KING

King isn't the easiest rezzie to procure, so I was so happy that I could get one, on relatively short notice.  I was so excited to visit- I had heard and read only great things- so even the early reservation time wasn't problematic.  The only problem was that I apparently didn't complete the whole reservation process (they use Resy) so the reservation I thought I had, I had not.  Which was unfortunate-ish, except for that the hostess was so sweet and accommodating, and found us two prime seats at the bar, so in my world, all was well.  As long as the full menu is offered, I normally have no preference between a table and the bar.  And here, especially, the bartender was so cool and convivial that I feel like it might've even been a better choice.  At any rate, we were in, and I was glad.

King is tiny, although the dining room behind the front room that includes the bar uses the space to the utmost advantage.  Despite the close quarters,
it has a light and airy feel, cleanly white-washed with a lofty rustic bouquet of flowering branches that are more emblematic of the female ownership than is the very bold and meat-focused menu.  I suppose that's ascribing to antiquated gender bias, but I'm not judging.  And not only meat-focused, it is just focused, period.
  As in, brief.  There are but four starters and three entrees, and these are almost indistinguishable aside from a doubling of price.  I don't think poached ox tongue would ever be my first choice as
 an appetizer?.. but there it is.   Otherwise, tagliarini in a creamy pesto with haricots vests can be
considered a primo, Italian-style, but is a little bland.   I was thrilled with the one veggie offering, however, a roasted vegetable salad with a plump fluff of whipped ricotta to mellow the richly roasted peppers, sweet onions and eggplant aside an oil-slicked ruffle of assertive arugula.  Before that, we were greeted with a hunky bruschetta dripping with oily tomato juices rife with garlic.  Dribble-down
 your chin good, and sort of renders the $10 pannisse or the $16 grilled bread (two other appetizer choices) with crushed favas and olives redundant.





Perhaps the most telling incident, however, aside from my reservation error, was our wine order. We went for a bottle, but when it arrived, the nose was exquisite, but the wine inside just a little flat.  My tablemate, aiming for diplomacy after they were so hospitable about seating us, decided it was drinkable, just a bit of breathing required.  But as it is with dining at the bar, we struck up conversation with the gentleman adjacent, he remarked what a lovely wine we had chosen, and that opened up the can of worms.  And it turned out he was the owner's friend, so obviously told the management, and after much more drama than it was all probably worth, they comped us the bottle. Which was more than magnanimous since we drank the whole bottle anyways.  But that's who is taking care of you at King, and that mentality pervades.


Just as stellar were our entrees.  There are but three, but had there been nineteen I probably still would've chosen the grilled halibut with asparagus, lentils and sorrel.  Despite the mound of lentils obscuring the fish, it was a sizable filet, crowned with an exquisitely crisped skin, and the savory, earthy legumes were an excellent counter to mildly lemony sorrel and woodsy grilled asparagus.  I could've done without the marinated anchovies, but they were easily siphoned off, and then added just a hint of oceanic salinity.   Rabbit with sage was our other option, but instead we went for chargrilled
 lombatello perfumed with rosemary and served with an artichoke puree and slung with slippery leaves of hearty Swiss chard.  The steak was strikingly vibrant inside, juices bright and meaty,  in contrast with the robust char from the grill.

Desserts are simple: there are a few selections, seasonal as well is calendar-defying stalwarts like tiramisu.  The colonel, a snappy lemon granita served with a shot of vodka to pour over, would be an ideal summer closer had the late summer weather upon our visit not felt like late October.  But ice cream is seasonless, and capitalizing on excellent strawberries this summer produced made a simple fruity sundae a lovely closer.   King offers the perfect balance of cozy neighborhood farm-to-table with a destination worthy culinary occasion.  It's not cheap, but few of things of this caliber are.  Especially these days where one might question how well a democracy works, King certainly feels like the  kind of monarchy that would.

tel.
+1 917 825 1618

THE GRILL

Should they have called themselves Midas Food Group?  Aside from Parm and Sadelle's (the latter which I have not tried), Major Food Group's arsenal of restaurants rank among my favorites in the city.  Their latest, a revitalization and reinvention of The Four Seasons restaurant might be their shiniest gem yet.  I came in with high expectations... I know their game and I know the stakes.  The Grill superseded them.

They weren't allowed to muck around much with the landmarked property, and even if they were, they are smart enough not to do so.  The room that was designed in 1959 exudes the same swank and panache that it did back then.
The happy accident of the undulating beaded drapes and the
 striking bronze Lippold suspended from the ceiling looks as if they could've been created today.  And inspired by that sense of timelessness, Mario Carbone created an updated menu that reflects the finery of the bygone era modernized for a 2017 palate.



And while the luxury and extravagance is inarguable, MFG demonstrates a noticeable playfulness throughout, an energy that infiltrates the menu, the dining room and all its inhabitants.   A groaning buffet channeling an abundance akin to Pan's Labyrinth is set up at the entrance, displaying an array of both tropical fruits and a local farm bounty and showy multi-tiered cakes I'm not sure every make their way onto anyone's plate.   There is a menu section titled The Buffet, but none of it seems to be sourced from this purely decorative extravaganza.   Its whimsy, however,  carries over to a florist-worthy arrangement of crudite, obfuscating one's view of the dining room until munching away at the ice-crisp, super-fresh veggies once again clears the vista.  A trio of dips accompany to daub spears of cucumber, whole carrots, leaves of romance and more, the best of which is a tomatoey condiment with a rich,
 sweet-sour balance that really enhances the cold veggies.  Also from the Buffet (the menu one) come a goose terrine, a variety of
 raw bar items, and some pickled mushrooms, which are very pickly.  I'm not sure pickling is the best way to showcase these pristine king oyster beauties, but the acidity sure does perk up your appetite.  And they pair well with the complimentary bread basket, offering a sweet, toasty brown bread, salty pretzels rolls and warm, butter Parker House rolls.



Moving through the menu (which is sizable, leather-bound and scant on descriptions) one arrives upon more appetizers, both hot and cold, plus three soups and three salads, these ranging in price from $19-$36, and we're just getting started.  If anyone complains that this new iteration of the space doesn't measure up to the old one, it's prices sure rival it.  And it is the kind of place that it is well worth it if your pocketbook can comply, for as Major Food Group has proven time and time again, it is dinner and a show and a memory and quasi-bucket-list type experience, if this is as much your kind of thing as it is mine.  So while a $22

chopped salad sounds extravagant, I'm still
thinking about it weeks later, how perfectly the chop had been executed to allow for manageable mouthfuls, and the herby-fresh dressing would've been good on just about anything, and certainly flourished with the crisp mound of salady delights.  A little less commanding for a repeat performance was a mock-turtle soup, a bit salty and wan, but my assumption that the "mock" in the broth was mushroom was completely erroneous and much to my retrospective dismay, I found that I had effortlessly consumed tripe with no nefarious consequences.  So, in the least, I had a learning experience, if not actual delight. Plus, we got our first tableside attention (there is much of this throughout the dining room) the fragrant broth poured into a wide, shallow bowl.... tres elegant.  The service is such that the more exposure you have to them the better, for their enthusiasm (had I needed any more) is contagious, or at least reciprocated.




That said,  I'd recommend the minted black bass even if its vibrant sauce was not anointed tableside.  The sweet hunk of piscine goodness was voluptuous, it flaky flesh rosy with flavor, and crowned with a tender tangle of mild cabbage accentuated with the herbal mint sauce, green like liquified emeralds and pleasantly saline.  On the more decadent side, a filet mignon, prepared in the Peppered style,  was sluiced in gravy worthy of a bowl.  I wasn't beyond stealing spoonfuls every time I could finagle my way in there, and that utensil was also all that was needed to delve into the buttery meat.  Had it been my entree, I think I might've gone for Florentine, though, and missed out on
 that lusciousness, but the most intriguing sauce might be the Peconic: I remain uncertain as to what that might even be.  I'm restraining myself from bothering the restaurant to ask, but I'm close.  As the mains are plated fairly sparely, supplemental side dishes are available for just twelve dollars more.... and at this point, although one could buy a estimable, if modest, meal in Manhattan for that same amount, the fee seems negligible.  And there are quite a variety to choose from: currently, that garden dominator, zucchini, heads up the green veg, but I'm sure soon enough it will morph into a fall-friendly cauliflower or Brussel.  For the time being, however, a simple grill of the squash artfully shaved into thin, well-salted ribbons filled any veggie void.  Jack's pie might've been a more ambitious order, but given the volume of food we already ordered, having a pie as a side dish would seem excessive.  It's not actually a pie, though, but a steamy puree of asparagus under a dome of pastry, and its name has even steamier roots, hinting at the scandalous relationship between President Kennedy and Ms. Monroe.

And then comes the grand finale, which would be almost illegal not to order a flambe, just for the sheer theatre of it all.  Here comes the trolley navigating itself between crowded tables, Tom Ford-suited server in tow, to incinerate the unruly eyebrows off of any guest who might get too curious.  Of course that is not his primary goal, instead it is to burn off the brandy enhancing fat slices of peach nuzzled into creamy vanilla ice cream drizzled with vibrant raspberry sauce in a heavy glass cupola.  A flounce of toasted
 slivered almonds adds a bit of texture, but otherwise it's more about the show than the dessert.  This is not the case with banana fritters, plated as a trio.  They are caramelized golden torpedoes filled with molten banana puree and absolutely incredible.  They made me appreciate the melba's ice cream even more, however, so by all means, do enjoy both if that is an option.

So... to Grill or not to Grill?  I think the answer is obvious.  But save it for a special occasion, or realize it IS the occasion and make it special itself.  And plan on curtailing your dining budget for a few months preceding and another few post-prandial ones while you are at it.

99 EAST 52ND ST, NEW YORK, NY 10022
1.212.375.9001 (information only)
RESERVATIONS@thegrillnewyork.com

DIVERSION/PDX: TUSK

The name Tusk doesn't come from any endangered species, as precious and unique an entity though this restaurant is.  The inspiration was a Fleetwood Mac album that was deemed a commercial failure by its label but had substantial cult appeal.  Tusk, on
 the other hand, might accomplish both.  An
idyllic middle eastern haven serving absolutely Instagrammable and absolutely divine food, it is well worth the hype and then some.  The national buzz that this NE Portland yearling gleaned makes a reservation there one tough ticket.  But your efforts will be rewarded multi-fold.  On a balmy,
 crystal clear summer evening, the sun filtering through huge plate glass window flung open into the adjacent garden, strut gup with fairy lights and rife with happy faces.  A palpable gaiety percolates into the dining room, an enthusiasm that translates into an audible din, making a it a feat, at times, to hear some of your server's witty quips.... but then, it is difficult to disparage joy.





And it is joy that abounds, increasingly more so as the food begin to appear.  An eclectic vegetable plate features an array from local farms: striped chioggia beets, icy-crisp fennel, sweet mild onions, ruffled leaves of verdant lettuce, all sliced as thing as they could be while still retaining an appreciable crunch.  The whole platter is showered with a hefty dusting of za'atar, rendering the sumac-dusted whipped feta and fragrant coriander dip served aside almost unnecessary.  That said, any remaining dips can be useful to daub at throughout the course of the meal, for while the flavors are all unique and specific, they meld well enough with one another to allow for a magnificent symbiosis.

Photo credit: Bon Appetit

Do not not order the hummus, the cover darling of a recent issue of Bon Appetit magazine, (and as their photo was better than mine... or okay, full disclosure: I guess I forgot to photograph it) offered in classic and roasted eggplant upon my visit (which actually is not the one pictured).  Go for the latter, studded with soft cubes of the vegetables and a generous slosh of olive oil.  But the velvety hummus itself is the star, simultaneously light and rich, plonked through with chewy, earthy garbanzos like you've (or at least I've) never tasted- these babies were never dried.  I t comes with a single, fluffy and chewy pita, so a bigger group should order more for the table, and it will be put to good use throughout the meal.  There wasn't a sauce or juice on any dish that didn't warrant swabbing up the last dabs.


The best example of that was the roasted eggplant slathered in saffron tahini, flecked with piquant rounds of hot peppers and crunchy bits of crushed pistachio.   We couldn't have been luckier to have been a trio, allowing a full half per person.  Okay, well, we COULD have been luckier... I could've eaten the whole plate myself.  But the best dish of the night was the roasted lobster mushrooms, dense and meaty halves boasting an exquisite char and chew and nestled into a thick, lusty puree shrouded in a seedy, nutty dukkah that just begged for more pita.  Little coriander blossoms adorned the plate, adding a bit of delicacy to the hearty dish.
Again, perfectly portioned for a threesome, which made me wonder if they didn't plate according to party size.  I wouldn't put this past them.

Tusk is set up for sharing, so coming with a posse is an ideal tactic.  But some of the larger plates could easily serve as an entree, if you prefer a traditional course-by-course approach.  Even though this hominy dish was listed under "Vegetables, Fruits, Grains and...." the focus was the tender chunks of pork shoulder.   Smothered in hominy and fresh corn, the savory meat juices mingled with that of  buxom cherry tomatoes bolstered with sweet and hot peppers.

Beef coulotte (sic) was less exciting but still solid, the juicy meat tender and rosy, festooned with a rainbow of fruity melted peppers.  And it was still good enough not to be considered a misstep... the only one of those we performed was missing dessert.  We were just too dang full, but now looking back at that dessert menu, at least we saved ourselves the agony of choosing.  A matcha pavlova with dark chocolate pudding, black- and blueberries; peaches Kanafeh with fresh cheese and phyllo; roasted sweet corn hushpuppies with raspberries and orange blossom yogurt; strawberry-apricot granita with sumac and ground cherries, or even a simple halva soft serve with hot fudge and crushed peanuts.... ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!  The pain will sustain until a return visit, far too long in the making.



But for this time, while we arrived at Tusk on the early side, it was wait-list busy from start to finish, so getting a table there is a bit of an issue, and I'm sure it will stay so for quite some time.  And while some complaints have surfaced in regards to price, the profound flavors and superlative quality of everything (from food to ambiance to service) justify the receipts.  After all, unlike one record album in a band's repertoire, restaurants cannot sustain themselves on artistic success.   You'll appreciate being there, but not only that: you'll feel appreciated for being there.  And that is a winning combination.




   
2448 EAST BURNSIDE
tel .  (502)894-8082

2448 EAST BURNSIDE STREET
PORTLAND, OREGON 97214
503.894.8082

LA SIRENA

Frankly, La Sirena hasn't been around long enough to have changed it's m.o. as much as it has, and thus it appears to be having something of an identity crisis.  The megalith housed in the Maritime Hotel began with a befittingly nautical theme and the Italian bella figura of the Batali-Bastianich legacy.  All this made sense, especially given the popularity of its predecessor, La Bottega, and while the vast square footage of the restaurant could be daunting to an unseasoned prospect, these guys would be able to handle it.  Right?  Well, well into a year now that it has been opened, the south dining room remains virtually untouched, and the bar has now switched to a Spanish tapas theme, as too has some of the main dining room's menu.  There are gems to be found at La Sirena, but for them, you'll have to dig.

The service was friendly enough upon encouragement, but left to their own devices seemed much more concerned with something other than where they were.  The room is as gorgeous as it was, much improved, in my opinion, from La Bottega, with a glittering expanse of hand-laid tile flooring and sweeping archways, all in a soothing, muted color scheme blitzed with highlights of signature Batali orange.  That's probably his biggest imprint here, as Josh Laurano oversees the kitchen.  He can do some wonderful things.... pastas are definitely a strong suit, and they offer an appealing option of the bis, a half-and-half plate of two selections of your choice from the twelve or so on offer.   A black spaghetti with lobster, corn and chive blossoms was spectacular both in visual appeal and flavor: Meyer lemon sweetened the tender chunks of crustacean, with ample nubs of jalapeño adding a bit of summery heat.





Before that, though, we tackled some appetizers, which were both less successful and less Italian.  Asparagus served with a poached egg weren't the most flavorful spears, although I'm not sure how much of anything else anyone could taste at all aside from the overpoweringly fishy boquerones polluting the whole dish.  This is one only some massive anchovofile could like, which wasn't me, but I enjoyed the burnt Japanese eggplant much more.  A lusty sweep of black garlic intensified the char, the far side of the plate countering with
 a kicky tomato chili broth, and roasted peppers tangled on top with their earthy sweetness.   Other appetizers juggle Italian vs. Spanish, some quite literally like the Prosciutto vs. Jamon with pan con tomate and gnocco, respectively, and other, like the snapper crudo showing more of a ceviche flair with Spanish melon and cucumber.   A lackluster Spanish langoustine (priced per beast) was draped with garlic scapes in a peppery drizzle of olive oil, and has since been swapped out for a more tempting charred octopus with peach mostarda and those crunchy pop-rocky darlings of the garnish world, finger limes.







Entrees proceeded with a downward trajectory- my suggestion would be to continue in a pasta state of mind, such as the aforementioned spaghetti or a classic version with grilled octopus, chorizo and mint or thick, toothsome
 pici with morels and thyme.  If you do venture into Secondi territory, all I can suggest is choose something we didn't, for while the black bass with grilled apricot, spring onion and eggplant was soundly enough prepared, the fish wasn't strikingly fresh and ultimately the whole dish was kind of forgettable.  The plate was fairly sparse, too, although the eggplant and spring
onion tucked underneath was savory-sweet with a tangy citronette and grilled apricots.  A side of sautéed mushrooms went well to round things out, and they were nicely burnished, nutty and earthy.  Lamb scottaditto was impressively plated, with its
 showy bones protruding proudly, but it wasn't my order, and from the small taste I had (not a big lamb person), I remember nothing except for the shishito peppers below were tough.  So I asked the orderer, and he doesn't remember anything, either, which speaks more than either my unrecollecting words or this (cruddy) photo does.



Thankfully Thea Jabjanic swooped in to salvage the evening as deftly as any Dolci possibly could.  She is a masterful pastry chef, utilizing the best of the market to their greatest advantage, and artfully sculpting them into presentations as beautiful as they are delicious.  Our Semifreddo
ai mirtilli was a showstopper, it's Heat Miser-
esque spiked meringue topping cool lime sherbet over a dense, mi-sweet polenta cake nuzzled into a jammy blueberry puree.  I would've been just as happy with her Strawberry crostata or apricot panna cotta , though, although the overall crowd-pleaser is apparently the bomboloni, doughnuts stuffed with hazelnut gelato and lily-gilded with chocolate truffles.   So if want to experience the best of La Sirena, explore the extensive wine list and indulge in dessert, and hold off on dinner there until they figure out what they want to be as a restaurant..... if they can do it in time.





LA SIRENA RISTORANTE

88 Ninth Avenue
 Tel: (212) 977-6096 

PUBLIC KITCHEN

Another celebrity chef to drop his name but leave his soul out of it.  Public Kitchen opened up in Ian Shrager's new Public Hotel down on the Bowery, and despite it's buzzy vibe and picturesque design, that Jean-George Vongerichten is the name on the restaurant is more for pomp than for posterity.  Some chefs escalate to having their names be more valuable than their talent, and such is the case at Public Kitchen.  Which is a totally fine restaurant... especially a hotel one where they're sort of guaranteed traffic, but nothing about the food that we tried said anything but "you have been fed".  And J.G. himself was IN the kitchen that evening, or at least making the rounds and keeping his eyes on the dining room, populated with his investors, buzz-seekers and an attractive overflow of hotel guests.  They were turning people away in order to keep things manageable at this early stage, so some were bumped back to a communal dining table or seated at the bar, where more casual food options are available.










So the dining room is spare and industrial, but it has an attractive coolness to it, the cool of both qualities.  The waitstaff is attractive and attentive, worthy of better food.  That said, vegetables are a stronger suit, and we began well with a multi-colored beet salad interspersed with market strawberries strewn with crushed pistachios and flounce of arugula.  Pickled shallots married the berries and beets, tempered with a generous lashing of olive oil.  Less successful were a Snack of roasted asparagus spears wrapping melted fontina in salty prosciutto- they were a little greasy and heavy, improved with a generous squeeze of lemon but not saved.  The menu shows elements of classic Vongerichten nods to Asia, but Public is of a decidedly global influence.  There are potstickers with corn, basil, lime and soy alongside smoked
 salmon and potato latkes, tuna tartare with ginger and yuzu as well as De Palo's burrata with heirloom tomatoes.  We're definitely going for melting pot here rather
 than any locationally focused cuisine.   But that burrata is a sumptuous affair, plump and milky and surrounded with magnificently juicy tomatoes.  There is also a quartet of pizzas to choose from, of unconventional ilks such as tomato and mozzarella spritzed with chipotle or three cheese with asparagus and pepperoni (two p's ... the salami kind not the nightshade).  A couple of pastas present as well: I guess it's a hotel restaurant so you have to have a ton of variety.

Then Fish and Meat round out the entrees, although an $11 side of roasted cauliflower was big enough to serve as an entree had it be served with a steak knife, AND had it needed it.  But it was far overrated, so tender to verge on mushiness, which is a pity because it had fantastic flavor with grainy mustard sauce popped in its seediness.  Roasted hake with peas and carrots was pleasant and light, tinged with a barely perceptible kiss of saffron but otherwise not too memorable.  The grilled short rib we tried didn't share any of those qualities, nor was it in any way short.  Nor is it still on the menu, which was probably smart, because it was uncomely to eat and the meat was tough.  The bone was the best part, because my tablemate owns a dog.  



 

 We were full enough from all of that to not have much interest left for dessert.  There's no dessert menu listed online, so I can't even know what we missed, but I can't imagine it was that much.  Additionally, service had some noticeable lags and the duration of the meal was about time and half what it should've been.  Wrapping things up, we moseyed past the delicatessen-style eatery in the lobby and out through the front garden of the hotel, which is definitely the strong point of Public.  The grassy patio is magical, trees underlit and just dense enough to offer glimpses of a starry midsummer sky.  Couples laughing on benches and sharing clinking glasses of cool summer wines... and SMOKING.  Which killed everything, especially looking down to notice the scads of discarded butts amassing in piles on the little lawn.  My friend asked my why all smokers are such slobs, and I responded that probably they care as much about that as they do about their lungs, which he agreed made perfect sense.  It's kind of sad, though, because a little like Public Kitchen, it has so much potential.

215 CHRYSTIE STREET 
PHONe  1 212 735 6000