Filed under French, Upper West Side · Print This Post
1900 Broadway between 63rd and 64th Streets
212/595.3034
about $60 each for two, with drinks, with tip
♥
The first time we tried to eat at Bar Boulud, we chose to sit outside with the theater crowd. We were looking at the menu when the heavy wind hit, taking fragile wine glasses with it, shaking the awning violently and scaring the diners enough to make them run inside and to the basement. When it was time for a second visit, I sat at the bar where one of the servers excused himself more than once to use the ham slicer. He heeded my joke about giving me a plate of the jambon for the inconvenience.
The Thomas Schlesser-designed space is stunning. The long vaulted ceiling reminds you of an old wine cellar as soon as you walk in. Even if the restaurant is full–and even if your purse gets bumped into by the runners multiple times–you still get a feeling of some intimacy and warmth.
I can’t resist a duck leg confit whenever I’m eating bistro food, so two of us split that after a serving of pea soup with mint crème fraîche and escargots with potato croquettes. The summer beans were a little too chewy for my taste and I wanted the duck meat to give more easily than it did. I can recall better duck confit at Balthazar.
One of the dessert specials involved blackberries and blueberries so it seemed like the best choice for a summery and tart end to our night. I’m no expert on sweets but I had no clue why whatever came out was chewy and candied. It looked unappetizing. We picked the berries and left the pie barely touched.
I still remember my experience at Daniel six years ago. It was my first foray into fine dining. The food was something I’ve only read in books and seen in photographs. The bill was the first time my heart skipped a beat inside a restaurant. Though I knew that Bar Boulud would be more casual, I still had high expectations of the food. It wasn’t quite what I expected Chef Boulud would put out and approve of.
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I was young then, at Daniel
You’d feel better at Dovetail if you’re in the upper west side
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
