PASTIS

Just like the old location, the new Pastis is buzzy and as hard to get a table at as the old one.  And just like before, the scene and the name and the hype are much more of a draw than the food, although it certainly provides palatable sustenance to go along with the experience.   The food is at times quite good, and serviceable when it is not.  The dining room is slightly smaller than the original, as far as I recall, but the decor evokes the same, classic Parisian bistro atmosphere; the red banquettes, specials marked on mirrors, and an abundance of francophiles.  Even our server was a dashing French gentleman, adding a lot to the ambiance, and he paid good attention to us as well.


I arrived a little later than my tablemate, who had already made solid progress on a chilled, pistachio-studded pate, sided with zippy pickled onions, cornichons, and toasted hunks of rustic baguette.  I ordered an heirloom tomato salad sas my starter, but it didn't arrive until the entrees did, perhaps conceived as a side dish rather than a salad as I intended.  Instead, it served as an assiette, although in retrospect I wish I would've ordered one of those additionally, since I ate my tomatoes before getting to my entree, in which the vegetable component  seemed pretty scanty (here and in all cases).  They were lovely, juicy,

market-fresh tomatoes, however, of varying hues and degrees of fruitiness, speckled with fresh chervil and basil.

Hamburger à l'américaine c/o Nick Solares

My go-to source for all things meat related, and hamburgers in particular, Nick Solares had this to say about Pastis' rendition: "Cheeseburger à l’Américaine. Pastis. Believe the hype on this one. It’s an absolutely killer chef’ed up version of the classic double patty smash burger. "   So if you're the hamburger type, I 
would rank this one high.  We were a more piscine duo, my tablemate opting for moules
 frites , and I, the skate Moutarde.  The mussels were deep bowl of glossy black-shelled mollusks,
 submerged in a garlicky white wine broth touched with cream. They were sweet and plump, and fairly perfect as far as mussels go.  The frites were good, crisp and salty, the best ones showing a bit of skin. 






 
The same could not really be said for my skate, which was (inexplicably) served on the bone (make that bones), so my first forkful was an unexpected mouthful of pulpy skate riddled with a dozen twiggy, cartilaginous shards of its skeleton.  I don't mind things being served on the bone, normally, but skate is a lot of work to navigate that way, and I would've appreciated someone in the kitchen having done this for me.  Regardless, the diner should be informed upon ordering that that's what they will be served, so they can prepare accordingly.  The plate was a little monochromatic, sluiced in a creamy mustard sauce that could've used a little more zip, and bedded with spinach that had only just seen the heat of the fish atop it, and nothing more.  It wasn't a wholly unpalatable dish, just a little barren.  A little more kick to the sauce and some attention to the spinach would've imparted a little more intrigue to the skate , which having been steamed, displayed a sort of mushy texture that needed something on the plate to counter.  



The highlight of the meal was inarguably dessert.  I was torn between a Tarte Sablé à la mirtille, and the Biscuit Mirliton, but I chose the latter correctly- or at least not having known what I missed of the blueberry tart, was thrilled with my milliton discovery.   It is a beautiful almond-scent puck of cake, soaked in fragrant strawberry juices and a mess of berries, dolloped with barely sweetened cream, whipped enough for a bit of flounce but with all of its lusciously creamy heft.   Some toasted thinly sliced almonds atop gave crunch, gently sprinkled with powdered sugar.  I have never seen nor heard of a mirliton before that night, but apparently it has been around since 1800.  Perhaps for this introduction alone, I welcome back Pastis to the Meatpacking District with open arms.  I'm not sure if the rest of the experience is worth the battle to procure a table, but if you wait for the crowds to subside 'til a later hour and just come by for (at least this?) dessert, Pastis will live up to every expectation.

52 Gansevoort Street
Tel. 212-929-4844