FERRIS

There are pretty much two associations people make with the word Ferris, both of which are fun and festive.  A Ferris wheel, with all its freedoms and nostalgia and jubilation, and Mr. Bueller, of course, who too shares those endearing attributes.  Our NYC Ferris opened up recently in the Flatiron district of midtown is a subterranean destination that embodies everything a good Ferris should.  You can enter this little subterranean nook either through The Made Hotel in which it is located, or via a sneaky staircase just to the right of the hotel entrance, which descends past a covered garden space which will be something else to look forward to, come summer.  For now, It's a pretty tiny space, though, and some of the design decisions and/or existing infrastructure doesn't help to open things up. Apparently the rest of the world really IS as exuberant about pillows as decorating magazines make them out to be.  I, personally, am NOT a fan, especially when they practically push you off the edge of the banquette and impede the already compromised elbow-room of closely tucked in tables.   But pushing as much as humanly possible into very circumspect surrounding is a theme that also carries over into the menu, most items which pack a lot of components into their makeup.

In order to get some of these on your table, your uber-friendy and vivacious server can fetch you cocktails, and these live up to the atmosphere.  Of course they come with clever names, but are just as artistically composed, seasonal and balanced.  There were a lot of special additions to the menu on my visit, probably too many and too complex, in fact, to be expected to consider on the fly.  They all sounded great from what I could retain, though, even as we did end up sticking with that which we had preselected.  The menu lists plates grouped mostly according to size: so a little guidance in terms of volume is necessary.  We ended up ordering too much, but not far too much, given my tablemate's voracity (and that we chosen the lighter dishes on the docket).    Because of the primarily small plate format, dishes come out as they may, which may or may not be in keeping with when you'd like them, but we started off strong. In fact, the first two dishes we tried may have been the best of the night:  a wonderful plate of beets,
sweet as dessert, were pushed as far to one edge of the plate as possible, so hopefully you are on that side, or have long arms or good plate-rotating skills.  'Cause these beets are amazeballs..... they are like dirty candy crack, and pretty as pretty can be.  Whimsical slices of raw chioggia decorate the cooked ones underneath, the latter's  sugars concentrated by an aggressive roast.  These are pillowed by a creamy whipped feta studded with nuggets of pistachio, and as pretty as it is, it's that much more delicious.

Another uber-winner was the octopus, to be found amongst the mid-sized plates, but it was pretty dang small.  What is lacked in heft it by far compensated for in flavor, though.  Tender nubs of tentacle sat atop a mesmerizing egg custard, greyed with ink (or so I think) (Ha.  'Dja see that, Dr Seuss?) and a smattering of crunchy, crispy, salty croutonettes of potato... which they say were confit, but that would imply.... well, several things.  None of which would result in what resulted, unless you just confited the HECK outta those things until they were virtually French's onions, potato-style.  But I'll upside-down-and-backward forgive the faulty description even just for the memory of how good that little plate was.


Charred broccolini balanced its healthy reputation with the incineration of its florets nuzzled into unctuous, Timur (a Szechuan-related pepper)-spiked yogurt and a dusting of pulverized cashews.  Delightfully crunchy elements complemented many of the dishes, imparting a lot of textural intrigue to go along with the barrage of interesting flavors that are already in play.      More veggies came in the form of braised bok choy, although these might've been my least favorite, the crisp bulb of veg left a little too crisp, and shrouded much too heavily with slightly fishy tasting breadcrumbs.









Your action-plan at Ferris should either be to do as we did, and order a bunch of small plates, or as the table next to us did, order a bunch of friends to accompany and go for some for he large format plates.  One of which is a Cote de Boeuf, which includes "all the fixings".... and they're not exaggerating. There were sauces and bowls and all sorts of good things that came along with the hulking cut of meat, maybe the most intriguing of which was a buttermilk-poached onion dip that made we want to ask these strangers for a taste.  The atmosphere here is so festive and
 communal, they probably would've said yes, but our table was pretty full as it was, so I restrained myself, and certainly wasn't going to starve as a result.









A simple filet of striped bass (now hake in a clam broth) retained its shatteringly crisp skin above an umami-packed dash, abut while its flavor was deep and complex, it was strikingly simple, especially in comparison to all the busier multi-faceted dishes on the menu.

In fact, the dishes might be so flavorful and intricate that to some extent, fewer of them is more.  By the time our one large-format dish arrived, I think my senses were somewhat numbed.  My casual-vegan tablemate kept us on a more plant-based regimen, otherwise I would've gone for the grilled lobster tail with hearts of palm.   Instead, we allowed Forbidden Rice to join our ranks, but frankly while the nutty attributes of the dense rice, roasty nubs of romanesco and deeply toasted almonds were nicely balanced by gently bitter chicories, my appetite had kind of topped out to justly appreciated this dish or anything else that would've come.

Thus, we went lighter than light for dessert..... basically a palate cleanser in my opinion, but suitably refreshing.  The dessert menu wasn't printed nor listed online, but to the best of my recollection it was a yuzu sorbet, and it was delightful.  Our next-table gluttons were waxing about the cardamom cake, however, so on a subsequent visit, or for yours, I might suggest that if you can retain the capacity, or better yet- get both.  So far as I can tell, as little elbow-room as there is inside the restaurant, so to is the very slim chance of ordering something at Ferris that isn't just excellent.

44 W 29TH ST NYC

 

212-213-4420