Bar
October 23, 2007
This weekend we stumbled upon a truly peculiar cocktail at Double Down Saloon, the New York spin-off of an infamous Las Vegas bar. This artful dive bar serves up a house-infused bacon vodka. Committed to his peculiar vision, the owner has special bacon flown in from Kentucky, which he then fries up and soaks in high-quality vodka to create a "Bacon Martini" or Bloody Mary. And if bacon vodka wasn't sufficiently audacious, each martini is topped with a juicy stick of Slim Jim to gnaw while sipping. Bartender Joan likens the libation to "a good scotch."
Address:14 Avenue A, just above Houston St.
Phone: (212)982-0543
doubledownsaloon.com
November 20, 2006
151 West 54th Street, nr. 7th Ave.
(212)468-8889
website
With two successsful restaurants in London (Restaurant Gordon Ramsay & Maze), not to mention a reality tv show that's gained him temper tantrum notoriety, Gordon Ramsay sets his sights on NYC's London Hotel (formerly the Righa Royal). The London Hotel is officially now home to two Gordon Ramsay restaurants: Gordon Ramsay at the London, a 45-seat formal fine dining affair, and a more casual small plates experience in The London Bar, with seating for 80. Ramsay has put chef de cuisine, Neil Ferguson, in charge of overseeing both menus as well as a three-floor kitchen with 80 cooks.
As if I was passing through the gates of Buckingham Palace, I made my way through the well-guarded doors of The London Bar, surrounded by an army of hosts and doormen. An exercise in art deco elegance, The London Bar, is trimmed in silver, blue and wood hues with posh accents - a white marble bar, hammered silver wall panels, limed oak floors and powder blue banquettes - all the work of designer David Collins.
I was escorted to a table in The London Bar, in close proximity to the entrance for Ramsay's apparent better half, Gordon Ramsay at The London. As I eyed the opaque glass door, watching expats and a well-dressed bunch shuffle in and out, I couldn't help but feel like I was staring at the wrong side of the first class curtain on an airplane. After waiting over thirty minutes for a wine list and signs of waiter life on Planet Ramsay, I finally flagged down a server and begged her for a London Gimlet. While anxiously awaiting my cocktail and a damn menu, I was happily distracted by the sight of Gordon Ramsay, parading around the room in his white chef's jacket.
While the waitress explained the menu to be French with an Asian bent, there were notable Middle Eastern influences at play, many dishes seasoned with Moroccan spices, raisins, prunes and curry. I couldn't even humor the cliche appearance of scallops, prepared with golden raisins & cauliflower, a dish running rampant on every new restaurant menu this fall. Like the scallops, many of the dishes seemed to have that "been there, done that" familarity.
We began with a carpaccio of tuna and swordfish; paper-thin slivers of raw tuna and swordfish, delicately washed in a lime and cucumber marinade, and a gently sweet soya dressing. I even ate the bright pansies, which decorated the well-executed offering. Though I equally enjoyed the presentation of a peekytoe crab mayonnaise with avocado and sweetcorn sorbet, served in a tall martini glass, I should've been content to admire it from afar. 
The mayonnaise overwhelmed the crab, which was perhaps a good thing, seeing as the crab itself, was alarmingly fishy, and the sweet corn sorbet, too cold a complement for this disastrous dish. We quickly pushed it aside to concentrate on a warm onion veloute, a luscious buttery foam, topped with savory nibbles of duck ragout and fragrant shavings of Perigord truffle.
Next came the marinated beetroot, sandwiching a soft cloud of ricotta, then elegantly doused with pine nuts and a Cabernet Sauvignon dressing. The native lobster risotto, perfectly cooked, was nicely inflected with lemongrass and Thai basil. It would've been a lovely endeavor, if only it hadn't been topped by a gilthead bream, that like most of the fish I experienced here, was overly salty. Though the artic char suffered the same fishy fate, an accompanying strip of wonderfully flavorful pork belly, escaped unscathed.
Despite warnings from a New York Times interview, which quoted Ramsay saying, "any patrons trying to take pictures of it (the food) would be banned", I felt compelled to document an uninspired
lamb cutlet with braised neck. Still, I kept waiting for Ramsay to dart out from the kitchen to snatch my camera.
I finished my evening in "Hell's Kitchen" with a warm Valrhona chocolate fondant, laced with green cardamom and caramel. Sadly, a side of almond ice cream, was overpowered by bitter chunks of sea salt. It was a rocky opening night for Ramsay, but hopefully the kinks will be quickly worked out and Ramsay will be as critical of his own food as he was of the young chefs on his FOX reality show.
Until we eat again,
Restaurant Girl
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August 10, 2006
355 West 14th Street at Ninth Ave.
(212)691-0555
www.ginlanenyc.com
Savory NY video
TYPE: Continental/Raw bar
VIBE: 30's supper club
OCCASION: Let them lure you to linger over dinner or stumble in for a late-night bite
Tucked into a nondescript, barely marked storefront in typical speakeasy fashion, Gin Lane draws little attention to itself, at least not from the outside. But step foot inside, and you'll feel as if you've accidentally wandered onto the set of The Great Gatsby, 1930's style. This former Village Idiot space has been transformed into a grandiose supper club, decked out in burgundy leather banquettes, retractable skylight, mammoth oak bar and wrought-iron chandeliers. Nothing like its ultra-trendy neighbors (Spice Market & Sascha), Gin Lane is a throwback to the past, a time of excessive drinking and eating.
Wearing tucked-in ties, plaid pants and converse sneakers, the subversive schoolboy-clad waitstaff were eager and willing to deliver mixologist Dale DeGroff's latest cocktail list. In the spirit of the restaurant's namesake, I tempted the gin-laced French 75 classic, a refreshing concoction with the perfect balance of champagne, Hendrick's gin, lemon juice and a touch of simple syrup. And while the grapefruit julep was equally as pleasing, both the Strawberry Nirvana & Bees Knees Classic were too syrupy sweet to be taken seriously, never mind paired with such savory classics as onion soup and filet mignon, leaving me to suspect that the bartenders were taking liberties with DeGroff's recipes.
In keeping with the old school theme, the chef from the Plaza Hotel's now defunct Oak Room, now presides over Gin Lane's classic continental kitchen. I began with an unusually moist & meaty crabcake, playfully perked up with a grain mustard remoulade and a touch of paprika oil. Then, plump oysters frolicked in a puddle of bechamel sauce, spiked with parmesan and sauteed spinach. The organic heirloom tomato salad was a disappointing and tasteless display of less than mediocre tomatoes with little trace of balsamic vinaigrette. Thankfully, the golden brown French fry flight made up for the tomato incident. Hand-cut belgian fries arrived wrapped in paper, seasoned three ways: blue cheese with garlic & chopped parsley (my favorite), chipotle with salt & pepper, and caramelized shallots with parsley.
While I should've wanted to linger over dessert and recline further into the banquette, two things were conspicuously missing from Gin Lane; cozy seating and cozy desserts. Though the mango tapioca pudding was a lovely and delicate gesture, I wanted to eat something I would regret. I wanted to sink into a banquette filled with pillows, perhaps plaid ones, while I engaged in some heavy foreplay with a hot fudge sundae or gooey chocolate cake. Alas, creme brulee just seemed too civilized after a sordid night of bar-hopping in the Meatpacking district.
Until we eat again,
Restaurant Girl
