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

FRENCHETTE

My hopes were high, both for Chef Riad Nasr's reputation and the recommendation from a very trustworthy source, but Frenchette failed me, for the most part.   That's not too say it's not very good: it is.   It's good, but not extraordinary.  I suppose I came in with expectations too high, in conjunction with less of a Francophilic passion for traditional French bistro cuisine: sue me, but I really do like some tweaks of modernity in with the classics.  And for sure, there are a few, but for the most part, Frenchette isn't French-ish..... it is trés francais.  And solidly done, so if that's what you are looking for, most signs point to go.

The room is pretty dull, although I very much enjoyed the oversized peonies stretching across the pale, buff colored walls.  There are the requisite vintage looming above ruddy leather banquettes (which imho would've been much more attractive in a deep cerulean or logan green).  The service was superb, however, genuinely happy to welcome us and efficient and friendly throughout the meal. They were, for the most part, the high point.

A peek into the kitchen.

That's not to say Frenchette is bad.... at ALL.  It's just not exciting. And there were some technical errors throughout the meal- actually in almost every dish- that really need addressing.  Friends more knowledgeable and invested in wine than am I voiced adamant disapproval of the strictly natural wine list.  Now, this is a growing trend and I don't have a vehement opinion on it, but I do have thoughts about their pricing.  The by-the-glass list isn't online, but if I recall correctly they started around seventeen and skyrocketed upwards.  I feel like there should be $12-14 options in the very least.  That said, perhaps (counter-intuitively, like un-pasteurized juice) natural wines are pricier.  At any rate, we enjoyed a very civil rosé, not enough to remember the varietal or producer, but it drank very well with our meal.

And onto that, we began with Asperges Vinaigrette, which maybe should've been Vinaigrette Asperges, because it was drowned in
 so much mustard-pungent sauce, the bi-colored spears were almost irrelevant.   I scraped off probably 60% of the sauce and it was still overwhelming.  And worse than not being able to taste the asparagus was not being able to sense even a hint of the generous shavings of truffle blanketing the dish, especially since they were probably the primary reason these three spears cost $18.  They might as well have been Crayola's
 Timberwolf for as much flavor as they imparted- that being none. Better were some really fat, Belon oysters pooled with warm butter, giving them just a slight toothsomeness before they slid pleasantly down the hatch.  

The most successful dish, though, might have been a side of za'atar roasted carrots, their meatier ends achieving a decadent sweetness and softness, while the tapered point of the root end got blessedly crispy, as crunchy as a French fry.  They weren't the best roasted carrots I've ever had- their seasoning could've been a little more assertive, loving za'atar as I do- but the carrots
 themselves were flavorful enough not to depend on the enhancement.  Benne (sesame) seeds added nuttiness and the smooth, thick bed of labneh a cool counterpart.  I enjoyed my roasted cod with sweet little cockles in the shell in a verdant sauce of parsley, but the
 chanterelles mentioned were not noticeably present.  And it wasn't one to write home about, it didn't elicit any complaints, either.

The Duck Frites was, as is Anything Frites, a few slices of the waterfowl and a mountain of fries, which is why I never order Anything Frites.  The duck looked to be mostly skin and fat, but its order-er reveled in the juicy flesh, gently perfumed with anise and pleaded its skin's crispy case.  The fries themselves were 50-50, some were quite good (especially those consumed upon arrival), but by the end there seemed to be more mealy, wan ones, perhaps an effect of both temperature and humidity at the bottom of the stack.

For dessert, of which there is but four options, we tried the millefeuille- you could almost say by default, because I previewed the tarte tatin at a table near us, and is was very thin and flat, which probably had a lovely buttery, caramelized crust, but was going to lack that lovely plushness of baked apples that I love in a tatin, so we opted against.  The millefeuille boasted an ethereally light cream filling, but the feuilles were a little on the sturdy side.  They were deeply baked, tasting of that almost-burnt pie crust nuttiness, while I would've preferred a pliant, flaky pastry that could melt into the cream.  Instead, the pressure of the fork made the filling squirt out all over the place.   But they DID manage to eke out a candle to recognize my tablemate's birthday, another nod to the capable service.

The one dish I regret not having tried is the Brouillade, a soft scramble of eggs and sea urchin, although not being a fan of the latter dissuaded me from ordering it at the time.  A return visit would definitely include that, but given the rest of the experience, as well as two other friends' assessments on different occasions that matched mine, that just probably is not going to happen.  Desolée, Frenchette... I know we were both hoping for better.

241 West Broadway
tel. 1.212.334.3883
https://www.frenchettenyc.com

FERRIS

There are pretty much two associations people make with the word Ferris, both of which are fun and festive.  A Ferris wheel, with all its freedoms and nostalgia and jubilation, and Mr. Bueller, of course, who too shares those endearing attributes.  Our NYC Ferris opened up recently in the Flatiron district of midtown is a subterranean destination that embodies everything a good Ferris should.  You can enter this little subterranean nook either through The Made Hotel in which it is located, or via a sneaky staircase just to the right of the hotel entrance, which descends past a covered garden space which will be something else to look forward to, come summer.  For now, It's a pretty tiny space, though, and some of the design decisions and/or existing infrastructure doesn't help to open things up. Apparently the rest of the world really IS as exuberant about pillows as decorating magazines make them out to be.  I, personally, am NOT a fan, especially when they practically push you off the edge of the banquette and impede the already compromised elbow-room of closely tucked in tables.   But pushing as much as humanly possible into very circumspect surrounding is a theme that also carries over into the menu, most items which pack a lot of components into their makeup.

In order to get some of these on your table, your uber-friendy and vivacious server can fetch you cocktails, and these live up to the atmosphere.  Of course they come with clever names, but are just as artistically composed, seasonal and balanced.  There were a lot of special additions to the menu on my visit, probably too many and too complex, in fact, to be expected to consider on the fly.  They all sounded great from what I could retain, though, even as we did end up sticking with that which we had preselected.  The menu lists plates grouped mostly according to size: so a little guidance in terms of volume is necessary.  We ended up ordering too much, but not far too much, given my tablemate's voracity (and that we chosen the lighter dishes on the docket).    Because of the primarily small plate format, dishes come out as they may, which may or may not be in keeping with when you'd like them, but we started off strong. In fact, the first two dishes we tried may have been the best of the night:  a wonderful plate of beets,
sweet as dessert, were pushed as far to one edge of the plate as possible, so hopefully you are on that side, or have long arms or good plate-rotating skills.  'Cause these beets are amazeballs..... they are like dirty candy crack, and pretty as pretty can be.  Whimsical slices of raw chioggia decorate the cooked ones underneath, the latter's  sugars concentrated by an aggressive roast.  These are pillowed by a creamy whipped feta studded with nuggets of pistachio, and as pretty as it is, it's that much more delicious.

Another uber-winner was the octopus, to be found amongst the mid-sized plates, but it was pretty dang small.  What is lacked in heft it by far compensated for in flavor, though.  Tender nubs of tentacle sat atop a mesmerizing egg custard, greyed with ink (or so I think) (Ha.  'Dja see that, Dr Seuss?) and a smattering of crunchy, crispy, salty croutonettes of potato... which they say were confit, but that would imply.... well, several things.  None of which would result in what resulted, unless you just confited the HECK outta those things until they were virtually French's onions, potato-style.  But I'll upside-down-and-backward forgive the faulty description even just for the memory of how good that little plate was.


Charred broccolini balanced its healthy reputation with the incineration of its florets nuzzled into unctuous, Timur (a Szechuan-related pepper)-spiked yogurt and a dusting of pulverized cashews.  Delightfully crunchy elements complemented many of the dishes, imparting a lot of textural intrigue to go along with the barrage of interesting flavors that are already in play.      More veggies came in the form of braised bok choy, although these might've been my least favorite, the crisp bulb of veg left a little too crisp, and shrouded much too heavily with slightly fishy tasting breadcrumbs.









Your action-plan at Ferris should either be to do as we did, and order a bunch of small plates, or as the table next to us did, order a bunch of friends to accompany and go for some for he large format plates.  One of which is a Cote de Boeuf, which includes "all the fixings".... and they're not exaggerating. There were sauces and bowls and all sorts of good things that came along with the hulking cut of meat, maybe the most intriguing of which was a buttermilk-poached onion dip that made we want to ask these strangers for a taste.  The atmosphere here is so festive and
 communal, they probably would've said yes, but our table was pretty full as it was, so I restrained myself, and certainly wasn't going to starve as a result.









A simple filet of striped bass (now hake in a clam broth) retained its shatteringly crisp skin above an umami-packed dash, abut while its flavor was deep and complex, it was strikingly simple, especially in comparison to all the busier multi-faceted dishes on the menu.

In fact, the dishes might be so flavorful and intricate that to some extent, fewer of them is more.  By the time our one large-format dish arrived, I think my senses were somewhat numbed.  My casual-vegan tablemate kept us on a more plant-based regimen, otherwise I would've gone for the grilled lobster tail with hearts of palm.   Instead, we allowed Forbidden Rice to join our ranks, but frankly while the nutty attributes of the dense rice, roasty nubs of romanesco and deeply toasted almonds were nicely balanced by gently bitter chicories, my appetite had kind of topped out to justly appreciated this dish or anything else that would've come.

Thus, we went lighter than light for dessert..... basically a palate cleanser in my opinion, but suitably refreshing.  The dessert menu wasn't printed nor listed online, but to the best of my recollection it was a yuzu sorbet, and it was delightful.  Our next-table gluttons were waxing about the cardamom cake, however, so on a subsequent visit, or for yours, I might suggest that if you can retain the capacity, or better yet- get both.  So far as I can tell, as little elbow-room as there is inside the restaurant, so to is the very slim chance of ordering something at Ferris that isn't just excellent.

44 W 29TH ST NYC

 

212-213-4420