Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Jul 14

Eleven Madison Park

I'm not sure which is more embarrassing–to be pegged as a blogger or a tourist. I've always felt a little bit dorky breaking out the camera during meals, especially at higher end restaurants. It does become a compulsion, though, and one I’m not fully ok with. The conundrum is that no one has the attention span or wherewithal to actually read what a blogger has to say about a restaurant; people just like to scroll through photos. In fact, I'm wasting precious keystrokes this very second.

So, I found out that tourist feels worse when asked by our waiter if "we were visiting from out town." Dude, not everyone taking photos in restaurants are rubes. Er, or maybe I am a yokel in denial. Either way, it set a discordant tone for my leisurely day-off lunch.

I never take a real lunch. Usually I brown bag it and walk around the block for air, rarely taking more than 30 minutes of my afternoon (many males in my office take one-hour-plus lunches going to the gym. I would appreciate knowing how women manage that without having to shower and re-do hair and makeup because I hate wasting time after work at the gym). So, for pre-holiday July 3, I thought it would be fun to try an upscale prix fixe lunch. Jean Georges has a good deal with two courses for $28, additional offered for $14 apiece, but I was there for Valentine's Day and wanted to go someplace I'd never been. Eleven Madison Park wooed me with their two-course $28 deal. Apparently, $28 is the going rate for these fancy mid-day offerings.

It's a good thing we didn't go all out with the $68 tasting and $45 wine pairing, which I initially thought I might want. The more retrained option was sufficient, and as it was, I’m not certain that five courses would’ve been more enjoyable. Despite the room being about half full, the pacing felt off and there were minor distractions. I'm not a fuss budget (unlike the Louboutin lady next to me who sent her $10 supplemented lobster roll back for reasons I couldn't discern, then nibbled maybe two bites of the second rendition and left everything on her plate—maybe she was practicing that three-bite diet rule I still cant wrap my head around) but there were little things like not being brought any silverware to eat our entrees. It also would've been nice to have had our cocktails with the warm cheesey gougères, butter-enrobed baby radishes and cucumber-salmon rounds, but they awkwardly came right before the first course despite having ordered them before even focusing on the small nibbles.

I did like my Oaxaca 747, though, a smoky take on the Aviation that used mezcal and agave nectar in addition to the usual gin, maraschino and crème de violette. I'll order practically anything using crème de violette even though the deep amethyst color in the bottle always translates as gray in the glass, not even mauve. Once again, I encountered the big ice cube.

Eleven madison park tete de cochon with pickled vegetables

One thing is certain; their presentation and use of color is beautiful. Instead of feeling fussy, the baby vegetables and tiny bursts of pink and orange on this plate of tete de cochon provided more dazzle than was hinted at by mere “pickled vegetables.” The tartness of the radishes, onions and carrots and chopped parsley-onion condiment helped offset the richness of the pork, whose comforting texture reminded me of corned beef hash, not in a disparaging way. I couldn’t determine what flavor the ivory-colored gelatinous cubes were.

Eleven madison park skate with capers, cauliflowers, almonds

I wasn’t expecting such a golden exterior on the skate but it was fortuitous because sometimes I find fish too delicate (subtlety is often lost on me). This gave it enough heft to stand up to the strong, Spanish-ish accompaniments. I chose this specifically for the sweet-salty components: briny stem-on capers, oily Marcona almonds, neutral cauliflower, golden raisins and a few croutons that seemed to be rye.

The additional set of appetizer and main course that I didn't sample:

Eleven madison park poached egg, asparagus, hollandiase, parmesan

Slow Poached Organic Egg with Asparagus, Hollandaise and Parmigiano Reggiano

Eleven madison park suckling pig with broccoli rabe, pickled mustard seeds

Suckling Pig with Broccoli Rabe and Pickled Mustard Seeds

Dessert was the biggest disappointment. Not that there was anything wrong with the lemon meringue pie. I’m just a sucker for trolleys and when the desserts came wheeling by I felt compelled to pick one. Soon after, though, I began to covet the plates of parting mini macaroons in unusual flavors and pastel shades that the non-dessert orderers around us were presented with. Unless you’re dead set on a particular pastry, I wouldn’t spend the extra $12 (strange, that I don’t normally discuss pricing so much—maybe the economy has finally sunken into my consciousness).

I will say that I liked the young British sommelier whose looks and uppercrust accent reminded me of John Brisby in the Up series circa 28 Up. He seemed genuinely excited to talk about Rieslings even though I was only ordering one by the glass. And the 2005 Hofgut Falkenstein, Niedermenniger Herrenberg Spätlese Trocken, which he claimed to enjoy as his after work drink, was pleasingly zesty and fruity. I’d like to track down a bottle.

The food was quite good but the experience didn’t do much to enhance it. Maybe this was just the result of Friday before a holiday afternoon sleepiness. Then again, maybe we were getting tourist treatment.

Eleven Madison Park * 11 Madison Ave., New York, NY

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Jun 10

Rhong Tiam

I don't want to overstate their case, and I'm wary of mid-teens pricing, but Rhong Tiam definitely has some of the best non-Queens Thai food I've had recently. Dare I say even a bit Sripraphai-esque?

I think I'm responding to the Bangkok styles they both produce, which I've interpreted as rich curries cooked down to a thickness that ingredients stick together, spicy with balanced sweetness. I have heard that Bangkok's cuisine is considered sweeter than in the rest of the country, though I doubt that means Brooklyn-style sugary pad Thai. Just that the food is sweet in comparison to the austere lime-chile-ness of a northern larb or a fiery hot-and-sour southern fish curry.

You'll be fine as long as you stick with the Thai dishes. I wouldn't cross over into Vietnamese summer rolls or salmon teriyaki, though I'll admit I was curious about the Thai nachos using shrimp chips. I'll save that nonsense for visit number two.

Obviously, they just like using familiar lingo, hence this "Thai chorizo." It's crumbly mild grilled pork sausage that doesn't taste like anything Spanish (or German or Italian, for that matter). I ate little bites of chile with mine but the slabs of sliced ginger were too much for me. It is traditional, though.

Yes, “pork on fire,” dark, possibly soy sauced cubes of meat, with forward chile heat and a hint of lemongrass, is spicy but hardly as punishing as hyperbole on other blogs would lead you to believe. You just need a small pile of jasmine rice, here, molded into a conical shape, to cushion the blow. All of the components are discernable through the heat, which is a good sign. If you want to have your ability to taste obliterated with a burn that surrounds your mouth, grabs your tongue and creeps into your ears, you should try the Southern Curry at Sripraphai. It's a bit much, frankly. Crispy (I'm still not sure why that word is an irritant to Robert Sietsema—I’m just defensive because I’m a crispy/tasty/perfect abuser) fried basil, lime leaves and onions add both texture and mellowed herbaceousness.

This catfish preparation isn't for the impatient, there are a lot of fiddly bones to contend with in these fried cross-sections. I always thought that the little bones were rendered edible with this style of fish. I hope so, because I eat them. Maybe I've been doing this wrong all my life. I also eat shrimp shells. Roughage, right? The absorbent green Thai eggplant halves added more crunch and the slew of krachai shreds lent a fresh bitter sweetness that I prefer over sometimes too pungent ginger.

Rhong Tiam * 541 LaGuardia Pl., New York, NY

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May 18

Yip’s

This is $2.60 worth of food. Ok, oily, sitting out food, but sometimes it hits the spot. Leeks, mushrooms, bbq pork and sesame chicken. (6/5/09)

I’ve developed a strange new obsession with Yip’s, a block from my office. I had managed to steer clear of the bi-level (restaurant upstairs, buffet downstairs) Chinese joint for over two years. Curiosity fueled by a cheapskate quest for a few pieces of char siu my cheapskate ways finally got me in the door.

Keeping a lunch under $5 (ok, I’ll go up to $6) in the Financial District is no easy feat so the banner touting the $3.49/lb buffet after 1:45pm (and a still not expensive $5.39/lb before then) was perfect since I rarely eat a midday meal before 2pm anyway. And if you spend more than $5 you get a free can soda. I've never hit this mark yet but I wonder if they'll give you bottled water, for some reason water is considered more precious.

The thing is the sweet barbecue pork is nearly gone by 1:15pm and the whole thing is decimated by 2pm. People go nuts for sweet and sour pork, fried fish and spareribs, apparently. There is also traditional salad bar (you know, with lettuce and vegetables—yet also sushi and crab legs) in the center of the room but it gets less play. I couldn’t help but notice the poor tray of bitter melon with beef that had all the beef picked out. The place is full of carnivorous heathens.

No, it’s not particularly healthy and way oily but sometimes I need a cheap lowish carb break from my typical midday cup of soup from a carton (black bean chipotle is good, sweet pea puree isn’t bad). I stay away from rice, noodles, heavily breaded things and dense bones (the duck chunks do call my name, though). I end up with 40% vegetables and 60% mixed hodgepodge, a ration I'm trying to reverse.

This is what I got for $3.88: salt and pepper shrimp and squid, bean curd with mushrooms, spinach, green beans, roast pork, zucchini and black beans (the chicken had been all picked out). Lots of mismatched items in small doses that are satisfying enough for my junk tooth.

This isn’t my first foray into questionably cheap Chinese food. There used to be a place on the ground floor of a downtown Portland hospital called Dollar Chinese Food. Actually, I don't know if that was its proper name or if it even had one, but that’s what everyone called it because of the $1 Chinese Food advertised on the sidewalk sandwich board. If I remember correctly for $1 you got a small paper plate with rice, a scoop of an entrée of your choice, and I'm fairly certain one of those tiny hard cabbage filled spring rolls.

Yip’s is way less depressing, if you can imagine. (5/17/09)

Yip’s * 18 Beaver St., New York, NY

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May 11

Banh Mi Cart

1/2 I'm not sure if the banh mi cart is getting more tolerable—they hand out numbers when you order now—or if the misty weather kept people indoors for lunch, but around 2:02pm there was only two people waiting for sandwiches and one woman in line ahead of me asking staff (a whopping three, two men, one woman), "What should I order?" She was steered toward the classic #1. I'm a strict #1 gal, myself, but following right behind the clueless eater I didn't want to seem like a lemming and went wild and got the meatballs instead.

Eh, should've stuck to my guns. The meatballs were delicate and springy, turning into a soft near-spread when pressed between the baguette. They were definitely spicy yet somehow under seasoned and bland.

My only real pet peeve (because I must have one) is that they seem to have stopped cutting the sandwiches in two. I need petite halves for at-desk nibbling. It's just not ladylike to be seen with a dripping meatball-filled hoagie while at work (on my free time, sure). I also noticed jerky on the menu (and no shrimp cocktail). (6/10/09)

The crowd is very manageable at 2:30pm, no more than a few minutes wait. No problem for a late luncher like myself. I did notice that they raised the price to $6 since my last visit way back in early 2009, which kind of breaks my self-imposed $5 and under lunch rule. But still, $6 isn't outrageous in this neighborhood and I brownbag it 70% of the time anyway. Also, now have a pork fu and eel sandwich, 11 styles in total. (5/11/09)I was excited to hear that the city’s only banh mi cart had moved even closer to my office, only about three blocks away on the corner of Pearl St. and Hanover Sq. It’s a sad state of dining affairs down here so little things mean a lot. But Friday there was a huddle of about 12 people in front of the cart at 1:30pm. I’m not patient in the best of circumstances so unorganized, non-lined up clumps of customers was too much for me. I’ll go later next time and see how things play out. (5/8/09)

May 9

Dirt Candy

As much as I love me some Little Lad’s, there are occasions that require vegetarian food that's a step or two above homespun cafeteria fare. Tiny Dirt Candy with its half-cute/half-unappetizing name (I much prefer the concept of dirt candy over nature's candy, which is an exceedingly lame euphemism for fruit. I'm not crazy about 85% of fruit, though, so I'm biased) seemed like a better place for a birthday dinner than say, Angelica's Kitchen. That’s too much earthiness for me, and I'm an Oregonian. So is Jessica, the dining companion who had turned another year older, now that I think about it. No brown rice or sprouts will be allowed on my dime, no way.

I felt compelled to try the signature-ish portobello mousse appetizer. At first glance you kind of think the plating is fun, then if you scrutinize each component they start to become eerie. The floppy tangle of sliced mushrooms looks very fleshy like indeterminate offal. I'm an organ-loving carnivore so this wasn’t a detriment. The block of mousse is so perfect and reflective that you have to resist the urge to smash it down with a fork and mess up the geometry. We decided it would be a cruel joke to tell a kid this whipped mushroom cube was chocolate (less cruel than trying to pawn off fruit as nature's candy, though) and watch them bite into it.

Fungus rendered rich and creamy and topped with a few chewy ribbons of mushroom worked well together on toast. A pear compote might seem too sweet for those two but the addition of fennel lent just enough savory contrast.

Onion Soup with farmhouse cheddar and kumquat marmalade looks very hearty for a brothy soup but I did not try this.

Crispy tofu with green ragout and kaffir lime beurre blanc would've been my entrée choice on paper. I think it was the lime and butter that grabbed me more than the bean curd. But it was Jessica's birthday and this was her pick. I don't like to order the same thing as someone else at a table unless it's a burger, bbq or similar singular item.

Based on the menu description I’m looking at now there were pickled shitakes in this but I don't recall tasting those at all. I'm certain huitlacoche was mentioned when the dish was presented to me. Maybe there was a shift in fungus. I love the musky, dirty flavor of huitlacoche and the ingredient makes perfect sense with thick corn-speckled grits and what seemed like (I have a problem remembering verbal descriptions—if I don't see something written down I forget it) a crumbly, salty queso fresco. The lightly battered, fried egg made the dish, though.

I'm swayed by the charms of a liquid yolk. Though if I'm correct, it was the egg that turned Jessica off of this dish. I'm not sure if she's creeped out by the yolk, the possibility of runny whites or something else altogether. A fried egg makes everything better, if you ask me.

I semi-randomly chose a bottle of Thurnhoff Goldmuskateller 2007 from the small wine list because I wanted a white and this sounded vaguely German and austere. It turned out to be Italian from Alto Adige, and very crisp apple-like with just a little sweetness and power. I must've been tipsier than I realized (I blame the pre-dinner gin and tonic minutes after having two vials of blood drawn) because these photos that I edited right after getting home are a bit more washed out than usual. Even in the best of circumstances my eye for color and contrast could use help.

Normally, I'm indifferent to pudding and popcorn but served together plus caramel and hazelnuts, grabbed my attention. The smooth and crunchy, salty and sweet was irresistible. Last weekend when I mentioned (I can’t bring myself to say twittered or tweeted) Van Leeuwen’s hazelnut gelato being bland, I didn't meant to imply it was bad but merely too pure and subtle for my taste. I like desserts where a lot is happening.

Dirt Candy * 430 E. Ninth St., New York, NY

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May 6

Maison

Times Square is tricky for dining, most would say avoid it altogether, but sometimes it's just not worth fighting. There are out of town guests who enjoy being shown what makes NYC special—whether it's finding a platter of Filipino sisig that they can't get where they live or wowing with high caliber multicourse tasting menus or hip neighborhoody places that cure their own meat—and then there are those who would be perfectly happy eating anything, anywhere as long as it’s within a reasonable walking radius of their hotel, and not exorbitantly priced or a mob scene. It's not about the food, you’re just trying to catch up. Though if it were up to me, I'd walk way west to Pam's Real Thai or Tulcingo.

My grandma (I can’t say grandmother because it just doesn’t sound right even though it reads better. I could really go all out and type the more phonetic gramma, but that’s a hideous looking word) has never indicated any interest in French bistro food, but Maison it was. Two-blocks from the Sheraton and no wait on a Friday night are good enough for me. I don't know what suits her taste because I rarely make it back to Portland and she's more likely to take a cruise to New Zealand then come here. (I really need to learn some lessons from Oregonians like how to live on social security and babysitting jobs yet travel regularly. I do think that living in RV's and mobile homes, as other immediate family members do, certainly sucks less of your income than renting in prime Brooklyn, no secret there.) She has only visited NYC once before, along with my mom and sister in 1998, the year I moved here. I recall a positive experience with Sixth Street Indian, grumblings over Zen Palate (my sister's influence) and me losing my shit because they went to Tavern on the Green without me and when I got off work to meet them, bought me a Subway sandwich and told me to put a sock in it. I didn't have the good dining sense to yet realize I may have been better off eating the damn footlong and shutting up.

Maison's charcuterie plate was better than a Subway Club® and the wooden plank overflowed with a larger selection of meat than I’d expected. It’s doubtful anything was cured or aged in house, but the smoked duck and pate wedges were particularly winsome.

I didn’t break any new ground and ordered the steak frites. Frankly, the best part was the fries…and the herb butter. The meat wasn't so flavorful. Sometimes I just should order a plate of fries if that's what I want. The leftovers did make a good breakfast steak sandwich the following day.

For the record, grandma ate penne with chicken and James had steak au poivre. I did not snap photos because I was trying to be restrained.

The service was surprisingly friendly and accommodating. I always assume that if you work in Times Square you must be cranky from dealing with tourists all day. Maybe I’m just projecting. No rushing, I was able to sip my second glass of Shiraz in peace. It’s also worth noting that Maison, like its relatives L’Express and French Roast, is open 24-hours in case you find yourself starving on Broadway and W. 54th in the middle of the night.

This might be what I look like in 38 years, though I don’t imagine my eyes will turn blue. Grandma also told me to give up my growing out my gray hair nonsense. No need to age yourself prematurely but I’m still continuing my experiment. I can’t stop yet.

Maison * 1700 Broadway, New York, NY

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Apr 14

Fatty Crab Uptown

I don't know if the relatively new uptown Fatty Crab needs a new entry here, as the food is pretty much the same as at the original location. The main differences being that the UWS branch is larger and is on Open Table (an important distinction to me since I had a $20 rewards check burning a hole in my pocket and now thanks to the recession I feel less like a rube using a coupon).

But not being a mental multitasker, I feel compelled to post these photos and impressions so I can shift my thinking to from Malaysian food to spice-averse Madrid where I'll be in less than 24 hours.

I enjoy the food at Fatty Crab, always more than I expect that I will. No, it's not wholly traditional but the flavors are strong, funky and not tamed for Americans. My only quibbles are that the service is dudely, they overexplain everything (I do realize that Malaysian food isn't as familiar as Thai or Vietnamese to most New Yorkers and from my observations diners do ask lots of questions) and upsell on top of it, the pacing is random; things come out willy nilly and there can be ten-minute gaps between dishes. And, well, I would feel better if $3-$5 were shaved off the prices across the board (quality ingredients and labor intensive prep, acknowledged). Sounds like a lot of caveats, but I really like the food.

We went cross-cultural with small plates. First up the sliders: spicy, juicy, slightly fishy little meat blobs dressed with thick pickles and aioli. These were cute and packed a lot of punch into a small toasted package.

Because I am a weirdo who doesn't like hot dogs, I was wary of the Fatty Dog, but as soon as I realized it contained a house-made sausage and not a boiled wiener I was more excited. The pork sausage contains belachan, pickled garlic and XO sauce, not wiener-y at all. Combined with pickled chiles, garlic, radish, cilantro and cucumbers and spread out on a potato roll, it's more of an open-faced sandwich than finger food.

Thick and chewy hokkien noodles were so hefty they bent my wooden chopsticks. The dark sauce is sweet from kecap manis and tarted up with a bit of black vinegar. Small strips of beef, shrimp and little clams are the main ingredients, though I was impressed with the traditional addition of tiny crispy lard cubes. In Malaysia some health-minded hawkers have been moving away from using extra pork fat, and it would be a shame to omit that much needed touch here.

Kang kong, a.k.a. water spinach was appropriately shrimp pastey and chile hot. There's a lot more here than one would think. We were actually going to do without a vegetable side but our server made it sound like we'd suffer miserably if we didn't order a $9 bowl of greens.

We were totally full by the time the short rib rendang came out; I could only eat a small chunk. Both the meat and rice are saturated with coconut milk, so it was a bit rich as the final plate of food. Thankfully, the braised dish keeps well and improves with age. Combined with leftover kang kong, it was enough for a full dinner the following night. And I just happened to have some toasted coconut lying around from a Thai pomelo salad I'd made (with grapefruit from the huge unwelcome sack I've been trying use) earlier in the week to spruce the rendang up.

After cobbling together two dinners from our food on top of using the $20 voucher, I felt less reluctant to order a $12 Fatty Sour. It was a well-made cocktail, less sour and more herbal than a typical whisky sour, my drink of choice. The inclusion of Pedro Ximenez Sherry and real maraschino cherries rather than a slice of citrus, was welcome.

Fatty Crab Uptown * 2170 Broadway, New York, NY

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Apr 12

Butcher Bay

Non-shocker: Butcher Bay calls it quits. Looks like I'll be getting dragged to Choptank on a Lent Friday this year. (2/1/2010)

I was a little hesitant to try Butcher Bay after so many lukewarm-to-negative reviews, but generally when someone suggests trying a restaurant I’m open (as long as it’s not middling Thai). I’m not a controller of all things edible. James liked what he'd read in The Village Voice and thought it would be a good candidate for the fish on Friday tradition that I'm surprised he's still adhering to.

It turned out to be very much as I'd expected: affable, better than adequate but probably not a destination if you're not in the East Village. I'd go back if it were in my neighborhood. And the staff was unusually friendly. It’s nice to be reminded that not all servers are of the surly/spacey variety I often encounter.

There's something about the East Village that doesn't bother me as much as Carroll Gardens even though the vibe at the ungodly dining hour of 6:30 was much like ours: family time in a big way, but the breastfeeding I witnessed managed to be less self-righteous and dour and more natural and cute. Did I just say that? I don't care how un-feminist, anti-woman it makes me, I’m not crazy about public breastfeeding, there's already precious lack of privacy in the city as it is.

Hush puppies are always bready blobs that taste more of flour and cornmeal than whatever they might be flavored with. These contained shrimp and their presence was subtle.

The clam strips were meaty and chewy and the remoulade was more likeable than tartar sauce. A friend who joined James and I for dinner made a statement about bellies along the lines of them being a bit too animal-like, you know you're eating a creature (I’m extrapolating a bit here). This comes from a non-fish, non-meat-with bones eating person but I'm not going to make fun of that because she is convinced that I will always call her out for something. Not this, though. We'll get to her later…

Fish and chips. I didn't taste these but James thought they were fine and not soggy or doughy as reported somewhere I can't recall. Obviously, that criticism struck a chord with the owner because he brought it up after asking about my picture-taking. No one ever asks me why I’m snapping photos, oddly enough, and I’m not complaining. I guess it's like not staring a celebrities in public, ignore the food bloggers; they're a dime a dozen.

I'm more thrifty out of principle than pure necessity. I don't like paying over $20 for casual food for the same reason I hate buying single items of clothing over $40: because I’m cheap. So, the $24 lobster roll wasn't really my style, but I cut loose anyway. An unorthodox specimen in its seeming absence of mayonnaise but I'm not complaining since I do not love the stuff. It does work to keep the jumble of meat together, though, while this one kept losing its filling. Chopped parsley and celery rounded out the rest of the ingredients.

Ok, the friend's food. The potato salad was standard issue, fine, but the pork was on the dry side. Here's the rub: should one order pork in a restaurant that's styled itself as a seafood shack? We all have different criteria and expectations. I try not to deviate wildly from what I perceive to be an eatery's strengths unless I'm swayed by something so off and bizarre that it needs exploring. Yesterday, I resisted ordering nachos at Sukhadia’s, a vegetarian Indian chain. I’ll never know if I was wise in playing it safe or if I missed out on a rare delicacy.

I was glad to see that Sophie's, a few storefronts down, was still thriving. I will always remember it as the venue for my non-date with Henry Thomas over a decade ago and he later mentioned in a phone call, "Oh, I'm meeting some friends at Sohpie's" as if it were his spot despite the fact that he'd never heard of it until a week prior. E-List celebrities have a way of getting under your skin with their insensitivity.

It reminds me of a story I've told before about a friend who went to high school with John Stamos and in the mid-‘80s ran into him in the audience of some California production of Grease starring Belinda Carlisle. Stamos told my friend he was having a party and would call him. He. Never. Did. That, my friends, is called being Stamosed. We've all been there.

Butcher Bay * 511 E. Fifth Ave., New York, NY

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Mar 30

10 Downing

No mention of 10 Downing seems complete without noting how much noise the highly windowed flatiron space generates. Perhaps I'm hard of hearing but the sound level barely registered with me. In fact, I prefer a raucous hum—especially among tightly packed tables—it creates an aural blanket so you can at least have a facsimile of a private meal. On the upside, I didn’t get crammed into a row of two-tops either. A spacious corner banquette miraculously opened up, making the 15-minute wait well worth the temporary smooshiness. The narrow holding pen really can't contain the crowds that amass. After being seated just beyond the far end of the bar, drinkers began spilling over into the dining area behind the back of our L-shaped seat. Our waiter offered to shoo them away but I didn't want to be that kind of asshole.

The menu is one of those hand-wringers where so much is going on that I'm not sure how to compose my meal. Pastas in two sizes, small plates, charcuterie, grilled prawns by the piece, then full sized mains. If I weren't self-conscious I would've ordered the whole cured meat shebang but knowing I read somewhere that it could easily feed three-to-four diners made me balk (though I recall a similar portion suggestion for the charcroute at Irving Mill and thought it was totally acceptable for two). Plus, I wanted to try at least one other item.

10 downing pork belly rillettes & duck prosciutto

I lamed out and selected two meaty treats: pork belly rillettes and duck prosciutto. And yes, it was plenty. The thing about rillettes is that once the main ingredient has been moussed it's not like you can discern the original cut of meat (At least I can't, and also lack the palate to discern fat percentages and meat sources comprising hamburger patties.) The spread was rich and definitely porcine but I would never be able to identify it was pork belly. Duck prosciutto is a great idea since the dark meat is rightly rich, oily and striped with a nice white stripe of fat, like pork prosciutto plus. (Timely: one of the gifts I gave James later than evening was a copy of Charcuterie, mainly for the smoker recipes but there is also one for duck prosciutto I want to try. Also timely: my opening up directly to a passage about Charles Ingalls, a recent fascination, and his venison smoking practices in Little House in the Big Woods,) Accompaniments included mini apple cubes flavored with mustard and pickled green beans, carrots and cauliflower.

10 downing brussels sprouts anchovy vinaigrette poached egg & parmesan

I'm always happy with hearty winter vegetables like brussels sprouts and these were pleasers keeping in the style of the restaurant: rich, strong and shy of overwhelming. The runny yolk, anchovy vinaigrette, sharp parmesan shavings and breadcrumbs melded everything together. I recreated a not-half-bad rendition of this dish for dinner last night.

Mild disappointment set in when we were told upon being presented with menus that the porchetta special was a goner. Decimated by 8:15 pm? Oh well. I wasn't immediately drawn to any of the entrees either. I could've ordered another appetizer instead but wanted to see how the mains played out.

10 downing duck breast pickled figs tokyo turnips & shallot marmalade

Duck breast with Tokyo turnips satisfied my obvious taste for root vegetables and dark meat poultry. I felt like all of the components remained separate, not just visually, the flavors didn't want to integrate either. Turnips were firm and bitter, the figs were soft and pickled sweet and sour, the grass green swaths were beautiful but didn’t taste distinctive. Everything looked pretty and the meat was cooked just rare enough but the overall impression was flatness. Or maybe sense of taste had been dulled after the more aggressive starters.

10 downing beef cheeks saffron cabbage bone marrow soubise mustard spaetzle

Braised beef cheeks, saffron cabbage, bone marrow soubise, mustard spaetzle.

10 downing chocolate cake almond ganache salted caramel with malted gelato

I don't know how I fell for the molten cake. I refuse to knowingly order those damn soft-centered pucks out of some misplaced anger at their pervasiveness across all cuisines and strata of restaurants, highbrow and low. The description just said chocolate cake. How could I have known? Of course it was wonderfully gooey and pleasant. The malted gelato and crackly salt caramel topping is what made the dish, though.

Just like how Momofuku Ko waylaid me with their music (I'm still baffled that someone on a message board scoffing a bit at my typically tangent-filled write up referred to me as a "he." Do I sound like a dude when I write?) 10 Downing divided my attention with the art. The more I drink (two glasses of Cote du Rhones with dinner and two glasses of a random happy hour Italian red at Dove Parlor earlier) the more I focus on things other than the food. Not a crime when they are distractions I enjoy. I never thought I'd live to encounter a collage containing Mark Lester in the bathroom of a West Village restaurant serving $27 entrees.

The dining room features a pleasing hodgepodge of paintings and photos curated by Tracy Williams, Ltd. From my seat closer to where the angles of the room converge into a triangle there were no walls. However, I was face-to-face with a row of black and white publicity shots and drawings of what appeared to be child stars, though I only recognized a few faces. An infant head covered in a blanket, Spanky from Little Rascals, pupil-less Orphan Annie from the comic and Jonathan Ke Quan, the Asian nerd from The Goonies. Though it's not likely apparent from this here blog, in past online and print lives I devoted quite a bit of energy to child stars, E.T.'s Henry Thomas being number one. In my Portland days I decorated my studio apartment with framed photos of Ike Eisenmann, Peter Ostrum, Mark Lester and the like. At the time it never occurred to me that this would be an appropriate motif for a trendy restaurant.

I'm not sure if this series on 10 Downing's wall was art or décor (I haven't yet deduced who the creator is). I do know that it endeared me to a restaurant that I otherwise might've categorized as solid but typical of what's currently en vogue. Strange how these things work. I'm emotional not rational, and even though I've smartly closed the gap significantly with age my impression of brussels sprouts can still be enhanced by the presence of long forgotten juvenile actors.

10 Downing * 10 Downing, New York, NY

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Mar 11

Matsugen

1/2 So many recession specials, so little time. Maybe a year ago I would’ve felt self-conscious ordering the $35 menu in a pricy restaurant, but not so much right now. Well, maybe a little bit since I didn’t notice anyone else choosing the budget options. Then again, I wouldn’t really lump myself in with the overly perfumed satin-frocked girls’ night out crews nor the large parties of Japanese businessmen, anyway.

During the afternoon I was having an unusual craving for Brazilian churrascarria, but it turned out that James was still doing that Friday Lent thing that I find highly confusing (because why would any religion’s god not want you to enjoy like every cut of meat known to man?). Seafood and noodles, it was then.

We waited in the bar for only about 10 minutes until a proper two-seater opened up (I harbor no inner commie; sharing tables just isn’t convivial to me). In the meantime, I sipped a refreshing shiso cocktail in a tumbler that was possibly meant to serve as a Japanese mojito even though seemed more like a vodka tonic. Whatever it was, the beverage was a step up from the pricier than expected Yuengling pints at Nancy Whiskey Pub a few blocks north. Six dollars for pre-7pm cheap beer in those divey (yes soothing) surroundings?

The six-course omakase is a good value, it turns out, and no the wasabi nuts don’t count as one of that sextet. The only caveat is not to expect a leisurely meal. Pacing was rapid and plates were brought well before previous dishes were finished. Maybe that’s the price you pay for being frugal.

Both tofu and miso soup are so delicate in general, I barely have an opinion about them. This could be an exemplar version and it might be lost on me.

Matsugen kampachi sashimi with spicy ponzu

The kampachi sashimi was hotter and tarter than expected despite the “spicy ponzu” giveaway in the dish’s name. As you can see, said sauce was thick and more like a coarse dressing and really adhered to thin pinkish slices of fish. I would gladly eat a larger portion of this.

The crimson hue of these shrimp makes them look potentially spicy but really the flavor came from the crispy and well-salted exterior only. You can nibble the shishito pepper for heat, if you like. A similar rosy shade tints the mayonnaise dollop evoking Thousand Island dressing, though I’m sure the condiment was not courtesy of Kraft.

Sushi time. No outsized bulging monsters here. Just fresh salmon and tuna with optimum ratio of fish to rice. It goes without saying that I could’ve eaten a few more pieces.

Soba is the only decision to be made. Mushroom or duck. Here is the meatless version served like a soup. Both sobas are warm.

The duck version is for dipping. I don’t know that it’s for eating. I mean, they don’t give you a spoon with this. I had noticed some of those Japanese businessmen holding bowls up to their mouths so assumed it wasn’t wildly uncouth but the broth was very intense and soy saucey and probably not intended for drinking neat. They do call it broth, though. It’s sauce. The seiro soba is light and a blank canvas for that that so-called broth.

Finally, the flan course or more precisely, vanilla caramel custard. I wasn’t expecting something so sweet but was happy it wasn’t black sesame sludge or green tea sorbet.

Ultimately, I wasn’t completely bowled over even though everything was well prepared. I only sampled an abbreviated menu, though. Matsugen is still worth recommending. You could expend way more energy and cash and have a much less satisfying experience.

The aspect I was most struck by had nothing to do with the food. It had to do with the service…specifically our runner. This was the third time in less than a year that I’d encountered this same guy, a soft-spoken E.A. with a high-timbered voice and accent of indeterminate origin. His presence seriously freaked the hell out of me. I first saw him at inoffensive Asiana in Kips Bay (so blah that I never wrote about it here and the review that I was sent there to write never got published). Shortly thereafter, I saw him at Cambodian Cuisine on the Upper East Side. And now at Tribeca’s Matsugen, a totally different beast in aspirations and location.

Just to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating, I asked if he used to work at Cambodian Cuisine and he then said he’d seen me before but thought it was from a previous Matsugen visit. Bizarre. James says he’s a Richard Alpert-style Other, never aging, passing through time. Me, I think he’s a part of The Pattern a la Fringe. And no, I don’t think he’s a Terminator, Hero or Cylon.

Matsugen * 241 Church St., New York, NY

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