retro than avant garde: the wallpaper has funny water-colored line drawings of whimsical characters, and the tchotchkes that clutter the funky little space exemplify the throwback soundtrack, complete with ceiling fan and leatherette banquettes. It's like a cross between (unfortunately closed) Mr. Donahue's and The Eddy (who lost their magnificent chef, Brendan McHale). So maybe it can swoop in to fill a niche.
It's no diner, though, quaint as it is: the food is much more refined than that. For example, we started off with an English pea tostada smeared with whipped ricotta under a dollop of trout roe, and a Scotch egg slathered in whole grain mustard, so there are far-flung influences. Our server explained that the menu was designed for sharing, 
which servers seem to love to say these days. But nothing was conducive to such: either you'd have to cut things all apart to divide and conquer, or dole them out in portions, but neither were sharing plates nor communal utensils provided for any of the dishes. So while the menu doesn't break down into any categories, it's pretty obvious which ones would work for apps or entrees, and it's really easier that order going that route.
So the aforementioned egg and tostada can be "snacks", and then there are some salads to fulfill the appetizer quota. There is a beet one chummed up with burrata, kumquats and pistachios, or a summer vegetable crudite plate, inexplicably described as "boiled in oil" (??) but still raw. We didn't get it, so I don't know exactly what that meant. But our heirloom tomato panzanella could've use a little more pane, as the super-ripe and juicy fruits released quite a pool of liquid to the bottom of the shallow cerulean bowl,
with not enough croutons to soak it up, but a tasty concoction nonetheless, although not being a watercress fan I would've preferred it festooned with arugula or sorrel. 
Bigger plates were just as individualized; sure, you can share 'em, as pretty much anything is cut-in-halfable. Like that hamburger with its black garlic mayo, zippy pickle, cheddar and fries.... the fries of which definitely got shared amongst us. Especially since the rib eye steak frites came with more of them, pretty good ones too: straight-cut classics, golden and crispy. They come with their own little crocks of ketchup, but the steak got a brown butter hollandaise, which was kind of gilding the lily in terms of richness, but a delicious sauce. Fried chicken comes in a
what would appear as a bucket, but it's a nifty ceramic vessel, stuffed at the bottom making it look like more chicken than you
actually get, but still there is ample bird. The burnt lime here makes sense with the intense curry sauce provided for dipping. Line-caught cod provided a lighter sounding option, but when it arrived, cloaked in parmesan, I feared they were hiding something. But not to worry:
the cloud-like filaments soon dissolved into almost nothingness, although they did contribute so added salinity to an already saline dish. Ribbons of summer squash wrapped around the plush hunk of fish, seasoned with togarashi to liven things up a bit. "Desserts" (sic) are dessert: housemade soft-serve accompanied with fresh fruit and honeycomb is your only option, but it is, finally, probably shareable. And it's really besides the point. The Flower Shop is a really fun appealing destination, with just the right balance of sophistication and quirk to give it personality.
107 Eldr107 Eldridge Street
(212)257-4072 .
idge St.New York, NY
212 257 4072
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