Dining Around New York Day 2: manhattan’s sexy chefs
Day two of my NY gastronomic odyssey was off to a shaky start. Waking up to coffee and a train ride, my stomach was not ready to cooperate with my quest for the best of Lower Manhattan gastronomy. A bagel and cup of ginger tea later, I was up for a brisk walk but aphrodisiac cuisine was not on the menu.
So I decided it would be best to spend the first half of my day dining with my eyes. First there was stroll through Gourmet Garage, which seemed a bit dingier than I remember. Then it was off to Chelsea Markets. A feast of brownies from Fat Witch were my first priority, (not for me but for a colleague with a craving.)
That errand out of the way, I enjoyed the eye candy of hanging hams, spun sugar confections and throw pillow-sized bagels as far as the eye could see. But alas, even the alluring baking spice aromas could not rouse my appetite for a mid-day meal.
Instead, I decided to pass the rest of the afternoon enjoying my second-favorite sensory pleasure: massage. I booked at the Bliss Spa in Soho, a day spa chain I wouldn’t normally patronize, but it was two blocks from the office where I was meeting friends and is reliably clean, inspected and certified.
I feel the need to preface my review of the spa. In my early 20’s, I became certified as a massage therapist and have worked in 3 spas in various parts of the world throughout my career. That said, my massage therapist at Bliss treated me to one of the top 10 massages of my entire life. So, should you ever find yourself in Soho with muscles needing soothing, call Bliss and ask for Knovy, a diminutive man with hands as strong as steel and fingers as warm and soft as melted butter.
After the massage I finally felt restored and primed for cocktails. The first stop on the itinerary, once again designed by Chef Annette, an EatSomethingSexy columnist, was Public, a highly regarded bar and restaurant with a vibe that somehow telegraphs both man of mystery and British investment banker. Bellying up to the counter, we ordered from an exotic cocktail menu filled with ingredients like guavas, sake and thai basil. Then Annette glanced down the bar at its only other patron, who happened to be its owner and a friendly acquaintance. And, as sometimes happens when food professionals recognize their own kind, a beautiful gift of morsels arrived for our pleasure.
First came a spoon layered with pickled eel and topped with half of a cooled, hard cooked quail egg. The food was a study in contrasting textures and temperatures, sensual qualities too often neglected by American chefs. In fact, the cuisine by chef Brad Farmerie reminded me of the sort of dishes typical in Australia, that funny amalgamation of French, Italian, Japanese, Thai, Greek, Indonesian and British food all scrambled up and rolled out with its own distinctive, national stamp.
Second appeared a whole grain croquette, a little crispy-edged circle topped with half a fresh anchovy and garnished by crunchy, tangy, cold, pink, pickled onions. Thinking nothing could top it, we were stunned that the treasure of riches continued with a hot scallop on its shell served with bacon bits of crispy pork belly and raw baby greens in a sweet-tangy sauce. (Should you visit Public, you will find this item on the Monday Room menu.)
Realizing we were running late, (the aim was to hit Double Crown, younger and slightly more exotic creation of the folks behind Public, before meeting friends for our dinner reservation at Allegretti), we settled the bill and ducked into the night for a quick walk and one more cocktail… or so we thought.
At Double Crown we were welcomed like old friends and as we placed our cocktail orders, mine a mango sour with cardamom aromatics, more place settings appeared. (Did you catch the reference to a dinner reservation earlier…?) But who could say no to treats from one of downtown’s newest hot spots?
What appeared before us was a pint glass full of plump shrimp, the heads and legs removed and cooked to a crisp like little briny potato shreds. They were accompanied by an 8” length of cooked bone marrow served with a sweet and sour chutney and a side of toasted brioche, onto which the hot marrow and cold chutney were to be smeared. Last came two bowls of faintly spiced crab laksa topped with a handful of crunchy, cold bean sprouts–another study in temperature and texture.
Along with the morsels came exactly what we never needed but pretty much what every foodie ever wanted, the debut of an experimental cocktail about to hit the bar’s winter menu. The sample, served in a long glass, was a wild combination of citrus and spice that attempted to echo the comfort and warmth of a crackling winter fire by the infusion of smoked cedar chips. Yes, it was as bizarre as it sounds, yet deliciously subtle in its execution.
Forty minutes later than we expected, we arrived at Allegretti, (fully sated as you might imagine). Luckily, our friends had not eaten, so rather than offend the chef, we were able to participate in another parade of dishes (with a little help from our friends) ordered from the rising star chef Alain Allegretti’s Nicoise menu. (Chef Allegretti, I must add, with his smoldering eyes and glossy dark hair, could easily be the poster boy for America’s hottest European imports.) First came “A Taste of Nice,” an appetizer plate with tiny samples of brandade, rustic baked cherry tomato, pissaladiere (Provencal pizza), breakfast radish rosettes with Mediterranean tapenade, tiny artichokes and probably a couple of other items that now escape my overloaded brain.
To accompany our Southern French meal was a Provencal red, which, I was actually grateful to say, was not at all to my taste. For our main course we split an order of branzino (an European white fish), simply prepared with roasted tiny squashes and a dish of ridiculously decadent uni and prawn pasta colored black by squid ink. A surprise came with the entrees, courtesy of the only other table left in the restaurant. A group of serious wine drinkers surrendered to our clutches the last of their 11th(!) bottle of the night. (They were, by the way, a table of eight.)
Annette and I were both shocked and awed to realize that what was left in our possession was about 1/6 of a bottle of 2004 Kongsgaard Chardonnay. A cult wine considered to rank among Napa’s finest, it was a wine I was only ever once fortunate enough to taste before, even though I’ve dined with the winery’s owner! The 2004, impossible to purchase today, was likely bought at auction and lovingly stored in a home cellar, awaiting a special occasion worthy of its cult status.
The wine was aged to the color of peaches, but still bright on the nose. Its aging spoke of its winemaker’s skill, a brilliant combination of toasted hazelnuts and almonds layered with vanilla and a mere hint of honey that was at once thick and syrupy on the tongue yet still bright and acidic on the finish (despite its bottle aging). A bite of uni, a sip of five year old Chardonnay-this was a meal of aphrodisiacs!
After dinner, there was still a parade of confections: lavender creme brulee, a fudgy block of chocolate decadence, fig clafouti–exceptional with the nectar-like dessert wine we sipped with our sweets–and a brilliantly tart yet exceptionally creamy lemon “bar,” a tiny, rectangular piece of heaven.
The meal was washed down with restorative cups of jasmine tea and I truly felt there was nothing left of NY needing to be done other than a hop into a warm taxi back to Brooklyn.
In two days, I had eaten Lower Manhattan and I had dined well.
If you missed Day1, catch up <a http://eatsomethingsexy.com/blogs/amyreiley/2009/10/28/dining-around-new-york-day-1-manhattan-offers-sketchy-oysters-and-superior-cookies
really enjoyed this one. what an adventure!
[...] Last October I did one of my “eating the town” missions in NYC with Chef Annette Tomei. (You can read about our adventures in my blog, The Aphrodisiac Queen.) [...]