The big winner in this year’s Guide is The Modern, upgraded to two stars under chef Abram Bissell, who replaced founding chef Gabriel Kreuther eighteen months ago. All of the other two- and three-star restaurants remain the same.

Eater.com’s Ryan Sutton has a longer post on the 2016 Guide’s winners and losers. A summary of the changes is below. The full list is after the jump.

Promotions (one star to two):

• The Modern

Demotions (one to zero):

• 15 East [lost chef]
• Hakkasan
• Lincoln
• Zabb Elee

Starred in First Year Eligible:

• The Finch
• Gabriel Kreuther
• Hirohisa
• Rebelle
• Semilla
• Tempura Matsui

Other Restaurants Starred for the First Time:

• Cagen
• Somtum Der
• Sushi Yasuda

Color Key:

Green: Restaurant promoted, or starred in first year of eligibility
Yellow: Restaurant demoted, but still starred
Red: Restaurant demoted, and now unstarred
Gray: Restaurant not open

Last week, my wife and I took possession of this beauty, a 3-story Tudor in Pelham, New York. We haven’t moved yet: the place is badly in need of renovation, which’ll happen a lot more quickly if our stuff isn’t in the way. We still own our NYC co-op, which is in contract, and won’t close until July or August. We intend to get every last day of city living that we can.

But now seems as good a time as any to put the blog on hiatus—a step I’ve been considering for a while. I’ve posted 1,010 restaurant reviews in just over 11 years, which averages out to nearly two reviews per week, for roughly a decade. That’s an awfully long time. In recent months, it has felt more like a burden, and less of the joy it originally was.

Of course, that burden was entirely self-imposed: this blog has never accepted advertising. No one’s livelihood—and certainly not mine—depended on its existence. Yet, having created this tiny franchise in my little corner of the Internet, with a very small but nevertheless appreciative (and appreciated) core of loyal readers, for a long time I felt obliged to keep it going.

But my free time over the next several months will be increasingly taken up with a complex renovation, moving house, getting to know a new neighborhood, and a quite different lifestyle than I’ve been accustomed to. Something needs to be edited out, to make room for all that, and the blog is it.

If our impending move to the suburbs provides a convenient excuse, I might have reached the same decision in any event: the sense that food blogging had run its course (for me) was lingering in my mind even before we started house-hunting, although it certainly intensified after that. I think I’m going to enjoy dining out for its own sake, as it used to be: no more photos, no more “writing the review” in my head as I eat.

One thing that hasn’t changed is the pleasure of dining out, which I love as much as ever. My wife and I intend to keep up our weekly Manhattan “date nights” (usually Wednesdays). I still work in the city, and Pelham isn’t all that far away—one of the reasons we chose it. (Pelham to Grand Central: ~35 minutes. A Train to 42nd Street: ~30 minutes.)

Will the blog return after we’re settled in our new home? Surely not with the frequency it has been, and perhaps not at all. As I write this, I’m feeling like I won’t miss it.

Until 2004, I was not familiar with Greek seafood restaurants that hawk fish by the pound, until the Post’s Steve Cuozzo called them out for the practice—with characterisic bile. Soon after, I fell in love with Thalassa, despite an admittedly confusing price structure that was exactly what Cuozzo had complained about.

Alas, the broader public didn’t share my admiration for Thalassa. A few years later, during the Great Recession, they switched to fixed-price entrées, and haven’t gone back. Other restaurants of its ilk have been more successful, including Estiatoria Milos in Midtown, which has survived good times and bad, despite final bill that is as punishing as it is unpredictable.

Limani, a newcomer in this genre, sailed into town last November. The staff are pros at this, as there’s a sister Limani in Roslyn, NY, and much of the senior staff has worked for the Milos chain at some point.

They’ve certainly nailed the atmosphere: 8,000 square feet of Aegean fantasy, with white seats, white marble tile, sheer curtains, and a reflecting pool that changes its hue on a cycle from blue to violet, and back again.

The booths look luxurious, but on both my visits we were seated at a cramped two-top near the open kitchen. And then you realize, for a luxury restaurant, it certainly is loud in here.

I haven’t been to Milos, but the service style at Limani corresponds to everything I’ve read about it, as well as how it used to be at Thalassa before they switched out the menu. Before you order, your server escorts you to the fresh fish station, where the day’s catch is arrayed on ice—most of it imported from the Mediterranean. Prices are posted, generally by the pound, leaving you guessing as to how much that pretty red snapper will set you back. Only after you’ve chosen a specimen is it put on the scale, and the damage assessed.

There are standard appetizers and salads, with prices printed on the menu, although not shown online. My recollection, though, was that the non-fish items were fairly priced, for a midtown luxury restaurant. There are a handful of meat entrées, but if you order any of these, you’re missing the entire point of the restaurant.

Anyhow, with ordering out of the way, you’ll get a basket of warm bread and a bowl of olive oil for dipping (above right).

On both visits, we knew a large whole fish was coming, so we didn’t order large appetizers. An order of Gigantes (large baked beans; $12; above left) was mediocre. A Romaine salad ($15; not pictured) was okay. On the whole, it’s better to stick with a seafood starter. Scallops on the half-shell ($12; above right) were terrific.

Whichever whole fish you’ve chosen, it’ll be brought to the table and portioned while you watch. On my two visits, we tried the Fagri ($86.86; above left) and the Red Snapper ($90.82; above right). Both were sufficient for ample helpings of fish for two. As you can see from the photos, there’s not much difference in the preparation style from one to another. But the kitchen does a lovely job—as they should when whole fish are the entire premise of the restaurant.

You pay handsomely for the privilege. The prices aren’t insane, given the provenance of the ingredients, but you could spend less elsewhere. On the other hand, according to Pete Wells’s recent review in the Times, you’ll pay a lot more at Milos for the identical species. As the fish are served à la carte, you’ll probably want a side dish or two. Like the rest of the menu, they’re a bit pricey at $12 each, but as I recall, both that we tried (asparagus; cauliflower & broccoli) were exemplary.

The online wine list, like the food menu, is without prices, a really deplorable state of affairs. It skews mostly white, as you’d expect, with a handful of Greek bottles and many more from other regions. As I look back on my receipts, it seems I chose the identical item both times (a Domaine Bizet Sancerre), as I found the rest of the list too expensive.

I was surprised that Wells bothered to review Limani. He gave it just one star (for him, that’s a pan), and it didn’t really cry out for a review: most of his competitors ignored it, as they generally do with expensive Midtown restaurants that break no new culinary ground. As Frank Bruni once pointed out, there is little reason for a review that simultaneously calls attention to a place you otherwise wouldn’t have heard of, and then tells you to avoid it.

I would make a case for Limani. It’s not perfect: the room is too loud (for my taste), and the non-fish options aren’t strong enough, in relation to the expense. The online menu and wine list ought to include prices: for what they’re charging, they can afford that. But the imported fresh fish are Limani’s core competency; this, it executes beautifully. If you’re looking for a fancier night out, and can afford the prices, you’ll probably go home happy.

Limani (45 Rockefeller Plaza, 51st Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues)

Food: Greek seafood, most of it served by the pound
Service: Very good, as it should be at these prices
Ambiance: A luxurious blue-and-white Aegean atmosphere; a bit too loud

Rating: ★★

On the official NYC taxi map, the Upper East Side ends at 86th Street, aside from a small sliver near Central Park, which extends up to 110th Street. The rectangle bounded by 86th, Madison, 110th, and the East River, is (supposedly) Spanish Harlem.

Those are the traditional borders, but the streets north of 86th are starting to look more like the old Upper East Side. Indeed, most sources now consider anything up to 96th Street to be part of that neighborhood. Gentrification will only accelerate as the Second Avenue Subway gets closer to completion. (The latest ever-changing due date is the end of 2016, but it is sure to move again.)

The Milton is typical of the dining and drinking establishments taking root in the upper Upper East Side, where rents are low enough to attract a younger crowd. The owner, Tomas Maher of 13th Street Entertainment, talks up the space’s “downtown vibe”. This neighborhood isn’t yet secure in its own skin, so the proprietors have to compare it to someplace else.

The chef, David Diaz, came out of the same ownership group’s Brasserie Beaumarchais in the Meatpacking District, but the two places couldn’t be less alike. The cuisine at The Milton is out of the gastropub playbook: like the owner, a fusion of Irish, English, and American styles. Appetizers and salads are $9–16, side dishes $7, mains $12–28 (but only two of them north of $18).

It’s not a particularly long menu, with just eight mains and no announced specials. It will be interesting to see if it changes seasonally. Otherwise, The Milton isn’t a gastropub. It’s just a pub: a good one.

This is uncomplicated cuisine, but you’d be happy to have it again and again: a spicy Tuna Tartare ($16; above left) with a spicy kick from ponzu/xo sauce; Deviled Eggs ($9; above right) with lump crab meat and chopped chives.

We continued with the “Irish Joe” ($14; above left), really a sloppy joe with Guiness-braised short rib, swiss cheese, peas, and carrots on a potato roll. The Cottage Pie ($18; above right) features that same short rib with potato, under a thick, slightly leathery hood of fontina and swiss cheese.

I went back another evening and had the burger ($16; above), made with a rich house blend, served on a sesame seed challah bun.

There are just three desserts (all $8). We tried only one, and would gladly have it again: the cream puffs (left) made with choux pastry, vanilla cream, and caramel.

You’ll drink well here. Want wine? There are 22 bottles (half of them available by the glass), ranging from inexpensive ($30s–40s) and up, with a few reserve selections in the low $100s. Wines by the glass are all $13 and below.

Want beer? There are 25 choices in bottles and on tap, ranging from the familiar to the off-beat. When I asked about the McGargles red ale (new to me), the bartender offered a taste.

Cocktails are less expensive than their downtown counterparts, generally $11–13. The two I tried (both $12) were terrific: Off the Heid (Pigs Nose scotch, lemon, pineapple, honey, Velvet Falernum liqueur, Angostura bitters); Long day at the Office (bourbon, Campari, Cynar, vermouth).

Unlike your average pub, The Milton takes reservations, and if it hadn’t I probably never would’ve gone. However, it could have accommodated walk-ins at either of the times we tried it, 8:00pm on a Saturday, 6:30pm the following Friday.

Until the subway arrives, this part of town is a bit of a pain to get to, and it isn’t pretty, with half the street blocked for construction, a condition that will persist for at least another year and a half. But there are lots of cute bars that are well worth looking up, and you might as well start here.

The Milton (1754 Second Avenue between 91st & 92nd Streets, Upper East Side)

Food: British/Irish pub cuisine, through an American lens
Service: Very good for this type of place
Ambiance: A dark, comfortable, burnished wood and brick room

Rating: ★

Tex–Mex cuisine has always had a lowbrow reputation outside of its home territory, much as barbecue did a generation ago. You could visit these places for fun and sustenance, but the cooking was never taken seriously.

Javelina aims to change that. It’s the first local Tex–Mex joint I can remember where you actually knew the name of the chef: Richard Caruso, who’s been at Rosa Mexicano and Hill Country. Pat LaFrieda is on hand to supply the beef for all those tacos and enchiladas; or, if you prefer to have your beef naked, there’s a 28-day dry-aged cowboy steak for $38.

As the modern trend requires, there’s a large-format dish, the Parrilladas Mixtas, essentially the fajita platter of the gods, with six proteins (lobster extra) and abundant side dishes, costing $65 for two or $125 for four. But most of the food clocks in at much lower prices. No other item on the two-page menu is more than $25, and portions are generous.

The restaurant is named for a kind of wild pig that roams the wilds of Texas. A stuffed specimen is on display above the bar, and you can see from its sharp teeth that this isn’t an animal to be toyed with.

They take reservations, and you might need one. On a Wednesday evening, there was no chance of getting seated before our 7:45 booking, and the bar was packed too. We cooled our heels at the quiet Italian trattoria next door: Javelina might be the best thing that’s happened to them in years. On a recent evening, Eater’s Ryan Sutton waited 90 minutes for bar seats, got nothing, and gave up.

Once you get in, the sound level is punishing: those brick walls and hard surfaces turn the dining room into an echo chamber. Is it worth the trouble? Not as far as we could tell. We found the food like most of the city’s Tex–Mex: acceptable for what it is, but not worthy of the destination status that diners are conferring on Javelina in its early days.

The usual chips & salsa (above left) were a shade better than you usually get. But Shrimp Fajitas ($25; above right) seemed to be the same as you’d find anywhere.

The so-called “West Texas Stacked Enchiladas” ($20; above left), seemed quite ordinary to me: an undifferentiated stack of tortillas, pork, peppers, green chile, onions, cheese, and cilantro. A small, free dessert is served at every table, and it’s delightful: a soft, triangular soft pocket of warm dough sprinkled in brown sugar, with a dipping sauce (above right).

The beverage menu has a few specialties that are worth trying, like a spicy negroni that gets its kick from mole bitters. Among the frozen margaritas, there are several options, ranging from old standards to an avocado and cilantro mix. The service is fine for such a crowded place. At times, our server couldn’t be found when we needed her, but there are plenty of staff wandering the floor, and they’ll do as you ask, once you flag them down.

There’s nothing wrong with this: I eat Tex–Mex all the time, and love it. But I don’t think Javelina is special enough to warrant the trouble getting in. If the crowds ever die down, and it becomes a place where you can just drop in when you’re in the mood, it might be worthwhile.

Javelina (119 E. 18th St. Between Park Avenue and Irving Place, Union Square)

Food: Classic Tex–Mex
Service: Occasionally absent, but generally okay
Ambiance: A punishingly loud and crowded room

Rating: Not Recommended

Welcome to La Gauloise, the latest from Georges Forgeois, whose Gallic mini-chain also includes Cercle Rouge, Jules Bistro, Bar Tabac, Café Noir, and Le Signe Vert.

Forgeois also has The Clarkson, which feels like the answer to the old SAT question: which of these things is unlike the others? It’s a straightforward American bistro, albeit decorated (like all of his other places) with French nick-nacks that Forgeois picked up over 25 years of antique-hunting at flea markets.

Anyhow, The Clarkson had an extra dining room that wasn’t getting enough use, so Forgeois turned it into a separate restaurant. The two establishments are physically connected, sharing both rest room and kitchen space, but this isn’t immediately apparent, until you see staff passing back and forth between them, through a swinging wooden door.

La Gauloise feels like one of those little family bistros that you’d find on hundreds of Parisian side streets, with a small bi-level dining room, yellow pressed tin walls, and what feels like a staff of about three people. Not that it needed more, at least on a Friday evening in early spring, with only about four tables occupied and a couple of more patrons at the bar.

The location isn’t ideal. The West Village loses a lot of its intimate charm as you cross Seventh Avenue, headed West. The nearest streetcorner is dominated by The Clarkson, and the building is draped in scaffolding. You’re not going to notice La Gauloise unless you’re looking for it. (Perhaps it’ll be easier to spot once the weather gets warmer, and the outdoor tables come out.)

The chef is Rebecca Weitzman, formerly of ’inoteca and Cercle Rouge. (She also won an episode of Food Network’s Chopped in 2010.) She does double-duty here, continuing to look after the kitchen at The Clarkson. Her menu breaks no new ground: it’s practically all French classics, with appetizers mostly in the low-teens, mains in the mid-20s. It’s all capably prepared, but nothing we tried was especially memorable.

The meal begins with sliced French bread, served on a wooden board (above right).

We started with a couple of salads, Frisée aux Lardons ($12; above left) and Boucheron et Salade de Laitue (Goat cheese and baby lettuce salad; $11; above right).

Moules Frites ($18; above) were all they should be, the fries especially addictive.

Magret de Canard (duck; $24; above left) was thinly sliced, and not especially flavorful. Cheese ($6; above right) was served with the standard accompaniments.

The wine list fits on a page, and is well suted to the food, but the Corbières des Deux Ânes seemed like a lot more of a bargain for the 2009 on the printed list, rather than the 2012 that the staff served at the identical price. Aside from that flub, the service was attentive and friendly.

The room is quiet and charming, and feels like a slice of Paris transported. The food at La Gauloise probably won’t linger in your memory, but it is certainly good enough for a quiet romantic evening, either the second date or the fourth, but probably not the third.

La Gauloise (2 Clarkson Street, west of Seventh Avenue, West Village)

Food: French bistro classics, capably prepared
Service: Friendly and attentive
Ambiance: Like a slice of Paris transported

Rating: ★

Contra opened on the Lower East Side in October 2013, and it took till March 2015 for me to get a reservation. Now, I’ll admit: I didn’t work at it desperately. With dogged persistence, I surely could’ve gone sooner. But at the pace I was willing to work—something less than desperation—it took almost eighteen months for a reservation to appear, at a time I was willing to go.

The concept was daring for late 2013: a $55 five-course set menu from two chefs most people (then) had never heard of. Apparently they never got the memo: that’s not The Way We Eat Now. Diners want sharable small plates, to order either a short snack or a multi-course degustation at their whim. Or, do they? Contra was willing to bet the opposite.

Of course, the fixed-price menu is what every kitchen would love to serve: planning is so much easier when every cover will be the same. But most places don’t open with that format; they adopt it later (if at all), after their reputation is secure. For an unproven restaurant, the fixed cost of entry is supposed to be off-putting—even where, as here, it isn’t really that high.

Contra did it anyway, the rave reviews rolled in, and the rest is history. Last week, the restaurant finally got around to raising its prices. Thursdays through Saturdays, the price will be $67 for 6–8 courses. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, the original five-course menu will be a hair less expensive than before, at $53. (You can order à la carte at the bar.)

The chefs here are Jeremiah Stone, who worked at Rino in Paris and Isa in Brooklyn; and Fabian von Hauske, whose CV includes the obligatory fifteen-minute stint at Noma, plus Faviken in Sweden and the pastry department at Jean-Georges. Stone looks after the savory courses, von Hauske the bread and desserts.

According to the staff, the menu changes every few days, if not more often, depending on the available ingredients and the chefs’ whims. Theeir style is very loosely “New Nordic,” although the website (not very helpfully) describes it as “Contemporary New York cuisne.”

The lower-priced menu ($55 when we had it) is long enough to feel like a bargain, but short enough and inexpensive enough that you could try it regularly. Is every course transcendent? Of course not, but then you pinch yourself, and realize you’re not dreaming that it’s only eleven dollars a plate. Bread ($3), and cheese ($8), are the only options—aside from what to drink.

For an extra three bucks, the bread (above left) is well worth it, served warm with smooth, soft butter. The appetizer (above right) was a clever salad of persimmon, squash, and cured fish roe (bottarga).

The fish course (above left) was a Spartan and uninspired filet of fluke. We were more impressed with the meat course, chicken (above right) with ham and garbanzo.

The meal ends with two desserts. Strawberries and cream (above left) was just fine, but unmemorable. We were more impressed with shaved rhubarb over vanilla ice cream (above right).

Others will have to opine on Contra’s new 6–8-course weekend menu. The five-course menu, now offered only two days a week, seemed to us just right: the kind of menu you’d want again and again, if you lived close by and could just drop in. I hope Contra won’t lose that aspect of its appeal. The space is casual, in a Lower East Side kind of way, but the staff render service more polished than many a white table-cloth restaurant.

Contra (138 Orchard Street between Rivington & Delancey Streets, Lower East Side)

Food: New Nordic meets New York
Service: Smooth and polished
Ambiance: Lower East Side casual

Rating: ★★½

I should have looked at the address. I would’ve noticed that Hunt & Fish Club is right at the edge of the Theater District. Dinner on a Wednesday evening was going to be: absurd.

That’s an understatement. In the congested bar, I could barely move. Just getting a drink took twenty minutes, and that was with a friend of the house who took pity, using his pull to get the head bartender—and apparently the only one with a clue—to notice me.

The Post had a story about that bar: “the city’s latest haunt for… beauties fishing for rich husbands.” My friend-of-house buddy for the evening assured me it’s all true. And some of the ladies there seem to be—how shall I put it?—same-day rentals.

I thought the bar would clear up after 7:30, when the theater crowd heads off to the shows, but they kept coming in waves. A host assured us repeatedly that our table would be ready “in a few minutes,” while others who arrived after us were getting seated.

This went on for an hour past our reservation time. (To their credit, they were comping the drinks by now.) Finally, we were shown to a table: it must’ve been the worst in the house. We refused to accept it. We were then left standing at the edge of the dining room (“please don’t lean on the artwork”) for another ten minutes, before they finally found another.

The money men (a financier and a hedge-fund mogul) poured $5 million into this place. There’s bling everywhere: 55,000 pounds of marble, a 40×20-foot chrome chandelier, bars on two floors, and 180 seats in three dining rooms on two floors, designed by the artist Roy Nachum, whose paintings adorn the walls.

CC Sabathia, Darryl Strawberry, Brittny Gastineau, Carl Icahn, Star Jones, Steve Schirripa, Alexandra Lebenthal, Timbaland, and former Treasury Secretary Larry Summers, are among the celebrities that the Post has spotted. I assume they didn’t wait an hour to be seated.

The chef here is Jeffrey Kreisel, who worked for Michael Lomonoco at Porter House New York. The menu is heavily steak-centric, with the typical salads, sides, and appetizers you’d expect at such a place, and enough seafood dishes to justify the “Fish” half of the restaurant’s name.

The prices aren’t absurd. No one would call this restaurant a bargain, but the USDA Prime steaks are offered at more-or-less the going rate. You’re probably better off with one of these than, say, the $36 salmon. (I am not going to give ranges, as the online menu is clearly no longer accurate, assuming it ever was.)

Every meal begins with an enormous Parker House roll (above left), which just might be the best thing about Hunt & Fish Club. I wouldn’t bother with Rainbow Trout Roe ($40; above right).

Slab Bacon is fine ($13; above left), but Luger has it for less. Salmon is okay, but not worth the tariff ($36; above right).

I was in such a foul mood after our hour-long wait that I no longer wanted a steak, so I ordered the pork chop ($34; below left), which was tough from over-cooking.

I remained curious about the steaks, so I went back alone the following evening. The staff recognized me, and I was seated immediately. My only order: the dry-aged 18-ounce bone-in sirloin ($52; above right). It won’t put Minetta Tavern out of business, but it was a satisfying specimen, with a crunchy char, and done to the medium rare I’d asked for.

So the kitchen can broil a steak. That is something. If only everything else were as good.

A couple of weeks after my visits, I saw an alarming tweet: Hunt & Fish Club is now on Resy. Which means you can now pay even more for the privilege of dining here. No thanks.

Hunt & Fish Club (125 W. 44th St. between Sixth & Seventh Ave., West Midtown)

Food: Modern steakhouse cuisine
Service: Not good enough
Ambiance: More bling than the law allows

Rating: Not Recommended

We’re in a Ramen moment—no doubt about it. In the Times, Pete Wells filed a massive Ramen survey a year ago, and no doubt half-a-dozen more slurp shops have opened since then.

If Wells had written a few months later, perhaps he’d have included mŏkbar (“eat bar”), which specializes in Korean ramen, hearty soup with Japanese noodles and Korean flavors. It occupies a diminutive stall in Chelsea Market, opposite a taco stand. Like many ramen bars, there’s not a ton of room—and what there is, fills up at peak times.

Mŏkbar is the improbable brainchild of Esther Choi, a New Jersey-born twentysomething of Korean descent, who went to Rutgers as a pharmacy major, got a corporate job, hated it, and went to culinary school.

The usual ending to such stories is a lifetime of dicing carrots in anonymity, but Choi persevered, finding steady work as a buyer for Food Network and as a sous-chef at La Esquina.

When a fried chicken stall went out of business at Chelsea Market, Choi jumped at the chance, beating out dozens of other chefs, including more established names, for the right to open her little Korean ramen concept.

Choi decorated the place herself, adorning it with antique kitchen utensils, jars of pickled kimchi, and little wooden signs handpainted in Korean.

There’s not a lot of cooking space, but Choi has use of a prep kitchen deep in the bowels of Chelsea Market, where her pork- and chicken-based stocks simmer for up to thirty hours, and she custom-ferments several different styles of kimchi.

The dinner menu starts with Anju (eight to choose from, $6–16). These are Korean small plates, often shared, and usually consumed with beer or soju (a popular Korean alcoholic beverage).

Then come the ramen (about eight choices, $13–14). We sampled only the hot ramen dishes, as our visit was in the dead of winter, but cold ramen is offered in the summer, as well.

Full disclosure: I visited with the publicist and another food blogger, which gave me a chance to sample more of the menu than I ordinarily would. However, I didn’t pay for the meal.

The chef makes terrific dumplings ($7; above). On the typical platter, half are vegetarian (cabbage, tofu, kimchi) and half pork. As a confirmed carnivore, I was surprised to find I liked the vegetarian dumplings a shade better: they seemed more distinctive, less repetitive of others in town.

You’ve probably never before had Disco Fries ($12; above), served with kimchi, ramen broth, cheese curd, and nori. Far too messy to eat by hand, they work best with chopsticks. I’d like the fries to be more crisp, but otherwise it’s a worthwhile dish.

The hit of the appetizers is the Ho’ Cake ($6; below left), a crisp pocket of browned flower filled with pork belly, and, you guessed it, a kimchi dipping sauce on the side. This is the dish that could make the chef famous. There’s a YouTube video showing how it’s made: remarkably complicated for a six-dollar item.

The present menu divides the ramen dishes into two categories: “brothy” and “saucy”. The “brothy” option seems (to me) more reminiscent of what you’d find in a Japanese noodle shop. The Kimchi Ramen is an example of this ($13; above right). It features a classic kimchi broth with braised pork. There’s a YouTube video for that, too.

The others we tried were of the “saucy” variety. I was drawn to the Black Ramen ($13; above left), made with black beans, bacon, pork belly, cucumber, daikon, and scallions. This dish started out well, but I must say I grew tired of it about halfway through. I had only a taste of the Spicy Tofu Ramen ($13; above right), with pork and tofu sauce, spicy garlic paste, minced pork, and a poached egg. This was the spiciest dish we tasted, and one I’d happily try again.

The portions are ample: I don’t think I could have finished any of these ramen bowls, even if we hadn’t started with appetizers.

This small restaurant is an impressive first effort for a young chef who has never run her own business before. As mŏkbar approaches its one-year anniversary, it seems to have attracted a loyal following. It was busy, though not full, on a cold Tuesday evening. Prices are modest enough to encourage repeat visits. I look forward to seeing what the chef can do on an even larger stage.

mŏkbar (75 Ninth Avenue between 15th & 16th Streets, Chelsea Market)

In recent years, Southern cooking has made only a slight dent on the New York restaurant scene. Marcus Samuelsson’s The Red Rooster is probably the most conspicuous major success. I struggle to name many others.

I can’t really pinpoint a reason for that. Most restaurants, of course, are imitative—all of those nearly-identical farm-to-table restaurants, for example. Perhaps all that’s needed is a break-out hit that others will then strive to replicate. (I suspect Samuelsson’s place is seen as a product of his celebrity, and doesn’t lend itself to copying.)

Welcome to King Bee, which features the Southern cuisine known as Acadian, which traces its roots to the 17th century, when French Canadians settled in what is now Louisiana, and France controlled the midsection of North America from the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the Mississippi Delta. (The Canadian Maritime provinces and portions of northern Maine were once called Acadia.)

Napoleon, finding France over-extended, sold the enormous Louisiana Territory in 1803 to the United States, for the remarkable bargain price of four cents per acre. A spray of French-sounding place names, remnants of the French legal system, and a hybrid French–Southern cuisine, are the Acadians’ legacy in Louisiana today.

King Bee is the brainchild of Ken Jackson, the former co-owner of the New Orleans restaurant Herbsaint. To run the kitchen, he’s recruited the chef Jeremie Tomczak, who worked for Marcus Samuelsson at both Red Rooster and Aquavit. He’s is a real find, and deserves more notice than he’s received to date. The restaurant has been open about six months; most of the professional critics have not visited, and that’s a pity (see The New Yorker’s rave).

The menu is the hybrid you’d expect it to be, with certain obviously French–Canadian items (Poutine Râpée), others that seem purely Southern (Louisiana Crawfish), and the Creekstone ribeye steak that mysteriously finds its way into the cuisine of so many nations and cultures.

Prices are moderate by today’s standards: hors d’oeuvres $6–12, appetizers $10–14, entrées $18–32, desserts $6–8.

The meal begins with country bread and soft, whipped butter (above left). My son began with the rabbit rillettes ($8; above right). My wife had the Upstate Salad ($10; below left), which I suspect has little to do with Louisiana or Acadia, but is more impressive in life than comes across in the photo.

But by far the most striking of the starters was the foie gras bread pudding with maple syrup ($15; above right). It’s only March, and I’m sure this is one of the best dishes I’ll have all year.

My son ordered that ribeye steak ($32; above left). It’s not what I’d choose in this type of restaurant, but I’ve got to think it’s one of the city’s better steaks below $40. The duck ($26; above right) is terrific, served with root vegetables and tasso ham, a spicy variety of smoked pork that is often found in Louisiana cuisine.

Roasted cod ($23; above left) is served in an andouille broth, with cockles, razor clams, uni, and kale. For dessert, we chose the cookie plate ($6; above right).

The cheese selection is excellent for such a small restaurant; we weren’t that hungry, so we had just one ($6; right). (You can have three for $16, or five for $25.)

The wine list is about 60% French, with the rest evenly divided between Central Europe and the New World, priced fairly in relation to the food, with plenty of bottles below $60. The Domaine Rolet Arbois 2009 ($36) turned out to be a poor choice, but only because my family was not as fond of Jura wines as I am.

The service was a bit over-eager, but generally good. The restaurant was perhaps half full, or a bit over that, on a Saturday evening. With the chef executing as well as he is, it is time for King Bee to get noticed.

King Bee (424 E. Ninth Street between First Avenue and Avenue A, East Village)

Food: Southern Louisiana (Acadian)
Service: Generally good
Ambiance: A low-lit typical East Village dining room

Rating: ★★