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Entering
Satis Bistro, in the quiet neighborhood of Paulus Hook,
Jersey City, is like entering a portal that shifts time and transports to
somewhere else. The space is a maze of minute details, like a museum, but it is
still breathing, alive with the movement of time, people and food. There are
pictures in frames hung purposefully on a small wall, and a tall communal table
under a giant chalk board with latin scrawled in a rainbow of colors, and there
are green hanging plants seated in the high windows, drawing the eye up to the
very tall ceilings and eventually to a second lofted dining area. Even the powder
room felt aged and lived in. But a visible kitchen, where some appetizers and
cheese plates are prepared, is its own space, completely different than the rest,
and thrown further back in time, underlined by rustic touches of benches for
seating and rough pillows throughout the venue.
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The restaurant has a definite atmosphere, a kind of allure
like the scent of fatty short ribs, gnocchi pillows, and red wine vibrato.
Somehow there is a swirling of place and time, until neither is quite
distinguishable, but the flavors reign and solid technique soars. Either
through the super chilled avocado vichyssoise, with almost enough charred corn,
summer tomatoes and watercress coulis, floating just so in the middle of the
creamy and rich soup. Or the cheese plate appetizer with its haphazard elegance
of apricot chutney, hot with mustard seeds, or the red ribbon of prosciutto and
fat, and crusty bread.
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Even what seems as straightforward as meat and potatoes or
simple pasta, was elevated to something luxurious and comfortable at the same
time. The short ribs, tender with time and seasoning, were fatty and surrounded
by a bold peppery sauce, which balanced the richness, and enlivened the starch
of the tangy goat cheese mashed potatoes. An addition of tiny cubes of chorizo,
pushed the dish further. The mixture of varied textures created a pieced together harmony, much like
the décor of the restaurant.
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This play on the expected and the unexpected puzzle
continued with the surprising gnocchi. There were not the little dots of doughy
dumplings that are asssumed; but these were like little biscuits, pillows of
ricotta with the essence of citrus and browned. The six fluffy dumplings were
highlighted by a creamy sauce, gently wilted escarole, firm white beans and
sweet roasted garlic. The dish was rich and reminiscent of home, comfort and
familiarity, but the quality and technique equated refinement.
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The sundaes, however, were an easy way out, strikingly
contrasting the effort put into every other detail. There were not the careful
and pristine elements constructed into the melty moments of chocolate and
vanilla ice cream drenched in caramel and dashed in toasted coconut and meaty
nuts, or the round balls of unnatural strawberry and vanilla disguising a dense
sweet corn pound cake, as in other facets of the restaurant. They were easy and effortless though,
like the amalgamation of flavors and the mixed aesthetic. The sundaes did not transport
across sea and continent, but rather, back in time to childhood and midnight
concoctions.
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Every element of Satis is orchestrated, creating an
experience that does not stop at the food— it is an atmosphere, a
transformation of a small space into an anonymous bistro in another part of the
world. Its European roots are demonstrated through charcuterie, pastas, meats
and fishes, a blend of the old and new and near and far.
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