ROCCO'S TACOS

Rocco's Tacos has a few things going for it. Unfortunately, few of those things are the food. Whoever designed the room deserves a bonus, but one wishes some of that creative's ingenuity and integrity would've rubbed off on the chef.  Or is there a chef?  I doubt it, or at least s/he's not on site, given that there are Rocco's franchises spanning from southern Florida all the way up to this joint in Brooklyn.

There is a distinct otherworldly, pan-galaxial party going on here, though.  Like a futuristic Trekkie disco fiesta. Star-shaped lanterns are suspended from the ceiling, speckled to release a twinkly
 spectrum of illumination.   Star Trek masks are painted with classic Day of the Dead embellishments, and massive looming paintings of skulls both enchant and haunt.  

The servers are clad in generic black t-shirts and pants- and for the most part their demeanor is similarly bleak.  All of this notwithstanding, the place is bewilderingly busy, but then again the first thing you see on their website is "Where will you tequila dance", which implies that maybe the most important things at Rocco's the drinks and the party.



That's nothing to shake a stick at: the festive atmosphere certainly made the mostly sub-mediocre food seem at least mediocre.  That said, we started off with some super tasty homemade chips, warm and crisp and dusted with a mild savory blend of spices.  They're good enough with the guac smashed tableside in an attractive grey stone molcajete: it would not be a bad idea to double down with these and a pitcher of margaritas and just leave it at that.  The house salsa (which seemed to me more a pico de gallo) was fine: a but watery and little sweet, but

 some salsa is certainly requisite 'cause the food isn't hyper-seasoned.  Even the boring little ensalada mixta benefitted from a few ladelfuls of the sauce, since it's oil-slicked leaves were a little greasy and didn't have a lot else going on but for some scant pepitas, and cotija cheese that mostly sank to the bottom.



If you do end up here, you're best off in a big group, because the menu is pretty huge, and I'm guessing there are proxy better options than what we ordered, but still, this place is no Empellon.  The fish tacos (which I would've preferred  grilled or blackened, but my tablemate had them battered and fried) are $6.50 each, so a monstrous portion of three hulking tacos requires a voracious appetite is required to finish.  They're  served upright in their little custom metal holder, sporting a nice golden crust but the fish (mahi-mahi) was a little fishy.  They were shrouded generously with a jalapeño-flecked slaw, and sided with soupy black beans and rice.   Fish (understandably) are the pricier tacos, along with camarones, carne asado and chorizo.  The pollo, carne molido, cochinitas achiote and hongos are a couple bucks less.











The pollo al carbón from the Especiales de la Casa may have gotten a little too close to the carbón;  was dry and tough, although the salty-sweet grilled plantains helped loosen things up a bit.  Vegetarian enchiladas were another story, almost entirely bereft of the tomatillo sauce that would have actually made them enchiladas.  Instead, they were basically two soft corn tacos, not even properly furled shut, just lolling open and grotesquely cloaked in melted cheese.  The filling was a mostly steamed cauliflower and some roasted peppers, with some ruddy sauce inside that somewhat compensated for the dry exterior.  They were plated with a mild, tender yellow rice and a horrifying coagulated clod of crusty, sticky refried beans, reminiscent of the Old El Paso canned variety, but even worse.

And then, like murky, ominous clouds parting to reveal a glimmer of late morning sun, dessert arrived.  They serve a fantastic très leches, soaked in a light, eggy custard and topped with a toasted marshmallowy crown of fluff, ridiculously sweet but delightful.  And yes, I admit that perhaps the cake tasted even better after all of  the lackluster fare that preceded it, but if you go straight from the chips-salsa-and-guac beginning to that three-milk finale and forget whatever happened in between, Rocco's turns out not to be half bad.  And maybe that is exactly what margaritas are for.

                                                       So, like the big mural says, "May the force be with you."

339 Adams Street

tel . 718.246.8226

STUDIO at The Freehand Hotel

The Happy Cooking guys continue on their successful track.   They're nudging up on Major Food Group in my rankings..... and that is a lofty position.  Studio opened up in the Freehand Hotel, for which Game Stulman's unstoppable restaurant group is entirely responsible- and that's a lot of moving parts.  We've already awarded Simon & The Whale with glowing approval, and in addition they handle all room service, the adjacent bar The Broken Shaker as well as the exclusive George Washington Bar upstairs.  Across a foyer from the latter lies Studio,  which chalks up no differently.  It's a wonderfully lofty space, deep cerulean walls and potted palms channel somewhere vacationy, somewhere desirably unManhattany.  And even though the feel of the room might imply a tropical clime, it still feels like an escape
 even in the midst of a New York City hot and humid summer, when even midtown's muggy heat rivals similarly tropical destinations. Here it feels a little Moroccan, or Turkish, which is also the vibe reflected in the menu.


For me, the menu is like one of those that you might wish had the Alta Option, where for $600 you can have one of every single item offered.  The food is simple in preparation but rampant with exotic spices like ras el hanout, and heavy on the tumeric, sumac and cumin.   Mezze  kick things off with rich dips like black eyed pea-hummus with braised oxtail or a garlicky spinach yogurt, perfect for swabbing up with thick, oiled slabs of yogurt and whole wheat sourdough flatbreads, worth ordering for the
 extra six bucks.  The other categories are small Plates, Sides and Mains, some of the best dishes of the night coming from the former.  A brilliant jewel-toned array of heirloom tomatoes fresh from the farmer's market just blocks away are nuzzled into a creamy tahini-based puree flecked with pungent scallions and drizzled with verdant basil oil.  A special salad that night featured the last of the market asparagus, fresh tender spears rife with the heady perfume of the most fragrant campfire ever, piled with tufts of friseé and cooled with yogurt.


We tried - or make that my TABLEmates tried- the chicken cigarillos, which before I got a decent picture they had more or less devoured, but I snapped a shot of the last remaining one, greaselessly golden crisp batons plumped with savory spiced ground chicken, with a squiggle of savory yogurt sauce and dusting of sumac.  Of course, quick as they were gone from my table is a quick as they were removed from the menu, so my shoddy picture (and description) is double useless since you can't order them anymore, anyways.






 I was initially disappointed (unjustifiably) that the carrot side dish that arrived was not an array of colorful greenmarket specimens encrusted in Moroccan spices and roasted 'til their spindly ends crisped up with char, but instead this salady slaw tenderized raw carrot ribbons to a noodle-like consistency, amplifying their natural sweetness with golden raisins and ruby pomegranate seeds.  I missed any parsley as stated on the menu, but a delicate tangle of frondy pea shoots more than compensated.  But this too, has ebbed away in favor of a shaved cauliflower with herbed labneh: it seems the offerings at Studio are seasonally ephemeral, so expect plenty of variation from what I ate to when you visit.

Main courses incur the same temperamentality, but the consistent quality endures.  One stable option is a grain bowl including black kale and avocado, to which we  added roasted chicken to appease the omnivore.  A spritz of pepitas and nutty sesame seeds contributed nice crunchy moments to the trendy mainstay.   A meatier option featured juicy slabs of sliced skirt steak slathered in (zhoug, shug, schug, zhough, or here) zhug, the hippest condiment of the moment, draped over a bounty of frilly frisee and first-of-the market green beans.   A whole trout looked decidedly forlorn on the plate, but he was a deceptively plump and tasty fish, flaky fleshed mystically flavored from the inside out, and served with a little pile of sweetly chewy roasted beets and a magnificent uber-garlic aioli that I was generous enough to share dabs of with everyone, and it improved everything it touched.







And I can say that unreservedly, because we didn't get dessert (something aioli should never be a part of).  Sweet options tend starchy, although quirky and innovative. We didn't end up opting for any of the Black Sesame Sponge Cake, Baklava Ice Cream, Labneh Cheesecake or Cookie Platter with pistachios and blueberry tahini, but you get where things are going.  Certainly wouldn't have turned something down if another one of my tablemates had wanted to partake, but nothing jumped out at us- and we were pretty full.

So add it to the list of all of Happy Cooking's success stories, with the added bonus of having a built-in audience from the hotel downstairs, and I'm guessing Studio will have good staying power.  And a much more transporting atmosphere once this summer's atrocious heat and humidity have dissipated, and Studio's reenactment of a balmy tropical elsewhere becomes even more attractive.




23 Lexington Avenue
Freehand Hotel, Mezzanine Floor 

SOOGIL

It's a good thing the "G" in Soogil, which is the chef's name, is pronounced with a soft inflection rather than a hard one, because it would be too easy to make a corny pun about it being sooo good.
 Instead, we'll keep things serious, as this kind of food demands considered attention.  Chef Soogil Lim is South Korean, but began his culinary career at Daniel after graduation from the C.I.A.  Soogil shows that expertise, subtly introducing Korean ingredients to French preparations.  The room is, shall we say, succinct, probably seating about 40 people tops, spare in designs but cozy and attractive.    A warm, fresh summer evening allowed the front windows to remain flung open, comfortably, throughout; a rare occasion in typically muggy, fetid New York.

The wine list is thoughtful with good variety, and there are also beautifully composed cocktails, and even fresh pressed grape juices from notable wine grape varietals.  Every detail at Soogil is very well considered, which left the lackluster service even more striking.  We were seated efficiently, but a few questions asked during the course of the meal remained unanswered, and there wasn't much attentiveness given once dishes were doled out.  It's hard to know whether there might have been
 some language issues with some of the staff, as few words were shared.  Our primary server, however, was enthusiastic and helpful, and offered some good suggestions for ordering. We began with the tofu salad with aster green and yu choy, but this was my least favorite dish of the night.  It tasted a little murky, and too sesame-y, although the texture was interesting with salty cushions of tofu mashed into the vegetables: it almost hinted at polenta.  Better, and lovelier, was the asparagus salad with green garbanzos, arugula and an egg-thickened mustard dressing, which might have been applied slightly too
generously, but overall the salad with zingy and refreshing, vibrantly green and fresh.  There are more straight-forward Mediterranean options, too, such as a fairy classic heirloom tomato salad with mozzarella, as well as singularly Korean preparations like glass noodles with fiery bulgogi.








The spice levels are deftly kept in check, however; even the spiciest dish called Monk Starr (for which we never received explanation) exhibited only a nuanced heat, wonderfully contained  in a rich lobster broth rife with noodley strands of ribboned vegetables and bean sprouts.   Spanish Mackerel is the  dish for both mackerel haters and sushi-phobes: this exquisite, meaty fish hadn't a hint of mackerel's notorious fishiness nor oiliness, and it was perched, sushi-style, atop chewy, fragrant rice swaddled in emerald leaves of Swiss chard, with a tangy, sweet umami kick from dabs of ssamjang,
perhaps my new favorite condiment.   If mackerel always tasted like this, it would tolerate decidedly less derision.  It was beautifully plated as well, crowned with wisps of ginger and a single, tiny micro green boutonniere.

For the most part, every dish is. under $20, although two slightly larger ones (the chicken and the short ribs) are just over.  The short rib, served on the bone, gives the initial impression of more meat than in actuality, but the plush medallions of eggplant and halved baby zucchini round it out nicely. I'm not usually a big fan of kimchi, but Soogil's is mild and tender, just whispering heat and funk rather than screaming it.  If anything, Soogil might amp up the Scovilles ever so slightly, but the flavors his concocts are mesmerizing, and his ingredients speak for themselves.   If you want traditional Korean, this is probably not your place.

Just two desserts are offered, a Jenga Tower of seven grain cake planks strategically balanced over honey chestnut gelato.  An utterly 'grammable dessert, for sure, and I'm sure you can find multiple images of it on the interwebs, but less appealing to me than a passion fruit tart.... although in the height of summer fruit production it seems a bit of a pity not to use some beautiful local berry or stone fruit, but in execution, there is nothing to criticize about this delicate tart, a buttery, tender crust bursting with tangy passion fruit curd and elegantly diced mango flecked with deep purple filaments of holy basil.


There's not much I didn't love about Soogil, and quite a bit I did.  I would  quickly go back for the Monk Starr and mackerel, and most of the other dishes convinced me I'd enjoy pretty much anything the Chef Soogil might concoct from the season's offerings for his novel, inspired menu.

108 East 4th Street
tel. (212)529-3704
www.soogil.com

GLORIA

I received my confirmation text for dinner at Gloria as I walked into a supermarket earlier that same day, and just at that moment, the song "Gloria" came lilting through the sound system.  Which is apropos of nothing, but it was a funny coincidence..... AND it gave me both a decent intro for this post and a funny anecdote to familiarize myself with the host.  Who turned out to be Phil, for whom there is a sticker posted at the door "I'm Friends with Phil", which apparently is a thing (I'm guessing for walk-ins?), although snagging a rezzie at Gloria, at least when I tried, isn't difficult at all.  Billed as "Le Bernardin lite", the proprietors come from that precious midtown seafood mecca, but this space is vastly smaller, and the decor is simple and spare.  In that respect, the high-low contrast I think they were going for favored the wrong targets:  the prices are still fairly steep (though admittedly shy of Bernie's), and the service

 is very, very casual.  Thus, the t-shirt clad staff and sporadic attentiveness, too casual in their affect,  didn't jive that well with thirty to forty dollar entrees.  For example, this (very cute), cartoonish painting of a school of fish is found at the same location as the mesmerizing seascape featured at Le Bernardin, where the cheapest option is  a $90 three-course prix-fixe in the most elegant surroundings in the city.  So I feel like they kind of flubbed up the ratio, and things end up feeling a little/lot too expensive.  

But there is deliciousness to be had here, for sure, although interestingly enough, the most successful dishes were not the fishies but the vegetables and sauces.  A blowfish appetizer, in addition to its racy reputation, was fantastic.... and plus it was just the tails, and the poison comes from the liver, so you're pretty safe.  And you'll be happy, because the meaty tails are flakey and sweet-fleshed, served bone-in like piscatory chicken wings, but way better.  Their fried to an impeccable golden crunch, and while yeah, I KNOW, fried things are categorically delicious, but these are both ethereally light and still extra flavorful, bedazzled with crunchy granules of salt.  But the real stand-out factor came with the dandelion-yellow tartar sauce, chunky with pickly bits and lusciously creamy.  It came with some nuggets of pickled market-fresh vegs, too, which added a nice tangy-fresh component, although they could've been a little more finely sliced.










The dish I'd go back for, though is the wild roasted mushrooms in dashi, and it seems everyone else felt the same way, as it was on practically every table.  I even loved the deep indigo blue bowl upon which they were served, strewn with delicate fronds of allium.  The various fungi retained their integrity, magically un-sogged by the alluring pool of warm, umami-rich broth beneath them.  Among entrees I was swayed by the skate, favorite as it is of mine, but it was a two-person option, thus cutting down on the amount of dishes we tried.  It was good, but not especially remarkable, plated with char-grilled whole ramps and halved spears of asparagus,  which constitute 33% of the trifecta of spring
 produce, which we tried to complete with a side dish of spring peas, as was stated on the online menu.  I wasn't paying attention, though, and they had made a market-driven change swapping them out for cowpeas that evening, which are a vastly different comestible.  It was a nice beany salad, but not really what we were expecting.  It was all right,
 though, because we fulfilled out vegetable quota with grilled broccolini, spruced up by an interesting spruce vinaigrette and decorated with delicate wildflowers.


Dessert options were limited, but we were happy with a strawberry-rhubarb mousseline confection topped with a smattering of smashed pistachios.  Please forgive my terrible photographs of these dishes, which were exponentially prettier than my awful camera-phone likenesses depict..... my camera is in the shop, on the mend, and will be back in action for my next excursion. Which won't be here- I definitely don't think there are enough reasons to revisit Gloria, although for those who like to explore as much as I do, and have a cushier budget I'd certainly keep it on the list.   Maybe they will have figured some of things out by then, too, like Gloria herself needed to do in Laura Branigan's song.  A  few tweaks towards a better balance, and a softening of the pricing structure and Gloria would greatly heighten her appeal.

401 West 53rd St.
New York, NY 10019
(212) 956-0709

KUBEH

Kubeh features kubeh (stuffed dumplings much like pierogi), but also kibbeh, which are not unlike kofte, which are sometimes served as a kebab, but not here.  And though some of the menu items may seem familiar, nothing' s that confusing once you get the hang of it.  Plus, the servers are practically chomping at the bit to walk you through things, and happy to offer suggestions or personal favorites:  you shouldn't feel out of your element even if you actually are.

It's a bright and airy space, primarily turquoise in hue and sharing that hue's chipper mood; lots of tiles and woven wall-hanging, baskets and real plant provide a very laid-back, vacation-y feel.  The vibe syncs with the menu, both of which are comfortably casual. It's a pretty big menu, though, so lots of options might make it better for biggish groups, or repeat visits.  Middle Eastern mezes spreads, and  salads start things off, and we opted for a shared plate that sort of combined the three.  And it was a GREAT salad... I wouldn't have minded it at all for a light meal in and of itself.  Not a revolutionary combination, but each component was stellar, from the large florets of cauli roasted to a delightful nuttiness but still retaining its vegetal integrity, a smooth and salty hummus rich with tahini, perked up with bursting rubies of pomegranate seeds and a flutter of zippy arugula.  It screamed for some fresh naan, which was not included but well worth the extra dollar spent.

Okay, so the thing that did throw me a curve was the eponymous kubeh, since the top of the menu described this foodstuff as (like I said) a dumpling, but our server explained that two of the options in this section are, and two are not. So even though the Syrian lamb and Syrian fish "kubeh"are in the kubeh section I don't think they are really kubeh.  Unless I'm still mixed up, but any problem is alleviated by the deliciousness of either.  We got a true kubeh (Iraqi vegetable), the relatives thick dough surprisingly delicate, and stuffed with mushrooms.  You choose your broth, so it's a kind of mix-and-match scenario with these, and in retrospect I would've chosen a different broth for them (we go the Hamusta, keeping things vegetarian with Swiss chard, lemon and

 zucchini)... I think the Persian chicken, which in fact sounds so interesting with it's chickpea, carrot and dried lime that if I DO venture back, I would definitely want that.  The other kubeh, dumpling-style, is the Kurdish Siske, while the Syrian-style kubeh are either not kubeh or at least they don't have the dough wrapping. They are meatballs of either lamb or cod, the latter of which was recommended by both our servers ( who were charmingly oblivious of one another so we basically got the same spiel twice at each turn).  With these I chose the tomato, mint, fennel and arak, which compounded the subtle licorice flavor.  There was a big unexpected hunk of fennel bulb in there, too, which was wildly tasty.

Aside from the kubeh confusion, there are also entree-sized main platters, a couple of chicken dishes, a beef and a vegetarian couscous one.  Plus side dishes, to which I was ebullient to see a very un-seasonal but utterly delectable Brussels sprouts preparation.. they were a little spicy and sweet and just really yummy.  Rich, yes, and so were a lot of the small plates options, like a creamy haricots verts with yogurt and seared halloumi, or fried beef kibbeh with pine nuts,  but there are also a lot of fresh, healthy-ish plates like simple charred shishito peppers, roasted eggplant with mint or a Shirazi salad with tomato, radish and cukes.

I kinda loved this place, overall, but also I've had my heart set on visiting Nur, which is somewhat in the same vein but both astronomically more expensive and really hard to get into at a reasonable hour.  But anyways, Kubeh set the bar: Nur better be really freaking fantastic (and I'm sure it is) to charge what it does when you can get some super-yum on a Kubeh for a fraction of the cost.  Let the buyer ... and the eater... be aware.

                         464 AVE OF AMERICAS

tel : 646 - 448 - 6688

SIMON AND THE WHALE

This new outpost of Happy Cooking's group was named after the owner, Gabe Stulman's, youngest son. Apparently he is not thrilled with the eponym (how can one ever predict what a toddler might approve of), but if it weren't probably a fairly convoluted procedure, they'd be welcome to call it Deborah and The Whale, for I was and am absolutely smitten with the joint.

The dining room itself is an interesting conglomeration of subdivisions by bookcase and banquette, creating myriad novelties to admire while waiting to order, or after you have.  Dining at the bar, our server most certainly needed a little warming up (bad day, perhaps?) but as soon as he did there really wasn't a single blip throughout the evening's course of events.  Sitting at the bar affords you a great view of the kitchen, as it's just right off the the left of it.  You will not, however, be able to appreciate as much the hodgepodge of action figures, miniature cacti, books and other tchotchkes that fill the cubicles.  If you're smart enough to order too much food, apparently one of these toys might serve as a reminder and receipt that your leftovers are waiting for you in coatcheck.




As to the too much food you should order, starting off with the smoked mussels are a good way to start killing that appetite.  They're especially cute, too, served in a small glass jar alongside a dollop of creme fraiche and a quartet of sturdy wheaten crackers.  They're too small in portion to do much damage, but they are meaty ones and robustly flavorful, so a nice punchy way to start things off.
  Heftier options would be a mini-sandwich of ham and cheese served with gribiche, or country-fried liver and onions.  On the lighter side there a couple of salads, but more interesting is an ultimately springy bowl of English peas, studded with sweet poached red shrimp and chewy nuggets of lard, and apparently a kiss of mint but I don't really much recall detecting much of that.  It's wonderfully green enough, though, without it.  Big enough, almost, to serve as a main, too, if you're not tremendously hungry.  But as good as that is, and the dish I'll be remembering for some time is the grilled asparagus with rye crumbles, farm egg and choron sauce.
  I don't know why restaurants use "farm egg," as if there were some other source, but I here I would trust that the farm is reputable and the egg pure and clean, 'cause that's how these boys roll.  If I could nitpick anything about this dish, it would be that there might have been a little too much of the rye crumbs, or that they were a little coarse.  And the yolk of that farm egg was cooked a little too firm to runneth over the spears. but the sauce below swooped in to to provide some lubrication, and the combination of elements was absolutely superb - enough to re-order even with the (very, very negligible) flaws.

c/o Mike T. on Yelp

There were a bunch of fish sandwiches coming and going through the pass- this is probably the most ordered item, and for good reason.  It's a crunchy filet of fresh, mild fish slathered with dijonaise and a messy wad of coleslaw, probably not really sophisticated enough for a dinner entree but Simon is playing by its own rules.  And plus, its more than delicious enough to qualify.  I was a little less impressed with the seafood option I chose: a kind of
puny filet of sea bream sided with a platter full of cannelloni beans.  While the braised octopus and artichokes were listed before the beans on the menu, they were definitely NOT a larger portion of the dish, and the most prominent flavor was that of olives.  Any artichoke at all was absolutely obfuscated by the saucy beans, and the fish and octopus ended up seeming like an

c/o Molly C. on Yelp

afterthought.  Shell steak was better, strewn with delectable charred ramps, and a rich Yorkshire pudding pungent with Stilton.  This might've been a better winter entree, though, so from what we ordered and what you should order, there's a reason the fish sandwich, pork collar Milanese and the roast chicken are getting all the press.  A side of broccoli rabe was too anchovy-y for my tastes, too, but if those briny little devils are your thing- knock yourself out. Plus, the pickled rings of red onion atop help knock some of that out.

So yeah, our smaller plates were exponentially more successful than our entrees, but this was all erased from the slate as soon as dessert arrived.  I haven't been more impressed with two desserts on one occasion in a LONG time, if ever.  First, there was a Rhubarb and Camomile Cake, something full of components I would typically order.  Loving rhubarb as I do, it's astounding to avow that the most compelling aspect of this dessert was not the sweet-tangy fruit (okay okay I know it's not a fruit) compote but the spectacular, dense and luscious beeswax ice cream.   But the real show-stopper was the humbly titled Brown Butter and Rye Pudding, a dish I had seen on the website and mistakenly took for uni on a bed of ice.  Instead it turned out to be a louche fried pear, halved and lolling atop a spiced rye pudding surrounded by a haunting pine-scented ice, fluffy as clouds and rife with the perfume of fragrant pine
 needles on a damp forest floor, dappled with sunshine.  This was a brilliant culmination of imagination, nostalgia, and modernity and an absolute must for as long as it stays on the menu, which should maybe be forever- which is as long as I hope Simon and The Whale sticks around.   They say once you become a recognizable regular at a Happy Cooking resto, they might greet you with applause.  I look forward to that day.

 The Freehand New York  
23 Lexington Avenue
1.212.475.1924