front, which looks a little dated and, frankly, morose. The room might appeal to the moneyed Upper East siders which it mostly attracts, but actually the restaurant needn't necessarily be a splurge: an excellent meal could be made of a variety of of options using a little penny-conscious savvy. Or, one can go all out, truffles and fois, to make up a repast quite fit for a very special occasion.... or even have the repast be a special occasion.
The staff and waiters were certainly comptent, Ms. Farkas herself gliding through the dining room, seating patrons and keeping her expert eye to assure all the cogs were operating seamlessly. But there lacked much affection between server and servee, beyond just the inquiry of having finished a dish or not, and consistently refilling glasses of water. This didn't seem to affect much the temperament of guests, however, who all seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, in fact so much so that the noise level was surprisingly boisterous. One would think the high ceilings and carpeted floors, as well as the proportionately mature clientele, might provide a more placid noise level, but I actually found myself leaning in on more than one occasion to hear my dining companion. But most of the time, our mouths were too full to talk, happily full, as soon our food arrived.
The menu follows a steakhouse format: everything is quite strictly a la carte, so know that your roast half chicken with choice of sauces (I recommend the Grand Mere) is simply that. All sides need to be commanded independently, which can make that $26 bird a little less economical as just a part of a meal, instead of comprising it. Sizing is a bit inconsistent, too: salads are easily large enough to share, but a portion of roasted leeks was better off for an individual, although the chewy, meaty slice of rich slab bacon underneath the vertically propped
alliums made the dish all the more hefty, along with a creamy crushed egg vinaigrette. The black truffles, which were the justification of its $18 price tag, weren't particularly flavorful, as slices of
cold truffles tend not to be. It might be better to restrain your truffle budget to where it is employed with warm food stuffs, as that is where is really performs most gloriously. For luxury, opt for the terrine of fois gras, its highlight a warming zesty apple chutney. The fois itself plays its typical suave role, but with plain white toast as the co-star, the chutney definitely steals the show.
As for that chicken, its a plush and luxuriant bird, regardless of the chosen sauce. Really, the chicken is so juicy and luscious it needs no augmentation, although I wholeheartedly recommend the sauce grand-mere with its mushrooms, red wine and bacon. But all sauces sound like valiant counterparts, from the Provencal flecked with the classic herbs, Marocaine kicked with cumin and coriander, or a bright, verdant chimichurri. That said, even the grand-mere has but a couple of errant floating mushrooms, so side dishes are pretty much a must, unless you consider the fat bulb of creamy, pungent garlic
adequate roughage. I cannot resist
roasted Brussels sprouts, a solid preparation with roasted apple and bacon so smoky it infiltrates the entire dish. Even so, crispy
sunchoked or orange roasted
along with the other "Pour Deux", it is certainly sufficient for that many. It's gleaming silvery skin can barely contain the flavorful tender flesh literally bursting through: I think this is the best simple whole roast fish I have ever had. An herby tomato-fennel concasse atop was vibrant and flavorful, but I was afraid to use too much even to mask at all the wonderfully fresh fish. But it was light enough just to enhance the flavors, and the whole dish was certainly the highlight of the menu.
Or was the Pavlova? I loved this crispy meringue cocoon of syrupy port-roasted plums bedecked with plump blackberries and a sprinkling of crunchy pistachio bits. Supposedly there was a ginger granita lurking about somewhere in this little delight, but I'm not sure where it was hiding. And while I'm not a chocolate person, the Souffle au Chocolat Amer was a marvelous chocolate option, the "amer" not to be mistaken for "American", it is unmistakably French for bitter, and an alluring subterfuge of fluffy cloud-like souffle relinquishing itself into a lusciously creamy bittersweet pudding beneath. The extra three dark chocolate truffles aside may have been extraneous, but it would be silly to turn down extra truffles.
The coffee their using at Georgette is equally as lush and rich- even the decaf was wonderfully smooth and strong, an excellent counterpart to both desserts. Its actually a good illustration of everything chez Rotisserie G. She is using exemplary ingredients to their finest advantage. There is little reinvention or modernism going on here, but sometimes if it ain't broke, don't fix it.
14 East 60th Street