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

THE FULTON

Jean-Georges may be spreading himself too thin not only throughout  New York, but across the globe, in my humble opinion, BUT! at The Fulton, he's got an extremely capable team covering all the bases.  And while it doesn't feel so much like a J.G. restaurant, per se, there are glimmers of his presence intermittently, although ironically the two "signature" elements I noticed were among the few faults incurred.

The restaurant itself is pretty spectacular.   They play up the seafood/nautical theme to the hilt, painting the walls with a muted, deep sea panorama and thick glass light fixtures reminiscent of buoys.  The East River ebbs and flows past, its surface frothed by speeding jet-skis and ferry boats, tourists cruises and an occasional sailboat, all of which make for a lovely vista, especially on the steamy summer night which I visited.  As the sun set, the sky lapsed into a splendid cotton-candy hued backdrop for the Manhattan Bridge, the waning sunlight glinting off the river's gentle caps.  Of course, the menu is similarly ocean-centric, and not exorbitantly priced.  There are classic seafood towers and raw bar options, presented on their tiered caddies and plates mounted with ice, as well as Crudos with Vongerichten's signature Asian flourish.

The only salad aside from a composed chilled asparagus duet was a kale and pea concoction, shrouded in a fluffy layer of lacy pecorino shavings and anchored in a thick, verdant avocado puree.  On paper it was an excellent salad, but it was a bit too salty and rich with an excess of cheese and avocado; a lighter hand on the dressing elements would've made it really wonderful.  As it was, I only made it about halfway through before my lips got little tingly from a salt o.d.  The menu is pretty big; there is a lot to choose from, although the focus is obviously maritime.   All the pastas have seafood

c/o Terri S. on Yelp

 elements, and the fresh tagliatelle with broccoli and cockles that we chose was superb.  Punched with black pepper and mint, the sturdy noodles held their own, effectively costarring with their accouterments and the abundance of sweet, fresh cockles in their shells.  Spice-crusted salmon was rich but delicate, a little skimpy
 on the roasted heirloom squash nestled beneath it, but sauced in a lovely balance of lime and coconut, tropical but not too tiki.  I was torn between medallions of monkfish with Calabrian chili, roasted potatoes and spinach and what I ended up with, a luxurious filet of black
 sea bass nestled into a rich lemon-turmeric emulsion impaled with long, spindly greenmarket carrots roasted tender with tufts of tarragon.  I was absolutely happy with my choice, although that monkfish might be my go-to on a revisit, although there are a roster of Simply Grilled options that showcase the freshest of the fresh, and this being the modern new incarnation of what was the Fulton Fish Market of yore, their prioritization of freshness is exemplary.

For those who just cannot stomach this devotion to the ocean, there's a hamburger, French-onion-souped out with Gruyere and crispy onions, as well as some roast chicken and a Wagyu tenderloin.  There are a category of Vegetables as well offered as side dishes, although the only one that I would technically categorize as a vegetable was an excellent plate of grilled asparagus, nothing fancy but solid, whereas the rest of them definitely fall iunder the rubric of starches: mashed potatoes, French fries and quinoa, albeit the latter of which features peas and favor, starchy vegetables though they are.

Desserts were, might I say, controversial.  Our server pushed the Chocolate Mousse, a layered quadrangle of peanut brittle and chocolate iterations, some noticeably bitter, sided with opposing orbs of passion fruit sorbet and vanilla ice cream.  The dessert was, apparently, somehow a "mistake"... I'm not sure at which point of production whichever ingredient interrupted the others, but so the story goes.  And the moral of that story is that they need a better editor.  Nothing made sense with the other components, and while chocolate desserts aren't my favorites anyways, this one wasn't even worth a second taste.  It just wasn't good, in texture or flavor, and really wasn't even that pretty.  It was also enormous.  The other one we tried, a lovely Strawberry Sundae wasn't going to win any awards for novelty, but it was beautifully cool and creamy and rife with myriad versions of peak-season strawberries, so many, in
fact, that it was hard to taste them all unless one is a big dessert eater.  Berries fresh, freeze dried, jammy, poached, and frozen into sorbet along with ice cream, whipped cream and subtle lime meringue bits served in a deep bowl was big enough for three or four people.  I can't imagine someone could fully appreciate either of these desserts to the full extent- the portions are just too big and multifaceted to hold one's attention.  They end up seeming wasteful and garish; it would be better to specify that they are made for sharing, or else minimize them.  The prices could even stay the same, or nearly the same, and just eliminate the excess.

But really, that was the biggest misstep, and fairly minimal, all things considered.  For me, this is J.G.'s strongest restaurant in the city right now. That and ABCV, which just goes to show you that as long as one keeps on top of things and stays current, focussed and aware, even the old dogs can perform the new tricks.

89 South Street at Pier 17 in the Seaport District 
(follow the signs)
tel.  (2120838-1200