New year, new posts, New York: Eataly

So before we left for our annual trip to New York, La Canadienne tipped us off to a foodie must-see.

"You guys are going to Eataly, right?" she asked expectantly.

Well obviously I hadn't kept up with the foodie buzz in New York. Eataly is a new venture co-helmed by Mario Batali, Lidia Bastianich and others and it is an enormous Italian Food marketplace down on 23rd and Fifth Avenue. Well, needless to say it's not a secret, in fact within only a few months of opening the place has turned into the site of a daily mob scene.

As I get older and crankier, I find that I am quite crowd-averse and the Eataly experience, while fun, was also a little overwhelming.


The door in is pretty unprepossessing and looks like all it leads to is a modest cafe and gelato bar, but inside the space is enormous, with specialty food areas, restaurants, wine bar, pizzeria, rosticceria... The list goes on and on.


Finding your way around can be a frustrating mess, since the crowds make the narrow entrance and indeed the entire space pretty hard to maneuver in. I wish they hadn't just plonked restaurant tables in the middle of the floor, it's almost impossible to find a clear path through if you're a shopper (go around the perimeter) and it's difficult to figure how you get a table if you're a diner. (look for the seating checkpoint signs on the square columns).


At Eatlay for most things you get a basket and just start gathering products, chocolates, bread, pasta, cheese, truffle butter... The checkout is over by the 23rd street exit and you can pay for most everything at once.


They have large walls of salumi, cheeses. There is a pastry spot which sells tempting cannolis, and a rosticceria where a very tasty roasted chicken costs between $8-$15.


The vegetable stands are unmanned, but the produce looks nice and fresh.


The cheeses are also unmanned, so there is no cutting to order, or samples. Everything is wrapped in plastic already in a grab -and-go sort of situation. But they stock the usual suspects of Italian Cheese: taleggio, robiola, parmagiano and padano, plus a few unusual items. Nothing crazy though.


All on all, while I like Eataly for a lot of things, I think I wouldn't make it a regular place to shop however. It's more of a tourist destination in the mold of the San Miguel market in Madrid or San Francisco's Ferry Building, and less like the Barcelona Boqueria or even the Mercato Centrale in Florence.


It's definitely fun to come in and wander, and maybe pick up some foodie gifts or make a basket of goodies for a friend, but if I were cooking a serious dinner, I might take advantage of other smaller and less pricey places around the city for my supplies.


The pasta selection.


Meat cuts were good-looking and their blanket of tripe was lovely.


Lots of prepacked meat in cases though.

Still, nice for a visit, but I don't know if it will be worth the fight through the crowds on a regular basis.

Park Avenue Winter

"So how have you heard about this place?" my Dad asks incredulously, obviously not yet quite fully grasping the depths of my foodie obsession.

I have him trained now to at least wait until I take a picture of his food before digging in, although he mainly seems to locate that odd practice someplace between quaintly oddball and downright embarassing. But he also laughs loudly to help cover up my insouciance at asking so many questions of the waitstaff.

"Are the truffles from Alba?"

"Oh, ho-ho-ho! What a question.."

"Is the Montevertine considered a Super Tuscan?"

"Ah hahahah! Don't mind her. She a little touched in the head. We only let her out on special religious holidays."

Well, there's more insouciance ahead and he can't say he isn't encouraging me because he's suggesting some places with pretty fine grub, so I call that enabling.



Today for brunch it was Park Avenue Winter, Craig Koketsu's classy place on Park and 63rd. He takes "seasonal" seriously (good man) and for each season he presents a totally new restaurant, from the food right down to the chair covers. I always thought it was a cool idea and if the food was as good as they say...



Le Menu. For brunch it was a $35 prix fixe which I consider to be, for my budget, more of a dinner price, but once again, if the grub is good.



First thing out of the gates was fabulous-- a selection of breads and rolls for the table, made by the pastry chef and served with apple butter and jam. From the end: a cranberry muffin, pistachio scone, sugared doughnut, brioche and pecan bun, banana bread and a maple raisin roll, all served warm and delicious. Wish I could've taken them home with me.



My dad had an impressive Caesar salad. Dressing was nicely creamy and it came with some fine touches: a flatbread crisp of bread instead of croutons, a blizzard of parmagiano and fat white anchovies draped over the top of a stack of romaine leaves. He wasn't able to finish it all.



My starter was the porcini mushroom ravioli in Gorgonzola sauce, perched on some spinach wilted in creamy sauce and with pickled shallot shards on top. A really lovely combination of flavor and delicately balanced, although note to self: you must stop ordering "porcini" this-or-that, because you really are not going to recapture that first fine careless rapture of porcini season in Tuscany.



My Dad's main was the Upper East Sider which consisted of a small Eggs Benedict and a bagel with lox. Cute idea and nicely presented.



I had the "breakfast risotto" which contained sausages and bacon as well as diced potatoes with a fried egg on top. A lovely blend of flavor mixed together, and hearty, though not earthshattering. Still I enjoyed everything, but-- isn't there always a "but"?-- I have to comment on service and style.

Our server struck me at first as a little inattentive, I mean there were only two other occupied tables in the place, so why did I have to ask her if she could answer a few questions on the menu? She turned out to be pretty accommodating though and far more attentive as the meal went on. I was happy to see that my water glass and my Dad's coffee stayed filled all the time.

The runners however were a definite negative for me. Not just that they didn't seem to have clue who ordered what, but they plonked the plates down quite carelessly--bordering on rudely-- at one point the guy shoved the plate in front of my Dad down and edged it over in such a way that the butter knife took a dive for my lap. No apology or anything-- he just looked at me like it was my fault for catching the knife. I wanted to say "what the heck did I ever do to you?"



Well, rudenesss aside, I was surprised to see that the much admired bread plate had a chip in it. An oversight, I figured. But then I noticed that the saucer under my Dad's coffee cup was also chipped and --as he lifted it up-- I could see that it was chipped in not just one but three spots. Now, I have as much chipped tableware as the next person-- more probably. But when you're about to drop $100 on brunch for two, you'd appreciate attention to details.

So all in all, would i recommend it? Yes, with some reservations. Go for the food, but I do wish somebody would tell the chef that his beautiful craftsmanship is being presented in a chipped, sloppy setting.

- Posted from my iPhone

Lunch at the Russian Tea Room

One of the icons of my childhood was always the Russian Tea Room. It's been closed and reopened and changed, if not entirely, at least modernized and not really the same as when I first went there. But the place still serves Russian specialties, although with modern twists that I find appealing. And there's enough there to remind me of the opulence I recalled, even though the diners now come in jeans and tee shirts and the red and gold is a bit more overwhelming than I remembered.





The menu.

















I had the goat cheese and wild mushroom crepe. Not earthshattering but very elegantly executed.





For my main, the Chicken Tabaka. The poussin was nicely crispy although I didn't get the porcini- ness at all. The Brussels were quite yummy so I guess I shouldn't quibble that I got only one baby turnip on the plate-- I never liked turnips anyhow.





I was really looking forward to the blintz though which had a great cheese filling. So good I quite forgot to take a picture.

- Posted from my iPhone

Travelling in New York

Moving around New York.

An uncharacteristically empty avenue.




One of my favorite open secrets in New York, the view from Roosevelt Island is, in my opinion, one of the best in the city. And the aerial tram ride over is still fun, after all these years.



Admittedly, New York can, however, be less than helpful for the tourist.

A bit of Vienna in New York

So after the initial panic had subsided and I realized that the doctors at New York-Presbyterian probably knew what they were about (they were after all rated as the 6th best hospital in the nation by U.S. News and World Report, and Dad's doctor is apparently a bona fide superstar in the thoracic surgery realm), I calmed down a little. The nursing staff gently pried me away from the bedside as visiting hours closed, and left to my own devices in an over-heated New York, I decided to seek a little comfort in a Viennese Eiskaffee, iced coffee with cream and a goodly dollop of vanilla ice cream.

I haven't had a good one since we went to Vienna three years ago, but through a Percoset-induced haze, my Dad informed me that Cafe Sabarsky at the Neue Gallerie on 86th has a terrific Viennese cafe--the real deal. I had no other things on my agenda, so I headed on over. Of course, when I got there, there was a line out the door and down the hall for Cafe Sabarsky.

(Side note: I have now decided that the reason that New York is such book-reading town is that everyone has to wait on such LONG lines that they have to bring along books--lengthy books--to pass the time. I saw a guy reading Dickens in line at Whole Foods, and you could probably finish Atlas Shrugged while waiting to pay for your soy milk and frozen raviolis at Trader Joes. This, I have decided, also explains the density of New Yorker magazine articles: just long enough for a wait on line at the new Balducci's.)

ANY-way, I'm not big on patience, so I headed downstairs to Cafe Fledermaus, which is admittedly less glamorous, but has no line and the same menu. I ordered some summery spaetzle with corn and peas, and my blessed Eiskafee and sat there with my New Yorker for a little escape from the summer heat and craziness.


New York was uncharacteristically rainy for July, but I like that, especially in the hot weather. The droplets steam off the molten pavement and for a moment everything seems breathable. This whole escapade and the stifling heat made things feel a bit surreal, in fact, as if I were drifting around the city with only a moderate sense of purpose.

Outside of the Neue Gallerie I headed for the 5th Avenue bus and spotted this lonely looking balloon on the sidewalk. I've been a big fan of Lamorisse's The Red Balloon since I was a little kid and the image struck me as particularly appropriate to the wistful way I was feeling at the moment.

New York State of Mind

So I'm back in the Bay Area after a busy week in New York. Although I'd planned it as a vacation trip, for my Dad's birthday, it turned into a bit more of an emergency trip when Dad had to go in for surgery.

I spent most of the day in the hospital, but when they kicked me out after visiting hours ended, I just didn't feel like moping around the apartment.

Whatever else you may say about New York--the sky-high price of milk, the endless lines, crowded streets with people rudely rolling their strollers over your toes--the city always has little magical moments that just don't seem to happen elsewhere.


Olafur Eliasson, whose terrific exhibit I'd seen at the SF Museum of Modern Art, has turned on his wonderful waterfalls in the East River, so I wandered down to the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge to have a gander.







I half expected to see hordes of people clogging the bike path under the drive, but to my pleasant surprise, it was just me and a few other art lovers enjoying a stroll along the water at dusk, as we all watched the lights come on in the city.


Fishermen still wait patiently for their (edible? inedible?) catch, and locals from nearby Chinatown sit on the benches, taking in the view across the river.




I walked all the way to Pier 35 to see the tall cascade, and marvel at the pleasure that running water seems to evoke in humans.




A tug pushing a barge filled with trash plows by -- man-made beauty and man-made garbage.





It's well worth staying past sunset to watch the real beauty of the Waterfalls come out.





What is this? No idea. And why do things look so strangely surreal at night in New York?

Brasserie Bafflement

So, you might wonder where I've been for, lo, these many weeks. Basically it went like this: we went to NY over the holidays, I got sick and remained sick for many days, and essentially have been giving myself a three week vacation. Hah!

But there's much to catch up on, and I did want to blog, as a warning to others, the very disappointing Brasserie in The Seagram Building on 53rd St. in New York.

It wasn't the best of circumstances by any measure -- we needed a place for Christmas dinner with my Dad, and it was a last minute choice, but I must admit, I was definitely expecting a little more from this once trendy, hipster hangout.

It's a strange place, and I can't say I disapproved of the decor which is sort of sleek, Arclinea cold. I guess "Terminal"--as in "airline"-- is the idea. Except without the security gate and taking off the shoes and mailing your Swiss Army knife back to yourself stuff.

There is a weird Big Brother vibe though, in that there's a bank of TVs hanging over the bar in the main dining room, each of which shows a frame of the last dozen or so patrons to enter. Diner beware as you enter through the revolving door, you're on Candid Camera. No cleaning out your earwax or picking your nose, because the image will be displayed to the entire dining room. And THEN after checking your coat, you'll be expected to walk down a little runway ramp into the room, you ear-picker, you. I suppose if Mick Jagger or Naomi Campbell were coming in, everyone in the restaurant could gawk, but of course nowadays, it's just well... it's just us.

On the plus side, they did not lose our reservation, and seated us in a quieter room, and they do have some cute prismatic illusion menu covers, which offered my Omnivore several minutes of amusement.







Yeah. Hmmm. If only what was on the inside of the menu had been as amusing as what was on the cover.

Moving on.


So the first thing is that I was perturbed by the butter. As many of you know, I have an obsession with butter (among other things) and although I think Brasserie probably served us some nice butter, the fact that they sliced it like a sausage roll and plonked down the slice, with foil still embedded in it, in front of us, was how shall we say... not appealing?

Our habit at most places is to ask the server what his or her favorite things on the menu are. They should know, after all, right? So our server, a very pleasant man with a French accent, told us that he had "gotten very good feedback on the Short Ribs and the Guinea Hen, and the monkfish is very popular."

"Have you tried both?"

"Um, no, I have not actually personally tried them, but many guests have enjoyed it."

Beg pardon? You haven't even tried them? Don't tell me what's popular -- this isn't a primary election. I want to know what's good.

Alright, alright. Whatever. I guess we're on our own.

I ordered the Duck Confit Salad, which would have been fab if I had actually ordered a Frisee Salad. As it was, I had a bit of a time finding my confit under all that frisee. The duck cracklings, I will concede, were good. But how hard is that? It's fried duck fat. What's not to love?


Dad got the Lobster Bisque, by far the best out of the three appetizers. Reasonably smooth and tasty, it was what it was. Soup Nazi definitely makes better bisque, but this was not bad.

My Omnivore's wild mushroom tart, though, was pretty dull. It seemed like the mushrooms were under-seasoned when they were cooked, or maybe just overcooked. A universe apart from the delicious perky wild mushrooms we had at Ai Gondolieri in Venice.

Guinea Hen (while popular) was desperately overcooked and dry, as were the short ribs, while the monkfish was rather bland and unimaginative. And all I could think was that for $70 a head, we could have gone back to Artisanal and had some damn cheese.

Maybe it's that Christmas Dinner thing. I mean, the kitchen staff probably doesn't want to be there, so they're phoning in the reduced version of the usual menu. Still, I was flabbergasted at how dull everything was. No wonder our server didn't want to taste the food.

Dessert came, on a non-illusory menu, but I must confess, by this time I was feeling a bit defeated.

Ultimately, though, I will say that we did better here than with our main courses and starters.

Pumpkin Tart was flavorful and had a nice Port sauce to go with it.



Pecan Brown Butter had decent depth of flavor and was not overly sweet.





I was also so amused by the typo on the menu that read "Bouche de Noel" that I thought it might be the inspiration for a new holiday dessert.

They, of course, meant Buche de Noel, according to our French-speaking server, who only rolled his eyes a little when we pointed this out. I couldn't help thinking though, that Bouche de Noel might be more fun.

Frankly, Brasserie looks like the sort of place that's in its last gasps. It was a bit demoralizing instead of festive--throughout the dinner, I couldn't stop glancing at the crusts of dried bread on the floor, clearly illuminated by the once-trendy "frosted glass under the banquette" lighting. Once hip and happening, it's now reduced to serving the rest of us, and has consequently gone from high end dining to cafeteria--honestly, you can get better food in museum cafes in New York.

It shows in the service, it shows in the atmosphere, and in the care that goes into the menu as well as the preparations.



And at the end, I just wasn't satisfied. Heading back to our hotel at close to midnight, I couldn't help wondering if the Korean barbecue joints were any good...