Chelsea
December 14, 2009
**** -- Four StarsAddress: 156 Ninth Ave, at 20th St.
Phone: (212)620-4545
Cuisine: Southern-inspired comfort cuisine
Vibe: Charming brownstone
Occasion: Casual date; Group dinner; Bar dining.
Hours: Dinner, Mon-Thu, 5:30p.m.-11a.m., Fri & Sat, 5:30p.m.-12a.m., Sun, 5:30p.m.-11a.m; Brunch, Sat & Sun, 10a.m.-4p.m.
Don't Miss Dish: Hush puppies; Catfish; Brussel Sprouts ;Sweet potato pie; Tipsy Parson dessert.
Average Price: Appetizers, $12; Entrees, $23; Dessert, $8.
Reservations: Recommended
Photo Credit: Jennifer Calais Smith
Capsule: Warm hospitality and wonderful cooking at Tipsy Parson in Chelsea.
How great would it be if you could go out for dinner in your pajamas? Unless you're going to a local diner, eating out requires a certain amount of sacrifice. You have to jump on the subway, walk in the rain, hail a cab, and look slightly presentable. Or, you could just sit on the couch and eat mediocre take-out. As much as I wanted to stay home a few weeks ago, I had plans to go to Tipsy Parson, a new restaurant located in Chelsea, and it was too late to cancel.
A piping hot, buttermilk-chive biscuit with honey butter is so much better than staying home. So is a fluffy bowl of gratineed grits laced with lots of cheese butter and hush puppies with a old bay aioli that could hold their own against the versions being served down south. Every table is welcomed with a homemade herb parkerhouse roll that's to die for. The setting is just as wonderful, designed entirely by the owners themselves. Upfront, there's a casual seating area with cozy couches and an old trunk that functions as a table. There's a long marble bar adorned with flea market knick knacks -- a riding hat, books, and vintage elixir bottles with one that reads "Worm Expeller." In the back of the restaurant, there's an even cozier dining room with French doors that look out onto a backyard, wood floors, brown leather banquettes, and plates hanging along the walls.
Dinner at Tipsy Parson feels a lot like you're eating at someone's house. And in a way, you are. Partners Julie Taras Wallach & Tasha Garcia Gibson first debuted on the New York dining scene a few years ago at Little Giant on the Lower East Side. I always liked Little Giant for its thoughtful cooking, windowed facade, and especially the grasshopper dessert - a bright green mint mousse with chocolate streusel and whipped cream.
But Tipsy Parson further affirms that these are two women to watch. This isn't just Southern comfort food. Dinner begins with a doughy chive-specked parkerhouse roll. There's a terrific warm spinach & kale salad that's got everything going for it in the way of texture and flavor -- crunchy corn bread croutons, dried cherries, button mushrooms and an acidic shallot-sherry vinaigrette that ties the dish together. You rarely see catfish on a menu in Manhattan and the one served here is excellent. Two generous catfish, lightly dusted in celery seed, smoked paprika, coriander, and pepper, are placed above a memorable potato salad. I don't remember the last time potato salad was memorable, but this one's spiced with horseradish and mustard.. My favorite dish on the menu is listed under snacks -- the fig rumaki, which apparently means figs wrapped in sorghum-glazed bacon and stuffed with water chestnuts.
Unfortunately, the celeriac salad -- a mix of celery leaves, fennel, and slivers of Asian pear and apples -- is solely an exercise in texture not flavor. I'd skip the broiled oysters as well, which are overshadowed by much too peppery bacon. No matter. There's too many other terrific dishes, like a velvety parsnip soup garnished with pickled grapes and parsnip chips and a side of sweet, baby brussel sprouts tossed with pecans. I'm a pickle plate person and this one is a first-rate assortment of beets okra, baby carrots, peppers, and onions.
Do stay for dessert as it's chef Julie Taras Wallach's forte. Both the "Tipsy Parson" and the sweet potato pie are two of the best desserts I've tasted in a long time. The restaurant's namesake dessert is a little like an elegant parfait layered with brandy-soaked almond cake, vanilla custard, cranberries, apricots, and toasted almonds. But the sweet potato pie is unforgettable and perfect for the type that doesn't like dessert or opts for the cheese plate. I'm not sure which is better: the sweet potato & greek yogurt filling, the ginger sable crust, or the tangy dollop of sweet sour cream on top.
At some restaurants, homey seems like a theme. At Tipsy Parson, it feels like a genuine sentiment.
February 24, 2009
Apparently the city needs one more pizza joint.
230 Ninth Ave., at 24th St.
(212) 243-1105
Dinner, Tues.-Sat., 5-11 p.m.; lunch, Tues.-Sat., noon-3 p.m. Closed Sun. & Mon.
CUISINE Pizzeria
VIBE Casual Chelsea chaos
OCCASION Group dinner, neighborhood bites
DON'T-MISS DISH Pizza bianca, pizza flambé, chocolate breadcrumb torte
PRICE Appetizers, $5; entrees, $15; dessert, $5.
RESERVATIONS Not accepted
There must be as many pizza places in NYC as there are ATMs. And everyone's got a favorite slice. Talk about a tough culinary genre to break into. Who makes the best crust? Who uses the freshest sauce? Who creates the perfect ratio of cheese to sauce to crust?
People argue about these things all day long.
Forget
the local Ray's. Some say there's no better pizza than the pie at Di
Fara in Midwood, Brooklyn. Others love Grimaldi's on Old Fulton St. And
then there's the original Totonno's in Coney Island.
So does the city really need another pizza parlor? Apparently, we do.
Its name is Company in Chelsea, which was created by Jim Lahey, the accidental bread man. He went off to Italy to become a sculptor of stone and came home a sculptor of dough — specifically rustic, artisanal breads from Tuscany. He became wildly popular at Sullivan Street Bakery, where he baked dark, airy breads with a dazzling, crunchy but thin crust.
Some of New York's finest restaurants depend on Lahey for their nightly bread baskets, so much so that Jean-Georges Vongerichten has backed him at Company. You could always identify Sullivan Street bread in a bread basket. It was an augury of a good meal or at least good taste on the restaurateur's part.
Take that mastery and slide it under a pizza. What you get is a salty, bubbly crust that manages to be chewy, crunchy and crusty at the same time. You might argue that the idea for Company started with the pizza bianca at Sullivan Street Bakery. It earned Lahey a lot of street cred. The version he bakes at Company is slightly saltier. Like all the crusts at Company, it's always perfect.
But it's the only thing that's always perfect at Company.
Unfortunately, pizza isn't just crust. And it isn't just sauce. And it isn't just toppings. It's the quality of these things and their ratio that make a great pizza. From day one, Company has been mobbed. Crowds hover near the door. They jam the tiny bar, waiting for a seat at one of the tables. They huddle around the hostess like Sullivan St. zombies. Which would make sense if the pizza were consistently terrific, but it's not.
People care about toppings, too. Where's the sauce? And where's the flavor, especially in the Margherita pizza — the true measure of any good pizza place? The Popeye pizza sounds like a good idea, but it's really just baby spinach leaves on excellent toast.
Two of Company's pizzas really work — and I mean really. One is the Flambé pizza, which comes topped with bechamel, caramelized onions and thick smoky lardons. The other is the Boscaiola — the everything pizza, Lahey calls it — which comes with, well, everything, including a wonderful, fiery pork sausage.
As for the rest of the menu, skip the salads entirely. Nobody likes to eat tortured radicchio pelted by shitake slivers. Nobody wants to look at a lamentable butter lettuce. Order the toasts, they're perfectly fine.
And what else would be good in a bread maker's joint? The Tuscan bread soup called Ribollita and the chocolate breadcrumb torte. But don't miss the gelati. They're homemade, and they're excellent.
December 11, 2006
104 8th Ave., btwn. 15th & 16th Sts.
(212)488-4800
Hours: 7 days a week, 11AM- 11PM (soon to keep hours until 2AM).
The newest player in the lunch arena, Swich, short for sandwiches, attempts to put itself on the map with pressed sandwiches. This modern, lunch cafeteria is sparsely outfitted with wood floors, a white communal table, and bright green & mirrored walls. Though sleek in that futuristic, Pinkberry sense of the word, Swich manages to evoke a warm vibe. Perhaps that's due to the contagious excitement of owner, John Garguilo, who personally welcomes customers into the space. Swich even encourages its customers to linger over a cup of damn
good, Le Colombe coffee (Le Colombe) and a hip, ipod playlist. But dedicated to the almighty sandwich, John has crafted fresh and creative combinations with cutesy names, all served on fresh breads from Amy's Bread & Pain D'Avignon: the Trojan Horse with ground lamb, tzatziki and mint; the Sidney with ham, white cheddar, and apples; and Thanksgiving Every Day with turkey & stuffing served on cranberry walnut bread.
I started with the Memphis; peanut butter with banana & honey on semolina bread. Grab a napkin before you attempt a bite of this warm comfort food-concoction, served with a glass of whole milk. 
The crunch of tasty, raisin-studded semolina perfectly offsets the silky gooey-ness of the peanut butter. I made a go at the Steak Monster, sliced steak accompanied by caramelized onions, tomato and smothered in steak sauce. While they laid the steak sauce on a little thick and the steak should've been sliced into smaller peices, the meat was surprisingly juicy and tender.
I also dabbled in a deconstructed Hippie Chick, which simply put, is just chicken and avocado on watercress sans the bread. Though dainty and fresh, salads aren't Swich's strong suit: it left me wondering how much better the ingredients would've tasted sandwiched between two warm slices of "impossible wheat" bread. Impossible wheat, a "white wheat" with all of the fiber and nutrition of traditional wheat bread, apparently lacks the bitter aftertaste often associated with wheat bread. While "white wheat" is having its day in England, it has yet to make an impression on the American palate. Swich teamed up with Amy Scherber, of Amy's Bread fame, to introduce it to a NYC lunch crowd. I threw my Bob Cobb, John's take on a cobb salad, on impossible wheat and conducted my own taste test. Mind you, warm bread is always a lure in and of itself, but I thought it held its own as far as bread goes.
Ironically, the best dish at Swich, is not even a sandwich, but the Regionally Famous Sweet Potato Chips. I doubt they're actually "famous", seeing as Swich has only been open for five days, but these salty sweet, paper thin slivers of fried sweet potato (cut in a meat slicer), are reason enough to make a trip to Swich. So is the Edible Happiness, a glorious mess of nutella, dark and white chocolate with evaporated milk, sealed between two thick slices of buttery brioche. There's no molecular gastronomy or even culinary wizardry at play in Swich's kitchen, but who could turn their nose up at oozing, melted chocolate at 2 AM?
Until we eat again,
Restaurant Girl
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August 24, 2006
TYPE: Global fusion cuisine
VIBE: Basement lounge sleek
OCCASION: Get your social amusement fix
CHEAT SHEET:
DRINK: Sparkling rose
START WITH: Maryland lump crab cake
ORDER: Wild mushroom risotto
FINISH WITH: Stroll over to Billy's Bakery for a slice of peanut butter cake.
After the sudden & curious departure of co-owner Alex Freij (Industry), Diner 24 has literally overnight ditched its name and upscale diner menu for globally-inspired fare and the new title of Tour. As tables literally pour out onto the Chelsea sidewalk, this spirited venue begs to be the center of attention. With a windowed facade, stone walls and a tiled ceiling, the only thing missing's a disco ball to nostalgically whisk you back to high school for a game of spin the bottle (if only the lights weren't so damn bright).
After running the show at Ide Mae Kitchen-n-Lounge, chef Kenneth Collins is moving away from his Southern culinary accomplishments to try his hand at just about every other cuisine under the sun. Organized by country, the new menu spans the global map: Greece, Italy, France, Far East, Latin America, and America. At the stroke of midnight, Tour pays homage to classic comfort foods like mac & cheese with a dedicated late-night munchie menu.
Around the world in one meal, I began my trip in France with a Pierre Robert salad, tossed in a gently sweet walnut-sherry vinaigrette, which perfectly offset the saltiness of a decadent hunk of cheese. Then, onwards to Latin America where I sampled the pulled pork arepas, an overly smoky pork tangle atop an all too dense corn muffin, that tasted more like American barbecue than a Venezuelan dish.
In an attempt to show off his versatility, Collins fails to capture the authentic flavors of most countries. Dubbed Thai by Collins himself, the chicken spring rolls were reminiscent of mediocre Chinese takeout. Though geographically logical, the "Greek" baby lamb chops were unnaturally forced onto the same plate as overdressed eggplant and a feta salad.
The one diamond in the rough was an exceptionally light and flavorful wild mushroom risotto, speckled with sweet squash and fresh peas.
The desserts were nothing to speak of, so I won't other than to mention a so-called "peach cobbler" so indistinct, it could've easily been mistaken for apple. But the dessert and the rest of the menu are mostly beside the point at Tour, where diners seem too busy scanning the scene to even notice what they're putting in their mouths.
August 21, 2006
CHEAT SHEET:
DRINK: Cabana flush
START WITH: Pork Shoulder Crepinette
ORDER: Sauteed veal kidneys
FINISH WITH: Walnut caramel nusstorte
Warmly accented with exposed brick walls, wood furnishings & an unusually serene walled garden, this quaint gastropub is the newest addition to the gallery-populated Chelsea. Though the surrounding galleries pay tribute to the finer arts, co-owner and chef, Ralf Kuettel's culinary arts are the center of attention here. Trestle on Tenth's anything but your average neighborhood tavern and you won't find any burgers on this menu. Dubbed Contemporary American fare, the food leans heavily on Swiss influences (horseradish, rye berries, & veal kidneys).
Daring to dine differently, I plunged into the pork shoulder crepinette and was handsomely rewarded with an oddly addictive, melt-in-your mouth patty of savory braised pork. Next, I ingeniously turned a side of gratineed pizokle into a pasta mid-course, I'm sure was a foodie faux pas, but nevertheless a tasty one. Draped in a blanket of gruyere cheese, these doughy dumplings were a sophisticated and decidedly Swiss twist on macaroni & cheese. Normally dismissive of chicken as unadventurous and mundane, I was pleasantly proved wrong by the moist roasted chicken, which arrived in a delicate pool of dill-inflected broth with a melange of summer vegetables.
Unfortunately, the stuffed veal breast, dotted with rye berries, was an overwhelming plate with little reward. Like the veal, many of the menu offerings tend to be on the heavy side, especially for summer, but come fall they'll have a cozy, hibernate-for-winter appeal.
When in Chelsea, eat sauteed pork shoulder crepinettes. Just trust me on this one.
May 12, 2006
85 Tenth Avenue (at 15th Street)
(212)400-6699
RESTAURANT: CRAFTSTEAK
VIBE: MEATPACKING ELEGANCE
OCCASSION: CLOSING A DEAL (BUSINESS OR PLEASURE)
DON'T MISS DISH: WAGYU BEEF (ANY CUT WILL DO!)
DON'T BOTHER DISH: ROASTED JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE
PRICE: EXPENSIVE
RESTAURANT GIRL RATES (1-10): 6.5
As the dirt continues to settle from the onslaught of mega-restaurants fashioned with sky high ceilings, super-sized Buddhas and Asian fusion fancies, the Meatpacking District has overnight become a Vegas-like restaurant row. A disappointing visit to the much-anticipated opening of Buddha Bar (official American outpost of the infamous French hotspot) which included less than mediocre sushi, out of place lamb chops that spoke to neither my French nor Asian sensibilities, and an offensively microscopic droplet of tasteless tuna tartare, caused me to dismiss the Meatpacking District as an aural amusement park with very short culinary legs to stand on.
I had little hope that Craftsteak, which had ironically first opened in Las Vegas, would feel like anything but a virtual experience of what it might actually be like to eat at one of celebrity chef Tom Colicchio's "authentic" Gramercy Craft restauarants. Imagine my surprise when I entered the sexy two-story space to find not a Buddha, gargantuan accent or even DJ anywhere in sight. Separated from the dining room by a impressive bi-level glass wine vault, the dramatic yet understated front entrance lounge with its dark wood tables and simple red votives, dedicated itself to the lunch crowd and evening walk-ins (no reservation necessary) as well as an ice-packed raw bar overflowing with oysters a plenty, shrimp, king crabs and crudo (sushi style fish).
Decked with exposed brick walls, steel columns and a remarkable Hudson River view (catch the sunset), a decidedly airy and masculine main dining room lent itself to a uniquely serene MeatPacking experience. As I sunk into a pillowy soft off-white leather banquette big enough for two and sipped on a glass of Riesling (from a 1000 bottle wine collection), I settled in for a lesson in the finer things of all things beef.
But first, I thought I'd ease my way in with a surprisingly memorable mixed lettuce salad, a blend of freshly-plucked earthy leaves folded into a lively red wine vinaigrette. Then came a silky snapper sashimi delicately dressed in flecked pepper, lemon rind and olive oil, a dish that proved Craftsteak took its seafood seriously.
(SNAPPER SASHIMI)
Now I was ready to delve into the wondrous world of beef, that is if only I knew the difference between corn-fed and grass-fed beef. Luckily for blissfully ignorant carnivores like myself, Craftsteak had a waitstaff of apparent steak sommeliers on hand, eager and willing to break down the lengthy list of meaty choices into digestible terms, according to lineage, feed and cut. I also called the kitchen and got the inside scoop from celebrity chef, Chris Albrecht, which is like talking to George Clooney (if you're a foodie).
SO HERE'S BEEF IN TRANSLATION: THE ESSENTIALS
**Note the eery comparisons to wine tasting
- CORN-FED BEEF - A rich & sweet beef that naturally varies according to both cut and breed.
- GRASS-FED BEEF - A minerally and deep-flavored beef, typically leaner.
- PREMIUM HEREFORD BEEF (House Dry-Aged New York Strip) - Aged in house, this marbleized and characteristically tender beef is aged anywhere from 28 to 56 days. As it ages, it becomes both increasingly intense and nutty.
- HAWAIIAN GRASS-FED - Evokes mineral notes. A distinctly green, almost oniony flavor.
- BLACK ANGUS BEEF - A marbleized rich flavor, but notably leaner than the Hereford breed.
- WAGYU BEEF FROM SNAKE RIVER FARM (Think the Kobe beef of Australia) - A marbleized succulent and strangely toothsome steak graded on a Japanese scale 5-10, according to marbleization. Tip: The higher the grade, the more $$ signs.
The temptation of Wagyu was too great to resist. I chose to feast on a stunning Wagyu flat iron (grade 6), an intensely flavorful peice of meat. Next was a savory-and-sweet Wagyu filet mignon so tender it rendered my knife virtually useless. Though the roasted Jerusalem artichokes paled against the tasty backdrop of my entree, the crispy hen of woods and smoky morel mushrooms were the perfect complement to a rather civilized steak, a welcome change from the usual weighty sides of creamed spinach and hash browns.
By some miracle still beyond my comprehension, I found room for dessert. A warm pot of rich and velvety thick chocolate souffle accompanied by a distinguished pistachio ice cream flecked with pistachio nuts finished the job.
(CHOCOLATE SOUFFLE)
Until we eat again,
Restaurant Girl
