Writing With My Mouth Full

Blue Hill Restaurant

75 Washington Place between MacDougal and Sixth Avenue
212/539.1776
about $300 for two tasting menus and matching wine, with tip
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The Dr. assured me that he passed his two-day long board exams. He won’t find out for sure for another three weeks, but I decided to prematurely congratulate him anyway. He’s always been curious about Blue Hill Restaurant and I’ve wanted to make another visit after a flying roach dropped on my bread plate in the middle of eating my main course. Two years ago, I could have given Blue Hill a four-heart review, but the insect cost them the other half. I know that other people wouldn’t even consider a return if they had the same experience I did. But the food is exceptionally good, inspired by local produce from the Hudson Valley and their own farm up in Stone Barns. I don’t care what people call it–water bug or a super roach–any insect has no place on my plate unless the insect itself is the food. (Hello, memories from eating beetles in Ilocos Sur and chapulines in Oaxaca.)

Why the two hearts again with this review? I’m smiling as I type this: our table was visited by yet another flying roach. I will take responsibility for the fact that I requested, like the last time, to be seated in the back garden instead of the main dining room. Before our tasting menu began, I was already a little wary that it will happen again. The Dr., in his usual composed manner, assured me that it won’t. Sure enough, during our second course, the insect started buzzing around the room. This time, the other diners were also aware of it. It landed on the wall next to me. I stood up, trying to contain myself, and it flew away. Convinced that that was it, I sat back down to try and finish my fish. And then, plop! The insect was inside the Dr.’s wine glass. It fluttered for a second and it flew away again. It never came back, as if it was really just saying to me, Hello, nice to see you again. This time, the other diners saw what happened and complained to our waitress before we did. The Dr.’s wine was replaced and the rest of the night wiled away without incident.

Oh, and the food? Still fresh and delicious, if you can take your mind off the roach story for a minute. We opted for the farmer’s feast which included one appetizer, two main courses and two desserts. The bean salad was delightful, on a bed of purslane and sprinkled with pistachios, made warm with “this morning’s” pullet egg. This was matched with a refreshing Plantagenet Riesling from Australia. A beautifully-done rouget was perfect with some Stone Barns greens tossed in arcuri garlic. Flawlessly-cooked fish just makes me so happy. Another white from Bruno Giacosa in Piedmont was its match. The Berkshire pork tasted a little like offal to me. Maybe because it was too fresh–if there is such a thing. I had to ask for a steak knife to slice through it. It wasn’t tough in an overdone sense; it just didn’t fall apart. The artichoke that was served with it was stuffed with zucchini and ricotta cheese, a quite lovely side I would want to eat again and again. A tempranillo and mazuelo blend was heftier, but kept the buzz in my head going. And mmm, the last two courses were our favorite types of desserts: a fromage blanc sorbet with fresh blueberries and a strawberry granita and sorbet with red and black raspberries. Both were sweetened with a Pineto from Brachetto d’Aqui.

Blue Hill keeps their two hearts from me because I was still impressed with the food considering the circumstances. I will definitely come back a third time, but I’ll make sure I’m far away from the garden.

Goblin Market

199 Prince Street between MacDougal and Sullivan
212/375.8275
$150 for three, with four drinks, with tip
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I’m pretty sure that when the poet Christina Rossetti wrote Goblin Market, she didn’t imagine a restaurant team to be inspired by it. There was something tempting, almost lustful, about the magical fruits the goblin-men were selling. The weak suffered, but one girl stood her ground and kept the evil fruits at bay. The restaurant itself is less creepy than the poem, but the menu is quite persuasive.

We started with a couple of glasses of Cava while we chatted over the menu. They were out of octopus and the charcuterie, so I picked the mahi-mahi ceviche to satisfy my seafood craving. The apple jalapeÃ±o vinaigrette had the right spike, and although creamier than the ceviche I’m used to, I could have ordered a larger plate of it. The watermelon panzanella didn’t fare so well. The sun-dried tomato emulsion was interesting, but the taste too powerful for at least one of us.

It was before July 4th and I was saving myself for the next day’s barbeque fest, but the only seafood dish available was the salmon. A bed of peas, bibb lettuce and mushrooms in a delicate lemon-flavored sauce sounded delicious, if not risky, because how many times have I ordered salmon and it was overdone? My companion encouraged me to give the restaurant a chance. I was glad I did–the salmon was flaky and moist at the same time. The peas and the greens needed to be there; I couldn’t help but scoop up some of the lemon sauce all over my plate.

For the one who wanted nothing but meat, the Angus steak was perfectly done. There wasn’t a trace of the potato purÃ©e on her plate when the waiter took everything away.

It’s rare when a restaurant in New York City has a lot to say but makes so little noise. Goblin Market was certainly in the news when it first opened, but it took me a while to actually visit and taste for myself. Thanks to tourists lining up for anything Mario Batali–they gave us a two-hour wait at Lupa–we walked over to the more quiet Sullivan Street without so much fanfare. I just wished I went sooner.

Related post/s:
Salt is on MacDougal
And so is Provence

Nobu 57

40 West 57th Street between Fifth and Sixth
212/757.3000
about $650 for omakase for six people, 60% comped, with drinks, with tip
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You know when people say it’s all about who you know? I realized what that truly meant last week when I was invited to join a friend’s family for a birthday dinner at Nobu 57. The birthday boy works in the omakase kitchen, so it was just appropriate that he took his family to work to celebrate. The Dr. and I were lucky enough to be included. We joined the celebration a few minutes late. The night was young and already, the restaurant was loud and buzzing with celebrities. Blistered peppers and grilled fava beans were on the table when we arrived. I rarely see fresh fava bean pods in the market, so I was thrilled to see them as appetizers. The kitchen continued to send plate after plate to our table for the next three hours. The celebrant was all too familiar with the dishes because they make at least 500 of the omakase orders a night from the time the restaurant opens for lunch until it closes around midnight. His friends in the back surprised him a few times with new specials.

They started us with the yellowtail sashimi with jalapeÃ±o peppers and the fluke in ponzu sauce. Both were so light I was led to believe that the rest of the night was going to be manageable. But then the presentation began–the kitchen staff trying to impress one of their own. The tuna with spicy cucumbers was served in a martini glass and topped with microgreens. The lobster and shiitake mushroom salad, a popular Nobu dish, became one of my favorites. The lobster was so succulent. The mushrooms only highlighted its decadence. A tofu and mussel salad was more mellow, served in trendy foam made of miso. Although impressive, it was probably the least memorable.

The rock shrimps were served with a spicy cream sauce. I could have done without the creaminess, but apparently, Scarlett Johansson loves them the way they were. The soft-shell crabs were lightly deep-fried and cooked to perfection. I loved them even more because they were served with small chunks of watermelon. Cubed fish was served next on lettuce leaves meant to be picked up with our hands. They were topped with fried phyllo dough that looked like dried noodles. We could have ended our meal there, but the food kept coming. The arctic char was delicately sweet, so grilled cauliflowers and purÃ©ed cilantro sauce were the perfect complements. At this point, I was unable to move, but I had to force myself to keep eating because the beautiful lamb chops came in. These lamb chops made up for all the bad lamb I’ve ever had in my life. Redemption is oh-so-sweet. I could have eaten a few more if only my stomach didn’t beg for me to stop. I had no choice but watch as the rest of the table picked up the sushi pieces in front of me which included a salmon lookalike ocean trout and seawater eel.

Thank goodness the drinks kept pouring. The beer and the wine flowed freely. Two carafes of cold sochu, one pomegranate, another lycheee flavored, disappeared immediately. We were too paralyzed to eat the desserts, but we happily picked on three kinds including the Nobu beer ice cream served with a white peach and jasmine soup and the whiskey milk ice cream with coffee crumble. One by one, the kitchen staff came out to greet the birthday boy. They brought with them a warm chocolate cake with green tea ice cream and a plate of fresh cantaloupe with a flickering birthday candle.

I’m not as young as the celebrant, but I had no reason to complain as we achingly walked out of the restaurant to digest. Happy birthday indeed.

Petite Abeille

466 Hudson Street
212/741.6479
about $45 for three dishes, with two beers, with tip
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With four locations in the city, my favorite is the one on Hudson Street in the West Village. Petite Abeille is known for their mussels. On Wednesday nights, you can eat all the mussels you want for about $20 with a Stella. But I really like their waffles with fresh strawberries, topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with confectionary sugar. I order it whenever I visit one of their locations no matter what time of the day it is.

When it’s warm out, it’s nice to sit by the sidewalk and watch the West Village crowd walk by. For lunch, there are several salads and sandwiches to choose from, but skip the spicy tuna sandwich and stick with the pot of mussels. Dip the crusty bread in the broth and you’re set. Make sure you order a Leffe with it.

Landmarc at the Time Warner Center

Third floor of the Time Warner Center, 10 Columbus Circle
212/823.6123
about $75 for brunch for two, with mimosas and coffee, with tip
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Baby strollers of different sizes and colors almost blocked the entrance. One of the babies being held by its father burped and threw up a gooey substance on the floor. Where were we? We were standing outside Landmarc in the Time Warner Center on a Sunday afternoon. Thankfully, we were seated immediately at the bar which kept us away from any more cranky babies and parents with their hands full. We both stayed out late the night before, so we needed to start our day right. Mimosas were in order–about three glasses apiece, in fact, until the small champagne bottles were empty. I ordered the smoked salmon peppered with capers. I was craving a toasted plain bagel and cream cheese, which I rarely eat, so I was more than happy to eat something unexciting. The salmon was tasty, though, and even the Philadelphia cream cheese was good.

Cameron chose the very filling eggs en meurette, poached eggs served with bacon, onions and mushrooms in reduced red wine sauce. The bacon was chunky and the crusty bread was softened by the sauce. It could have been a classic dinner option because it was so hearty. This stood out among the other breakfast selections. We also split the blueberry pancakes with warm maple syrup. I’ve had a lot of bad pancakes before and I have to say that the Landmarc pancakes were pretty good. Real blueberries peeked from the soft cakes at every slice with a fork. Even with our first two dishes, we didn’t have a problem doing damage to them.

We raved about the coffee. I had to call the restaurant two days later to ask for the source. The coffee is from La Colombe and roasted in Philadelphia. It is also served in restaurants like Daniel and Le Bernardin. It’s $15 for a pound in the Chelsea Market, so I’ll just visit this weekend for dinner and order it after my meal. Babies sleep early, right?