Perilla

Note: Harold Dieterle closed Perilla and its sister restaurant, Kin Shop, late in 2015. He said that he was “not having fun and enjoying myself.”

*

On every episode of Top Chef, host Padma Lakshmi announces that the last surviving chef will win $100,000 (upgraded to $125k in Season 6), “to help turn their culinary dreams into reality.”

So, how many winners have actually parlayed their victory into a new restaurant? Exactly one: Harold Dieterle, the top chef of Season 1, who opened Perilla in May 2007, a year after his win.

Frank Bruni, who awarded one star in the Times, noted the odd trajectory of Dieterle’s success: “Fame on the small screen wasn’t a result of a packed restaurant; his packed restaurant is a result of his fame on the small screen. That’s reality television for you — it scrambles cause and effect, defying the laws of celebrity physics.”

Despite Bruni’s faint praise (he found the menu “cautious” and “straightforward”), Perilla has thrived. We found it packed on a Saturday evening. Meanwhile, the menu has broadened a bit. In serving entrées like Sautéed Triggerfish and Tasting of Local Rabbit, no one can accuse Dieterle of copying everybody else.

The menu is American seasonal cuisine, somewhat reminiscent of the Red Cat, though Perilla is a nicer restaurant. Prices are moderate for food of this quality, with appetizers $11–15, entrées $21–28, and side dishes $8–10.

Crispy Wild Boar Belly ($12; above left) is a clever play on the pork belly that every other chef is serving. The pairing with stewed huckleberries is inspired. We also appreciated that the kitchen divided the dish without prompting, after we told our server that we intended to share it.

We also shared the Spicy Duck Meatballs ($13; above right). It’s a good dish, abetted by a runny quail egg, but the heat stayed behind in the kitchen: we didn’t find it all that spicy at all.

I’m always hesitant about ordering steak in a non-steakhouse, but we took the plunge here and weren’t disappointed. Ribeye for two ($70) was nearly as good as the better steakhouses serve. These days, most restaurants source their aged beef from the major big-name purveyors, like Debragga or LaFreida, so all the kitchen needs to do is have a broiler that can apply a crusty char. Perilla has that, which ensured that this ribeye would make it into the pantheon.

That ribeye was a bargain, given that it came with two sides: potato croquettes and roasted beets with chestnuts. (Most steakhouses would charge at least as much for that ribeye alone.) We adored the beet–chestnut dish, the first time we recall seeing that anywhere. The croquettes, although we could not finish them, were also brilliant, with a crisp crust giving way to silky creamed potatoes.

We never visited Perilla when it was new, but we got the sense that extra tables had been squeezed in to cope with peak demand. There isn’t much room to maneuver here, although the room isn’t as noisy as such places can sometimes be. Despite the crowds, service was warm and efficient.

We came to Perilla mostly out of curiosity—wondering if the former Top Chef winner was really a great discovery, or if he was just coasting on his reputation. We went home remarkably impressed. Harold Dieterle is an excellent chef, and Perilla is a terrific restaurant.

Perilla (9 Jones Street between West 4th & Bleecker Streets, West Village)

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

Review Recap: Le Caprice

Today, Sam Sifton delivered the first heavy-duty smackdown of his tenure as New York Times restaurant critic, damning Le Caprice with a rare FAIR rating:

The Manhattan outpost of this elegant St. James’s institution opened off the lobby of the Pierre hotel in the fall. It has a menu straight off the plane: mostly nursery food with colonial accents.

But the crowd that might offset it, that might offer wit to counter the mushy peas and sticky sauce, doesn’t run to British eccentricity and glamorous conflict. Instead, it’s just plain-Jane American wealth. There are business travelers and older residents of the Upper East Side, a few Eurobankers and the odd plastic-surgery victim.

The London restaurant may present a kind of British translation of class-free American culture: a democracy of fame. But the American retranslation of that conceit falls flat. At Le Caprice New York, there’s no lurching about with actors. There’s just a senior vice president having drinks and a salad, then checking the Nikkei before bed.

He also complains about a reservations policy that holds back most of the tables: the restaurant claims to be fully committed, even though it’s nearly empty. We tried to get in several times, and couldn’t. At this point, Le Caprice is off our list.

We don’t feel badly about our inaccurate prediction of two stars. Opinions about this place have been all over the map. This is one of the few times we can recall that New York Journal and Eater made different predictions, and both were wrong. We each lose a dollar on our hypothetical bets.

	Eater		NYJ
Bankroll	$10.00		$14.00
Gain/Loss	–1.00		–1.00
Total	$9.00		$13.00
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Won–Lost	7–6 (53.8%)		7–6 (53.8%)

Life-to-date, New York Journal is 77–33 (70%).

Osteria del Circo

It’s fascinating to read the old reviews of Osteria del Circo, way back when it was new, in 1996. People were fighting like mad to get into the place. In the Times, Ruth Reichl awarded two stars.

The restaurant is the brainchild of the Maccioni family, the same folks behind Le Cirque. The circus theme pervades the Adam Tihany design, which is remarkably clever. Quite apart from the food, I enjoyed just looking at Osteria del Circo.

Nowadays, you can get in whenever you want, though it’s in no danger of going out of business—the space was mostly full by 7:00 on a Saturday evening. It does a lot of pre-theater business: we were asked twice if we had a show to see (we did). The server cautioned that we should get our order in early. Sure enough, we got noticeably less attention after the crowds turned up.

The cuisine is Tuscany through an American lens, with a Pat LaFreida veal chop having appeared on the menu; is there anyplace he doesn’t sell to? You won’t pay what you would at Le Cirque, but this probably won’t be a cheap night out. The overly long menu has a wide range of prices, from pizzas (around $20 each) to a ribeye for two ($38pp).

The kitchen did well by a simple salad ($14; above left) of arugula, endive, sliced apple, bacon, and blue cheese croquettes. My son loved the antipasto appetizer ($19; above right) with salumi, crostini, and marinated vegetables.

Tagliolini with tomato sauce and basil ($14 as an appetizer; above left) is one of the more simplistic pasta dishes. But the pumkin tortelli with foie gras ($29 as a main course; above right) was first rate.

Neither of the entrées wowed. Spicy Brandy Flambéed Shrimps (above left) sound fancy, but it’s not a very impressive plate for $36. I suspect my son would have preferred fries to fried zucchini and eggplant strips. Veal scallopine (above right) was merely competent, bearing in mind its $34 price tag.

The service comes with none of Le Cirque’s legendary “attitude” towards the hoi polloi. The staff happily seated our incomplete party, plied us with house-made bread, and promptly took our drinks order. The wine list had a good selection at lower prices; we settled on a red for $42.

We left well fed and well cared for. All of the food was at least competent, and a few dishes were better than that. With the right selections you can dine well here, but it’s expensive: the bill for three people was $212 before tax and tip.

Osteria del Circo (120 W. 55th St. between Sixth & Seventh Avenues, West Midtown)

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

Review Preview: Le Caprice

Tomorrow, Sam Sifton reviews British import Le Caprice. The Eater oddsmakers have set the action as follows: Goose Egg: 5–1; One Star: 2–1; Two Stars: 3–1; Three Stars: 20–1; Four Stars: 5,000–1.

We think this one is pretty close to a coin flip between one and two stars. As the restaurant attempts nothing especially adventurous, it needs to execute its menu of classics extremely well. As Eater notes, Sifton already named the haddock tart one of his best dishes of 2009, and Adam Platt (who is no fan of such places) actually liked it.

Those factors, we believe, push Le Caprice more likely into two star territory than one; so that is our bet.

Travertine

Note: Travertine closed in July 2011. The space is now Ken & Cook.

*

Travertine is the new Mediterranean-themed restaurant from Manuel Treviño, a former Babbo sous-chef and Top Chef contestant. The restaurant is living proof that even a poor performance on Top Chef is like gold, if you know how to market yourself: Treviño was the fourth chef eliminated during Season 4, but that mediocre effort didn’t stop him from parlaying the show into his own restaurant.

Travertine arrived in September after a tortured gestation. One proposal after another for the former Little Charlie’s Clam Bar space was shot down by the local community board. It is tough to figure, as Kenmare Street has very little to recommend it, and this place brings night-time civilization to a nearly-barren area that could use some.

The owners’ proposal, after a previous turn-down, finally squeaked by the community board by a 17–14 vote way back in September 2008. They then had to build the space, and they’ve done a very nice job. Our meal here was no great culinary revelation, but it certainly improved this desolate area.

I started with drinks at the bar. Wines by the glass were generously priced, in that (as at Babbo) they’re served in a quartino (good for about two glasses), at the same price that most restaurants would serve for one. The bar itself is uncomfortable, with an iron grille blocking the space where one’s legs would normally dangle beneath the stool.

The menu is Italian-inspired, with a sensibly-edited selection of appetizers ($11–14), pastas ($16–19), entrées ($26–29), and sides ($5). There are no more than half-a-dozen in each category, which I am always happy to see. I’d rather choose from among the six things a chef thinks he can do well, than to puzzle over many dozens.

Serving Pig’s Head Terrine ($13; above left) was once considered daring, but now it’s offered all over the place. This one was merely average. Crispy Maine Shrimp ($14; above right) were served in abundance, but nothing imaginative was done with them.

Picci ($18; above left) were over-sauced and didn’t have much of the promised Italian sausage. Porcini Rubbed Pork Tenderloin was the best dish of the evening, with three generously-sized, tender medallions, crispy artichokes, and cannellini beans that could be addictive all by themselves.

There is clearly an attempt to be upscale here, with both an amuse-bouche at the start (crostini; pictured at top of post) and and petits-fours (right) at the end. There is no shortage of staff; indeed, during the first part of our meal it seemed that the employees outnumbered the customers, though to be fair this place probably doesn’t get busy till later. Unfortunately, we were stuck with what must have been their worst server, who was intent on rushing us through the meal and tried several times to upsell our order.

The food struck us as mostly competent, though it wouldn’t win Top Chef. For that matter, it didn’t win Top Chef, so there. However, the stupid Community Board have got a restaurant that improved their neighborhood.

Travertine (19 Kenmare Street between Elizabeth Street & Bowery)

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

Review Recap: Maialino

Sam Sifton loves Maialino, and yesterday awarded precisely the two stars that owner Danny Meyer was hoping for. He thinks the food’s terrific, and in a few sentences really captures the Danny Meyer ethos:

It is warm and familiar, comfortable, a trattoria in an imaginary Rome where everyone comes from Missouri and wants you above all else to have a nice time. . . .

Here studious young men and women bend to the task of assembling cold antipasti and hot espressos alike, dressed in long bistro aprons and beanies: gastro-nerds studying at the University of Meyer.

Graduates work as waiters beyond them; doctoral students as managers. . . .

His [Meyer’s] restaurants have almost always done this in some way. They encourage their customers to appreciate what sits outside them, to rediscover Manhattan in the process. They direct attention to architecture, to parks, to the ideals of urban life. Mr. Meyer has changed the city with restaurants. Isn’t that something?

For those who are into betting, this week’s review didn’t present much of a challenge, as this was an obvious two-bagger. We and Eater both win $2 on our hypothetical one-dollar bets.

	Eater		NYJ
Bankroll	$8.00		$12.00
Gain/Loss	+$2.00		+$2.00
Total	$10.00		$14.00
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Won–Lost	7–5 (58.3%)		7–5 (58.3%)

Life-to-date, New York Journal is 77–32 (71%).

Fatty Crab on the Upper West Side

Update: Fatty Crab on the Upper West Side closed in September 2012. A branch of RedFarm has replaced it. The West Village Fatty Crab remains open.

*

There is something deeply frustrating about chef Zak Pelaccio’s peregrinations. Fatty Crab in the West Village was a much deserved hit (our review here), but nearby Five Ninth (which he has since left) was always uneven, and Chop Suey (where he consulted) was a joke. Heaven knows how his next venture, Fatty ’Cue, will turn out.

Last year, he opened a second branch of Fatty Crab on the Upper West Side. Unlike the downtown branch, it takes reservations, and it is more than double the size (70 seats vs. 30). Fatty UWS looks a bit nicer than Fatty WV, but it’s still über-casual. We saw a few diners who, perhaps deceived by Frank Bruni’s two-star review, looked surprised by the gritty surroundings that are atypical for a purportedly serious restaurant in this neighborhood.

The servers look like college students, but fortunately they know the menu well and give good advice. The cuisine is vaguely Southeast Asian, but much of it is filtered through Pelaccio’s American perspective. In that respect, he reminds me of David Chang, who actually claims to be serving American cuisine at his Momofuku restaurants, despite the obviously Asian roots they sprang from.

The Fatty menus in both locations are similar, down to the way they are delivered—loose sheets on a clipboard. The UWS location has a few more selections, but those in common are the same price at either place. There are several categories—Snacks, Noodles/Soup/Rice, Specialties, and Vegetables—but these divisions hardly matter, as everything is served family-style, for sharing. Most items are between $10 and $20. If you order three to five dishes for two people, you’ll spend between $50–80 before beverages, tax, and tip. We ordered four dishes, and felt stuffed.

It didn’t help that the food was practically thrown at us, as if we were contestants in a speed-eating contest. As I’ve noted before, these family-style restaurants generally want to turn tables. The food comes out when the kitchen is ready, not when you’re ready. Everything we had was at least suitable for sharing—not always the case at such places—but a couple of dishes were practically impossible to eat without knives, which aren’t part of the default place setting. When we pointed this out, a server most oddly brought out just one knife.

Wanton Mee, or Wet Wanton ($17; above left), was a delicious mix of noodles with shrimp and pork dumplings. Fatty Duck ($17; above right) was a bit challenging to eat, but worth the effort.

Bacon ($15; above left) was unexpectedly spicy; Short Ribs ($25; above right) a bit bland. Actually, those short ribs were the exception: most of these dishes deliver plenty of heat.

There is a wine list, but we felt that beer would pair better with this food. We each had one, and would have had a second if it had been possible to flag down a server.

Most of the food is very good—quite a bit better, in fact, than the surroundings and the service. But this restaurant isn’t actually near anything, and it’s annoying to travel this far, only to be rushed through the meal.

Fatty Crab (2170 Broadway between 76th & 77th Streets, Upper West Side)

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

Review Preview: Maialino

Tomorrow, Sam Sifton reviews Danny Meyer’s Roman Trattoria, Maialino. The Eater oddsmakers have set the action as follows: Goose Egg: 500–1; One Star: 5–1; Two Stars: 2–1; Three Stars: 3–1; Four Stars: 1,000–1.

We were slightly less enthralled with Maialino than we expected for a Danny Meyer place, awarding just 1½ stars. However, Sifton’s system doesn’t have half-stars, and we cannot ignore the fact that most of the reviews to date have been positive.

We’ve no trouble at all agreeing with Eater that two stars is the likely outcome.

Sushi Uo

Note: Sushi Uo closed in December 2010. The owner planned to continue operating it as a private event space. The review below is under chef David Bouhadana, who left the restaurant in February 2009.

*

Sushi Uo opened several months ago on the Lower East Side. Its peculiar conceit is that the 23-year-old chef, David Bouhadana, is an American from Florida. He has trained at several Japanese restaurants, most recently Morimoto; still, it takes guts to try something like this.

Most restaurants want to be found. Sushi Uo takes the opposite approach. There is no outdoor sign at all, and the entrance is up a flight of stairs that would seem to lead to tenement apartments. If you haven’t done your advance research, you’ve no prayer of stumbling on the place. Once inside, a narrow, dark room greets you, decorated in black. The soundtrack is hip (by my standards), but not excessively loud. If you’re looking for a date spot that serves sushi, look no further.

The menu offers cooked plates from the kitchen ($4–14), à la carte sushi and sashimi (mostly $3–6 per piece), and rolls ($6–11). Combination platters range from $19–46. These are good prices for sushi in Manhattan. We had an abundance of food for $85, and that included two orders of Fatty Tuna ($8 ea.).

There were also a couple of extras: a terrific potato and spinach soup served in a shot glass as an amuse-bouche, and a large helping of boiled edamame (normally $4). But beyond that there was very little to rush back for. The most expensive dish we had, a Mixed Tempura ($11.50), was pedestrian, but we loved the Wasabi Gnocchi ($9.50). The various sushi, sashimi, and rolls were well made, but you’ll find something comparable in most neighborhoods.

Sushi Uo (151 Rivington Street between Clinton & Suffolk Streets, Lower East Side)

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

Review Recap: The Breslin

Today, Sam Sifton awarded the expected one star to the Breslin. He loved the food (mostly), but noted that an awful lot of it strikes the same chords repeatedly:

The Breslin is the sort of restaurant you end up thinking about a lot, not always pleasantly, staring up at the ceiling at 3 in the morning in cold sweat and mild panic. Yes, the food is good. But it is monochromatically good: it is 10 colors of fat. Excess can become wretched, and fast.

He also notes the insane ritual of trying to get a table at this crowded place:

The restaurant takes no reservations; it celebrates a democracy of the committed. Save for at breakfast, over pancakes and Stumptown coffee, the restaurant is almost perpetually jammed.

At night, out in the bar, people dance in place, drink amber cocktails, listen to music that bounces smartly between rock and hip-hop. They wait endlessly for tables to clear.

I question the idea of calling this “democracy.” It is simply owner Ken Friedman’s way of making more money: no need ever to worry about no-shows, or tables vacant because the last booking has departed and the next hasn’t yet arrived. If the Breslin ever quiets down, rest assured that Friedman will suddenly be pleased to take your reservation—not that this is likely anytime soon.

Eater’s prediction and the many reactions to it show that people still haven’t adjusted to Sam Sifton’s grading curve. For Frank Bruni, two stars was the default rating. He usually didn’t give one star without reciting a long list of complaints. This would explain the attitude of the Eater commenter, who said, “it only deserves 1 star but the review barely took the restaurant down or explained why.”

Sifton has returned the star system to its historical roots. One star means “good.” It is not an insult. There is nothing fundamentally inconsistent with a positive review that awards only one star.

We are not about to say that we fully grasp Sifton’s system, but at least we got this one right, and are awarded with a whopping $4 against our hypothetical one-dollar bet; this is courtesy of Eater odds that were wrong to begin with. Eater loses a dollar.

	Eater		NYJ
Bankroll	$9.00		$8.00
Gain/Loss	–$1.00		+$4.00
Total	$8.00		$12.00
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Won–Lost	6–5 (54.5%)		6–5 (54.5%)

Life-to-date, New York Journal is 76–32 (70%).