Filed under American, East Village · Print This Post
403 First Avenue corner of 12th Street
646/602.1300
about $80 each for four, with drinks, with tip
♥ ♥
I don’t think I’ve met a more sincere maitre d’ than the petite woman at Hearth. We didn’t have reservations when four of us stopped by. We were hoping to get seated at the kitchen pass, a first come-first served area where food is served omakase style. They had just seated another group a few minutes before we walked in but the maitre d’ let us have a table in the back.
The restaurant was buzzing at 8pm so service was a little too slow. It took about 15 minutes to get the chance to order our cocktails and another 15 to actually receive them. We waited another 20 to order our food. I finally waved to the bread guy to get the sommelier’s attention. We didn’t mind, though, because we were able to catch up with our friend from out of town. (The wine list comes with a lot of copy that can keep you entertained while waiting.)
We started with the New Zealand red snapper crudo with lemon, red pepper and some rosemary. They easily popped in our mouths and they were gone in less than 10 minutes. The fava beans and Pecorino salad was more substantial; the pepperoncini adding just a touch of brightness to the dish’s summer flavor. Our Dame Judi Dench vodkas cooled us down while we waited for our main dishes.
Our friend liked the tagliatelle with Laughing Bird shrimp, arugula and basil. But the other wasn’t a big fan of the pork belly (!) that came with the Berkshire pork loin, so I ended up picking from his plate. After all, there is nothing more sad than pork belly going to waste. The Dr. and I split the braised veal breast with sweetbreads, peas, carrots and Hen of the Woods mushrooms. We paired the dish with a side of very firm but tender gnocchi. It was hearty and earthy at the same time, and with the bottle of delicious Sao, we fast-forwarded to autumn.
Hearth reminds me of the early years of The Tasting Room when everything tasted simple. If I wasn’t still mourning the loss of the Alevras’ restaurant, I’d probably make room for Chef Marco Canora and Jordan Frosolone. But like any other Cia favorites, that comes with more than one visit.
Related post/s:
My heart was broken into smithereens when The Tasting Room closed
This kind of New American cooking reminds me of what Dan Barber is doing
Filed under American, SoHo · Print This Post
462 Broadway corner of Grand Street
212/219.3300
about $120 for two, with four drinks, with tip
♥
L’Ecole’s five-course dinner is probably the city’s lowest-priced prix fixe at $40, but at that unbelievable price, how does the food taste? Well, like $8 apiece. The restaurant prides itself in using sustainable seafood but I missed any information about their meat and vegetable sources. I assume they buy everything from the farmers’ market, but I wonder how they afford to charge less than $10 a plate if that was the case.
An appetizer of asparagus with crumbled chorizo sounded great but came out tasteless. I understood that the pan tomate with Manchego cheese was included to round up a Spanish-inspired dish, but they were disconnected here and the triangle of a sandwich needed to spend a little more time on the grill press.
The scallops were presented well in a row of shells topped with roe. They would have made great amuse bouches as they were actually lighter than the ones we received made of pancake batter.
I looked forward to my trout served in a curried mussel broth on a bed of baby bok choy, but the fish was under-seasoned and no amount of curry rescued it from blandness. The fluke was immemorable with braised cabbage and mushrooms. My Cornish hen needed some sauce to make the white meat taste like something. I thought the rhubarb that came with the duck would have been a perfect accompaniment because I’ve always cooked and eaten Cornish hens with tarty flavors like pomegranate. The duck triumphed as the best dish of the night. The duck breast was perfectly seared while the leg was braised with rhubarb presented, oddly, like Lincoln Logs. However, the bottom half of a side of rice was dipped in the leftover duck sauce and was an unnecessary addition.
We were pretty much satiated with mediocrity by the time we had to order our desserts, so we opted to share the cake with blueberry compote because it came with olive oil ice cream. We just didn’t want to waste any more food.
At L’Ecole, the ingredients used were not a problem. I’m sure there are talented students at the International Culinary Center, but they need to tighten their execution and add some finesse in their cooking to translate what they want to convey on their diners’ plates. I half-expected a professor in the kitchen tasting everything before going out, but it seemed like the students were pretty much on their own. Our waiter was really accommodating, but his every move was ruined by the too-lazy busboy who haphazardly stacked up all our utensils on our plates before briskly taking them way after each course–he just couldn’t wait to get out of there. We couldn’t either.
Related post/s:
SoHo needs better restaurants. Spend your $40 at Bar Bossa instead. At least, they’re consistent.
Savoy for local ingredients
