The Red Rooster

It was hard not to be skeptical of Marcus Samuelsson’s new Harlem restaurant, The Red Rooster. The talented chef who had once served stellar Swedish cuisine at Aquavit, had bombed out twice since then, first with terrible Asian fusian cuisine at Riingo, and then with phoned-in pan-African cuisine at Merkato 55.

The list of the chef’s current restaurants is depressing: a surf & turf place here, a burger joint there. It makes you wonder if there’s anything he actually believes in, culinarily speaking. The Red Rooster, featuring American cuisine, is yet another concept that doesn’t resemble anything he has previously done.

Its prolonged gestation didn’t help. Announced last February and originally slated for an October opening, it was delayed repeatedly before finally opening in mid-December. Samuelsson gave preview dinners all over town, and actually won Top Chef: Masters, with the Red Rooster cited as his flagship restaurant, even though it didn’t exist yet, and wouldn’t for another five months.

For a while, Samuelsson couldn’t miss an opportunity to look foolish, most notably when he announced that bartenders at the new restaurant would be asked to submit “audition videos,” with the “winner” selected by a public vote. I have to assume that Samuelsson dropped that hare-brained scheme, since we never heard any more about it.

In September, the Red Rooster earned four stars on Yelp, even though it was three months away from serving its first meal. Yelp staff deleted the entry, but it was back again in November, again at four stars.

Did I have enough reasons to shun the place? Absolutely. I went anyway. Guess what: The Red Rooster is pretty good.

Samuelsson’s ambition here is modest, but he nails it. The space looks like “Keith McNally Comes to Harlem,” a breezy brasserie set-up with shelves of knickknacks, an open kitchen, a bright glass-lined liquor wall, a spacious bar, and ample communal table seating for walk-ins. He serves lunch and dinner currently, brunch on weekends, with breakfast expected later on.

The menu, with a vaguely African American slant, has a bit of everything, but the only outright pandering is Steak Frites with truffle bearnaise, which strangely finds its way into the cuisine of every nation, and at $32 is the most expensive item. The couple next to me ordered that steak, and it looked great, but you can get it anywhere.

If this is American cuisine, I’m not sure there’s any region or restaurant in America that it resembles, but that’s just fine. I’m gratified to see a menu with just nine appetizers ($9–15) and eight entrées ($14–32), which tells me Samuelsson has done a lot of editing, and everything he serves is probably going to be good.

A couple of items resemble the Swedish classics Samuelsson has served before (Gravlax with Purple Mustard; Meatballs with mash and lingonberry), but most hew to the American theme, even if his interpretation of them is unique, or at least unusual.

An appetizer of Dirty Rice and Shrimp ($9; above left) was accented with aged basmati and curry leaves. Hearth Baked Mac & Greens ($14; above right) comes out of the entrée section. The macaroni, made with three cheeses (gouda, cheddar, comté) had a satisfying crunch.

Portions are ample, and I left a lot of food behind. The couple next to me ordered a bowl of warm nuts ($4) from the “snacks” section of the menu: “This dish could feed six people,” the husband said, as he offered to share it with me. A side order of corn bred ($4) came with two thick slices: warm and buttery, it hardly needed the extra butter that came with it.

Even on a Sunday evening, the restaurant was almost full, but I was seated immediately at one of the communal tables. For a while, it seemed like the server had forgotten me—the water glass remained empty until the meal was nearly over—but the food came out promptly. The space has a lively buzz, but the ambient noise isn’t overbearing.

Samuelsson himself was in the house (and introduced himself), which I hadn’t expected on a Sunday—but then, the professional reviews have yet to appear, and you never know when a critic will drop in. I think they’re going to like this place. The food is well made, coherently thought out, and certainly a big improvement over anything I know of in the area.

Although downtowners still think of Harlem as remote, the restaurant is literally half a block from the 2/3 express train stop at 125th Street: from many points in Manhattan, it’s probably closer (by train) than many popular downtown and Brooklyn places. But Samuelsson surely knows that he’ll need neighborhood support. For food this good, and at these prices, I think he’ll get it.

The Red Rooster (310 Lenox Avenue between 125th & 126th Streets, Harlem)

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

The National

Who am I to tell Geoffrey Zakarian that he should be doing More Important Work? Although he clearly has the talent, or at least used to, the chef who gave us Town and Country is now content to consult on phoned-in hotel menus.

He has opened two of these in the last few months, The Lambs Club and The National. The Lambs Club purports to be a much fancier place, and therefore its unevenness and lack of ambition are harder to forgive. At The National, with entrées hovering in the mid-twenties, you can be happy with unoriginal ideas skillfully executed, and that’s what you get.

The National has a prominent street-level perch in the Benjamin Hotel, but I doubt it was hotel guests alone that accounted for a packed dining room on a Thursday evening. Just steps away from the busy 6 Train stop at 51st & Lex, The National is in the perfect location to be a cafeteria for the East Midtown office crowd, and I suspect that’s where many of the guests came from.

At 7:00 p.m., there were no tables and only a couple of bar stools available. It’s the kind of place where the bartenders are so busy that they won’t open a tab without taking custody of your credit card, and where I never got to order a second drink because they were too preoccupied to notice that I’d finished the first one.

But the kitchen serves a great pork chop (above left), especially bearing in mind that it’s only $24, and it comes with broccolini and a side of excellent cheese grits. One doesn’t really need another vegetable, but I had to try the Crispy Brussels Sprouts ($7; above right) with pancetta and whole mustard, one of the best sides I’ve had in a while.

The diner to my right invited me to take a photo of his steak frites ($28; above). I didn’t taste the steak, but it was a thick hunk of New York Strip, and it appeared to be perfectly cooked to medium rare. I did try the hand-cut fries, which were great. Another diner gave me a taste of her Baby Artichoke Sandwich ($13) with feta, hummus, eggplant, and pepperoncini. I would never order that, as I dislike eggplant and only tolerate artichokes, but I have to admit it was tasty.

If The National doesn’t attempt very much, it is at least good at what it purports to do, and it doesn’t charge very much. The David Rockwell interior looks like half-a-dozen other places he’s done, but it’s fine for what it needs to be.

The National (557 Lexington Avenue at 50th Street, East Midtown)

Food: *
Service: Satisfactory
Ambaince: *
Overall: *

Balade

On the list of under-represented cuisines in New York City, Lebanese must be pretty close to the top. The Zagat Guide lists just three Lebanese restaurants, of which I’ve tried only one—the over-produced Ilili.

Missing from the Zagat Guide is Balade, which opened in the East Village a year ago. Despite a lack of critical attention (not a single pro review that I can find), it isn’t doing badly—at least on a Friday evening, when it was about 3/4ths full by 8:00 p.m. Nevertheless, it seeks (and in my view deserves) more attention.

(Before I proceed, in the interests of full disclosure, I need to tell you that I dined at Balade at the publicist’s invitation and did not pay for my meal.)

The name Balade means “fresh” in Lebanese. It’s an apt description, as just about everything is made in-house. The one drawback is that many customers are likely to mis-pronounce the name: roughly, it’s bah-lah-day.

The menu rambles a bit, and in its noble eagerness to offer something for everyone, takes a while to parse. There are six categories, plus sides and desserts. Many items have askerisked references to a glossary on the front page. If I were up to me, I’d ditch the glossary and explain each item where it appears.

Outside of a handful of entrées in the high teens (just one over $20), almost everything is below $15, and many are below $10. As is often the case on menus that avoid the term “appetizer” or “entrée,” it can be difficult to tell how much food you’re getting. I wound up with two appetizers and a dessert. I enjoyed everything, but if I were ordering again, I might have chosen a more substantial second course.

The meal starts with warm house-made bread (below left) and a wonderful spiced olive oil for dipping.

There’s an ample selection of vegetarian dishes throughout the menu, including more than half of the eighteen Mezza (starters). They’re $5–9 individually, or $16 for a selection of four vegetarian items. In the photo (above right), I had (clockwise from the top):

1) Tabouleh (parsley salad with burghul wheat, chopped onions, tomatoes, olive oil, and fresh lemon juice)

2) Hummus (chickpea puree with ground sesame seeds and lemon juice)

3) Warak Einab (stuffed grape leaves with chickpeas, tomatoes, garlic, and rice)

4) Labneh with Toum (cream cheese made from Greek yogurt infused with Lebanese thyme and crushed garlic)

There was an additional serving of bread, for spreading, but in the end I decided just to eat off the plate. The Labneh with Toum (nine o’clock in the photo) was deliciously creamy, the Tabouleh (twelve o’clock) a good, spicy contrast to the others. I felt journalistically obligated to try the hummus, and although it was just fine, I think the more unusual dishes are a better bet.

There are menu categories for sandwiches, or sandweechet ($6–10), Lebanese Pizza, or Manakeesh ($6.50–12) and “Pita Pitza” ($10–12). There’s also a “Taste of Lebanon” for $10 that offers three mini-pizzas, and as I was eager to know what Lebanese pizza would be like, I ordered that.

In the photo (below left), clockwise starting from the 10 o’clock position, the selection was:

1) Jabneh (Lebanese white cheese)

2) Zaatar (wild dried thyme, sesame seeds, sumac and olive oil)

3) Lahme Baajin (seasoned ground beef, diced onions and tomatoes)

The dough was thin and baked crisp. Of the three, I liked the spicy Lahme Baajin the best. The Zaatar was interesting, but a bit dry for my taste, and the cheese was pedestrian.

Dessert was flawless: first, two half-scoops of ice cream (above right): pistachio and a creamy native Lebanese flavor with a name I don’t recall. And then the Kenafa ($5; below left): baked ricotta cheese topped with bread crumbs, syrup, and crushed pistachio. This is a wonderful dessert: if you eat nothing else here, you must save room for it.

Lebanese White Coffee ($2.50; above right) is not coffee at all, but uncaffeinated rose water, more like tea, served with a small cup and a personal-size mini-kettle—an excellent way to close.

I can’t opine on the service, since the visit was a pre-arranged comp. Patronage ranged from large groups to solo diners at the bar, and as far as I could tell they were getting the attention they deserved. The 55-seat space is comfortable but un-fancy, in a way that matches the neighborhood.

The term “Neighborhood Lebanese Restaurant” doesn’t really exist in New York, but if it did, Balade would be the model. It’s inexpensive and casual, the food is well made, and there are enough choices for every mood and appetite.

Balade (201 First Avenue between 12th & 13th Streets, East Village)

Gastroarte née Graffit

Note: Gastroarte was called Graffit when this review was written. As noted below, the name was often mistaken for that of an unrelated restaurant, Graffiti. After the latter sued, Graffit changed its name to Gastroarte. For a more recent review, click here.

*

There isn’t exactly a glut of avant-garde Spanish cuisine in New York. One has to applaud chef Jesús Núñez’s gumption, if nothing else, in putting such a place in one of the city’s most conservative dining neighborhoods, the Upper West Side.

The chef was formerly a graffiti artist, so he chose the name Graffit—an unfortunate error, as a web search confuses it with the better known East Village restaurant, Graffiti. (On a google search for “graffit restaurant new york,” 7 of the first 10 hits, including the first four, were for Graffiti, not Graffit.) The reference isn’t that important anyway: the wall art at Graffit was created with spray paint, but not in a way that resembles the graffiti New Yorkers are familiar with.

There are fumbles in the menu design, as well. Diners seated in the bar area receive a tapas list ($6–14), while those in the dining room get a separate menu with traditional appetizers ($10–18) and entrées ($23–27). The distinction between bar and table dining is blurry these days; offering different menus to two classes of guests just creates confusion.

We were seated in the dining room, and therefore didn’t receive the tapas menu. A Mouthfuls poster who did, said that the tapas are so amply portioned that two of them would be a sufficient snack for four people, which somewhat contradicts the whole point of tapas.

In the dining room, the appetizers are generously portioned, too. We ordered five of them to share: we went home stuffed, and we didn’t even finish them.

Although we liked all but one of our appetizers, they tended to cloy. Normally, appetizers are sized for one person. Most of these dishes were just too heavy or too monotonic for that: you wouldn’t want to finish them.

However, you get plenty for your money: the food bill for two was just $62, and that included a dual amuse bouche (above right) and petits fours (bottom right) at the end.

“Not Your Average Egg” ($13; above left) is a seasonal vegetable stew. This was one of our favorites, although it ought to have been a shade warmer. The “Egg” in the middle is actually cauliflower molded around a runny egg yolk.

Carrot “Cake” ($11.50; above right) is a savory carrot dish with cheese and asparagus. This was one of those dishes that started out well, but was too overwhelming for even two people to finish.

Oxtail Ravioli ($13.50; above left) with apple and sunchoke cream sounded promising, but it came to the table lukewarm. Fried Squid Spheres ($12; above right) with roasted pepper, lemon, and saffron mayonaise are a wonderful idea, but it’s another dish that I was glad to be sharing. Two spheres per person was enough, and the dish had five.

Beef Tongue ($12; above left) was an ample enough portion to be an entrée, with two hefty pieces of tongue—deep fried, I believe. It’s another good dish that I wouldn’t have wanted to finish alone.

The restaurant occupies the lower level of an Upper West Side townhouse. The layout resembles a railroad apartment, with four thematically distinct spaces: communal tables up front for walk-ins, a bar, a dining room, and a rear atrium with skylights that can be opened in good weather. With exposed brick walls and no tablecloths or curtains to absorb sound, the space gets a bit noisy when full.

Despite some errors of concepion and execution, there is obvious potential in this cuisine. The menu is not static, as there were several announced specials (including the tongue dish). With some refinement, Graffit could make the leap to compelling from merely promising. Located just three blocks north of Lincoln Center, it’s a welcome addition to the pre-concert dining scene. The only question is whether this traditionally conservative neighborhood will embrace it.

Graffit (141 W. 69th St. between Broadway and Columbus Ave., Upper West Side)

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

Tulsi

Note: This is a review of Tulsi under opening chef Hemant Mathur, who is no longer with the restaurant as of January 2015.

*

Tulsi is the new haute-Indian restaurant from the former Dévi chef, Hemant Mathur. The name, the Times kindly informs us, means “holy basil.”

Dévi attracted a devoted following, including a favorable two-star review from Frank Bruni and, for a while, a Michelin star. I also gave it two stars. The restaurant is still in business, under the supervision of Mathur’s former partner, Suvir Saran. It has survived numerous ups & downs, including closing for a while when the original management gave up on it.

Most of the Indian food in New York is inexpensive and interchangeable. The challenge at such a place is to persuade diners that the price premium is worthwhile. It’s the reason why Dévi struggled at times, and why Tabla is the only restaurant Danny Meyer has ever closed.

At Tulsi, there are recognizable favorites, like Tandoori Lamb and Rogan Josh, but most of the menu consists of more unusual items, such as the appetizers we tried, Tandoori Tofu ($9) and Manchurian Cauliflower ($11) in a chilli garlic sauce. Goat Dum Biryani ($24) was probably the most conventional of our choices, offset by the wacky but wonderful Pistachio Chicken ($22). We found the flavors spicy, bracing, and (at least to us) highly original—at least for New York.

We ordered comparatively inexpensively, but most of the fish and meat entrées are over $25, and there are several over $30. I wouldn’t mind paying those prices for food of this quality, but long-term success will require building up a cadre of regulars who believe in the chef. Fortunately, Mathur brings a loyal following with him, from his previous stops, although the location (not convenient to any subway stop) somewhat discourages impulse visits.

The wine list is expensive too. I didn’t see many options below the mediocre $52 Domaine Chamonard that we ordered. The bill was $128 before tax and tip—certainly well worth it, in our estimation, but more than most diners are accustomed to pay for Indian food. Partly, you are paying for a lovely, romantic space (even nicer than Dévi), which must be one of the nicest ever built for Indian cuisine in New York.

Tulsi (211 E. 46th Street between Second & Third Avenues, East Midtown)

Food: **½
Service: **½
Ambiance: **½

Edi & the Wolf

There are two paths for a second restaurant: give the public more of the same, or attract a new clientele by doing the opposite.

If chefs Eduard Frauneder and Wolfgang Ban wanted to create the opposite of their Michelin-starred Seäsonal in midtown, I have two words: Mission Accomplished. A more striking contrast than their new place, Edi & the Wolf, would be impossible to imagine.

I’m a huge fan of Seäsonal, one of the few upscale restaurants to have opened during the recession. The chefs either didn’t have PR, or didn’t know how to use it, and the place received scant critical notice. The food is excellent, but the space is somewhat cold and clinical. I wondered whether they’d join the list of not-from-here chefs that New Yorkers have chewed up and spit out.

Unlike Seäsonal, Edi & the Wolf—that’s the two chefs’ nicknames joined by an ampersand—creates the instant impression that it belongs here. The distressed farmhouse look and the long communal table are old ideas, but they don’t look at all hackneyed. The space is comfortable and inviting.

Despite the “I’ve-seen-this-before” esthetic, the décor is inspired by something not frequently encountered in the U.S., an Austrian Heuriger, or neighborhood tavern. A 40-foot rope salvaged from an old church has been turned into a chandelier; recycled military boots become flower vases; the wooden ceiling comes from an old barn.

The only resemblance to Seäsonal is the Austrian cuisine, which is rendered more simplistically and less expensively here. Appetizers—sorry, “Small Plates”—are $4–13; larger appetizers—sorry, “Shared Plates”—are $12–17; and entrées—sorry, ‘Schnitzel & Co.’—are $14–22.

If I sound annoyed . . . well, this is one East Village-ism I could have done without. The term “appetizer” never put any restaurant out of business. The term “Shared Plate” is misleading, given that the server suggested I order two of these for myself. I wondered if I could trust that advice, so I took a different path.

Cured Pork Belly ($9; above left) with horseradish, pearl onions, and quince was wonderful. If you think pork belly is over-used, you should order this dish, which is unlike any I’ve had in Manhattan, served cold light enough to be a salad.

Wiener Schnitzel ($19; above right) is offered with either veal or pork (I took the latter). It comes with the traditional accompaniments: potato salad, cucumber, and lingonberry jam. The breading is unheavy, and not at all greasy; the portion was ample, and more than I could finish.

The mostly-European wine list tilts towards whites, many of which are Austrian labels not often found in New York. Rieslings, for instance, pair well with most of the food here, even the meat dishes.

The restaurant was empty at 6:30 p.m. on a Friday evening, but by East Village standards the evening hadn’t begun; an hour later, the room was just beginning to fill up. I dined at the bar, where service was knowledgeable and attentive. It is hard to judge at this early date whether Edi & the Wolf will be a long-term hit, but right now it seems to fit right in.

Edi & the Wolf (102 Avenue C between 6th & 7th Streets, East Village)

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

Feast of the Seven Fishes at Stuzzicheria

Stuzzicheria, the Italian small-plates restaurant in Tribeca, offered the Christmas season’s cheapest Feast of the Seven Fishes, at $49.

It turned out to be an even better bargain than I expected, because the restaurant put out only one serving for my son and me to share, whereas I was fully expecting to pay $49 each. With bread (below left) and a shared dessert, the whole bill was just $70.25 before tax and tip.

A copy of the menu is shown above; click on the image for a larger version. Strangely, the dishes were not served in the order stated. The food was unremarkable: a good home cook could do about as well, although not without slaving in the kitchen all day. This took about an hour.

1. Crostino: Marinated white anchovy & fresh mozzarella (above left)

2. Insalata di Calamari: celery, lemon & red chili (above right)

3. Vongole: baked Little Neck clams oreganata style (above left)

4. Agro Dolce: sweet & sour fried flounder (above right), probably the most enjoyable dish

5. Bacala Casserole: potato, cippolini onions & tomato (above left)

6. Gamberetti: grilled prawns [sic] scampi style (above right). Despite the description, you can see that it is only one prawn.

7. Sardina: grilled sardine, fennel, pinoli & raisins.

Dessert, beignets with (if I recall correctly) almond ice cream (above right) was very good.

Everything but the dessert and the flounder was frankly forgettable, and a couple of the dishes (the prawn, the sardine) weren’t really well designed for sharing. My son wasn’t fond of these dishes, but he put up with them gamely.

My feeling about this place, as it was when I visited in September, is that the flavors and the ambition are distinctly timid. The service wasn’t bad, allowing for the price point. The restaurant was a bit over half full on Christmas Eve.

Stuzzicheria (305 Church Street at Walker Street, Tribeca)