Top Chef Season 5 Finale

I haven’t blogged Top Chef during the season, as there seem to be enough people who chronicle every episode. Now that the season is over, I thought I’d share a few thoughts.

Almost everyone agrees that Hosea Rosenberg is an extremely underwhelming winner. His food never seemed electrifying, but it was always “good enough.” Until the final episode, he had no wins after the first half of the season. In 3 of the last 6 episodes before the finale, he was in the bottom three for the elimination challenge, but survived because someone else was always worse. That’s the rub in Top Chef. Until the last episode, you don’t need to be good; you only need to avoid being worst.

Even Hosea admits that Stefan Richter was the best chef of the season, but Stefan didn’t deliver when it counted. In 3 of the last 4 episodes before the finale, he was in the bottom three. You got the distinct feeling that he was coasting, and Colicchio figured that out too. Not much gets by Tom Colicchio.

Carla Hall was clearly a fan favorite, but I always thought that she was in over her head. She showed her lack of self-confidence by allowing her sous-chef to alter significantly two of the dishes, both of which turned out poorly. Neither Hosea nor Stefan acted as though they considered her a threat.

As Tom Colicchio has endlessly stated, there is no cumulative scoring on Top Chef. You could win 5 challenges in a row, but if you are the worst on any given day, you’re going home. Under that rule, Hosea simply had to win. It was abundantly clear that he cooked the best meal in the final challenge. Obviously I didn’t taste the food, but I noted that the editors weren’t even able make it seem close. Going into the final commercial break, it was just overwhelmingly obvious that Hosea had won.

I really don’t see how cumulative scoring can work in a finale. You could have a season where one contestant has built up such a huge lead that the finale is essentially meaningless. I do think that they should use cumulative scoring earlier in the season, so that obviously superior chefs aren’t sent home for one mistake.

Some of this season’s challenges seemed unusually contrived. Especially in the finale, the chefs ought to be allowed to “do their thing.” Why were Stefan and Hosea fighting over a limited supply of caviar? Give them a budget and let them go shopping, as they did in earlier episodes. And why the artificial 2-hour prep limit and the extra surprise tossed in on the final day? If the goal is really to identify the top chef, then the producers should get out of their way, and let them cook the way they want to cook.

So Hosea is this season’s winner. He says he wants to open a restaurant, although the $100,000 prize is probably only 10% of the nest-egg he’d need. I suspect that some of the more glamorous contestants will be able to milk more out of their Top Chef appearances than Hosea will.

The Payoff: Buttermilk Channel

As expected, Frank Bruni awarded one star to Buttermilk Channel today, finding it…

a restaurant of real standards, noteworthy ambition and uncommon slavishness to trends. It’s laudable and predictable in equal measures. And it was packed every time I went.

Unfortunately:

Although one in three dishes widely misses its mark and the restaurant’s reach frequently exceeds its grasp, there’s the possibility of a terrific meal. There’s the probability of a pleasant one.

Among the charcuterie items, a few “are like earnest but clumsy culinary-school first attempts.” And how, exactly, would Frank know that?

No matter. Both Eater and I win $1 at even money on our hypothetical one-dollar bets.

	Eater		NYJ
Bankroll	$108.50		$129.67
Gain/Loss	+1.00		+1.00
Total	$109.50		$130.67
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Won–Lost	51–25		53–23

Rolling the Dice: Buttermilk Channel

The Line: Tomorrow, Frank Bruni rides the subway to Brooklyn for a review of Buttermilk Channel. The Eater oddsmakers have set the action as follows (√√ denotes the Eater bet):

Zero Stars: 15-1
One Star: EVEN √√
Two Stars: 7-1
Three Stars: 144-1
Four Stars: 20,736-1

The Skinny: We haven’t paid any attention to Buttermilk Channel, but we subscribe to the theory that two-star restaurants don’t hide in plain sight. The very obscurity of this place makes us doubtful that we’ll see two stars tomorrow. For those looking for contrary evidence, Restaurant Girl’s improbable three-star review gives cold comfort.

The Bet: We agree with Eater that Frank Bruni will award one star to Buttermilk Channel.

Raines Law Room

I stopped by the Raines Law Room the other night. This is the new Flatiron speakeasy-themed cocktail lounge that can’t buy any love, because speakeasies are just so last year. Or so the cocktailians say.

My own theory is that the theme is outdated only when the customers stop visiting, and Raines doesn’t have that problem. They were already about half-full at 6:00 p.m. on Friday night, and pretty close to fully committed an hour later.

The speakeasy motif is everywhere you look. The storefront (a former antique store) is unlabeled, and there’s no phone number nor reservations taken. You ring a doorbell to gain admission. (If they’re full, the host takes your cellphone number, and you cool your heels somewhere else till he calls.) The “bar” is an upscale kitchen counter—as if this were somebody’s basement, and the “lounge” their living room.

The main room is a plush, pretty space. As I was alone, the host gave me the option of “visiting the kitchen,” without mentioning there was nowhere to sit. No matter. I chatted up the bartenders and had a couple of cocktails ($13 ea.), rye and bourbon based, with balanced, forward flavors.

Some of the modern cocktail ritual is just a gimmick (hand-crushing the ice—can anyone really tell?), but they’re doing a good job here. The place could use some food. The only option offered is a $15 plate of miscellaneous munchies (cheese, sliced meat, olives). They ought to be able to improve on that.

Oh, and in case you didn’t know, “Raines Law” refers not to a school for attorneys, but to an 1896 prohibition-like law that restricted alcohol sales in New York. So drink up and enjoy.

Raines Law Room (48 W. 17th St. between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, Flatiron District)

La Focaccia

Note: La Focaccia closed in the summer of 2010.

*

La Focaccia is one of the seemingly infinite neighborhood restaurants that inhabit West Village street corners. It would be a full-time job to sample them all, but La Focaccia caught our eye, thanks to a wood-burning oven, clearly visible from ceiling-height picture windows facing on West Fourth and Bank Streets.

The place has rustic Northern Italian charm, with tile tabletops and a pressed tin ceiling, but tables are cramped tightly, and a room full of hard surfaces amplifies the din. There’s a steady trail of walk-ins, ensuring that no table goes unoccupied for long.

Oddly enough, the bread did not seem to be focaccia—it was thicker than it should be. However, it was soft and served warm, which was good enough.

Portions are on the hearty side. When the server brought two large bowls of gnocchi with pesto sauce ($16; right), we were sure she had misunderstood our request for a single order to split, not two separate orders. Our fears proved unfounded when the bill arrived, and we were charged for just one order of gnocchi.

And it was a perfectly respectable gnocchi that I would be happy to eat again. (The photo was snapped after I’d already eaten half of it.)

Among the entrées, the mixed grill for two ($58) is the choice for those who are indecisive. It’s a massive portion of lamb, chicken, sausage, steak, and vegetables, which we could not finish. We puzzled at the logic of including three lamb chops on a plate designed to be share by two people, especially as the lamb was easily the best of the bunch, with the sausage a close second. The chicken was forgettable, the steak and vegetables pedestrian.

The wine list has plenty of choices if you’re on a budget. A 2003 Salice Salentino at $30 was just fine for our purposes. The unevenness of the food, coupled with the loud surroundings, did not leave us with any urge to return.

La Focaccia (51 Bank Street at West Fourth Street, West Village)

Food: Satisfactory
Service: Good
Ambiance: Charming, if you wear ear plugs
Overall: Satisfactory

In Brief: Beacon

Note: Beacon closed in late 2012 after 13 years in business, due to a rent increase that the restaurant could not absorb.

I had the $35 prix fixe on Thursday, a follow-up to the pre-theater supper we enjoyed there the week before. (I gave much more background in my earlier post.)

I can’t stress enough how solid this place is. They’re not doing anything complicated, but what they do is executed perfectly. I had the wood-roasted oysters, the rotisserie chicken, and the ginger bread pudding. The chef–owner, Waldy Malouf, thinks of the little things, like serving warm milk with coffee.

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

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

There’s No Recession at BLT Market

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

*

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: **

Almond

[Kreiger via Eater]

At the risk of repeating myself, casual French cuisine seems to be making a comeback. It is all the more remarkable, given that most of the city’s critics don’t give a damn (“French = boring”).

This week’s exhibit: Almond, which opened about four months ago, cloned from a popular Hamptons restaurant. It occupies the cursed space that has been home to three Jeffrey Chodorow failures (Rocco’s, Brasserio Caviar & Banana, and Borough Food & Drink). Chodorow still owns the space, but as far as we can tell, he has no other role in this new venture. As long as he stays away, Almond should have a chance.

The critics have mostly ignored Almond, as you’d expect for any French brasserie that doesn’t have a well known chef (such as Ducasse, Bouley, or Boulud). Bob Lape awarded two stars in Crain’s, while Frank Bruni relegated it to Dining Briefs.

I was smitten the moment I arrived, and the hostesses offered to seat me, although I was twenty minutes early. It so happened there were plenty of empty tables, but in a Chodorow-run restaurant that would not stop them from shooing you to the bar, which at 7:40 p.m. was completely full. Later on, the restaurant filled up too—not completely, but better than most places we’ve visited lately.

The menu consists of French brasserie standards at recession prices, with starters $9–14 and entrées $15–29 (most $18–24). There’s a broad selection of side dishes ($7). Burgers and sandwiches are $15.

Both appetizers were wonderful: Duck Confit with creamy lentils and banyuls vinegar ($12; above left) and Salt Cod Croquettes with saffron aioli ($10; above right).

Aged New York Strip ($29; above left) was one of the better non-steakhouse steaks we’ve had in quite some time, and the fries were perfect. Daube of Lamb Belly ($23; above right) was competent comfort food; it tasted better than it looked.

The space is not especially charming or memorable, and it gets loud when full, but service was just fine. The wine list has plenty of decent choices below $50, including the 2005 Languedoc we had for $38.

Almond (12 E. 22nd Street between Broadway & Park Avenue S., Flatiron District)

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

The Payoff: Shang

We didn’t get a chance to post our BruniBet this week. The Eater odds weren’t yet announced when I left work, and when I got home Frank’s one-spot for Shang was already posted—much earlier in the evening than usual.

For what it’s worth, I had planned to make the same one-star bet that Eater did, not because I agree with it, but because it was the safest guess. Bruni is a follower, and when the critics before him weigh in with a collective “MEH,” he usually does too.

Indeed, for the first time I can remember, he came out and admitted that he read his fellow-critics’ reviews before writing his own:

The dining room is relatively understated, apart from a cluster of circular orange banquettes and a few peachish lighting fixtures so oddly shaped and unusually textured that my fellow critics have outdone themselves with metaphors, which I’d be a fool to try to improve upon. “Papier-mâché breasts” are what came to one reviewer’s mind. “Rumpled old stockings” popped into another’s. Split the difference and you’ve got the picture. [See photo above.]

We liked Shang a lot better than Frank did, but I certainly think it was churlish to blame the restaurant for a staircase and a bar that it does not control. Doesn’t Frank realize this is a hotel?

Trigo

[Krieger via Eater]

Note: Well, that was fast. Less than three months in, Trigo closed. It was replaced by Bar Artisanal (a branch of Chef Terrance Brennan’s cheese-happy restaurant franchise), and later by Pelea Mexicana.

*

The instant we walked into Trigo, we knew that it was planned before the recession. It’s a cavernous space, decked out in medieval gloom, with towering ceilings and wooden arches. It’s termed a Mediterranean brasserie, with the food seeming more Italian than anything else. The chef, Michael Garrett, has stints at Aquavit and Merkato 55 on his C.V.

The menu has a bunch of categories, and the server tried to steer us into a four-course meal. We were having none of that. Three small starters and an entrée apiece was more than enough.

House-cured gravlax ($11; above left) was too small a portion to make an impression. Wild Boar prosciutto ($9; above right) was perfectly fine. The star of the appetizers, though, was a Lamb Tart ($14; above right), made in the restaurant’s wood-burning oven. If you visit Trigo, go straight for anything that comes out of that oven.

We concluded with two pasta entrées, Lobster Parpadelle ($26; above left) and Linguine with Clams ($23; above right), both of which struck us as hearty nourishment but not food worth going out of the way for.

I can’t find serious fault with anything Trigo served, but it was unexciting (except for the lamb tart). With a $32 bottle of wine, the total came to $115 before tax and tip, a bit more than I care to pay for food this boring. The space was never more than half full, but by the time we left the hard surfaces made it loud indeed.

Trigo (268 West Broadway at Lispenard St. & Sixth Avenue, TriBeCa)

Food: Satisfactory
Service: Satisfactory
Ambiance: Loud
Overall: Satisfactory