NYCRW: Asellina

RER 3.4.15

Sometimes the higher the expectations, the greater the disappointment. Nothing could be more true about my experience at Asellina for New York City Restaurant Week. I was so excited to see one of my favorite friends, catch up and eat really good food. The first two happened, but the third was like the worst cliffhanger, dangling too long with an anti-climatic ending.

RER 3.4.15

The dinner date started strong with the aroma of my friend’s bourbon, the loud dance remixes, and almost too trendy décor. But waiting at the table too long, menus in hand, mouths watering, poisoned it. It gave us plenty of gab time, moments to soak in the sights and a chance get hungrier, but we were starving for the attention of the staff.

Eventually, we ordered and were not too deterred (although, I might have said  “Let’s just leave and get pizza” a few times); we had red wine and each other. After time, the music felt louder and our hunger intensified due to frustration.

RER 3.4.15

Finally our beautiful appetizers arrived— both the mozzarella in carrozza and the tagliere Piomentese were stately and minimalist. Perhaps things were looking up... The first was a glorified mozzarella stick, heavy and fried, while the tagliere was rich and decadent with pate, dried meat and tangy cheese. The accompanying focaccia remained tempting to dull hunger despite its greasiness.

RER 3.4.15

Our mains came out quickly, which created an uneasy tempo for the meal. A cast iron pot held a thick pool of cheeses, soft gnocchi and textured artichokes, ushering the scent and tastes of comfort, but nothing memorable. The roasted veal shoulder was tender, but forgettable with no flavors to ignite the senses. Its polenta waffle was intriguing, but too greasy and laden with garlic, an effort to make up for what was lacking.

RER 3.4.15

Now, dessert was on the horizon, our glasses of red wine were emptying, and we were becoming weary of the place, an itch to escape hung heavy. The desserts were like artwork to be looked at and not touched, or eaten. Two cubes of dense chocolate ganache were interrupted by salty, almost savory brittle— rich and chocolaty, smooth and crunchy. The pretty millesfoglie also had a savory bend to it. While the wild berries jam brought brightness to the meaty puff pastry and mascarpone zabaione, it was still too dark and dense. (Sidenote: I could not bring myself to finish, which is unheard of, but something was extremely off-putting, maybe it was just the culmination of an unsatisfying experience.)

RER 3.4.15

I did not leave happy, only craving something delicious and pizza, and regretting the meal. Perhaps too much flavor was injected into the concept of Asellina and not enough was inserted in the food—a pretty façade for underwhelming food and worse service.

RER

3.4.15

RER 3.4.15

NYCRW: BUTTER midtown

RER 2.18.15

Sometimes texture trumps taste. Sometimes what lingers longest is how each morsel felt on the tongue, silencing what speaks volumes with pure pleasure and interest. Sometimes it’s the seduction of touch and feel that is more invigorating, and disconnect is what binds.

The New York City Restaurant Week menu at Butter Midtown displayed a treasure trove of textures and a flourish of welcomed color, like watercolors on a studded canvas. It was a journey of aesthetics and consistencies battling it out—dissonant, jarring, evocative, subtle and sensuous.

RER 2.18.15

On jade green ringed bread plates, fluffy golden parker house rolls, crusted with flaked sea salt, sat high and domed, only outshined by smooth rounds of sweet and herbed butter. Both bread and spread were sweet, but the crisp flaky outer layer of the roll and staccato of salt countered the airy insides and the creamy butter. Rougher slices of baguette with heavy singed crusts deserved the herb-studded variety, chewy and aromatic.

RER 2.18.15

A cube of chopped pale fluke was encircled by negative space and an emerald line chasing itself around the plate. The appetizer felt like an absence of color and life, only awakened by rich magenta blood orange pieces and thin slices of prickly green English cucumbers whose skin echoed the emerald ring. The raw fish and blood orange were cut to the same size, mimicking texture and slippery appeal, while the cucumber added an almost imperceptible crunch, varying the mood and tripping the tongue.

RER 2.18.15

Four plump ravioli, over-garnished, rested snugly in a shallow bowl; a tangle of toppings disguising the meat filled pockets and a pool of buttery sauces. The bowl’s rim, decorated with a red brown floral motif like at grandma’s, matched the julienne candy striped beets perfectly, again connecting plate to dish. The freshness of the beet was crisp like raw vegetable, but the buttered breadcrumbs crunched like oven-toasted happiness, while the pasta was soft, bursting with stringy tender meat. Bright green chile pesto added heat and a thick feeling in the mouth contradicting the garlicky sauce collecting at the bottom of the bowl.

RER 2.18.15

Again, a distracting decorated plate highlighted its contents, allowing dessert to visually blend in with its surroundings and transcend flavor. The springy slick custard of the crème caramel, glided through teeth, while the ruby red pomegranate seeds got stuck and stumbled. Crunchy almond brittle echoed the dance of the seeds, but it was the syrupy sweet kumquat rind that caused a stutter: stop, put down the fork, cut the candied peel and savor.

The experience was about texture— the way each element played with its compatriots and each layer added to the textual architecture of the dish, the way the mouth perceived moments and memorized them, the way texture can trump taste and produce something satiating and musical.

RER

2.18.15

NYCRW: fig & olive

RER 8.6.14

It was warm and the sun was still shining so they sat outside. An early dinner. They lounged at a table hugging the exterior wall of Fig & Olive Downtown, enjoying slow sips and silent laughter. The pair indulged in time while perusing the Restaurant Week menu. But, in reality, they were hungry.

JAR 8.6.14

RER 8.6.14

Being simultaneously presented with amuse-bouche focaccia paired with three varieties of olive oil (light-, medium- bodied and peppery) and two colorful plates, left them flustered and hungrier than ever. Both appetizers were gorgeous, vibrant with colors aching to be devoured.

The seductive burrata arrived on top of orange rings of cantaloupe, bruised red wedges of heirloom tomatoes and a bright green basil oil. Its creamy center oozed, merging with the sweet fragrant cantaloupe. The tangy tomato brought its own sweetness and mimicked the texture of the other fruit, mildly more firm. The herbaceous emulsion added a savory feeling forging a rounder dish— fresh, light and luxurious.

RER 8.6.14

He handed her his spoon, an invitation to try his blisteringly bright lobster bisque. The bold red broth was briny and smooth, saltwater and sunshine. Dense pimenton chive mascarpone floated in the shallow pool, accompanied by partially submerged lobster pieces and a pretty crouton. Layers of lobster were highlighted by taste, texture and easy comfort.

Before she could even soak up the lingering delicate wet strands of burrata from her plate, darker hued entrees arrived, a striking contrast.

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The little rosemary lamb chops were served with herbed goat cheese gnocchi. The gnocchi were dense and shocking, luscious accents elevated to the level of the fancy gamey chops. Slabs of grilled eggplant added smoke and bitter notes as relief of richness. It was a decadent mix of familiar and flavors.

RER 8.6.14

He eyed the pretty set up of steeped oils and almond slivers, a pathway to a small bowl of her spiced couscous, perfect to soak up the deep juices of the chicken tajine entrée. Chicken pieces, dark with spices and buttery with time and seasoning, were placed on top of stewed carrots, zucchini and cippolini onions, plump figs and briny green olives. An aromatic dish, which tempted the senses. 

Even after eating their fill, they still craved something sweet, something to complete the circle.  Desserts, however, were less layered but the minimalist aesthetic resembled still life.

RER 8.6.14

A chocolat pot de crème was lined with a lose blanket of white cream hiding a thick chocolate pudding. Its sensuous bitter acquired taste diminished with every bite, blooming to smooth memories. While the dessert crostini were gorgeous—ripe red strawberries resting on a crunchy shortbread rimmed with sugar, smeared with sweet lusty mascarpone, and drizzled with dark balsamic. Both desserts featured expected connections and contrasting textures.

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With that, their early dinner was over and the sun was still out. Holding hands, they left, musing about the pretty eats, full flavors, and delectable bites.

RER

8.6.14

RER 8.6.14

NYCRW: LAVO new york

RER 8.8.14

Lunch at Lavo for New York Restaurant Week was not just tuna tartare and margherita pizza, it was a lovely time catching up and soaking in the City. The just right breeze rolled into the restaurant through the open tall windows, but hardly any light came in passed the heavy bar into the darker dining area. Mixed music disrupted the mood lighting and detailed décor, which spoke to another time and place. But the food was classic and straightforward, combinations that were expected and reliable.

RER 8.8.14

RER 8.8.14

It was thick colorful tomato slices with too little creamy bufala or a bed of buttery avocado supporting chunky pieces of pink red tuna in a pool of dark acidic dressing.

RER 8.8.14

RER 8.8.14

It was peppery steak slices lost in sauce and accompanied by truffled parmesan fries or a little margherita pizza, straight to the point.

It was also dessert— light and colorful fruits with an adult strawberry sorbetto or doughy and greasy fried Oreo zeppole with a miniscule malted milkshake.

But most of all it was good company, good chatter and a good time.

RER

8.8.14

RER 8.8.14

NYCRW: the WRITING room

RER 8.1.14

Though there is some heavy civil construction down the block, The Writing Room is utterly quiet. Warm, but hushed like a library. Studded leather chairs are tucked underneath freestanding tables, almost bare, adorned with just flatware and square white napkins. A multitude of framed photos cling to the dark grey dinning room wall, illuminated by Edison bulbs and hazy summer sunlight from the front windows. Cozy.

RER 8.1.14

RER 8.1.14

Exposed brick and subway tile cover the bar area and the kitchen, while an expansive card catalog display hangs in a hallway leading further into the eatery. In back is what feels like a secret room, where esoteric meetings of great minds are held, comfortable amongst books.

The restaurant week prix fixe incorporates items from the regular lunch menu, just enough to tease. Tiny flaky brioche rolls and a mini mason jar of soft butter start the three course meal and rouse hunger.

RER 8.1.14

Their sweet corn soup is a play on summer ingredients and warm temperatures. It’s sweet and spicy with green swirls of herbed oil and moments of jalapeno. Shrimp and lime-colored fava beans float in the warm vibrant yellow pool, while skewered cornbread bites add a crunch.

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The garden salad is gorgeous with its gem-toned ingredients— jade colored lettuces, golden corn and ruby pickled beets. Every component springs to life with freshness and saturated hues.

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Two large onion rings crown the massive burger, complete with runny cheese, bright lettuce and radiant tomato. Thick sweet and salty bacon onion jam is smeared on the light buttery brioche bun that condenses enough so every element is perceptible. Pickles pack a kick perfect for the burger, cutting fat and surging spice. Even the thin crisps are familiar but elevated to elegance.

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Pink salmon rests on creamy smoked corn grits encircled by a ribbon of stylish olive oil. A course chopped cilantro topping studs the entrée with green, but is gratefully eclipsed by tart and sweet marinated tomatoes. They bring a sharp note highlighting the unexpected sweetness present in the grits and the purity of the fleshy salmon.

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Though the cracking of the browned sugar of the crème brûlée is satisfying, the custardy middle is wet and unset. Delicious peach compote supported by a sweet crumble is reminiscent of summer, but could not carry the custard.

A peaceful retreat including refreshing chilled rose, stunning food combinations with vivid colors and many laughs.

RER

8.1.14