ATOBOY

Despite multiple attempts, a visit to Atoboy hadn't worked out pre-pandemic for myriad reasons, so when it finally presented itself as a viable outdoor-dining option in our current state of existence, I was beyond excited to check it out.  Multiple chefs and in-the-knows had recommended it, and the menu was equally alluring.

Atoboy, and its more posh big brother, Atomic, are run by ....... a. modern Korean smack in the middle of K-town, but exceeding the standard grill and bbq fare of the neighborhood.  Many of the dishes we sampled lived up, although the few the fell short may have tainted the overall experience, fragile as it is under the current circumstances.

Our first plate was a duet of summer squash, sliced into discs and drizzled with a delicate basil oil.  The good stuff was stealth fully cached beneath, however: a savory sludge of whole and pureed doenjang chickpeas, salty and teeming with umami.  Atoboy's plating technique is the opposite of Portale; things need to be excavated in order to achieve the intended composite, and often this is not readily obvious.  So quite a bit of mostly unseasoned, plain raw zucchini got consumed before unearthing the prize, which was unfortunate to say the least.  Even the endive salad hid most of the creamy burrata underneath
 its crisp leaflets and tufts of mystifyingly piney agretti a rare-ish, salt-tolerant herb of mediterranean heritage, flanked with sweet and salty candied nuts.  When you order as is prescribed, the prix-fixe plus encouraged add-ons, it's a little tricky to remember the components of each dish when they are stealthfully concealed by another.  Resultantly, you might miss the point of the dish if you don't dig deep, so don't worry about upsetting the beautiful compositions- you will be rewarded.

A super-refreshing scallop crudo hid none of its glory: basically a cool, liquid watermelon gazpacho, afloat with vibrant haricots verts and tender hunks of sweet scallop, just kissed by the grill. The remaining rorth drank like an alluring cocktail, a plus since the Chenin blanc I order was a little flat and chalky.





The menu is a prix-fixe triaged into categories: the above dishes came from the first, select-two part, and the slightly larger plates to follow came from the select-one section.  Firm hunks of salmon came bathed in a fragrant coconut curry that looks innocuous, but careful when you hit it.  It kicks like a twelve gauge when it comes on.  Emerald sprigs of broccoli shared the liquid inferno, which was admittedly less appealing in the 90 degree heat that refused to dissipate, but the dish itself was stellar.  I can imagine in a nice climate-controlled dining room it would've been even more impressive....... (ah, the girl continues to dream.....). Consuming this in your typical

 fish-first sequence did, however, manage to blitz our tastebuds to the degree that the beef cheeks were rendered fairly lackluster.  Their fattiness also wasn't rendered enough, as the signature cheeky tenderness was completely absent, and there were quite a few fatty, gristly bits that made me doubt that the cut even WAS cheek.  We left it about 40% unconsumed, and that's a pity, because the tasty little cubes of jus-imbued potatoes suggested what the flavor could have been, but also suffered a lack of salt.

Things rebounded with dessert, surprising since there are but two options: a more commonplace panna cotta tweaked with figs and gooseberry syrup, and our choice, an odd-but-sensational burrata and yogurt concoction crowned with a cinnamony sujeonggwa granita that was refreshing enough to stand up to the relentless heat outside.  Crunchy candied walnuts, if not the same, then noticeably similar to the ones in the endive salad, gave some texture, and the burrata attained a just-short-of-frozen consistency that might sound off-putting, but actually created these milky little chewy moments that were quite enjoyable

Tables at Atoboy are sheltered beneath a large white tent, and separated by plexiglass dividers, and decorated with artfully poised branches.  Utensils arrived tucked into paper sleeves, and a plastic ziploc is provided to your mask while you are dining.  The food menu is printed, but the the drink roster requires a QR code scan.  It's not easy to block out the rather unattractive stretch
 of 28th street, nor that night's torturous temperatures, but focus your attention on the lovely dishes in front of you, and the cheerful staff at your beck and call,  and it's easy to see why so many people told me to come.  

43 East 28th Street
tel. (646)476-7217