Tabla Retrenches

Union Square Hospitality Group has announced that Tabla, the Indian restaurant at Madison Park, will eliminate its casual downstairs sibling, Bread Bar at Tabla. From now on, both spaces will serve the identical menu.

When we visited the Bread Bar in June, Tabla was serving a $59 prix fixe. On a Friday evening, the space looked almost empty, while the Bread Bar was bustling. The new menu (PDF here) strongly resembles the Bread Bar menu that we dined from that evening. It has a wide range of à la carte choices from $9–22 (Naan just $4), along with tasting menus at either $54 or $79.

So while USHG says that the Bread Bar has been discontinued, it’s actually the fine-dining option that’s going away. The new combined menu is basically the Bread Bar menu. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, as we liked most of the food we had there.

But it does appear to be a retrenchment.

Review Recap: Imperial Palace

Some days, I am happy to be wrong. That’s how I felt about Sam Sifton’s one-star review of Imperial Palace.

Forgive me if I sound like a broken record, but one star in the Times system is supposed to be “good,” but most of Frank Bruni’s one-star restaurants were mediocre. This led to a situation where it was nearly impossible to award one star, and have it be a compliment. The few restaurants so honored were lost in the scrum of many more where one star was an insult.

So I was gratified to read this:

Crab is the restaurant’s calling card. But a series of meals taken there over the last few months say more: The Palace is riding high, at the zenith of Cantonese cooking in New York City.  .  .  .

Entirely on the fly, it is possible to eat brilliantly there, in the manner of an improvised Cantonese banquet. It is not a formal restaurant nor in any way a perfect one; service can be slapdash, particularly if you speak no Chinese. But the cooking is extremely sophisticated.

Except for the reference to slapdash service, practically all of the review is positive—a rave, even. And it gets one star.

Sifton will need to file about a hundred more like it before people get the message that “one star means good.” But this is an excellent start. To make it stick, he’ll need to give zero a lot more often than Bruni did. I wonder if he has the guts for that.

Eater made the safe (and correct) one-star bet, winning $2 on a hypothetical one-dollar wager. We lose a dollar.

	Eater		NYJ
Bankroll	$0.00		$0.00
Gain/Loss	+$2.00		–$1.00
Total	+$2.00		–$1.00
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Won–Lost	2–1 (67%)		1–2 (33%)

Life-to-date, New York Journal is 71–27 (72%).

Nolita House

Note: Nolita House closed in May 2012.

*

Nolita House is a comfortable pub-food place at the northern edge of Little Italy. We probably wouldn’t have thought to go, but it turned up on an OpenTable search for casual restaurants in close proximity to the Angelika Film Center.

The cuisine here is a half-step above pub food. Everything is below $20 except the strip steak, which is $22. The menu on the website is dated October 2009, which suggests it is updated more often than most pubs.

There are four versions of Macaroni & Cheese, each available in mini ($7–9) or main ($11–14). If you’re having an entrée, a mini is enough for two or three to share. We loved the Original ($7), made with four cheeses and panko breadcrumbs. There’s also the Lobster Bake, the Popeye (add spinach and bacon), and the “Mac N Cheesburger” (an upscale Hamburger Helper).

We weren’t as pleased when we moved to the mains. A Bacon Burger ($14) didn’t have much flavor, and fries were too dry. Shrimp Tacos ($16) were too dainty and didn’t have much shrimp. A pasta called Penne of Mulberry ($15) was probably the best try, a hearty portion with Italian sausage, broccoli, garlic, and parmesan broth.

Service was fine, and the selection of beers is good.

Nolita House (47 E. Houston Street between Mott & Mulberry Streets, NoLIta)

Review Preview: Imperial Palace

Tomorrow, Sam Sifton reviews Chowhound favorite Imperial Palace in Queens. The Eater Oddsmakers have set the action as follows: Sift Happens: 250-1; Two Stars: 3-1; One Star: 2-1.

The Skinny: Sifton’s first two reviews were about unfinished business that Frank Bruni left behind. DBGB and Marea both opened long enough ago that Bruni could have reviewed them—but he didn’t. Sifton had no choice about reviewing these places.

With tomorrow’s review, the Sifton era really begins. There is no particular news event that prompted this review. It is all Sifton’s doing. This is where he wants to go.

NYT critics have often given two stars to this type of restaurant. Like it or not, about 99.5% of the reviewed restaurants are in Manhattan and Brooklyn—mostly the former. Queens is teeming with ethnic restaurants, most of which the Times will never review. On those rare occasions when it happens, the critic ought to at least highlight the better ones.

Sifton doesn’t have much of a track record yet, but we assume he’s not going to start reviewing Queens restaurants on a regular basis. We therefore suspect that his reasoning will be like that of Bruni and his predecessors. You don’t go to Queens to award one star.

The Bet: We are betting that Sam Sifton will award two stars to Imperial Palace.

Sea Urchin and Steak at Marea

I went back to Marea last week to sample two of the dishes mentioned in Sam Sifton’s three-star love letter.

I don’t know how Marea’s menu will evolve, but there is one item that will never come off. Not after this:

The very first item on the menu at Marea is ricci, a piece of warm toast slathered with sea urchin roe, blanketed in a thin sheet of lardo, and dotted with sea salt. It offers exactly the sensation as kissing an extremely attractive person for the first time — a bolt of surprise and pleasure combined. The salt and fat give way to primal sweetness and combine in deeply agreeable ways. The feeling lingers on the tongue and vibrates through the body. Not bad at $14 a throw — and there are two on each plate.

Well…I had it. Yes, it is very good. But no, it isn’t as good as a first kiss. My body did not vibrate in deeply agreeable ways.

Then came the steak, or perhaps I should say, the “Creekstone Farms 50-day dry-aged sirloin,” which according to Sifton, “would do epic battle with the beef at any steakhouse in town.”

Yes, it is an excellent slab of meat, served on the bone for good measure. What Marea lacks is the 2,000 degree ovens the better steakhouses have. So there is no exterior char, just the faint hint of cross-hatching. It’s a decent escape-hatch dish for the non-fish-eater in your party, but for $47 you’ll do better at restaurants that make their living at steak.

I’d thrown my diet to the wind anyway, so I figured one last cheat wouldn’t do much harm. Affogato ($13) doesn’t do much calorie damage—or so I imagined. It’s zabaglione gelato, espresso, and amaro: dessert and coffee combined in one glass.

I dined at the bar, where service is friendly. The bartenders told me they’d had plenty of laughs over Sifton’d description of the sea urchin toast, but everyone at the restaurant was relieved to have their three stars.

At some point I’ll be back to sample more of the pastas and fish. Sifton’s idea of visiting for the steak is just nutty. For now, we stand by the two stars we’ve awarded on two prior visits.

Marea (240 Central Park West between Seventh Avenue & Broadway, West Midtown)

Pamplona Closes

The Times reports that Alex Ureña has closed Pamplona.

The space has been home to two upscale Spanish restaurants over the last four years, both helmed by Chef Ureña. The eponymous Ureña, won two stars from Frank Bruni in early 2006, but the dowdy-looking space was at war with the three-star food the chef was trying to serve.

In 2007, after a brief makeover, it re-opened as Pamplona, slightly downscale in terms of both price and culinary ambition. It once again won two stars from Frank Bruni.

We loved the food at Ureña, but like most people, found the atmosphere lacking. We found the less-ambitious Pamplona still very good, though slightly undermined by the service. Perhaps like many diners, we never felt the need to return.

Despite two fairly positive Times reviews, the restaurant never gained traction in either of its incarnations. It wasn’t in a lively neighborhood, nor could it get much residential traffic on the dull commercial block it occupied.

Bill's Bar and Burger

Bill’s Bar and Burger is restauranteur Stephen Hanson’s burger joint in the old Hogpit Barbecue space in the Meatpacking District. Burgers are the centerpiece of the menu, which also features hot dogs, wings, fries, and milk shakes. The most expensive item is a Grouper Sandwich ($9.95).

Hanson is the king of low-brow food. Except for the shuttered Fiamma, his restaurants have never been at the vanguard of culinary ingenuity. He sees a trend and figures out how to down-brand it for popular appeal.

So you figured that a Hanson burger joint would at least be competent. The alleged hamburger experts are officially impressed. Mr. Cutlets, A Hamburger Today, Hamburger America, and the BLD Project are all smitten. We’ll let Cutlets’ comments stand as a proxy for all of them:

The Bill’s burger, at least the one I tasted, is the next step in the evolution of mainstream hamburgers. It takes the aggressive “smashing” technique from Steak n Shake and Smashburger, and applies it even more aggressively, and using LaFrieda beef — a rich blend I couldn’t exactly put my finger in, but lush and sweet in a way that suggested lots of brisket. It’s flatter and wider and browner that the Shake Shack, so much so that it hangs outside of the bun. It’s just luscious and enveloping and compuslively edible. And beneath that crust, which is complemented by a butter crisp toasted Arnold’s roll and a slice of deliciously viscous American cheese, is a torrent of juicy, salty, beef flavor that really lets you know you’ve eaten real meat, not just gray burger tissue. The thing is just fantastic, and there is not one weird topping or middlebrow trope anywhere to be seen. Is it too soon for me to say that this is the best hamburger in New York? I don’t think it is. Certainly it’s the best cheap hamburger in New York, if not the world. Daniel Boulud, Josh Capon, Nick Solares from Serious Eats…we all tried it and were knocked out. But better still than the taste was the fact that it was a blow for orthodoxy, and proof that our national sandwich is still best presented unadorned, in all its rude glory.

I don’t get it.

I dropped into Bill’s Bar & Burger the other night and ordered the so-called “Fat Cat” ($6.95) basically a burger topped with caramelized onions, with tomato and pickles on the side. The burger was over-cooked, and what little flavor it had was overwhelmed by the onions. It’s absurd that this is touted as one of the city’s better burgers. It ain’t in the top 50.

It’s not just a question of taste. The photo (above) doesn’t even look attractive. Those on sites like A Hamburger Today aren’t much better.

This tolerable burger was nothing compared to the awful fries ($3.50), which were over-salted and too greasy. What was worse, it appeared I was served a basket made in two separate batches, as some were burnt and others hadn’t been in the fryer long enough.

The beer was pretty good, and so was the service. There were plenty of empty tables at around 6pm, and there were still a few when I left, around 45 minutes later. By 9pm, I understand there was an hour wait. Don’t waste your time.

As I was getting ready to pay the bill, Mr. Cutlets sauntered in. Acted like he owned the place.

Addendum: It took a while, but finally there’s a pro reviewer who agrees with me: Alan Richman in GQ. I was about 90% certain that I spotted Richman there, but I only caught a brief glimpse of him, and wasn’t positive. He actually looked happy, smiling and waving to the staff. They’ll probably be surprised to learn he hated the place.

Bill’s Bar and Burger (22 Ninth Avenue at 13th Street, Meatpacking District)

Where David Chang Got The Idea

Here’s William Grimes in Appetite City (p. 40), describing a couple of downtown oyster saloons called Dorlans, circa the 1860s and ’70s:

No uptown rival, though, could cut into the business of the downtown restaurants, whose mystique grew with the years. Ambiance could not explain the attraction: both establishments were spartan, dispensing with such niceties as napkins, tablecloths, and butter knives. This did not deter fashionable New Yorkers. “Fastidious ladies, who at home dwell in splendid boudoirs and sit in perfumed chambers, take Dorlan’s [sic] on their way from the opera, for a stew or saddle-rock roast,” wrote one observer in 1868. “Gentlemen who have rosewood tables on Turkey carpets, eat off porcelain and silver ware, whose dining-rooms are perfumed with the choicest flowers, thankfully accept a stool without a back to it at Dorlan’s, and are jostled by the crowd. The belles and madames of the upper ten often stand in a row awaiting their turn.

Review Recap: Marea

Today, Sam Sifton drops the expected threespot on Marea, the posh Italian Seafooder on Central Park South. Prose this purple hasn’t been seen in the paper before:

The very first item on the menu at Marea is ricci, a piece of warm toast slathered with sea urchin roe, blanketed in a thin sheet of lardo, and dotted with sea salt. It offers exactly the sensation as kissing an extremely attractive person for the first time — a bolt of surprise and pleasure combined. The salt and fat give way to primal sweetness and combine in deeply agreeable ways. The feeling lingers on the tongue and vibrates through the body. Not bad at $14 a throw — and there are two on each plate.

I don’t know yet if that paragraph will be the Best of Sifton or the Worst of Sifton, but it’s sure to be one or the other.

It’s a dark and stormy night by the time Sifton gets to crudi:

There is as well a crudo menu — and a crudo bar along the restaurant’s east side, with seats for 20. It is not part of the prix fixe, but a geoduck clam with fresh chilies and lemon helps explain in one bite why men would dive amid huge swells to retrieve the things from the angry Pacific.

The restaurant gets three stars despite weak main courses. “Better to hit shore for the steak (or a crisp roast guinea hen with asparagus) or upgrade into the whole-fish treatments.”

I cringed when Sifton described it as “unfussy.” I had prayed that with Frank Bruni’s retirement, that word and its derivatives be banished from restaurant criticism.

Both we and Eater predicted a three-star review. We both win $1 at EVEN odds against our hypothetical one-dollar bets.

	Eater		NYJ
Bankroll	–$1.00		–$1.00
Gain/Loss	$1.00		$1.00
Total	$0.00		$0.00
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Won–Lost	1–1 (50%)		1–1 (50%)

Life-to-date, New York Journal is 71–26 (73%).

SD26

In New York City, what happens when your landlord demands a $600,000 rent increase? If you’re father-and-daughter restaurateurs Tony and Marisa May, you spend $7 million on a super-sized, glitzy replacement thirty-three blocks south. That would be new and hip SD26, just steps away from Madison Park, replacing dull and dowdy San Domenico, on Central Park South.

The old place carried two stars in the Times, but we gave it zero two years ago, after a $300 dinner where almost everything went wrong. We’re sure that San Domenico was capable of serving better meals, but clearly the restaurant was no longer part of the culinary conversation, and hadn’t been for a long time.

Tony May probably wouldn’t admit that his restaurant had become irrelevant, but the name change is significant. Bouley, Aureole, and Oceana all moved within the last year, while keeping their old names. “San Domenico” no longer had the same cachet. Perhaps it had become a liability. SD26 keeps the initials, but in the new neighborhood it’s a tabula rasa.

If the Mays wanted contrast, they’ve achieved it. Massimo Vignelli’s design is stunning. Although the space is more than double the size of San Domenico, it is divided into several smaller sections: a wine bar, a casual café, a large dining room with smaller alcoves, and a soaring balcony with intimate tables overlooking the action.

The menu, still under chef Odette Fada, received a long-overdue facelift. Prices are lower, and most items (even mains) are available in half portions. There is no longer a chintzy $2.50 sharing charge. Tony May told the Times that the average check size will be $20 less than at San Domenico. The wine list, too, has plenty of bottles below $50; uptown, I struggled to find anything below $75.

The Mays have embraced technology, perhaps to a fault. The wine bar has a high-gloss wine dispenser, which accepts a “smart card” and dispenses pours one, two, or four ounces at a time. A sommelier told me that it’s the latest thing in Italy, but I am not sure that New Yorkers will be fond of it.

The wine list comes on a wireless electronic tablet that resembles a small notebook computer. Tony May told the Times, “People don’t know what to do anymore with those big leatherbound books. So an electronic wine list on a computer you hold in your hand will tell you as much about the wine as you want to know. It’s intuitive. The idea is to make it so simple that even a computer illiterate can operate it.”

I quickly figured out the user interface, but found it frustrating. On a traditional wine list, I can flip through the pages quickly, getting an instant sense of its breadth and depth. A small screen that shows only a few bottles at a time is disorienting. You have no idea what you’re not seeing. It’s probably a lot, given an inventory of 1,000 bottles. Response time isn’t bad, but turning a page is a lot faster.

At least no one can accuse the Mays of resting on their laurels. Both were in the house on Saturday evening, and it appeared they were stopping at every table to say hello. The crowd was a mix of former regulars who followed the restaurant downtown, and the younger generation the Mays covet.

Even Tony May himself is now business casual. At an adjoining table, we heard one of his long-time customers say, “I’ve never seen you before without a tie.” The lovely Marisa May got a makeover too, though unlike San Domenico, she did not need one. Formerly a blonde, she became a brunette.

The menu offers a long selection of cured meats and salumi, ranging from $7.50 (most) to $19 apiece. We tried the Pancetta (cured pork belly with garlic, spices, and freshly ground pepper), Sopressata (spicy salami with pepper and garlic) and Lard (pork fat cured with herbs, salt, and pepper).

At least, that’s what we thought we had. When the bill arrived, all three had different prices, even though they were listed at $7.50 apiece on the menu. After a conference, the bill was adjusted, though I am still not sure whether we were served the right items—many of them are similar—but the top-right photo is definitely the lard.

Anyhow, it’s an impressive selection, and well worth sampling, but sliced meats shouldn’t have taken 20 minutes to come out.

Pappardelle with Wild Boar Ragu ($25; above left) was a lovely dish—carried over from the old place, if I recall correctly. Boar is a lean meat, and it needed more seasoning to bring out the flavor. The long, loopy noodles were a bit unwieldy, and we thought the kitchen should divide the portion for us, instead of leaving that task to us.

According to the website, the menu at SD26 has been designed to consider “today’s nutritional values.” Perhaps that is the reason why both entrées felt a bit like spa food. Red Snapper ($29.50; above right) was simply prepared, without any sauce. Smoked Lobster ($35; below left) with porcini mushrooms and orange segment was equally simple. Though I can’t find fault with the cooking, we felt that at these prices there ought to be more excitement on the plate.

Deconstructed Tiramisu ($9; above right) was certainly not an improvement on the more familiar version.

We were seated at a quiet corner table that Marisa May told us was her favorite spot in the restaurant, in a bright red alcove (photo above). The bustling main dining room could get noisy when it is full. In our cosy little alcove, we had no such problems. Service, as noted, is not yet as smooth as it ought to be, though none of the little glitches detracted from our evening.

The decision to upend the old San Domenico—both physically and philosophically—cannot have come easily. The Mays abandoned everything they had known, for an expensive remake that their old clients might not follow, and that new ones might not embrace. Once they decided that the old place could not be replicated, there were no half-measures or compromises. I have to admire them for that.

SD26 is not, as yet, wholly successful. However, there is much to admire. With so much riding on the outcome, I suspect that there are good times to come.

SD26 (19 E. 26th Street at Madison Square Park)

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