Flatiron District
June 16, 2009
- Cuisine: Mediterranean
- Vibe: Civilized
- Occasion: Intimate date; business dinner; chef's counter.
- Don't Miss: Sea urchin toast; calamari with squid ink and herb purée; escolar; arroz de pato.
- Price: Appetizers, $9; entrées, $23; desserts, $9.
- Reservations: Recommended
- Phone: (212) 675-7223
- Location: 31 W. 17th St., btwn. Fifth & Sixth Aves.
There's not much to look at in Aldea, a restaurant that recently opened in the Flatiron District. There's no artwork on the walls, no flashy furniture, just a scattering of blond wood tables and muted blue banquettes.
It's a long, narrow space with an open kitchen in the back and a staircase leading to the upstairs dining room. The only prominent flourish is a large cluster of acrylic tubes that dangle over a six-seat chef's counter right in front of the kitchen. I highly suggest you sit at the counter or one of the tables in back, so you can watch the chef at play.
Why is Aldea so plain? Maybe George Mendes doesn't want to distract you from his cooking. After all, he waited two years to get this restaurant off the ground. Mendes has worked in a lot of great kitchens with a lot of great chefs and cooked everything from French to Austrian to American. But when you work for chefs like David Bouley or Alain Ducasse, your job is to cook their food in their style. Now, it's Mendes' turn to introduce his own style.
The menu at Aldea is wholly Mediterranean, inspired by the flavors of Portugal, Spain and the sea. There's sea urchin toast with cauliflower cream and sea lettuce, and salty sardines from Portugal seasoned with Madeira raisins and bitter almond milk. There's a wonderful riff on paella made with duck confit, rice, chorizo, black olives and crispy duck cracklin's. Sometimes, Mendes' style is simple. Dry-cured Portuguese or Serrano ham, garlicky, sautéed shrimp alhinho, or razor clams with ginger.
Sometimes, it's sophisticated and complex, like cuttlefish a la plancha with coconut-curry foam, squid ink and herb purée. There's a lot going on in this dish - a lot of textures, seasonings and technique, and a lot could go wrong. Yet, the cuttlefish comes alive in a playground of harmonious flavors - an unctuous squid ink, a fragrant coconut-curry foam and herb purée. I also had an unusually tender hanger steak topped with a sunnyside-up egg and bone marrow marmalade, and sided by a potato-oxtail terrine.
But there are some potholes in this menu. I was eager to try Mendes' house-cured salt-cod - a Portuguese specialty called bacalao - but it was a bland, poached letdown served in a listless smoked-jamon broth. The roasted pork shoulder was tough and poorly paired with littleneck clams and vegetable pickles. And the "jardin" was a yawn of a salad with spring lettuce, figs and a few shavings of cheese. In fact, I think the kitchen forgot to dress it with the port vinaigrette advertised on the menu.
The wine list is unnecessarily confusing. Instead of separating the wines by the glass from the wines by the bottle, Aldea clumps them all together. The result is a roomful of diners using their finger as a highlighter to sort through the selection.
For dessert, take advantage of the house-made sorbets, especially the chamomile and passionfruit. Or just order the chilled rhubarb and strawberry soup, which comes with the passionfruit sorbet and a eucalyptus panna cotta. Here's what I like most about Aldea: It's a formal-looking, but plain restaurant, with informal prices and mostly great food.
September 15, 2008
CUISINE Southern French
VIBE Think yacht chic
OCCASION First date, group dinner, business lunch
DON'T-MISS DISH Heirloom tomato salad, seared dorade, chocolate fondant
PRICE Appetizers, $15; entrees, $26; dessert, $10
RESERVATIONS: Recommended
Capsule: You'll want to become a regular at Allegretti.
Allegretti is growing on me. And that very fact demonstrates one of the few drawbacks of being a restaurant critic. I don't get to be a regular anywhere.
What could be better than a restaurant where you don't
even have to order, where the server already knows how you like your
steak and martini? (Ice-cold vodka in a martini glass, please. Olives
on the side.) There's a lot of pleasure in trying a new dish every
night, but there's something to be said for eating the same thing over
and over again. In a place you can count on.
Allegretti
might just be that kind of place. Not everything on the menu could be
my regular dish. But the Niçois ravioli could. You'd think ravioli
stuffed with braised oxtail and swiss chard would be too wintry for a
summer's night, but it isn't. If this were my regular dish, I'd be
looking forward to the moment when I found myself thinking about the
beef jus spooned over the ravioli. But it isn't just the jus that makes
this dish. It's the toasted pignoli. The thick shavings of parmesan.
And best of all, the threads of candied orange peel and glazed swiss
chard stems. This Niçois ravioli is upscale, yet accessible. That's
Allegretti in a nutshell.
What could be more everyday than roasted chicken? On the menu, it appears as "Organic Chicken Breast" - a boring name if ever there was one. But it's à l'étouffée - smothered with lemon and seasoned with white wine, chicken jus, tomato, parsley and tons of capers. This is a dish of many small gifts - roasted tomato, potatoes fondant and an eggplant-wrapped mozzarella that's just as good as the chicken itself.
The restaurant is named after its chef, Alain Allegretti, who trained under Alain Ducasse and Jacques Maximin. Allegretti is Niçois himself. Translation: He's from Nice and has a flair for fish. And there's plenty on the menu - ceviche, dorade, calamari stuffed with shellfish and pan-seared sea scallops. Rouget, aka mullet, is not an easy fish to get right. Even some of the best chefs botch it. Either the skin's crispy and the flesh is dry or the flesh is moist and the skin's rubbery. But somehow, Allegretti nudges all the nuances from rouget.
Now, here's what's not so good. The octopus à la plancha - ordinary. The roasted halibut on a risotto paella cake - overcooked. The duck magret was fine, but not as good as the warm salad of summer beans, peaches, and radishes it came with.
One reason to return to Allegretti is the wine list, which is excellent. Don't just order a bottle. Order by the glass. Think of this as dinner with a wine tasting. My suggestions: the Muri-Gries Müller Thurgau 2007, the Paul Vendran Viognier 2007 and the Domaine Michel Gros Pinot Noir 2005. These wines, too, are upscale and accessible - sophisticated but reasonably priced.
Allegretti is growing on me because it's still growing into itself. So is the neighborhood, which you might call Flatiron West, a district largely devoid of chef-driven restaurants. And there's more to come from Allegretti. I find myself thinking about the wood-burning oven, which hasn't been fired up yet. But when it is, I'll be back.
January 15, 2008
Address: 920 Broadway, at 21 St.
Phone: (212) 533-3663
Dinner: Mon.-Thurs., 5-11 p.m.; Fri. & Sat., 5 p.m.-midnight; Sun., 5-11 p.m.
Cuisine: Italian-American
Vibe: Retro glamour
Occasion: Group dinner, casual date
Don't Miss Dish: Ricotta bruschetta, pumpkin mezzaluna
Price: Appetizers, $6-$18; entrees, $15-$23; desserts, $7-$9
Reservations: Recommended
Capsule: Manhattanified Lunetta is but a pale reflection of the original.
Manhattan has seen its share of Brooklyn-Italian imports over the past two years. Frankies Spuntino set up an outpost on the lower East Side, Aurora surfaced in SoHo and Lunetta just recently cropped up in the Flatiron District. But Lunetta's journey across the bridge was by far the most untraditional and storied of them all.
Partners Adam Shepard and Jim Heckler launched the Boerum Hill eatery as a modern Japanese restaurant named Taku. Though Shepard received critical acclaim as a chef, Taku struggled for an audience. So they radically transformed the restaurant into small-plates Italian Lunetta. Long waits and packed tables instantly followed.
The partners saw so much success there that they decided to convert Heckler's high-end diner, Mayrose, into a bigger, Manhattan-sized Lunetta. While Brooklyn was a tight squeeze for 38, its Flatiron spinoff can seat over 76. The menu and even the meatballs are bigger in Manhattan.
Other than the trademark moon logo, the two siblings look nothing alike. Designer Fernando Santangelo has sleekly outfitted the new space with marble tables, chocolate leather banquettes and black-and-white checkered floors.
Luscious and buttery ricotta is reason enough to pay either Lunetta a visit. It's spread on crusty bread and exhilarated by honey, lemon zest and hazelnuts. Even better is the duck agnolotti, stuffed with savory duck and perfumed with intoxicating hints of rosemary. Delicate mezzaluna (half-moon ravioli), plump with pumpkin, are sauced with brown butter and sage. With the exception of linguine and unpleasantly fishy clams, the pastas are excellent.
But too many of Shepard's dishes fare better in Brooklyn. On a recent visit to Boerum Hill, his signature meatballs still proved tender and fluffy; porchetta arrived succulent and yet light on its feet. And an appetizer of roasted pumpkin got a vibrant dash of chili and honey.
At the Flatiron outpost, baseball-sized meatballs, leaden with a surplus of pine nuts and raisins, could've doubled as heavy artillery. An excessively chewy porchetta - pork belly rolled up like a bouche de noel - was overrun with coriander and mustardo. The pumpkin agro dolce (sweet and sour) turned up oddly soaked in vinegar with combatant slivers of red onion.
And there's just something about Brooklyn's resoundingly quaint setting and picturesque window view of Smith St. that you can't replicate. Still, Shepard's ricotta bruschetta and first-rate pastas are attractive hooks luring a trendy lot to the lofty, Flatiron setting.
And while entrees proved inconsistent, dessert proffers a solid selection. A wonderfully simple apple crostata yields a doughy crust punctuated by crunchy bits of raw sugar, and a unique rendition of cheesecake employs goat cheese folded with Concord grapes that manage to permeate each bite.
Lunetta arrives in Manhattan a watered-down version of the original. Though it has the promise of a fine chef, it hasn't yet mastered its inflated, new domain. Perhaps it should take some kitchen cues from its older, wiser sibling.
June 9, 2007
If opening night is any indication of Hill Country's big city debut, New Yorkers are rolling out the welcome wagon for the newest in barbecue. This generous bi-level space on the outskirts of the Flatiron District, embraces its down & dirty southern roots with Western accoutrements, unfinished wood floors, communal tables and Americana signage. First-time restaurateur Marc Glosserman, an ambitious Jew from nowhere near the Lone Star state (Maryland), has wisely recruited Queens pitmaster Robbie Richter and "lady of the grill", Elizabeth Karmel, to run three high-tech Hickory smokers and a well-endowed assemblage of southern-stamped sides and desserts.
Pass your wait at the front bar, where you can buy a round of tequila shots, browse the all-Texan wine list or elect for a cocktail. I kept returning to an addictively refreshing caipirita, a cilantro-spiked blend of tequila, lemon & lime juice, until we were finally handed a meal ticket, then called to take our place in a line that impressively spanned the length of the first floor. First up, all things barbecued and dry-rubbed of course. The supply of chicken had long since run out, so we ordered pork spare ribs, boneless prime rib, & Texas-imported Kreuz sausage (jalapeno cheese and regular). Served up cafeteria-style on plastic trays, all meats were delivered on sturdy brown paper, then plopped onto a scale. Finished there, we moved right along to the hot & cold sides station, where we had a choice of cheddar mac & cheese, sweet potato bourbon mash, campfire baked beans & green beans casserole. While barbecue loyalists may turn their nose up at the very notion of dessert, I dare suggest you hit up the sweets station. Bypass dried-out pecan pie tartlets and beeline it for the pb & j cupcakes. I promise you won't regret it.
We dined like savages on the subterranean second floor with its own cowboy boot-crowned bar & live music stage. Austin legend Redd Volkert and his band Heybale were in the house to kick off the finger lickin' opening night ceremonies. As the band played on, we gnawed on blissfully sweet and fatty pork ribs. Chubby string-in sausages were kicked up a notch by fresh bits of smoky jalapeno and gooey melted cheese, but the real find at Hill Country hands-down is the prime rib. Don't let the brown paper platform fool you: this refined, unusually supple and flavorful cut of cattle warrants no more than a simple butter knife.
As far as sides go, savory campfire baked beans intermingled with smoky chunks of pork, were the perfect complement to any of the above barbecue opportunities. Ditto on a vinegary cucumber salad. I was less impressed by an overly chewy mac & cheese, but the green beans casserole, sprinkled with bread crumbs & mushrooms, proved a tasty & worthwhile vegetable accompaniment.
Last but not least, the pb & j cupcake holds its own in a city ravaged by a hefty stockpile of cupcake competitors. While I was content nibbling at the rich, peanut buttery frosting, my companion urged me to dig deeper into the perfectly moist cake, where I discovered a rich grape jelly filling. On Hill Country's behalf, I'm challenging Magnolia to a duel.
Hill Country is anything but sophisticated, but that seems to be exactly the point. A surreal mix of barbecue fanatics, Texans nostalgic for home and friends of Marc Glosserman, Hill Country's energy is contagious. Though you might want to practice your two-step game face or else prepare to face your painfully obvious East Coast upbringing.
Address: 30 W. 26th St., near Broadway
Phone: 212.255.4544
Until we eat again,
Restaurant Girl
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October 18, 2006
53 West 19th Street (btwn. 5th & 6th Aves.)
(212)255-4160
TYPE: Regional Spanish cuisine
VIBE: Sleek cervezeria
OCCASION:
Not one for the communal table trend that has sprung onto New York's restaurant scene, I was hesitant to accept a seat at Boqueria's, the centerpiece of this bustling dining room. But with a long wait ahead for privacy, I reluctantly plunged into the giant table full of strangers. But they weren't strangers for long: before I knew it, a diner at the far end was offering me a glass of sangria, the beginning of an evening of plate passing and tapas sharing.
It's the simple pleasures that stand out at Boqueria and there are many to be had; warm cabrales & almond-stuffed dates, generously wrapped in thick, salty bacon, is a beautiful blend of sweet & savory. Another rite of passage are the padron peppers, roasted to a blistery perfection and simply seasoned with coarse sea salt, some with a surprise kick. When available, snatch up at least one order of the cuttlefish special; a sensational snarl of cuttlefish prepared two ways (plancha-grilled & cured in lemon juice), both superiorly tender, pleasingly punctuated with slivers of apple, plump peas, garlic, shallots and mint.
The three croquetas are another story; nicely crusty on the outside, the centers were lukewarm bechamel with fillings so indistinguishable, we couldn't be certain which one was ham, chicken or mushroom. Equally, the salt cod was lost in a tangle of frisee and pear slices, overdressed in a "Picada" vinaigrette.
Onto the paella, which was a delectable and crunchy surprise; a bed of twice-cooked Calasparra rice, bathed in a bright mussel broth, then dotted with tender mussels, plump shrimp, chicken and chorizo. I found myself competing with my newfound eating partners over the boldly flavored chunks of chorizo (I suggest adding more or a food fight could break out on my next visit).
But there were some missteps on the menu, which came mostly in the form of salads, a confusion of competing and incompatible flavors, as well as dried-out meat dishes. After dabbling in the lamb offerings on repeat visits, I'm forced to conclude that lamb's not Boqueria's strong suit. The grilled lamb tapas, accented with lemon and cumin, could've easily been mistaken for indistinct cubes of beef. And there was nothing fall-off-the bone about an over-cooked lamb shank, which tasted gamey, oddly paired with plums and a thick, tart yogurt, which only confounded the flavors further.
I wasn't expecting such a fulfilling ending to the meal, but along came
the chocolate and hazelnut mousse, two luscious pudding-like puffs, one
of rich coffee-spiked mousse, the other, a dark chocolate counterpart.
As if that weren't enough, the accompanying hazelnut ice cream, sprinkled
with candied hazelnut crumble, made dessert at Boqueria a truly
decadent affair - one that's most definitely worth saving room for.
Though the food's not perfect, Boqueria's clearly getting better everyday as was made evident by the patatas bravas, which on my first visit arrived sadly chewy and bland; by my second they had made crispy headway, although still lacking in the spice department; but on the third visit they had clinched a perfectly crispy potato, laced with a spicy aioli. There's another reason that people are packing into the cozy bar area to wait for a table: perhaps it's the notion of eating in a stylish space, refreshingly smaller than an airplane hangar (Buddha Bar quickly comes to mind), or maybe it's the simple, but inspired Spanish fare, both lacking in even the slightest hint of pretension.
Until we eat again,
Restaurant Girl
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