ITALIENNE

Italy and France consider themselves to have drastically different culinary aesthetics, and from a very technical standpoint that's true.  But to the consumer there is a lot of crossover  (even if the two countries love to disparage one another).   Italienne pushes the merger even further, featuring both hybrid creations from the countries and classic dishes from each.  The restaurant didn't open up with much critical fanfare, but it has persisted for over three year now, and as such a nearby location to me, I figured I was due a visit.

I'm afraid to report I have to agree mostly with the initial cool reception, even though Chef Jared Sippel has some notable notches on his belt, having worked at such acclaimed institutions such as Frasca in Boulder, and Quince in San Francisco.

The restaurant itself is spacious, glowing with a warmth the is reflected by few of the staff.  In fact, the most 'important' seeming front-of-house circulated the room with little decorum and zero conviviality.  Perhaps they are concerned with typical New York restaurant survival angst, but that is no excuse, and in fact perpetuates any problems about which they may be stressing.  True, the room was fairly vacant for our early arrival, but it filled up nicely as the evening progressed, giving it a much needed boost of energy. albeit coming from the patrons rather than the
staff.  A tasty little potato pancake arrived as a welcome gift from the kitchen, which seemed to be bringing Germany or Austria into the fray as well, but aside from it being a tad greasy it was wonderfully tasty, achieving a chewy, golden crust to encase buttery rich tidbits of potato within.










The menu follows a pretty standard format of snacks and salumi, and then meant-to-be-shared plates followed by main course pastas and secondi.  From the snacks we tried a panzerotto, something like a small calzone, filled with spicy salami and smoked mozzarella.  My Italian tablemate found it a little too piccante for his delicate palate, but I quite liked it, although pretty heavy for more than just a bite.     But since the snacks are priced per piece, one order (a single piece) gave us each a taste and that was enough for both of us.  Quite a few of the snacks have a Spanish backbone, like pinxtos and boquerones,  bringing Spain into the fray alongside its eponymous neighbors.  Sippel seems to have an affinity towards the fishy- I was dissuaded by our chipper server from the roasted Little Gem salad with its apparently anchovy-heavy broken vinaigrette and additional boquerones atop.  But the mixed chicories he steered us towards as another salady option definitely had a fishy kick to them as well, thanks to a briny bagna cauda that forcefully overrode any hint of the eagerly anticipated black truffle vinaigrette.   There was fragments of roasted fennel and some sliced fingerlings that helped
 immensely, but once they were gone the salad didn't have much left to say.   Better was the octopus, again of Spanish descent, served a la plancha, with bite-sized hunks more tender than their gigante bean counterparts (and with those, yassu Ellas), a solid plate spiked with harissa and Castelvetrano olives.

Pasta selections looked strong, with innovative offerings such as fazzoletti with a rhubarb, fennel pollen and black pepper inflected pork ragu and nettle tagliolini with peeky toe crab and stinging nettles, as well as a few classic renderings like pappardelle sauced in red wine, beef and chicken liver.  We both happened to opt for piscine entrees, however, his more successful ocean trout and my lackluster loup de mer.  The salsa verde on the former is what perked his dish up, which also included "first of the season" white asparagus, although I don't know where this particular season is is situated, because here in
 New York nothing has broken through the frozen soils yet except for perhaps a crocus shoot or two.  The most exciting part of the loup (branzino or European seabass) was not the fish, which could have been fresher, but the humble smash of potatoes aside: it would seem all the pastis, olive oil, fennel and capers went to flavoring the 'taters instead of the fish.   A side of roasted Brussels sprouts was similarly bland, in need of salt, and the 50 year old sherry vinegar which was supposedly must have died at 49, leaving it undetectable.  A lot of the prosciutto with which is was roasted was left in the bottom of the crock, having included a somewhat excessive amount.











Perhaps against our better judgment we went for a dessert to share as well, but the buttermilk panna cotta didn't go too far to redeem a pretty disappointing dinner.  The custard itself was lovely, cool and creamy with a gentle tang, but the three preserved cherries atop were tooth-achingly sweet, too small to cut up and disperse amongst the cream given a spoon as a utensil, but overpowering to eat whole, and also leaving most of the panna cotta to be consumed unadorned but for a crumble of buckwheat-cardamom streusel that did add a nice crunch.  And serving it in the jar with its screw-top lid was clever and cute, but like a boyfriend: it's what inside that counts.

Verdict?  Would I tornare/reviendrais/regresaria/epistrepso?  I think not.

19 West 24th Street
Call Trattoria Italienne by phone at tel. (212)600-5139 

LA CENTRAL

In the midst of all the closings and bankruptcies of Chelsea restaurants, a glimmer of hope lies in a spectacular new project that has just opened its doors within the Hotel Americano. La Central, a dynamic pan-Latin eatery, has renowned chef Franklin Becker at its helm. But what makes this place fresh, exciting, timely and important is the collaborative initiative that brought it to life. 

Becker is no newcomer to New York’s restaurant scene. Born and raised in Brooklyn, he cut his teeth bussing tables in the early ’80s. Recognizing a natural affinity towards what others might regard as the chaos of the kitchen, Becker enrolled in the Culinary Institute of America. Upon graduation in ’92, he fell in with some of the best chefs in New York at the time: Charlie Palmer, David Walzog and Bobby Flay. It was Flay who introduced him to the allure of Latin American cuisine. 

So when the owners of Hotel Americano (who are from Mexico City) approached him just nine months ago about opening a restaurant in the space, the Latino focus was a no-brainer. Chef Becker took a good look at his kitchen staff — the Peruvians, Ecuadoreans and Salvadorans who were already a part of his team — and found the inspiration for La Central. He asked, “What do YOU cook?” and the effusion of replies become the foundation of the menu. 

La Central obviously doesn’t refer to the restaurant’s physical location, which is in the far reaches of West Chelsea on 27th Street, but to Central and South America, including influences from the Spanish, Portuguese, Chinese and Spanish settlers that populated those territories early on. The diverse kitchen, then, became a unifying instrument for the chef, his staff and its cuisine: a center, if you will, and thus, La Central was born. 

Duck Carnitas Tacos

Not only have their talents been elevated by cooking dishes with which they are familiar and comfortable, there emerged a tremendous pride of culture in sharing family recipes and regional specialities with the diners who would come to frequent the restaurant, and also among members of the staff. Any cultural differences between them melted, and alongside Chef Becker and even the front of house, they have united as a singular team like few kitchens ever accomplish. The staff calls Becker “Padrino,” which means grandpa, further illustrating the familial bond. 

The menu is like a playlist of the staff’s family recipes, sometimes seen through the eyes of chef Becker, and other times, directly adapted from the original. “I’m going to give them credit for what they’re doing.” Lucero Guittierrez, is from Cholula, Puebla, a town known for their moles and sauces, and opens the menu with her namesake Lucero’s Salsas: a 

Lucero's Salsas and housemade chips

spectrum of heat and color, spanning from a mild, bracing curtido, pungent with cloves, to an incendiary puree of chile di arbor that hits you in the back of the throat and just keeps on burning — in the best possible way. This is her first time cooking professionally, and she has even started making making her own tortillas, branching out as she’d never dreamed of before. 

Empanadas Colombianas

La Central’s team is really a team: the cooks note how working here feels different, like they are really fundamental partners, rather than just employees. Carlos Cartagena was born in the U.S., but his Salvadoran and Dominican roots shine through his deep golden pupusas, a vegetarian version stuffed with mushrooms and sweet winter squash. “Everyone in the kitchen is putting their culture into the menu,” he says, and there’s so much “more love and care” as a result. 

Roberto's Enchiladas

Marco Castro contributed the leche di Tigre, causa, and chaufa of his native Peru, all “food I used to eat” growing up. Roberto’s Enchiladas (Roberto Martinez is also from Cholula) are another highlight, fresh tortillas stuffed with the tenderest chicken, stewed and salty, smothered in an almost creamy salsa verde and drizzled in crema and a flounce of queso fresco. While it is listed as an appetizer, it’s in no way too skimpy for a main, especially with its depth of flavor. Rounded out with the chips and salsa or 

Seabass with parsley, garlic and jalapeño

one of the innovative side dishes, one could comprise a relatively economical meal. But while La Central is no divey bargain tacqueria, its prices are easily justified by the robust and nuanced flavors that sing

Classic rice and beans

from every plate, even if the portions weren’t as generous and filling as they are.

Peruvian Arroz Chaufa

Octopus Carnitas

Sometimes we might forget that we’re not the only Americans, that Central and South America share that title with Northerners, and comprise a huge part of our current population as well. Hotel Americano has provided a platform to usher in this inclusiveness, a reminder of the melting pot that we are. Whether it is via pot, skillet or cazuela, dinner at La Central has achieved something beyond just delicious food: it provides an example of how people, how Americans, can cooperate, collaborate, and thrive at their very best. As Marco Castro said, and in every sense, “this is good.”

Dessert "Churros"

La Central is located in the Hotel Americano, at 518 West 27th Street. The restaurant is open throughout the day for breakfast, brunch, lunch and dinner. Reservations through Open Table.

          518 West 27th Street
          (212)216-0000

NUR

It will never not baffle me when, after trying for approximately four months to procure a reservation at Nur, I finally get there and the place is 2/3 empty.  Not on Resy; on Resy there was no availability whatsoever.  But this time I noticed a handy little button underneath all the time slots that were "sold out", a "Notify Me" option if a table would per chance open itself up for me.  And it did, around 11pm the night before, a 5:45 reservation became available.  Early sure, but you take what you can
 get.  So when we arrived a touch early and they sat us swiftly amongst the myriad unoccupied tables  (many of which remained so throughout the course of the evening), I was all the more frustrated. Had all these table been available all along, as I wait for Resy to show one to me, instead of (for whatEVER reason), showing that there was nothing 'til 10:30pm???  I even asked the waiter, but he had no better answer.  So.  Use that Notify Me button, or else just walk in... 'cause trust me, you WANT to eat here, and there probably is a table available whether Resy tells you there is or not.


So the room is longer than it is wide, but it's a cozy, glowy, low-lit space, the walls white-washed but a warm yellow light makes it feel softer.  Beautiful grey and white tiles compose the floor, and simply-clad waiters are at your service immediately with complimentary still or sparkling (always a nice touch, especially since this place is as costly as it is, having a little bubbly water amplifies the festivity).    The soundtrack is enough to make a reservation immediately: I think I was about to drive my tablemate singing along with the dancey 80's/90's soundtrack had he not been equally nostalgic about it.  It's not too loud to ignore if you needed, but I don't know why you would.   The food menu isn't huge but offers a lot of variety, and some of the offerings had already been replaced by specials
our waiter described to us in detail.  And from what I gleaned from just one visit, I think it's hard to go wrong here.  We started off with a veggie-heavy riff on a Caesar, and while it was a little over-dressed, that dressing was stellar, brightly acidic but cheesy-rich, which played well off of the steamed-tender melange of earthy green vegetables: broccoli, green beans, and Brussels sprouts, with charred cabbage for smokiness and romaine and kale to keep it salady.  Apparently new-fangled Caessars are the new avocado toast, popping up on four out of the five last menus from which I have ordered.  I don't have a
problem with this, especially since I'm not such a fan of the original.   More vegetables came in a very unconventional form.  I'm not sure the smoked eggplant carpaccio was that accurately named, aside from its very horizontal presentation, but it was both gorgeous and delicious.... the plate reminded me of a somewhat more-controlled Jackson Pollock.
 The eggplant was roasted smokey and kissed with rose water, giving the earthy nightshade a complex array of flavors.  Crunchy pistachios provided texture and crumbled feta a bit of tang and richness.  This made a most excellent spread for the enormous Jerusalem bagel, which in my opinion puts most bagels to shame, but again, I'm not a huge bagel fan.  They are too dense and heavy; in this rendition, it was as if its size was amplified with increasing the dough, just lightening the crumb substantially,
 almost croissant-like, while retaining its chewiness.  A smattering of sesame seeds clung to its deeply golden crust, and its delicacy further graced with Messabaha, a silkier, lighter version of hummus made from lima beans whipped with cumin and shipka peppers.


The main courses became even more difficult to decide upon, given the hefty quantity of food we had already chosen from the appetizers.  But we nailed our choice (although one never knows what other deliciousness we missed).  But the Jaffa Souvlaki was our server's self-proclaimed favorite as well, and it was easy to see why.  It was pretty much my perfect combination of foods: fish and seafood, creamy, salty hummus and caramelized onions, sweet and savory, and a healthy wad of spinach for greenery. The seabass was so
 meaty you could mistake it for steak, the calamari tender and flavorful, A juicy dice of tomatoes in vinaigrette added freshness, and the dish really could not be improved upon.  That said, all the entree (or large format dishes) looked so tempting and seemed to achieve that kind of trifecta (or quadrifecta) status.  Branzino with charred cabbage, spring veg, eggplant cream and tahini.  Dayboat scallops with creamed root vegetables, roasted cauliflower and mushrooms.  Interestingly, and which is not usually the case with middle eastern food, most of the entrees focus on fish or seafood, but they are not treated daintily: they are massive umami-bombs of abundance.

And thus, we weren't that disappointed when none of the desserts that were recited to us (there is no printed dessert menu) grabbed our attention.  After the heartiness of the food, some lighter options would have had more appeal, instead of a chocolate cake/affogato type concoction and a peanut butter mousse... all too much to add on top of fully sated appetites.  So when a little plate of delicate, housemade cookies accompanied the check, that more absolutely sufficient to close out a near-perfect meal.   Chewy coconut rounds were cool and subtle, buttery shortbread-sesame balls rich but light in texture.  It was also a nice gesture, given that Nur is no cheap date.  But you'll definitely be post-prandially satisfied on all levels, and as it might take a little gouge to your wallet, your soul will be commensurately enriched.

 

34 East 20th Street
New York, New York 10003

T. 212.505.3420

PERSEPOLIS

A sense of dread crept upon me as I approached the site of my evening's dinner reservation, which was just too, too ominously, precariously, next-door close to another disappointingly lousy restaurant I had the misfortune of visiting, the bafflingly enduring Turkish joint Uskudar.  Like the fear of a contact high, I was afraid all the mediocrity manifested in Uskudar would infiltrate Persepolis, it's Persian neighbor.  As it turned out, my prescience proved unfortunately accurate.

I had made a reservation, which was a good call because by the time my guest's arrived (slightly later than targeted) there was nary a table available.  It never will cease to astound me how absolutely packed mediocre restaurants can be, while excellent ones close for want of business.  But there's no accounting for taste, and thus, Persepolis is a neighborhood hotspot.  The decor is vaguely Mediterranean, a map of old Persia on one wall, some Byzantine replicas across from it.  "Experience the World's Oldest Cuisine" their website tempts, and by the looks of thing they haven't updated their menu in about as long.  The
 website and the food photography is vastly more attractive than in real life, which may have led to my pretty high, unmet expectations.  Tilapia is on the menu (always a bad sign, even if they did try and sort of slip it in there by spelling it "thilapia"), but other than that the menu reads like an intriguing exploration of the region, so the lackluster execution proved even more disappointing.




We started off with an eggplant trio; I wanted to give as much a try as possible, and one of my tablemates rhapsodized about the eggplant side dish.  Well, maybe we should've stuck with that, since none of these were spectacular (although all tasty enough).  They all remained unfinished, but in retrospect I wish I would've hung onto them to use as sauce to daub my entree, which was pretty one-dimensional.   The main dishes are big enough not to necessitate ordering a ton of appetizers or side dishes, although those might be stronger than the mains.  My thilapia (sic) wasn't
 the worst version of the fish I've ever had, which can often taste like dirty dishwater or the bottom of a murky, stagnant pond.  This just didn't taste like much, although sumac is a favorite of mine, and it was nicely crusted with a ruddy coat of it, and the lemony spinach salad aside was quite pleasant, if not earthshaking.  Both of my tablemates ordered the ground beef kubideh, kebabs of seasoned
 sirloin that exhibited a sort of mushy texture.  One got them with a cucumber and tomato salad ruffled with herbs, the other chose the Polo adas (basmati rice with lentils and raisins), both of which benefitted from the verdant zhoug-esque dipping sauce which accompanied them.  The rice was tender and fragrant, so at least they got what it one of the
 mainstays of Persian cuisine right.   I had lobbied one of them to get a stew instead of doubling up on the kebabs, but I'm also never one to force people into ordering what they don't want just for the sake of diversity.  That said, I convinced them to add on a vegetarian stew as a  dish just to test out more of the offerings,  from which we had three to choose: Gaimeh Badamjan, a spiced dal-type stew with a tomato base, Ghormeh Sabzi featuring "green leafy vegetables, red beans and dried lime" or the Market Vegetables, which was listed under Stews but I'm pretty sure it actually wasn't, as it was

 described as a steamed or sautéed platter.  At any rate, we chose the Ghormeh Sabzi, which has obliterated anything green or leafy that ever existed about those vegetables into a soupy brownish sludge, dotted with random kidney beans and only consumed for my part) to amp up the vegetable ratio of my meal, although with how aggressively they had been cooked I'm not sure they even qualified anymore.

Wrapping things up, Persepolis dessert menu is dominated with ice cream-y options, from a three-scoop sampler to variations on lemon sorbet or a saffron rose flavor.  There is also the standard, baklava, which seemed a little heavy.   One of my companions who was a regular there suggested the ice cream trio, which featured chocolate-strawberry-rose water.  I inquired whether we could sub out the chocolate for lemon sorbet, which didn't seem like too much to ask, but apparently it was.  So we deferred to their rote offerings, and ended up finishing only about half of the three small scoops, letting the other half melt into their respective puddles.

While I fully understand that not every restaurant has to be revolutionary or bursting with nuance, it's still astounding to me that a place like this could be bursting at the seams while so many other excellent establishments struggle to fill their tables.  As a neighborhood mainstay, I suppose it fulfills its purpose at a bare minimum, but that is the extent of it.  For my own sake, the place has too much in common with the city for which is was named: its mountainous terrain and remote location which probably determined the city's demise is much the same sentiment I feel for the Upper East Side.  The city's nebulous history is as mysterious as to how and why this mediocre restaurant endures, but at least with my help via modern technology you can avoid squandering your dining dollars here.

 1407 2nd Avenue
Phone: 212 535-1100

DIVERSION PDX: BULLARD

Whoever beat out Doug Adams in Top Chef must've either gotten really lucky, or I'm gonna have to seek out THAT guy's restaurant, too.  But I was in Portland, and that's where Adam's has opened his new-ish Texas-meets-Oregon wonderland called Bullard.  And it is so utterly excellent I can't imagine how he didn't win, but if it was that fate that allowed him to create this destination within the Woodlark Hotel in downtown Portland, I'm thrilled he lost.  The back of the menu gives you an idea of what hospitality means to Adams, and the kind of vibe you're in store for.  I could've easily removed my boots here, and yeah, post-prandially?  Definitely too stuffed to jump.

Elk horns are right at home here

The bustling bar

The dining room itself is spacious and simple, sparse but not barren.  A vast portion of the real estate is dedicated to an amply stocked bar from which they sling tweaked classics in three versions each.  They fall into five categories: Old Fashioneds, Whiskey Sours, Negronis and Margaritas, plus a full array of beer and wines.   It would seem a fine destination for drinks, especially with all that elbow room, although it's a little odd considering their sister bar, Abigail Hall, is just steps away through the lobby of the hotel, a drinking hall dedicated to old times cocktails in a space nearly as big as Bullard.

That's Bullard the restaurant, not the city in Texas from which its chef hails, and that influences its otherwise Oregon-centric menu.   And from the far end of the restaurant, past that beckoning bar, is
 from whence all the magic derives: a bustling open kitchen glowing with a wood-fired oven whose flames can be seen flickering from afar.   Our server was bright, poised, chipper and of course, requisitely tattooed.  She guided us briefly through  a fairly straight-forward menu, clarifying which plates were more share friendly, although prices are a fairly accurate gauge of this.  Lucky for that, because a $68 T-bone better serve more than one, especially in Stumptown.

Field Greens Salad

But the food is wildly flavorful and generous, and at times generously wild.  A simple sounding butter leaf salad might not have been so accurately titled, as most of the greens with other-than-butter-leaf varietals, but a server explained that the selection of baby mustards, watercress, chicories and mizuna were hand-picked daily from a local farm in terms of whichever looked best.  A recent update to the menu now titles the salad as Field Greens, a much more accurate description.   The various leaves cradled tiny discs of crisp fennel stalk in a a gently lemony dressing, its pucker tamed by caramelizing the tangy citrus, and a shroud of crunch breadcrumbs that looked a little heavy for the delicate greens actually meted out perfectly, augmenting their crunch.

Grilled Prawns (aka shrimp & grits)

Another appetizer, Grilled Prawns, could easily pass as a moderate main course, bolstered by a veggie side dish such as the braised turnips with chili oil and roe, or an indulgent maple-roasted squash with pecan.  Basically a fantastic modern riff on shrimp & grits, the shellfish themselves were among the best I've ever had, fresh and sweet and firm.  The grits came in polenta form, baked into a solid brick and burnished to a crisp golden brown crust, leaving the interior plush and tender and rife with buttery corn flavor.  But the true star of the dish, as was the case with pretty much every thing we tried, was the sauce.  This guy can do sauce.  This one in particular was rich and ruddy, a tangy chili-enriched butter kicked with garlic and... magic.

Usually I opt for whatever fish is available, and while a Supper Plate of Rainbow trout with black-eyed peas and celery was presumably great, it was the lure of Braised Elk Shoulder from The Smoker that caught my attention.  I didn't even know if I'd like elk, but it's preparation sure made a case on its

Tough not to pocket this one....

behalf, braised with mushrooms and truffles on a bed of buttery-rich potato puree.  The shoulder meat succumbed to the gentle pressure of a fork, no steak knife required (although the one provided was exquisitely beautiful, its gleaming blade secured in carved bone).  It was richly beefy but a little lighter on the palate, a characteristic that was more than compensated for by (again) the sauce, an umami-rich pool of stock, meat juices and mushrooms that I spooned up like soup, wished for a straw, wondered if there were jars to spare for purchase that I could buy by the bucketful.  The decadence of the

Braised Elk Shoulder

 creamy potatoes almost went by unnoticed in comparison, although in any other context they would have been the highlight, as luscious as they were.  We worked in another entree as a shared side dish, a Cauliflower Steak which was really not a steak but the whole head, roasted and slathered in smoked peppers and crispy bits of onion, the whole things refreshed with super juicy supremes of blood orange and shreds of basil, the latter of which maybe wasn't quite as flavorful as it might've been, but then again, it was December, and then AGAIN, the

Cauliflower (not) Steak

 combination was anything but lacking in flavor
 from all the other elements, so nothing was amiss.  





After all that food and just our two little stomachs at capacity, dessert unfortunately wasn't going to be an option.  It was an interesting sweets menu, though, which kind of had me wanting to a la carte select ingredients from each offering to compose my own dessert, although had we decided to forge ahead with ordering one, either the grapefruit Baked Alaska or the Cranberry Cobbler with sour cream apple ice cream were the most tempting.  My choose-

What we missed.

your-own adventure dessert, though, might've somehow included the toasted vanilla marshmallows, white truffle ice cream, mulled red wine sauce.... oh, the delicacies we missed.  Oh.... the delicacies for which we must return.  True stories.

813 SW Alder Street
503-222-1670