Entries from January 1, 2006 - January 31, 2006

Tuesday
Jan312006

craftbar

Craft is one of New York’s iconic restaurants. It derives its name partly from the structure of the menu, which presents ingredients in various categories, allowing the diner to craft his own meal. This can be a rewarding but expensive undertaking, with vegetable side dishes running to $12-15 apiece. The restaurant is also known for a style of cooking that “celebrate[s] ‘single’ ingredients, expertly and simply prepared.” But Chef Tom Colicchio (Gramercy Tavern) is quick to note, “Simple does not mean simplistic.” A truckload of honors (three NYT stars and one Michelin star) suggests that critics generally have agreed.

Like many successful restaurants these days, craft has become a mini-chain. Many people think that craftsteak is the best steakhouse in Las Vegas. We’ll all see for ourselves soon enough, as a branch of craftsteak will be opening in far west Chelsea later this year. And then, there is craftbar, a less pricy alternative around the corner from the mother ship, which moved to new digs last year.

For a downscale sibling, craftbar is surprisingly formal-looking. Of course, it is not a formal restaurant as we would traditionally have understood that term. But in an era that has largely jettisoned old notions of fine dining, craftbar seems like an oasis of calm. The booths are comfortable, the tables widely spaced, the décor gentle on the eyes. Nowadays, such a space could easily be the home to far more ambitious cooking than craftbar is, in fact, serving.

My friend and I could not avoid the comparison to the Café at Country, the downscale sibling of a main dining room that hasn’t opened yet. We dined there about ten days ago. It was a miserable experience, not for any fault of the food, but for an ambiance that seemed perversely designed to inflict maximum discomfort. At craftbar, there’s proof that an informal sibling need not have tables the size of postage stamps and the noise level of a Wall Street trading floor.

The menu comes on a single loose sheet of paper, and it changes daily. I started with the pan-roasted sweetbreads ($15), which came lightly breaded. This dish seemed to exemplify the “craft” approach—presenting the best ingredients, prepared simply. I found it tasty, but unadventurous.

Several reports have praised the veal meatballs with ricotta ($19). Here too was a comfort food featuring impeccable ingredients prepared uncreatively. There were three hefty meatballs in a red sauce with an ample sprinkling of grated cheese. The veal was tender, and obviously a high quality. In less capable hands, it could easily have been overwhelmed by either the sauce or the cheese, but here the piece parts were skillfully balanced.

My friend also made uncomplicated choices: a duck liver pâté followed by spaghetti. I tasted a bit of the pâté , and found it comparable to the better examples that I’ve tasted elsewhere.

At $15, my sweetbread appetizer was craftbar’s most expensive; other starters are in the $8–12 range. At $19, my meatball entrée was craftbar’s least expensive; other main courses were in the $25–30 range. If not exactly budget-priced, craftbar is certainly less expensive than its luxury sister restaurant, craft.

I wasn’t in the mood for a fancy meal last night, but I would certainly look forward to a return visit to try some of craftbar’s more adventurous main courses.

craftbar (900 Broadway between 19th & 20th Streets, Flatiron District)

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

Sunday
Jan292006

Steven A Shaw's "Turning the Tables"

Turning the Tables: Restaurants from the Inside Out
by Steven A. Shaw
New York: HarperCollins, 2005
xxiv+216 pages

Steven A. Shaw is the “Fat Guy” of eGullet, the superb Internet food site that he co-founded, and to which I am addicted. Any regular visitor to the site will have been impressed by Shaw’s encyclopedic knowledge of the restaurant industry and especially the New York restaurant scene. Shaw gave up a career in the law to become a food writer. It is his passion, and it comes through in everything he writes.

A bit belatedly, I finally got around to reading this book. It’s about 200 pages, but goes by quickly. I bought it on a Thursday night and finished it the next day. Curiously, although it’s hardcover, the book is shaped like a Zagat Guide, which is a strange design choice. I found it a little unwieldy to hold.

The book’s premise is to provide an insider view of the restaurant industry. Shaw talks about how they manage their reservation books, how kitchens work, how ingredients are sourced, how restaurants operate as businesses, and the “Restaurant Information Age.” Most of his points are made by example. The bulk of his research was conducted in high-end New York restaurants (Eleven Madison Park, Gramercy Tavern, Tavern on the Green, Café Gray), but he also visits a hot dog stand, pizzerias in New Haven, barbecue joints in the South, and a small restaurant in Florida where one guy does all the cooking.

Shaw has done most of his writing in short formats, and it shows: the book reads like a series of newspaper feature articles. This structure makes the material easily digestible, but at times it lacks depth. For instance, in the chapter on “The Business of the Restaurant Business,” Shaw takes brief tours of projects that are already in progress, but they are only fly-bys. Take Café Gray, for instance. Shaw wants to tell us what it takes to open a new restaurant, but when he first drops by, the space is already under construction. A lot of the formative stages have already happened. And he never gets far enough to tell us how it all turned out after Café Gray opened: What worked? What didn’t?

Shaw spends several pages on one of his favorite hobby horses: critic anonymity. He believes that critics should drop the pretense of dining anonymously, since restaurant staffs usually recognize them anyway. He argues persuasively that restaurants can’t really improve the quality of the food when a critic is in the house, so in that sense anonymity is meaningless. Instead, he suggests that critics should develop “ties—close ties—to the community.” Shaw believes that those close ties will allow the critic to obtain better information, and ultimately to “promote the best within the industry while exposing the worst.”

Shaw’s own book demonstrates why this will not work, for it is notable that Shaw never criticizes any of the restaurants or restaurateurs whom he had personally interviewed or worked with during his research. To the contrary, he gushes and fawns over them. It is a love-fest. Regular eGullet visitors will know that Shaw hasn’t lost his critical faculties. But in the book, he holds his tongue. He is too indebted to his sources—without whom the book would have been impossible—to confide what he really thinks about what he may have seen or heard.

By the way, Shaw doesn’t hesitate to criticize those whom he did not work with. He gives an extremely balanced view of the Zagat Guides, both their strengths and methodological flaws. He rightly takes the New York Times to task for selecting amateurs as food critics (William Grimes and particularly Frank Bruni). He brashly says that “Michelin will, and should, fail to gain traction in the United States.” Early indications suggest that he is already being proved wrong on that prediction. But would he have been so harsh had Michelin invited Shaw to a few confidential inspectors’ meetings? To the contrary, one must assume that Shaw would have bestowed heaps of praise upon Michelin, just as he did for everyone who helped him on the present volume.

Mind you, I am not suggesting that Shaw has done anything wrong here. I would be very happy to receive just one-tenth of the comped meals and insider access that Shaw receives. But I do not suggest that I could write about those restaurants with the same objectivity as a critic who attempts—however imperfectly—to remain detached and anonymous.

One can understand Shaw’s lack of objectivity about the wonderful resource he co-founded: eGullet. Having already run us through the limitations of Zagat, Michelin, and newspaper reviews, he asks, “Is there another way? I think there is. It’s called the Internet.” Jaws drop in amazement. There’s this undiscovered secret called the Internet, and somehow we missed it!

Anyhow, I’m as big a fan of the medium as anybody, but Shaw’s discussion of the Internet doesn’t have the same detachment—and perhaps it can’t—as it does where he’s not personally involved. He steers clear of mentioning Chowhound, the one other Internet site that could reasonably be considered a competitor to eGullet. Perhaps that’s because, in any rational comparison, Chowhound would invariably come across as inferior, and Shaw could be forgiven for not wanting to gloat. However, I could see no reason for his failure to mention the invaluable menupages.com, or indeed, any other Internet site that caters to dining out.

Along the way, Shaw doesn’t spare us his opinions, and some are provocative. He appears to be right when he criticizes overly harsh U. S. agricultural regulations that prohibit the manufacture of chesse made from raw (un-pasteurized) milk, even though it is permitted in Europe. He concludes that the purported health risk is insignificant.

He strongly believes it is worthwhile to focus your dining on a few good restaurants, so that you’ll become a “regular” and get treated like a VIP. One of the book’s early chapters explains precisely how to go about doing that. I don’t doubt Shaw, since he’s done it and I haven’t. But for the moment I intend to disregard his advice. Trying new places—his advice in a different chapter—is just too much fun.

Some of Shaw’s general advice seems trivial. He points out that most restaurants have a menu posted outside, and it’s a good idea to read the menu first before deciding whether to eat there. Yet, we shouldn’t be afraid to try new things. I think my mother told me all that before I was 10. Shaw advises us to remember to say “please” and “thank you.” Those to whom this is a revelation are probably beyond his help.

A final chapter on the future of dining takes a fun look at where the restaurant industry has been, and where Shaw thinks it is going. He interviews Jean-Jacques Rachou (La Côte Basque) and Georges Briguet (Le Perigord), two conseratives who turn out to be surprisingly open-minded. He also profiles avant-garde chefs like Ferran Adria of El Bulli and Grant Achatz of Alinea. He argues convincingly that we shouldn’t be concerned about global chefs who aren’t always present in the kitchens they supervise: all chefs are executives, and are to some extent dependent on work done in their absence. “To my way of thinking…all chefs are absentee chefs,” he says. “The only variable I have been able to isolate is the extent of their absence.” Less persuasive is his strange definition of authenticity as “being faithful to oneself.”

Shaw has a tendency toward hyperbole that can be extremely irritating. Nobu Masuhisa’s flavors are “seemingly extraterrestrial.” Jean-Georges Vongerichten and Gray Kunz “run roughshod over culinary borders with the audacity of international arms dealers.” A pizza oven is “ancient…spewing forth sparks, flames, and smoke with reckless abandon.” (Can an inanimate object be reckless?) The workers who tend it “look as though they’ve been working the boiler room of the Titanic.” A cheese-making machine “looks like an evil harp.” He later tastes the cheeses: “all are at least superlative.”

The book is written in Shaw’s easy conversational style. There are occasional lapses into irrelevance, such as complaints about having to wake up early to do research. My alarm goes off at 5:45am on weekdays—a time not unusual among New Yorkers—so Shaw’s complaints about leaving the house at 6:30am don’t draw much sympathy from me. The ongoing saga of his choices of shoes, none of which seem to make him comfortable, is a distraction we don’t need.

But while it may be a mixed bag, there is much here about the restaurant industry from the inside-out, which is precisely what Shaw set out to tell us. I can’t imagine anyone more qualified to tell it. One gets the sense that Shaw has far more knowledge to share than made it into this book. I will be very happy to see a sequel.

Tuesday
Jan242006

Return to BLT Fish

Note: Click here for a more recent review of BLT Fish.

I returned to BLT Fish last night with one of the two colleagues who joined me there last May.

Andrea Strong reported yesterday that Laurent Tourondel’s next venture is a branch of BLT Steak in Washington, D.C. Based on last night’s performance, Mr. Tourondel needs to spend more time minding the store back home. Two years into the experiment, the BLT schtick is starting to wear awfully thin.

I believe BLT restaurants aspire to serve three-star food, and there is at least a colorable argument that they do so. Why, then, are they so determined to dumb down the ambiance? Naturally, the noise level is almost deafening. The menu is printed on loose sheets of paper, plus a separate loose sheet itemizing the raw bar, plus a separate loose sheet with “highlights” of the wine list, plus the wine list itself in a leather-bound book.

All of those loose sheets are obviously printed cheaply, and not meant to last. So you’d at least like to think that they are up-to-date, but alas, they are not. The waiter recites a long list of specials. It is black truffle season, and several of the specials include that ingredient, but it’s more extra information than I can keep in my head, so I order off the printed menu. (I also presume, given the BLT franchise’s propensity for upselling, that those truffle specials are more expensive than the rest of the menu, but our server doesn’t mention prices.)

To start, we ordered a pound of Alaskan king crab legs to share. For the entrée, I ordered the Alaskan black cod with honey glazing, while my colleague ordered a Chatham cod special that the server had mentioned. We also ordered two side dishes (mashed potatoes and brussels sprouts).

A long wait ensued. My colleague saw a tray of crab legs on the kitchen counter. He thought, “Surely those must be ours.” Ten or fifteen minutes went by, but those crab legs remained on the counter, unclaimed. Finally, we asked our server what was going on. A team of BLT staff now descended on us with the crab legs, our entrées, and the side dishes—all at once.

But it gets worse than that. Instead of an order of the Alaskan black cod and the Chatham cod, the kitchen had prepared two orders of the Alaskan black cod. My colleague pointed out the slip. After a conference, the staff announced that they were all out of the Chatham cod—a daily special, I remind you—but would he like the halibut? Well, what could he say? I ate my Alaskan black cod, and he snacked on the crab legs, while they prepared the halibut. Later on, he ate the halibut while I watched.

You’d think they couldn’t mess up anything more, but they managed it. The server forgot to offer us a bread service. The crab legs came without the usual miniature forks for prizing the meat out of the shell. The side dishes arrived without serving spoons. The amuses-bouches came with disposable wooden forks—they can’t run the dishwasher?

Earlier on, they had taken my coat, and promised to return with a claim ticket. The claim ticket never arrived. When I left, we had to turn on the bright lights in the check room and rummage around for my coat. Luckily, the place wasn’t packed. And luckily, I had a distinctive scarf that set my gray wool coat apart from the many others like it.

To their credit, the staff was aware of the more egregious of their sins, and tried to make amends. We were served dessert wines for free, and my colleague’s entrée was taken off the bill. But of other sins the restaurant is apparently out-of-touch: the cheap outdated paper menus, missing/wrong utensils, and so forth.

For all that, the food was great. I would happily eat the honey-glazed Alaskan black cod every day. The side dishes were wonderful, as they always are at BLT restaurants. Dessert (bread pudding) was excellent. The sommelier was knowledgeable, and recommended a terrific pinot noir.

But service and ambiance count, and the lapses here were too many to forgive. Laurent Tourondel’s cuisine deserves a far better setting.

BLT Fish (21 W. 17th Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, Flatiron District)

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

Monday
Jan232006

Calle Ocho

Note: This is is a review of Calle Ocho in its former location. It has since moved to the Excelsior Hotel at 45 W. 81st Street between Columbus Avenue and Central Park West, the former site of the failed restaurant Eighty One.

*

Calle Ocho is named for a street in Miami’s Little Havana. On this stretch of Columbus Avenue, its bright exterior immediately gets your attention. The interior décor is consistent with the snazzy Latin vibe.

The ceviches are terrific. For $28, you get a sampler of four of them, which a friend and I shared:

Conchitas – Bay Scallops, Salsa Verde, Avacado, Pico de Gallo
Ostras – Four Oyster Shooters (Mojito, Caipirinha, Sangria, Margarita)
Tropical – Rock Shrimp, Roasted Tomato, Mango-Passion, Citrus
Pescado – Red Snapper, Aji Amarillo, Crispy Sweet Potato

(Separately, they’d be $10-12 apiece.)

The restaurant offers a crispy cuban pork special on Sundays called Pernil ($21). My friend, who’s had the dish at considerably less expensive Cuban restaurants, said that Calle Ocho’s version was over-cooked, and dry. I’ve no comparison to go on, but I agreed that the meat wasn’t tender enough.

She had a happy experience with the Cuban skirt steak ($22), which had been slowly braised, and yielded easily to the tug of a fork.

I won’t rush back, but the ceviches and the skirt steak were well executed, so I assume the menu has a lot more to offer.

Calle Ocho (446 Columbus Avenue between 81st and 82nd Streets, Upper West Side)

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

Sunday
Jan222006

Alain Ducasse

Note: Alain Ducasse at the Essex House closed in late 2006. Ducasse transferred the kitchen team to a new but less formal restaurant, Adour, at the St. Regis Hotel, which opened in early 2008.

I had been looking for a special occasion to visit Alain Ducasse at the Essex House Hotel, a/k/a “ADNY”. That occasion presented itself yesterday, and my friend and I had a grand time. The experience was, if not perfect, certainly extraordinary—the definition of four stars, if ever there was.

I’ve seen many photographs of the room, but they fail to do it justice. It is creative, comfortable and luxurious, without being over-the-top. The exposed kitchen surprised me. Obviously there are plenty of open kitchens at fine restaurants in New York, but here it seemed slightly out-of-place.

ADNY virtually defines extraordinary service. One could give a thousand examples, but what especially impressed me is that our coats were taken when we arrived without a check ticket, and were ready for us when we left. Somehow, the staff is able to keep track of every coat and has telepathic insight when you are ready to leave.

Your options at ADNY are a three-course meal at $150, four courses at $175, the seven-course tasting menu at $225, or the six-course tuber melanosporum (black truffle) tasting at $290. We chose the four-course meal ($175 plus supplements), which offers an appetizer, a fish course, a meat course, and dessert.

ADNY tries mightily to tempt you with the truffle menu. Before we ordered, a member of staff brought around a box of several enormous black truffles in a bed of rice. I was encouraged to pick one up and take a whiff, which I did. We had already decided on the four-course, but we were still going to see truffles later on.

The water service might be seen as an attempt at upselling. Almost every starred restaurant tries to entice you to purchase bottled water, but at ADNY a water sommelier comes along with six waters for you to choose from. However, our request for tap water was heeded graciously.

I was beginning to wonder if attempts to pad the bill were going to take over. I asked the wine sommelier either to recommend a single bottle in the $150-200 range, or wines by the glass paired with each course. He was happy to do either, and when he didn’t state a price, I wondered what was coming. I was happy to find that the paired wines came in at only $140, below the bottom end of my stipulated range.

Our service began with two wonderful gougères and an amuse of seared tuna with pureed celery root. There was a choice selection of warm bread, of which an olive roll was especially memorable, along with two fresh butters (one salted, one not).

For the appetizer, I chose the butternut squash ravioli, celery “moustarda di cremona”, and sage emulsion, a complex dish that is difficult to explain. More straightforward, but no less superb, was my friend’s foie gras terrine, with mango chutney sandwiched by layers of foie.

I had no firm idea about the fish course, but I chose the Chatham cod, which includes “fennel—some braised, others raw—Taggiasca tapenade, and clear essence.” I reasoned that as this dish is part of the tasting menu, the chef must be rather pleased with it. It was, of course, impeccably prepared, but utterly unadventurous, and in the end unacceptably dull. My friend made the happier choice: poached Maine lobster with truffles ($35 supp.), which she pronounced superb. She must be getting to know me pretty well, as she said, “I took one look at that cod, and could tell you weren’t going to love it.”

(Update: Over on eGullet.com, Steven A. Shaw (the “Fat Guy”)—who is a professional food writer and has been to ADNY more than just about anybody else who writes about it—read my review and said, “I agree that the fish dish oakapple described is unremarkable as were two other fish dishes I tried on our most recent visit, when we also had the four-course menu with all the same choices oakapple described. On the whole, the fish course was weak. Maybe as part of a longer tasting menu I’d have seen it in a different context: a beautiful little piece of fish with a technically correct sauce. But as an entree-type course the fish dishes fell flat.”)

I’d heard rave reviews of the blue foot chicken ($35 supp.), which we both had. This dish is a truffle orgy, with truffles both under the skin and all over the plate. The raves are entirely justified; it was outstanding.

Another dish everyone raves about is “Monsieur Ducasse’s favorite dessert,” Baba Monte-Carlo style, with rum of your choice. A server comes around with a tray of five rums. You choose one, and it is poured into a small copper cup. You also receive a bit of the rum in a snifter. The Baba comes out in a sterling silver bowl that must have been custom-made for Ducasse, as I’ve never seen anything like it. Your server slices the cake in half, pours the rum over its innards, then ladles on heapings of cream. If there’s a better dessert in New York, I can’t imagine it.

We were not finished yet, as the kitchen sent out a small serving of sorbet as a palate cleanser. Then, a cart comes out with more sweets, of which you may choose as many as you please. (I had the vanilla panna cotta and a marshmallow coated with almonds.) The selection of coffees ($8) was impressive, including even M. Ducasse’s custom espresso, which I enjoyed.

The meal was not perfect: the Chatham cod didn’t live up to the surroundings, and none of the vegetable accompaniments wowed me. But at its best, ADNY operates at a level few restaurants can touch.

Alain Ducasse at the Essex House (155 West 58th Street between Sixth & Seventh Avenues, West Midtown)

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

Saturday
Jan212006

The Café at Country

Note: This is a review of the Café at Country under chef de cuisine Doug Psaltis. Click here for a more recent review under executive chef Blake Joyal.

Chef Geoffrey Zakarian, formerly of Le Cirque, 21 Club, and Patroon (among others), owns and operates the well-regarded three-star restaurant Town, in the Chambers Hotel on West 56th Street. It was only appropriate that he would call his next restaurant Country, which is in the new Carleton Hotel at Madson Ave & 29th Street. Zakarian recruited Doug Psaltis (who worked most recently at Alain Ducasse’s failed Mix in NY) as chef de cuisine.

Like many a restaurant (Jean Georges, Gramercy Tavern, Aquavit, The Modern), Country has an informal café attached to a more upscale main dining room. The café has been open for about two months, but the more elegant room upstairs hasn’t opened yet. We could see that the tables are all in place and tablecloths laid, so I’m not sure what Zakarian and Psaltis are waiting for. The café is surprisingly ill-conceived, and it strikes me as a waste of time. The décor is unattractive, the tables and seating are uncomfortable, and the noise level induces a splitting headache.

We were seated at a small circular table that looked cheap, and seemed to belong in an ice cream parlor. It was just barely large enough to accommodate our food. The banquette was too low. The restaurant also has a number of two-top rectangular tables that appear to have come from a different designer. I don’t know what the circular tables are doing there, as they clash with the rest of the décor.

Dinner began with cylindrical bread rolls that were so hard they could have been used to pound nails. There was olive oil at the table. It came in what looked like a cologne bottle, but the label on the outside said, “I Love Olive Oil.” I poured a little of it onto my plate, and my jaw had a good workout chewing through the bread.

I started with a beet salad, while my friend had the foie gras pâté. The pâté was probably the highlight of the meal. It was an excellent, but very large serving, and even after my friend and I shared it, we sent almost half of it back unfinished.

Coincidentally, the New York Daily News reviewed the Café at Country in yesterday’s issue, awarding 1½ stars, an assessment that may have been a tad generous. It was thanks to that review that I knew what to order for the main course. Critic Pascale Le Draoulec said:

Among entrees, I loved most of all the spectacular lamb shank, braised endlessly in North African spices. The rosy flesh yielded at the slightest prompting from my fork. Topped with glistening pomegranate seeds, it comes with basmati rice laced with exotic preserved fruit.

In fact, we both had the lamb shank. Le Draoulec’s enthusiasm is about right, but we both felt that it was more akin to comfort food than fine dining. Anyone competent isn’t going to mess up a lamb shank, and Psaltis is at least competent.

Service was solid, but in some ways over-the-top in comparison to the humble surroundings. Our server kept referring to my friend as “Madame,” and his obsequiousness was almost irritating. There is a very large wine list, which almost certainly will be shared with the main restaurant when it opens. We had an enjoyable Loire Valley red for about $47.

With most appetizers under $15 and most entrées under $25, the Café at Country clearly aims to attract diners who want a thoughtfully-composed menu that doesn’t break the bank. But what you get is basically a baby step above comfort food, and it isn’t good enough to justify putting up with the ugly, uncomfortable, and ear-splitting surroundings.

The Café at Country (90 Madison Avenue at 29th Street, Murray Hill)

Food: Satisfactory
Service: *
Ambiance: Poor
Overall: Satisfactory

Friday
Jan202006

Return to Churrasacria Plataforma

Last night, I visited the midtown branch of Churrascaria Plataforma. This outpost is larger, noisier, and a bit less hip than its TriBeCa cousin, which I have been to twice. It was the ideal outing for a group of 30 people belatedly celebrating the new year.

I’ve not much to add to what I’ve said in the past, so I’ll just link to the account of my first visit.

Churrascaria Plataforma (316 W. 49th Street between Eighth & Ninth Avenues, Hell’s Kitchen)

Thursday
Jan192006

Return to Dominic

Note: Dominic closed in 2007. I did have one more visit, and it was again positive: see here.

It took me nineteen months to get back to Dominic, which I finally did last night. (An account of my earlier visit is here.) My enthusiasm for the restaurant is undimmed—some minor glitches aside.

It’s not often that the Zagat review tells you precisely what dish to order, but it does for Dominic: “all can agree the roast suckling pig, a holdover from its old Portuguese incarnation, is ‘a must.’” So, that’s what I had last night.

The menu describes the dish as a 10-Hour Pig Roast ($24). It’s slow roasted with Tuscan seasonings, crispy skin, wildflower honey and sautéed greens. The dull sautéed greens added nothing, but the pig was terrific, including the crunchy skin and a brick of tender, flavorful meat.

Coincidentally, I had Cookshop’s version of this dish on Monday night, and found it bland. The folks at Cookshop need to high-tail it over to Dominic, to see how it’s done.

Dominic’s current winter menu lists five pasta dishes, and it was most peculiar to be informed that three of them were unavailable last night. I wasn’t looking to order pasta anyway, but it’s strange for a purportedly Italian restaurant to be out of so many items.

When I sat down, I was not presented with a wine list. When I asked for red wine by the glass, the server told me that my choices were chianti classico, pinot noir, or merlot, apparently on the view that it is unnecessary for me to be told which chianti, pinot, or merlot it is. I could have insisted, but I just ordered the chianti and ignored the lapse. It was nothing special, but at $7 I didn’t feel cheated.

The restaurant seemed to be a little over half full, which isn’t bad on a Wednesday night, in a neighborhood where there are so many dining options. It might help if they knew their own web address. It says “www.DominicRestaurant.com” on their business card, but the correct address is “www.dominicnyc.com”.

Dominic (349 Greenwich Street between Harrison & Jay Streets, TriBeCa)

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

Wednesday
Jan182006

Divorce Destroys Wealth

Study Finds That Marriage Builds Wealth.” So says an article I found today on Yahoo! News.

Unfortunately, the corrollary is that divorce destroys wealth:

Marrying for money, it turns out, works. A study by an Ohio State University researcher shows that a person who marries — and stays married — accumulates nearly twice as much personal wealth as a person who is single or divorced.

And for those who divorce, it’s a bit more expensive than giving up half of everything they own. They lose, on average, three-fourths of their personal net worth.

“Getting married for a few years and then getting divorced is clearly not the path to financial independence…”

Boy, oh boy, ain’t it true!

Saturday
Jan142006

Industria Argentina

Note: Click here for a more recent (and less positive) review of Industria Argentina.

*

Industria Argentina has been open about two weeks, in a space that used to be a Chinese restaurant. It has been totally remodeled. According to Daily Candy, “everything in the place—floors, tables, chairs, fabrics, bar—comes from Argentina.” (Photo here.)

When I visited last night, a small corn tortilla was served as an amuse bouche — a soft, warm, tasty miniature pillow of dough that was a perfect prelude to the meal. Crisp Pan Seared Sweetbreads ($12), or mollejahs, were served over a salad of warm potato, scallions and bacon bites. This was an ample portion, to which I would award the ultimate compliment: I just couldn’t get enough of it.

Several entrées are in a category labeled “From the Brick Oven.” I tried the 24-hour Braised Ossobuco ($25), which is served over roasted vegetables with pine nuts pesto, in its own juices. My knife was entirely superfluous—the delicate flesh readily collapsed at the touch of a fork.

There menu also offers a variety of steaks from the grill (filet, ribeye, skirt steak, short ribs), and other dishes like pork milanese, pan seared chilean sea bass, pumpkin risotto, and so forth. It looks like there will be plenty to explore on future visits. For the adventurous, the available side dishes include a grilled blood sausage. You can look at the menu on menupages (to which my description of the food is partly indebted).

I concluded with Spiced Bread Pudding ($7), which is served with vanilla ice cream and caramelized rum-infused raisins. Again, a wonderful dish. Everything I tasted was conscientiously prepared and most attractively plated. The final bill before the tip, including two gin & tonics, was $65.

It’s early days yet, but the restaurant hasn’t caught on. According to Eater, even people who live on the block had no idea what was coming till the place opened. Evidently, this is the softest of “soft openings.” I was truly worried when I walked in at 6pm and was literally the only patron for about the first 20 minutes of my visit. But by the time I left, around 7:20pm on a Friday night, about half the tables were occupied.

Service was friendly and usually efficient, but there are a few glitches. No one offered to take my coat (I hung it myself). There were no other customers were when I arrived, so the staff couldn’t have been too busy. Warm bread rolls came with a wonderful lamb pâté, but no knife to spread it with. I asked for a cocktail menu,, and was advised, “Our menu is to invent your own.” Another patron asked for single-malt scotches, and was offered Johnnie Walker or Dewar’s. He then got up to look at the bar himself, and advised that there were indeed a few true single-malts on offer.

Still, with the restaurant barely a couple of weeks old, a fault or two is to be expected. The owner said hello to me warmly as I was leaving. According to Daily Candy, he also owns Novocento in SoHo and Azul Bistro on the Lower East Side. I wish him the best in this new venture. Industria Argentina is a fun place to eat.

Industria Argentina (329 Greenwich St., between Reade and Jay Sts., TriBeCa)

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