different flavor profile. Plus, we’re doing a finer grind on the beef than you usually see. We did 20 dif variations—added pork, pancetta, guanciale, toyed with an egg, different rolls—and this was the one most well received. It’s straightforward, not trying to add unnecessary expenses. All familiar flavors.

I am so sure that a burger served with leeks is “straightforward.” It worked, though if we’re being picky, the bun didn’t quite stand up to the gooey mess inside it. The fries, spiced with salt, pepper, corn starch and chives, were surprisingly good, and I finished them all.

The bar was doing good business at around 6:30 p.m. on a Thursday evening, though it was not full. Bobo remains a fun place, and I suspect we’ll be back.

Bobo (181 W. 10th Street at Seventh Avenue South, West Village)

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

FergusStock

The English chef Fergus Henderson is in town this weekend, giving New Yorkers a chance to sample his renowned “nose to tail” cooking. He’s working tonight at The Spotted Pig (menu here), and tomorrow at Momofuku Noodle Bar (menu here).

I dropped in on the Pig earlier this evening. I was fearful of an intolerable wait, but I was there at 5:00, they opened the kitchen at 5:30, and I was seated at 6:00. (I drank a couple of beers in the meantime.) The man at the table next to mine, who seemed to be a Fergus groupie, said that last year’s wait was much worse. For those into celebrity spotting, I saw Anne Burrell and Tom Colicchio. I’ve no eye for that kind of thing, so I probably missed a dozen others.

 

The menu included such Henderson specialties as Roasted Bone Marrow, Ox Tongue, Devilled Kidney on Toast, and Deep Fried Rabbit. All of those looked interesting, but I started with the Pressed Pig’s Ears ($16; above left)— basically a terrine, fatty and gelatinous. Fat, indeed, was the order of the day. Pot-Roast Bacon, Trotter & Prune ($28; above right) was also a plate full of fat, which is not a bad thing, but one must accept it for what it is.

 

I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about a side of Roasted Parsnips in Duck Fat ($7; above left), which seemed too slimy; or a slice of Walnut, Chocolate & Amaretto cake ($8; above right), which was too dry. In fairness, the latter is a standard Spotted Pig dessert, and had nothing to do with Henderson’s presence.

This was my second visit to the Spotted Pig (earlier report here). For a place that’s a gussied-up pub, the service is impressive. The server was well schooled about the unusual, one-time-only menu. Amidst a crush of humanity, they were still willing to transfer my bar tab to the table, and my napkin was refolded each time I got up to visit the washroom.

The special menu’s signature item was a Half Pig’s Head for 2, for $55 (above). The man next to me ordered this all for himself, as his companion was having none of it. As he dug in, he said to her, “I’ll let you know when I get to the meat; so far, it’s all skin and fat.” By the time I left, he had dismembered most of the head, but skin and fat were all he found. I must say, it looked pretty good, but not to the point that I’d eat one all by myself.

Was it a revelation? No. But it was fun to try a couple of things that no one else in town is serving. The couple next to me was planning to follow Fergus to Momofuku Noodle Bar tomorrow night. I don’t think I can ingest that much fat two nights in a row.

The Spotted Pig (314 W. 11th Street at Greenwich Street, West Village)

The Spotted Pig

Note: Click here for a review of FergusStock at The Spotted Pig. Click here for a review of the famous burger.

The Spotted Pig has been packing in West Village diners more-or-less continuously since it opened 4½ years ago. The tiny gastropub doesn’t take reservations, and waits of an hour or more are legion. I generally avoid such places, so the Spotted Pig and I were making do without each other till last Friday. That day, I realized that if I left work at 5:00 p.m. and headed straight for the Pig, I’d be there when they opened, and would probably get a seat. It worked…and the food was good enough that I just mighty try it again. And again.

The English chef, April Bloomfield, has stints at London’s River Cafe and Berkeley’s Chez Panisse on her C.V. It was enough to impress Mario Batali, Joe Bastianich and Ken Freeman (who are all investors). It was enough to impress Eric Asimov of the Times, who delivered a rave in $25 & Under. And it was enough to impress the Michelin inspectors, who gave the Pig a star, which it has held four years in a row.

Frank Bruni awarded one star in 2006, though in his four-star system that isn’t quite as much of a compliment. Regardless of the merits, read the Asimov and Bruni pieces, and it’s as clear as can be which one should be reviewing restaurants, and which one is an imitator. Mind you, I think one star (in Timesspeak) is about right for this place—but not when you’ve awarded two to so many other mediocre ones, as Bruni has done.

But let’s get back to the Spotted Pig, where eclectic European comfort food comes in four sizes: bar snacks ($3–7.50), appetizers ($14–18), entrées ($17–32) and side dishes ($7–10). If you’re a vegetarian, a plate of five sides is $24. Except for the acclaimed roquefort cheeseburger ($17; the most popular dish), the entrées are all $25 and higher, and there are three that sell for $32. At these prices, one might resent the loud and crowded pub space, seating on backless stools, and a no-reservations policy. But for almost five years now, the verdict of the dining public is that it’s worth it.

Sheep’s Milk Ricotta Gnudi with Brown Butter & Sage ($15) have been on the menu from the beginning, and one can see why. They’re soft, delicate, rich, and just heavenly: surely one of the top ten appetizers in town. I got a little more adventurous for the entrée: Lamb Crépinette with lamb kidneys and black-eyed peas ($29). Braised lamb shoulder was stuffed in a sausage casing, covered in diced kidneys and a heavy, dark sauce. The kidney taste was a bit overpowering, but the tender shoulder had a bright, strong flavor.

Service was impressive for a place that was so busy. The server had a lot of tables to cover, but she never lost track of me. The entrée took about 45 minutes to come out, but she comped a glass of wine and a serving of olives & almonds as partial recompense. I wasn’t in any hurry, and didn’t mind.

The menu is reprinted daily and changes frequently: there were five specials written on the board, including that crépinette. Perhaps I was one of the first to try it, which could explain the long delay. There probably aren’t many customers demanding lamb kidney. I might not order it again, but it wasn’t bad, and I give Bloomfield credit for venturing beyond the obvious.

Bloomfield has every right to be distracted: her seafood restaurant, The John Dory, originally scheduled for the spring, remains under construction, with a promised October opening very much in doubt. But Bloomfield was in the Spotted Pig on Friday night, running the kitchen as she’s done for the last five years. It is very much a contradiction, with the food a level or two above the pub surroundings in which it is served.

The Spotted Pig (314 W. 11th Street at Greenwich Street, West Village)

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

Sheridan Square

[Kreiger via Eater]

Note: Sheridan Square closed in September 2008.

*

Sheridan Square, as we noted a couple of weeks ago, is the latest of many new restaurants featuring former three-star chefs in casual surroundings. In this case, we have Gary Robins, who was a hit at the Biltmore Room, but flamed out at the Russian Tea Room.

This trend is, I suppose, partly the product of tough economic times, as well as the judgment that most diners are turned off by stuffy dining rooms and $85 prix fixe menus. Restaurants need to be careful, though. Even in pared down surroundings, high-end entrées tend to hover around $30. At that price, diners expect first-class service and ambiance, which some of the latest restaurants fail to deliver.

It appears to us that Sheridan Square has the balance about right. I say that with the caveat that, at the table next to us, a couple complained so bitterly about service delays that the manager comped their entire meal. We didn’t experience anything like that, but the incident says a lot about growing pains at a two-week-old restaurant.

 
Left: Foie Gras Ravioli with spring vegetables & summer truffles; Right: Tagliarini with Mussels & Clams

There have already been multiple food board posts praising the Foie Gras Ravioli ($15) with spring vegetables and summer truffles. You can add me to the dish’s many fans. My girlfriend loved the Tagliarini ($13) with mussels and clams. The relatively low price of both appetizers somewhat offsets the entrées, which skew expensive.

 
Left: Anise Scented Crisped Long Island Duck Breast; Right: Rosemary Crusted Australian Rack of Lamb

Anise Scented Crisped Long Island Duck Breast ($27) was very good, though it was undercut by the gloppy plating of creamed cauliflower, braised fava beans and spring peas. The dish tasted better than it looked.

Rack of Lamb is one of two dishes appearing on the menu with “m.p.” instead of a price, and diners may be surprised to find that it costs $42. It is a larger portion than it needs to be: my girlfriend couldn’t finish five hefty ribs. However, it is an excellent dish, with the wood-burning oven imparting a nice smoky flavor. As with the dush, the puddle of sauce is not attractively plated.

There are some glitches to be worked out, but so far it seems to us that Sheridan Square is one of this year’s better additions to the West Village dining scene.

Sheridan Square (138 Seventh Ave. S. between W. 10th & Charles Sts., West Village)

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

First Look: Sheridan Square

Note: Click here for a full review of Sheridan Square.

The long-delayed Sheridan Square opens tonight in Greenwich Village. The restaurant has been in a “soft open” for the last couple of days, and after reading a glowing review yesterday on Mouthfuls, I decided to stop in for dinner.

The chef here, Gary Robins, joins a gaggle of former three-star chefs opening in much humbler Greenwich Village settings. Bar Blanc is run by a trio of Bouley alumni, Bobo opened with a former Ducasse chef (who has since left), Commerce has Montrachet’s Harold Moore, and Sheridan Square has Robins, who earned three stars at the Biltmore Room and, less honorably, numerous pans at the Russian Tea Room.

Sheridan Square might be the best of this quartet of restaurants, all within two square blocks of one another. We rated Commerce an outright failure, and Frank Bruni gave it only one star. Bar Blanc got the two stars it likely wanted, but it continues to be dogged by service complaints; we consider it an under-achiever. We liked Bobo (not yet reviewed by Bruni), but the jury is still out; it appears to be righting the ship after a nearly disastrous start.

Bobo certainly has the loveliest space, though Sheridan Square rates a respectable second, with a cheery modern vibe, large windows that admit plenty of natural light, a woodburning stove, white tablecloths, and elegant service. It’s a pity those windows don’t offer something nicer to look at. Like all restaurants located on avenues and major cross streets, the view is nothing special.

There’s a divided kitchen, with most of the cooking done in the basement, and some of the finishing and plating done upstairs in view of the dining room. I don’t quite understand the allure of open kitchens, but this one seemed to be humming along efficiently without being too much of a distraction.

The seasonal (“Late Spring”) menu is priced about in line with the neighborhood’s other upscale newcomers, with starters $11–19, entrées $24–36, and side dishes $8. I counted at least four entrées that are prepared in the wood-burning oven, and I suspect they’ll be among the most popular. I wasn’t happy to see two entrées with “m.p.” instead of a price (lamb, strip steak). Given the ease of reprinting these days, and a seasonal menu that changes frequently, how hard is it to reprint when the price changes?

A mis-named appetizer called “Crispy Squash Blossom” ($17) was mildly disappointing. The brown fritter in the photo is basically an oddly shaped jumbo lump crab cake with a tangy mango chili sauce. The corn salsa and avocado were a bit more exciting, but seemed to have parachuted in from a different appetizer. A couple of ugly shards of lettuce didn’t add anything either, and for the life of me I couldn’t find any squash.

I adored the Wood Grilled Carolina Trout ($24), plated with golden beets in a honey ginger vinaigrette, wild rice, garden beans and yuzu hazelnut brown butter. Everything in this dish worked beautifully together, punctuated by two ample filets of tender trout and a mild smoky flavor imparted by the wood-burning oven.

Service was about as smooth and assured as I’ve seen in a restaurant that is not yet technically open. I did not order wine, but the wine list, though not particularly deep, seemed to be fairly priced, with plenty of bottles under $50 and a good selection by the glass. I had a couple of terrific cocktails, but there was no printed cocktail menu. Bread service could be better, with only humdrum sourdough bread and a caraffe of olive oil as the only choice.

I don’t assign ratings to restaurants that are not yet open, but Sheridan Square seems to have all of the pieces in place for a solid two stars. I look forward to coming back again in another month or two.

Sheridan Square (138 Seventh Ave. S. between W. 10th & Charles Sts., West Village)

Bar Q

 

Note: As of February 17, 2009, Bar Q has closed. The space is now the Chesapeake Bay-themed restaurant, Choptank.

*

Anita Lo, co-owner of the beloved (and Michelin-starred) Annisa, has lately followed the path of many a celebrity chef who was trained in French kitchens: she’s gone downmarket and pan-Asian. First came the Rickshaw Dumpling Bar in 2005, where she consults; and now, Bar Q.

Bar Q is just a few minutes’ walk from Annisa, so she won’t have trouble keeping tabs on the place. But the upscale comfort-food menu looks like it was designed for dependable replication in her absence.

There are a lot of dishes that are braised, smoked, roasted and fried, including plenty of pork. “Tea-smoked” recurs in the description of three different items. There are odd combinations, like “tuna ribs” and “pork wings.” Who knew pigs could fly? A “Trio of Tartares” makes the obligatory appearance.

The space has been beautiully done in blonde woods and white walls. One of the servers said, with a grin, “I painted all the artwork.” There is no artwork; just hard, bare walls. I am a bit concerned that the space could become oppressively loud when full, but that is mere speculation, as the restaurant was nearly empty when I visited at around 6:00 p.m. on a Monday evening. There’s a lovely outdoor garden, which is scheduled to open sometime in May.

The menu is not inexpensive, with raw bar selections at $2–7 per piece, appetizers $11–16, entrées $18–29, and side dishes at $7.

There’s also a tendency to upsell. My server said, “We recommend starting with a raw bar selection, followed by an appetizer and a main course.”

I thought to myself, “Well, yeah, of course you recommend that.”

Once I had nixed that idea, the server helped me narrow down my order to the better appetizer and entrée choices, describing each as a “signature dish.” You have to wonder how that’s possible for a place that has been open three weeks.

There are house cocktails, but when I told the server I don’t like excessive syruppy sweetness, he suggested I give them all a pass. I heeded his advice in favor of an Old Fashioned.

 
Grilled Squid Salad (left); Stuffed Spareribs (right)

I started with the Grilled Squid Salad ($10), which had a wonderful smoky flavor. I asked the server if the squid had been smoked, and he cheekily replied that this was a “secret”. The accompanying Hijiki salad (seaweed) was unmemorable.

A dish called Stuffed Spareribs ($23) might lead you astray. It’s a solid brick of pork, served off the bone: pork stuffed with pork. The sauce is described as “Lemongrass BBQ, Peanut and Thai basil.” Peanut is what stands out. Is it good? The execution was superb, so it comes down to whether you like your spareribs to taste like peanuts. Hours later, I was still a bit haunted by the porky-peanutty taste. But I’m not sure I want my spareribs like that.

Bar Q offers a little bit of fun, but it strikes me as overpriced for a neighborhood place, yet not quite enthralling enough to become a destination.

Bar Q (308–310 Bleecker Street between Grove & Barrow Streets, West Village)

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

Commerce

Note: Commerce closed in June 2015, after failing to resolve a long-standing dispute with the landlord. As you will see from our review review, we had no love for the place, and never went back. But it clearly had a following. Perhaps it improved later on.

As of July 2016, the space is the un-Google-able Fifty, “a new neighborhood dining destination offering seasonal, new-American fare with a focus on South American spices and flavors. Helmed by chef Luis Jaramillo, who hails from Ecuador, the menu showcases local, seasonal ingredients complimented by bold, ethnic flavors from his home country and surrounding South American regions.”

*

Fifty Commerce is one of New York’s most charming addresses. Located on a twisting lane that no one can find without a map, it’s a reminder of New York a century ago, with its cobblestones, low-slung Colonial-style townhouses, and the lovely Cherry Lane Theater.

It hasn’t been a charmed address for restaurants, though. The Depression-era speakeasy became the Blue Mill Tavern, then Grange Hall, then a second Blue Mill Tavern. The first Blue Mill lasted fifty years, and perhaps it should have stayed that way. Grange Hall was, as I understand it, a reliable burgers-and-fries place. Blue Mill’s reincarnation replaced it, and sank.

[Kreiger via Eater]Now comes Commerce, owned by two Montrachet alumni, Tony Zazula and chef Harold Moore. They’ve given it a thorough make-over, removing Blue Mill’s art deco additions and restoring something like the old Grange Hall look. But this is no burgers-and-fries menu. Moore has stints at Daniel, Jean Georges and March under his belt. He and Zazula strive mightily to bring haute cuisine to this tavern-like atmosphere.

They fail on almost every level.

The miserable space is the loudest we have experienced in quite some time. I felt like I needed to check into a clinic for aural detox. The reservations book is mismanaged: we were seated thirty minutes late, and another party waited an hour. The host tried to offer us a bar table. We should have taken that deal, which would have been better than a frenetic dining room as crowded as Penn Station. We were much better off than the party of six seated at a circular table with the diameter of a hula hoop. At another tiny table, a couple were practically in each other’s laps; fortunately, they didn’t seem to mind.

Bread Service

Moore’s cuisine doesn’t offer sufficient compensation, though I’m not sure any food could. We adored the bounty of bread rolls, which might be the best bread service in the city right now. Our appetizers were wonderful, but the entrées were awful and took quite a while to come out.

Dinner here isn’t cheap, with appetizers at $11–19 and entrées $23–44 (most in the high twenties).  As Eater noted, “the menu really doesn’t have an escape plan dish (say, a burger).” Even if the service issues are fixed, we can’t see this loud, cramped space surviving with a menu where you can’t get out for less than $60 a head—and that’s before you order from the over-priced wine list.

During our long wait for a table, we cooled our heels at the bar—also plenty busy, but more comfortable than the dining room. Several of the house cocktails caught our fancy, such as the Brunswick (rye whisky, fig purée), the Cherry Lane (gin, cherry purée) and the Agave Stinger (tequila, burnt honey, fresh lime, soda, honeycomb), all $13. They also serve food at the bar. If you can get a seat, you’ll probably have a better time, and get more attention, than in the dining room.

 
Ragu of Odd Things (left); Terrine of Foie Gras Rillettes (right)

We loved our appetizers, which at least showed the potential for Moore’s menu, if only it were served somewhere else.

A “Ragu of Odd Things” ($16) featured the likes of tripe, tongue, and oxtail. This hearty, filling dish could be a small meal in itself. A Duck and Foie Gras Rillettes Terrine ($19) was also nicely done. Had we left at that point, I would have gone home happy.

 
Halibut (left); Stuffed Veal Breast (right)

Both entrées failed. Halibut ($28) had been overcooked to the point that it became mush. The sweet pea sauce was alleged to contain speck ham and black truffles, but I couldn’t detect the taste of either. To the restaurant’s credit, they took it off the bill.

Stuffed Breast of Veal ($26) had potential, but it had been left sitting under a heat lamp too long. It was only lukewarm.

The front-of-house team seems to really care about what they’re doing, but they are simply overwhelmed. I ordered (and was charged for) a 2003 Italian red wine; they brought the 2006. The flubs at our table, plus those we observed at others, seemed like more than most restaurants make in a week.

And apropos of nothing, why don’t they have a website?

It’s rare that we leave a restaurant with near certainty that “We will never eat here again.” That’s the verdict for Commerce. If you go, bring your tylenol.

Commerce (50 Commerce Street near Barrow Street, West Village)

Food: Uneven
Service: Chaotic
Ambiance: Miserable
Overall: Intolerable

Update: The Little Owl

Something you’ll never see: The Little Owl with no customers. [Kalina via Eater]

Much of The Little Owl’s reputation seems to rest on two knockout dishes: The Pork Chop, which I had the last time I visited; and the meatball sliders.

I was in the mood for a snack the other day, so I dropped in for an order of those balleyhooed sliders. All of the bar seats were available at 6:15 p.m., but within fifteen minutes they were all taken.

[Amateur Gourmet]In a town awash with sliders, I thought these were par for the course. These are made with beef, pork and veal, and slathered with gravy. The server asked what I thought, and I said, “They’re fun.”

“They’re perfect!” she replied, almost looking offended, as if merely “fun” wasn’t good enough. At $10, they certainly make a fine snack.

The space remains unbelievably popular, and unbelievably cramped. They must have added a couple of tables since Kalina’s photo (above) was shot: it almost looks roomy, which The Little Owl, with its 28 seats, is not. They now manage to fit five at the bar, and believe me, it’s a squeeze.

I continue to believe, as I did before, that The Little Owl is slightly overrated, but it’s a wonderful neighborhood restaurant. I wish I had something as good where I live.

The Little Owl (90 Bedford Street at Grove Street, West Village)

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

Market Table

Update: Since this review was written, Market Table has dropped the “Market” part of the concept. The front room is no longer a market, and the restaurant now has 60 seats, 20 more than before.

In November 2008, Frank Bruni awarded two stars in the Times. We believe—as we did at the Little Owl—that this was one star more than it deserved, bearing in mind that one star is supposed to be a compliment. Thanks to the Bruni review, it’s probably no longer true that “Market Table is a Little Owl you can get into.”

*

Two years ago, Joey Campanaro and Gabriel Stulman electrified the West Village with their hugely successful Little Owl, which won a remarkable two stars from Frank Bruni in the Times. Five months ago, they returned with a sequel, Market Table, just five blocks south. Early on, the demand for tables was intense: Bloomberg’s Ryan Sutton waited 90 minutes to get in.

Critical reception hasn’t reached the levels of rapture accorded The Little Owl. Market Table made Adam Platt’s Best of ’07 List, but Platt doesn’t seem to have reviewed it. In the Village Voice, Sietsema was unimpressed. For the Sun, Paul Adams mostly liked it. Randall Lane awarded four of six in TONY, and Restaurant Girl awarded 2½ out of 4 in the Daily News. But Frank Bruni surprisingly gave it a pass, letting Julia Moskin deliver a mixed verdict in Dining Briefs.

At Market Table, the central conceit is that it’s a market with tables. The front room sells coffee, sandwiches, and some of the same food ingredients used in the restaurant. The serving area is in the back room. It’s roomier and comfier than The Little Owl. Still, the shared DNA is apparent: exposed brick, bare table-tops, and a bar that’s set up for walk-in diners. Their menus and wine lists are similar, too.

Market Table is a Little Owl you can get into. At 6:15 p.m. on a Saturday evening, The Little Owl couldn’t accommodate our party of three. Five minutes later, we walked into Market Table and were seated at the bar immediately.

The menu is laden with comfort-food favorites. It had certainly captured our server’s affections. We asked him for recommendations, and by the time he was finished he had gushed over practically every dish. Mikey Price, formerly of The Mermaid Inn, is in charge of the kitchen,. He was off on the evening we were there, but Campanaro (who humbly called himself the “chef’s assistant”) was on hand.

 
Beet and goat cheese salad (left); Fried calamari (right)

A salad with heirloom beets and breaded balls of fried goat cheese ($11) was lovely. Humble fried calamari ($9) were crisp and not at all greasy.

 
Crab cake (left); Lamb shank (right)

A crab cake ($21) was impressive, with only the slightest cloak of breading and tender chunks of crab. But a braised lamb shank ($20) was dull and tough. Silky potatoes au gratin with gouda cheese offered some redemption.

At a restaurant where most entrées are below $25, it’s nice to see that they don’t try to make it up on wine. A Finger Lakes Cabernet Franc was $44, and these days I feel the need to cheer when there is anything decent for under $50.

There is also a selection of half-bottles—another estimable trait shared with The Little Owl.

Is Market Table as good as The Little Owl? It’s not lacking for business, but the foodocracy still seems to prefer the older sibling. The space at Market Table is considerably more pleasant, but the menu doesn’t seem to have that “killer dish”—at The Little Owl, it’s the famous pork chop—as a draw.

But I’ll probably come back to Market Table, because it’s fun, friendly, and inexpensive. And readers, please note that the rating below—one star (the same as I gave The Little Owl)—is not an insult. One star means “good”.

Market Table (54 Carmine Street near Bedford Street, West Village)

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