A Voce

Note: Andrew Carmellini, the chef when this review was written, has left A Voce. His replacement is Missy Robbins, who comes to New York from the Chicago restaurant Spiaggia. We haven’t been back since, but click here for a review of A Voce Columbus at the Time-Warner Center.

*

A Voce is the first solo restaurant by Andrew Carmellini, who had been the popular chef de cuisine at Café Boulud. It was one of the biggest hits of 2006, scoring three stars from Frank Bruni and another from Michelin. The restaurant is full almost every night of the week. I had wanted to visit a lot sooner, but it never seemed to be available when I was. When I saw that a 6:15 p.m. slot was available on Sunday evening, I grabbed it.

My friend and I started with the duck meatballs ($15), which every reviewer has raved about. They are indeed a tasty delight, but I must say that neither of us could find any trace of the foie gras that the servers insist is in there. A pork chop with onion glazing ($30), one of the daily specials, was done to perfection. My friend ordered the braised short ribs, at $39 the most expensive entree (unless you’re having the truffle tasting). The preparation was certainly first-rate, although it seemed to me a bit over-priced, in that the best short ribs in town, at Café Gray, are “only” $38.

The price of the short ribs, however, had nothing on the wine list, which featured many bottles over $1,000, and tons more well over $100. For a casual restaurant where the waiters wear dockers, it seemed to us incongruous. I did finally settle on a pinot noir a shade under $50. I was quite irritated to find that the restaurant kept the open bottle on a serving station, out of my reach. I generally prefer to control a bottle that I’ve paid for, especially when the serving staff are going to disappear for long stretches—as they do when A Voce gets busy.

For dessert, I ordered a maple-walnut cheesecake ($10), which seemed more like a parfait. As I see it, the word “cheesecake” conveys definite meaning, and restaurants shouldn’t be putting it on their menu unless they intend to serve something at least approximating a cheesecake.

Bread service came in the form of addictive warm home-made bread and olive oil, although there wasn’t enough of the latter.

Although the menu is expensive, the atmosphere at A Voce is informal. The space is attractively decorated, and the swivel chairs are quite comfortable. But the tables are fairly close together, the noise level builds rapidly, and the serving staff gets a little stretched as the restaurant fills up. Andrew Carmellini’s upscale Italian cuisine is wonderful, but he hasn’t really provided the elegant stage on which it deserves to shine.

A Voce (41 Madison Avenue at 26th Street, Flatiron District)

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

Fresh

Note: Fresh closed in September 2008.

*

The idea behind Fresh is simple enough. Eric Tevrow, the owner, also owns Early Morning Seafood, which supplies the fish to “every four star and several three and two star restaurants in the city.” So in 2002 he opened his own place in TriBeCa, scoring two stars from Eric Asimov in the Times. Shore, a casual New England-style fish shack, followed in 2004, and Coast a year or so after that.

I paid enjoyable visits to Fresh and Shore a couple of years ago, and to Coast a while later. Shore and Coast were saddled with abysmal locations, and both failed. Fresh still seems to be holding its own. It was perhaps a shade over half full on a recent Thursday evening, with what appeared to be a mix of business diners, families, and romantic couples.

A Ceviche of Artic Char ($12) was uncomplicated, with the lively—well, freshness of the fish—allowed to speak for itself. The excellent Pumpkin Seed Crusted Flounder ($27) took the opposite approach. It came plated in a tower  (à la Gotham Bar and Grill) on a bed of chanterelles and butternut squash, and all of the ingredients worked well together. My mom was pleased with Spicy Seafood Stew ($31)—not all that spicy, she said. My girlfriend had the English Batter-fried Haddock ($21), an upscale fish-and-chips that was somewhat misplaced at this type of restaurant; she said it was soggy, and wondered how such a simple dish could be the one they screwed up.

The décor at Fresh somewhat over-plays the seafood theme, with its wicker chairs and blue-tinged walls, suggesting a Caribbean resort with faded charms. But there is nothing at all faded about the excellent seafood, which is why I’ll be going back to Fresh. Service is efficient, and tables are generously spaced, making for a sedate atmosphere that is increasingly rare in Manhattan. Be sure to order one of the specialty martinis, which come in funky glasses with curved stems that are unlike anything I’ve seen.

Fresh (105 Reade Street between West Broadway and Church Street, TriBeCa)

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

Le Veau d'Or

Le Veau d’Or (“The Golden Calf”) has been serving traditional French cuisine since 1937. They say it has hardly changed since then. The owner, Robert Tréboux, who lives upstairs, looks like he’s about 85. The only waiter appears to be about 75. The lavatories probably haven’t been renovated since the Eisenhower administration.

Craig Claiborne awarded four stars in the 1960s. The last rated review I can find comes from Mimi Sheraton in 1977. She awarded one star, but it almost sounds like she’s describing a different place:

One recommended formula for success in the restaurant business is to have a jam-packed, noisy, elbow-to-elbow setting with plenty of bumping and pushing among waiters and clientele and an overall atmosphere suggestive of a subway rush. The idea, supposedly, is that everyone wants to be where everyone else wants to be and that such a place is necessarily part of the “in” scene. It is a theory that certainly gains credence at Le Veau d’Or, the 31-year-old, very authentic French bistro…

Recent visits indicated, unfortnately, that although the three-deep scene at the bar is still intact, and waiters continue practically to trample patrons standing at the door so they can serve the awkwardly placed front tables, the food is not nearly what it used to be, with only a few exceptions. The myth, apparently, is outliving the reality.

Sheraton considered the prices “moderately high,” the wines “overpriced,” and the atmosphere “jammed, noisy, attractive.” 

As far as I can find, the last Times critic to mention it was William Grimes, in an article called “The Restaurants That Time Forgot.”

Not long ago, a stylish South American woman walked into Le Veau d’Or, a small French bistro near Bloomingdale’s. She had not set foot in the place for 40 years, but looking around, all seemed in order. The décor remained intact, with the painting of a calf sleeping in bed, the covers pulled up under its chin. The menu, a rote recitation of bistro classics, certainly hadn’t changed. But something was not quite right. “Have you changed some of the waiters?” she asked suspiciously. Robert Treboux, the owner, tried to break the news gently. “I told her, ‘Some have died, some have gotten rich,’” he said. “It was a very funny question.”

I’ve been thinking of a visit to Le Veau d’Or for about a year now. My mom is in town, and she loves nothing more than classic French cooking. A review in this week’s Sun reminded me. It was time to give it a try.

You might think that no one under sixty visits Le Veau d’Or, but you’d be wrong. We actually saw young people there. Their presence gives hope that Le Veau d’Or could be with us for a long while—assuming Monsieur Tréboux and his heirs hold on.

The menu at Le Veau d’Or is as classic as it gets, but you don’t need to be on Social Security to appreciate it. Whatever your age, you’ll love the prices. M. Tréboux owns the place free-and-clear, and he has no need to jack up the bill. You get three courses for around $30, all impeccably prepared. One of the best wines we’ve had in a while was just $42 for the bottle.

We started with the escargots ($8 suppl.), and if anyone is preparing it better, we’d like to know who it is. It was decadent as all get-out. What’s not to like about garlic and melted butter? We happily mopped up every drop with the French bread. Duck with cherry sauce ($29) came with wild rice and a helping of potatoes au gratin that could easily become addictive. The duck was perhaps a bit dry, but I didn’t leave a morsel behind, and it was an ample portion (half the bird).

Rum parfait was nothing complicated: chocolate ice cream with rum poured on top. But the waiter left the rum bottle, and I added plenty more. Coffee came, and we added rum to that too. They didn’t seem to mind.

Many other dishes appeared to be worth a look on future visits. Even after a full dinner, my mouth was watering at a half-rack of lamb, delivered to an adjacent party and carved tableside. Cassoulet also looked impressive. Many dishes are finished at the table, with sauces coming in gravy boats or large copper pots.

The serving staff (the lone waiter and a busboy) are occasionally confused. We got a good look at that cassoulet because it was delivered to our table by mistake. The waiter smiled wryly when we pointed out the error. Earlier, when my mom asked if the duck was good, he had a deadpan reply: “If it wasn’t good, we wouldn’t serve it.”

A few patrons at Le Veau d’Or wanted to practice their French. One man asked the watier, “Êtes-vous français?” “Non, je suis Americain,” replied the obviously French waiter.

The food came out a little slowly, but we were having a good time and were in no hurry. With less than half of the restaurant’s seventeen tables taken, they were in no rush to get rid of us. If we wanted, I think we could still be there.

My mom and I wished that my late father could have seen this place. There are few places like it any more—even in France. There’s a slightly frayed elegance to the bistro décor, as old French songs play in the background. Yet, it is entirely sincere. What’s not to love?

Le Veau d’Or (129 E. 60th Street between Park & Lexington Avenues, Upper East Side)

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