BARBOUNIA

 Barbounia is no newcomer.  And it wasn't so much the chef that drew me here as the consistently full-house dining room, spilling out onto the sidewalks, even before the pandemic presented that as the only option for a spell.  In fact, the website states the proprietor as the source of direction rather than the chef, Amitzur Mor.  I have to say that may have been a clue to the outcome of the meal, which was satisfying and tasty, but not particularly memorable.

The room is pretty huge.  Underlit archways span across the ceilings, along with the aftermath of some undetermined party decorations.. perhaps balloon string, that never got removed after the festivities.  There is a large mural of a classically stoic Karl Lagerfeld on the west wall, big ceiling fans spinning languidly above.  The room was nearly filled upon our early arrival, and only got busier throughout the evening, so they're definitely doing something right.

Indicative of that was my choice of wine, indisputably the highlight of the night.  A gorgeous Gavi di Gavi , the nose of which sang of summer, the body pungent with strawberries and floral notes.  It was a spectacular summer quaff, if perhaps not that food friendly given it fruitiness, but that was more than all right, because it was mostly gone by the time our first plates arrived.  

We started off with a lusty eggplant dip, fire-roasted into a softly plush mash, electrified with tahini and zchug (sic), my latest favorite sauce, pureed into a smooth hummus-y nest.  It was fantastic plunged into with the stretchy flatbread crusted with flaky

 sea salt that arrived with our appetizers.  Actually, the bread was just great in its own right, piping hot, with a salty, toasty crust protecting its steaming, chewy interior.   

Crunchy falafel balls paired well with the both of these, distinctively garbanzo-y and plunked into a bed of tahini, pickly cornichons and a sprinkle of sumac adding some welcome zip.  

Now, my recollection of Barbounia (or association, as it were, having never been before) was that it originally began as a seafood-centric restaurant, but it has morphed into a pan-Mediterranean one, with a much broader menu, including lamb kofta, taboon-roasted chicken and a handful of beef dishes, including a short rib tagine with preserved lemon that would've sounded a lot better in weather about twenty or thirty degrees cooler than early August was bestowing upon Manhattan.  So my vegetarian tablemate opted for a dainty roasted cauliflower as an entree, although its urfa pepper glaze and smattering of earthy pinenuts gave it a lot of oomph.  There is a pan-roasted halibut on their website that isn't currently on offer, unfortunately, because it seemed to have a lot more personality than my whole branzino, 

which was perfectly fine but mostly forgettable.  Actually, the little pan fried zucchini that accompanied had a slightly off flavor, like they were maybe precooked and carried over from yesterday (or the day before?), but the broccolini was better, and the meaty cut of skin-on fish nicely cooked.  I could have used a larger dose of the preserved lemon and salsa verde upon which it was plated, but it parsed out well nonetheless.   A side of sauteed wild mushrooms was an excellent preparation, although probably unnecessary with the vegetable components of the meal already being sufficient.

Desserts left more to be desired, for me, at least.  Literally just a stone's throw (with a strong arm) from the farmer's market at Union Square, any seasonal fruit options (aside from some token berries) was noticeably lacking. Had our appetites not been fairly sated , I would've gone with the silan, a tahini (also perhaps having had enough tahini) mousse with halva and spiced milk ice cream.  There was also beignets, a nutty panna cotta, labneh cheesecake and a peanut-butter chocolate concoction for those who seem to need a gateway back to America via the dessert offerings after a very European repast.  I suppose I too might be among them, left wanting for a peach cobbler or strawberry shortcake.

Anyway, I get Barbounia's popularity for what it is.  There's nothing too challenging here, and even the more uncommon ingredients are imparted with a conservative hand. Would I recommend it?  Probably not without qualifiers.  Nor would I steer most people clear.  There's room for improvement, but regardless,  Barbounia is still a pleasant affair.

250 Park Avenue South

tel (212)995-0242

BALABOOSTA

 

I try to make deciding the restuarant destination a joint effort: i"ll give a five or so deep lit to my tablemate and we'll narrow it from there.  Balabooosta has been on those lists since it was opened.... an entirely different locaiton, in fact, over in the East Village.  

But then it moved to the West Village, replacing Bar Bolonat, chef Einat Admony's other restaurant, where I had dined previously.  So technically I'd been there without actually having been HERE, to Balaboosta itself. 
 

Chef Admony is certainly one to follow... she's got cookbooks galore and a media presence, frequently mentioned in culinary news and featured events.  It's a wonder it took me so long to get here, since Middle Eastern food ranks up there with some of my favorite flavors.  I had very much enjoyed Bolonat.  

Our visit began with temperature checks and the donning of vaccination cards, but after that it felt pretty back-to-normal, barring that servers continued masked.  One thing that stood out as ABnormal (but in the best possible way) was out memorably pert and charismatic server, who actually became one of the best parts of our visit.  

Not to brush off the food: our first dish was marvelous.   Roasted eggplant, smoky and plush, bucked like a bronco with  garlic and zesty togarashi, nestled into a sultry smear of tahini.  The cauliflower, on the other hand, was less successful, its florets covered in a tough, chalky breading recalling petrified wood.  Lemon bamba and a pickle crumble tried to elevate the leaden character, and the florets suffocating inside were tender enough, but not distracting enough to salvage the dish.  

The food is boldly flavorful, so I thought perhaps an appetizer portion of octopus could do for an entree.  It was sufficient, size-wise, combined with a side for a delicate appetite, and the flavors profound enough to provide satisfaction, but the was quite a bit of gummy, fatty tissue on the tentacle, which I found off-putting.  I suppose some people don't mind a little cartilage or gristle on a rustic cut of meat... this adding texture and intrigue.  But to my taste it wanted for a cleaner trim.

My vegetarian tablemate vacillated between a seasonal pasta and cabbage stuffed with freekah, opting for the former.  I would've advocated for the latter, seeming a little more true to the genre, but I will not dictate what others get to eat.  And I enjoyed my stolen bites of floppy papparadelle, studded with fresh market peas and brightened with Persian lime.    He wasn't as thrilled, but I feel like that was more the monotony of a pasta dish that is a bountiful portion.  For my sake, at least, after four or five big forkfuls of a noodle I'm craving a new texture/flavor/nutrient.  

Dessert, on which we opted out, was comprised of three choices, all of which seemed a little heavy and starchy.  I recall a churro variation and perhaps a creme brulée?  But the food, while good, was perhaps a little short of expectations, and the night was balmy and clear, making an amble outside a more attractive activity than any of the sweets that presented.   But the restaurant still lived up to its name: Balaboosta is a Yiddish term for the ur-housewife and mother, and even if our choices of Chef Admony's cuisine that night didn't maybe entirely measure up, our server merited the title.

212-390-1545

info@balaboostanyc.com

611 Hudson StreetStre

NOREETUH

 

I followed my own advice here, inspired by the enthusiasm of my most trusted chef source to lead me to Noreetuh. First chance I had after it came on my radar, I jumped at a reservation.... not easy to procure.  I didn't even look at the menu.  Day of, I did.  And I barely saw anything that appealed to me, but said difficult reservation already procured and plans confirmed, I decided to just go with the flow.  Maybe it was the Hawaiian island spirit that swayed me, but mahalo I did.  Because Noreetuh is fanTAStic.

  Casual, vibey and energetic, it still has a polished feel.  It feels typical East Village, as the room is pretty small, dominated by the attractive back lit bar, and decorated with Hawaiian paraphernalia, polaroids of guests and frondy greenery.  We were seated a smidge before our reservation time, having both arrived a little early in anticipation of getting back to the good old times, pre-Covid.  No masks, indoors, no palpable weirdness.  The only nod that could have been attributed to the blight was QR codes for the extended wine list by the bottle (cocktails and by-the-glasses were on the back of the food menu, thankfully.). The wine list is exceptional, the by-the-bottle list is pages long, and shows a real knowledge and variety, unsurprising given the proprietor's background in fine dining.  This place might look like trendy stoner food, but it far exceeds that (although honesty it could play both hands... we didn't delve into the musubi portion of the menu, mostly due to my seaweed aversion, but those, and some sandos could definitely sate a case of the munchies).  My by-the-glass Vermentino, though, kept up with the depth of the wine list, and there are some fun cocktails to boot, all with nods to the island.  

And that food menu was extensive, and even bulked up more given it is currently Restaurant Week (read; month/s), so there was a very nicely curated prix fixe availabile.  I actually don't usually like the prix fixe, but there was one entree on it here that I wanted more than anything on the main menu, and they weren't amenable to allowing ordering individual plates from the prix fixe as à la carte.  So I went for it, opting for some luscious truffle wontons with ham hock and pickled sunchokes.  For some reason, in my mind, I was expecting a mushroom filling, even though the menu specified the ham... I was thinking truffled 'shrooms sauteed with pork, I guess.  That said, it

 was hard to be disappointed with these meaty morsels, plump with juicy meat and perfumed with truffles.  There were, too, some tasty little enokis tucked between them, so I didn't miss out on my mushrooms entirely.  My tablemate opted for a crudo, the big eye tuna poke. Its chunks of fish were so vibrant they looked like cherry tomato halves, flavored with fragrant sesame oil and crunchy nubs of macadamia nut. 

 

We opted for a few dishes off the Restaurant Week menu as well, 'cause I couldn't forgive myself if I bypassed the Caramelized Cone Cabbage, slathered in (perhaps a little too much) chipotle mayo and crunched with puffed rice.  I love a good,  slutty vegetable, and this one lived up in every sense, without losing the sweet, slippery cabbage roasted tender beneath.  Another winner were the Spanish octopus skewers, somehow magically wrapped in five-spiced bacon that had almost become one with the octo, not crunchy but not flaccid or rubbery.  It somehow reached a magical consistency and adhesion with the cephalopod, fused into one glorious bite. They were interspersed with charred green onion, and plated with some nice, pickly cabbage.

For a main (as described above), I went with that mochi-crusted fluke, a beautiful piece of snowy white fish with a perfectly crunchy, golden crust atop, bedded in long beans and lily bulbs nestled into a mild red pepper puree.  I wished the puree had a little more zip, because the dish came across a bit bland, even despite the excellent preparation of the fluke.  

The garlic shrimp bowl suffered none of that, the rice and the shrimp battling each other for most flavorful, boldly garlicky and wonderfully textured.  There a nine main course options on the Restaurant Week menu alone, and eleven on the regular menu, so there is a LOT to choose from.  Variety is not a scarcity, so even if you don't know quite what you're getting yourself into with a Hawaiian restaurant, you'd be hard pressed not to end up with something memorably delicious.

Desserts followed suit, for the most part, decadent and rich, although there was lighter bruleed Hawaiian pineapple that I actually wished I would've tried, in retrospect.  The best one was the Chocolate Haupia sundae, a chewy, fudgy chocolate-coconut pudding with an onslaught of weightless whipped cream impaled by crisp shards of graham cracker wafers.  I figure this is kind of a deconstructed Hawaiian take on s'mores, and all the better for it.   

Just as lusty was a macadamia nut brownie sided with a cool scoop of coconut ice cream.  The brownie was so dense and fudgy it just about fell through the plate, but chocophiles rejoice: either of these two will evoke bliss.  Less successful was the mango and pandan pie, a gorgeous bicolor wedge topped with scrumptious, crunchy sweet puffed rice and layered atop a buttery, flaky crust, but the mango lacked pucker, it was more the color orange than the flavor of anything, and the pandan had a strangely oceanic taste, as if they used a seaweed-based gelling agent to achieve that excellently wiggly texture.  It would've been great had the mango displayed its typical vibrancy, but something got a little muted.

But that was all that was nit-pickable; Noreetah's got it going on, for sure.  Fun soundtrack, attentive and friendly servers, and a lot of know-how behind the scenes.   Just like the islands themselves, genuine hospitality,  a little bit exotic, and glimmers of magic throughout.

 128 First Avenue b/w  7th St and St. Marks

tel. 646. 892.3050