VIC'S

I had high hopes for Vic's, a market-driven new-ish-comer to Marc Meyer and Victoria Freeman's Cookshop restaurant group.  They're doing all the right things: fresh, farmer-inspired cuisine, friendly service and relaxed, unfussy decor in the comfortable space on Great Jones street that used to be Five Points.  The food is mostly prepared in a wood-burning oven, a delightful trend, by chef Hillary Sterling.  So Vic's has a lot going for it: strong reputation, solid sourcing and a female chef- all of which are assets in my book.  I'm assuming Vic is short for Victoria, and unfortunately like that abbreviation, some of the execution was similarly deficient at times.  Overall, I had a very enjoyable evening and a pleasant repast, although there were some noticeable shortcomings.

Our server, however, was en pointe: chipper and attentive.  We were offered house sparkling or still water immediately, and our orders taken in an unforced but timely manner.  We took her up on the bread that was offered but not automatically dispersed on the table.  I think this is a pretty good thing- for carbophobes, people with actual allergies, tempted dieters, or just those whoe don't need extra starch.  It's less wasteful.  That said, all of ours got devoured: thick, chewy slices with a faint sour and heavy, rustic crust.

The "Mercato" section of the menu featured a bounty of orchard-y treats, but those we chose read better on the menu than they were plated.  Beets, already sweet, had a sugary plum glaze and shreds of crisp raw fennel dusted with a little too much gritty black pepper.  Turnips, which I erroneously assumed would be roasted, were instead raw, fanned out beneath a shroud of robust pecorino grated with a heavy hand.  The mature turnips had a distinct bitterness which led to a powerful flavor rivalry between them, the cheese and a virile classic pesto.  I actually liked
 a bit of the cheese on the beets, and some crisp fennel to moderate the impact of the turnips, but with the very seasonal, rapidly changing menu, you  might have to come up with your own adaptations.


The Pizzas (made with New York state flour) have there own section, and the versions on the table next to us were deliciously fragrant.  The preparations riff on traditional without going too out-there: a little thyme and chili atop a pie with  soppressata and a white pie tinged green with zucchini and green chiles.   And while our neighbors tackles a pie apiece, one could easily be shared for a hearty dinner with a Mercato, Contorni or Antipasto side.  Entrees are similarly generous.   A big hunk of poached cod was delightfully flaky and flavorful, perched atop a bed of tasty kale and cannellini beans, but the beans  were woefully undercooked, giving them a powdery, crumbly quality and didn't allow their starches to properly thicken the broth beneath, which ended up too watery and thin.  While the fish itself was perfection, its underlings needed a little more time to catch up.  Now, for the flank steak we requested it rare, and they made good on that... I'm sure I heard a little mooing when the bushel of cress and peppy, harissa-spiked green
beans were toppled aside.  The exterior had a perfect, smoky-spiced char, and inside was quite possibly the textbook definition of rare.... too much for my tastes, but my tablemate gobbled it down excitedly.  This was good, because it allowed me to steal a few more of the green beans than I otherwise might have been able to: they were stellar- smoky and spicy.   Just for fun, we tried the eggplant and peppers from Contorni.  From what I could tell, any of the Contorni, Mercato and Antipasti could be interchangeable.  Antipasti are more varied and pricey while the other two are primarly vegetable-if-not-vegetarian, but there is definitely overlap.  The
 eggplant was slick and steamy, doing that thing that eggplant does so well, sopping up oil and flavor and using it to its best advantage.  The peppers exhibited unpredictable amounts of heat, the spicier of which made good use of chewy, oily croutons to tamp their intermittent fire.


Dessert was definitely a high point.  We were undecided among the choices, and while my dining companion was jonesing for the rich gianduja tart or chocolate-sauced ricotta bomboloni, our waitress sided with me on the honey semifreddo, much to my delight.  And with the size of it, she might as well've sat down and helped up finish it, because it's easily shareable for two and then some.   Inarguably luscious, though, it combines the simple elegance of the creamy semifreddo with the honey-almond croccante, achieving the homey nostalgia of toasted marshmallow, but impossibly cool and creamy.

Another highlight were, amusingly, the restrooms: the stall doors are white-washed shutters, the men's room walls painted in striking red with zebras, the ladies' the immersive peachy-pink of undulating flamingos.   It's a playful, thoughtful attention to detail that might be a little lacking in the menu itself.  But the thought is there in all aspects, and on many levels, that's a lot of what counts.

31 Great Jones Street
tel.  (212)253-5700

VIA CAROTA

Easily could Via Carota's website be ilovecarota dot com, like its sister restaurant www.ilovebuvette.com.  Because I do (it's hard not to), both of them.  Carota is virtually Buvette italianofied by chefs Jodi Williams and Rita Sodi, in a slightly airier space than its brethren just steps away.  They share a no-reservations policy, but arriving early enough even on a near-perfectly weathered Monday night (there is limited outdoor seating, all of which was full) there was no wait for a table in the humbly decorated dining room, windows flung out to a busy West Village side street, glasses clinking and a soundtrack I would actually buy the whole of straight out.
 That breezy availability of table might change drastically as either the hour of day or day of week progressed... busier nights have seen easy hour and a half waits.  But we were whisked in and seated pleasantly, water glasses filled immediately, the default house-filtered tap gratis (as it should be).  Menus are furled up in small cubbies in the back of the rustic wooden chairs, listing simple small plates ideal for sharing, but feasibly molded into an app/entree format too, if desired.

The greatest hiccup at Carota is deciding: literally 80%+ of the menu I would've been thrilled to have on my fork. Jody Williams and Rita Sodi have whipped up a market-pending list of seasonal delicacies with something for virtually every palate. The opening segment of the menu is Verdure, boasting fifteen different garden delicacies, thoughtfully categorized according to price: the eponymous carrots, some salads and beans in the $13, and pricier seasonal harbingers at $16.    This might seem a little dear for vegetables, but the portions are generous, and
 they are immaculately prepared.   Gem-like chianti beets (weighing in the middle at $15) , shiny as rubies with their gentle slick of oil, are mingled with translucent coils of pickly white onion and creamy, crumbly ricotta salata.  The vegetables themselves aren't too trimmed and perfect, giving them a farmy sincerity that becomes perfect in its own right.  Funghi are a wild mix with a heady, earthy perfume, perfectly roasted so their rich flavor is augmented by a bit of chew.  They disguise a luxurious blob of smoky scamorza, but consume quickly, as it's

 decadently melty splendor has an abbreviated lifespan.  There were two versions of artichokes on the high end of the listings, and two asparagi , green and white, from which we chose the green.  Numerous spears boasted smoky grill marks, dabbed with creamy caprino and flecked with herbs.

There are four pastas on hand, all priced in the high teens, but substantial enough to more than justify the price.  A wild boar ragu bedecked floppy pappardelle, and there was a special tagliatelle described by our waitress, along with a handful of other daily off-the-menu specials in all categories.  (She had quite a bit to remember, as well as struggle with a pretty feeble grasp of the

 prolific Italian on the menu.  But she was very sweet and helpful... even if that required running back to the kitchen to inquire about a correct response.)  From the quartet of Pesce options we chose a grilled orata with escarole and flavorfully bitey green olives, simple and savory, fresh as could possibly be.  The firm-fleshed fish flaked perfectly, and there was ample vegetable to accompany cites.  Given Carota is pretty vegetable-driven, this was kind of a given.  Twice-cooked lamb ribs, however,  served with a stewy chicercia of chickpeas and tomatoes, was
 not only veggie scarce, but the only disappointment of the night, the lamb far too fatty with a paucity of meat.  I might've been happier with a simple grilled chicken.. or even just another selection of Verdure.  Which would've made the meal here even more reasonable, but price-wise Via Carota is still a very moderate establishment.  If your bill ends up too steep, you probably over-ordered.... or indulged in their exquisitely curated wine menu, that while offering bottles and glassees at both ends of the spectrum, always pads the bill.

I guess dessert wasn't quite as magnificent a finish as I might have wished for, either.  But a simple dish of wine-sweetened raspberries topped with a thick dollops of zabaglione was still pleasant.  The raspberries had that supermarket-perfect appearance, though, making me wish for the months to warm up past April and bring on farmer's market bounty of plush berries and drippy sink peaches.  While the rest of Via Carota's menu can accomodate all the fluctuations and variances of seasonality, desserts always shine brighter in summer's abundance.   So while the restaurant as a whole is already a definite crowd-pleaser, I anticipate summer is when she will really hit her sweet stride.

Dal lunedì al venerdì 11:00—24:00 Fine settimana 11:00—24:00

 SENZA PRENOTAZIONE

LITTLE BEET TABLE

Gluten-free?  Who cares.  Franklin Becker's newest opener, Little Beet Table is just plain good, regardless of its dietetic contingencies.  Truthfully, we didn't order a whole lot that would've been hampered by a gluten-restriction, but I'll leave that review to someone who cares about it.  With only 1% of the American population afflicted with the disorder, it is quite The Thing as of late.  So Becker is very savvy to capitalize on the hoopla,  and even if not personally affected by the sensitivity, he was
 adamant about creating a restaurant that celebrates healthful eating.  In fact, there seems not to be gluten-free designation anywhere on the website or menu, which makes me wonder whether that ship was abandoned, or whether he just didn't want to make it the sole focus.  At any rate, it is not why one should go to Little Beet Table (or grab lunch at its baby sister, The Little Beet, a fast casual spot in midtown with the same focus).  Becker's a fantastic chef, and this is what make both Beets winners.

 Despite the curiosity as to what the Union Square Greenmarket could muster up in late December to comprise the Farmer's Market original, we opted for choices from the Vegetables and Sides (not sure what the differentiation is)  section as starters.  Grilled beets featured a slight excess of pumpkin-seed almond granola, but with just a gentle Taylor Swift-caliber shake of that off, the dish came together seamlessly, greek yogurt tangily countering the deep-winter sweetness of the bi-colored beetroot, and the remaining granola
contributing a pleasant nuttiness.  True to its categorization, however, roasted sweet potatoes would've served better as accompaniments, for on their own, they are little one-dimensional-  although their smoked sea salt compounds the oven's char to a very delicious dimension.    Even lighter than the
 vegetables was a special appetizer of the evening, delicate sea scallops just kissed with sizzling hot oil so as to firm them up ever so gently, just shy of fully raw or cooked, and enlivened by bright nubs of citrus.  They melted as readily on the tongue as the grapefruit bits burst in juiciness.







The cheekily titled LBT (BLT or LGBT? Ha. I know; Little Beet Table) Burger is the only dish that hints at a gluten concession, and even it specifies being served on "free" bread, which is either to say that that is presumably the brand name of gluten-free bread they're using, or else a special deal of buy-burger-get-bun-free... or ELSE the menu IS, in fact, so gluten-free that they won't even write the word gluten on the menu.  At any rate, I digress.  We didn't order that, anyways, but I did order up the local sea bass cooked a la plancha, seasoned with fennel and
 served with a scallion pebre, which turns out to be a delectable Chilean condiment of hashed up coriander and
 onion, much like a chimichurri but looser and chunkier here, the chopped scallion tender and pungent.   It's a solid example of Becker's cookery, simple and pure, but expertly executed, each ingredient flavorful in its own right.  That left it to pair well with  any and all of the side

 dishes, of which we chose a chile and lemon flecked mushroom saute, and brussels sprouts with their own dash of chili and sea salt, both simple but flawless.... and ample.  I love a generous side dish.  A salmon entree also played well with these, its own accoutrement of avocado caponata just enough to serve as a condiment, although a savorily-sweet compliment to the buttery fleshed fish.





Dessert was the only indication that I can hope to attribute its weaknesses to lack of gluten, although pot-roasted apples could've been properly cooked with no regard to its leaden topping.   This may be a hallmark of haroseth, a Jewish term that describes the apple-walnut mixture on the menu, but the sandy, pasty crust lay in a slab atop, only salvaged by the rich drizzle of caramel and quick-melting lash of Battenkill cream atop, that encouraged the components to cooperate a little better with each other.   But in terms of cooperation, everything else at The Beet falls in line, gluten-free or full.  It's not a venue that elicits excitement so much as satisfaction, but in terms of the latter, Little Beet Table offers up a worthy seat.

333 PARK AVENUE SOUTH

tel.  212-466-3330