American – Page 5 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Jo’s

264 Elizabeth Street between Houston and Prince
212/966.9640
about $40 for one, with a drink, with tip
♥

The night that Jo’s officially opened, I walked by to check out how the old Tasting Room space had transformed. It was before 8pm and it wasn’t crowded, so I decided to stay and sit at the bar for a Vin de Pays and try out the pappardelle with lamb stew as my Wednesday night meal.

One of the greatest things about New York City is that you can sit at a bar alone and there’s usually a fifty per cent chance that you’ll meet someone who’s not as creepy as the rest of the city’s inhabitants. If you’re lucky you could get a free drink out of it, but if you’re really lucky, you can get invited to the menu tasting by the co-owner’s friends. I was in the really lucky category last week. I ended up joining the group next to me while they passed around dishes that the kitchen was churning out for feedback.

Jo’s labels itself as “American bistro”. I think its an appropriate description because they had a mélange of cuisines available. As I sat down at the marbled bar and looked around the dimly-lit space, I expected tapas with expensive wines. The space looks more handsome than the food offered on the down-to-earth menu. On a chalkboard, burgers and fries; a bowl of skewers joined a plate of Thai-spiced chicken pieces; my pappardelle could have been paired with the arugula salad. The back room feels a little bit more diner-like: the Tasting Room heavy stable door is gone and the wine cellar has been moved next to the bathrooms to make room for another group by the main entrance.

Jo’s, named after one of the owners’ mother, might still be having an identity crisis in terms of food while they hash out the details, but while I was there I could feel the love from the owners’ friends and families who showed up to celebrate the opening. The economy might be bad, but people are still out enjoying their early summer nights with good company. It’s another reason why I love New York City. I wish Jo’s the best.

Related post/s:
I still miss the Tasting Room

Perilla

9 Jones Street between West 4th and Bleecker Streets
212/929.6868
$147 for three, with a bottle of wine, without tip
♥ ♥

I’ve watched Top Chef enough to know that the judges sometimes can’t make up their minds between “cooking outside the box” and “sticking with what you know”. You had Carla who finally stuck with the food most familiar to her and she made it to the final round. You had Marcel the twat who does everything Wylie Dufresne style and the judges sometimes thought it–he–was too much. But then there were episodes when the contestants were not trying hard enough or were trying too much–you just couldn’t predict what the judges were going to say next.

When Frank Bruni gave a less than stellar review to Perilla, Harold Dieterleâ€™s first restaurant, my heart went out to the first-season Top Chef winner. I can’t even imagine the anxiousness chefs feel when their new restaurant opens in New York City because one review can either make or break them. Three years later, Perilla is still in business and thankfully so because I had a very good dinner there a couple of months ago with some friends. We were looking for a low-key spot to get together and catch up with our holiday stories, particularly a small place where we didnâ€™t have to scream at each other to have a conversation. In fact, Perilla doesnâ€™t even look like it came from a TV winner. I gather that if people who have never seen the show walked in the restaurant, they would think the same way I did: Oh, this is nice and cozy and that’s about it.

I walked in and joined the standing queue at the bar one prime Saturday night. My friends joined me a few minutes after the bartender made my martini and we were soon seated right next to the kitchen entrance. I went for the sure-fire lamb while my friend ordered the fish; her fiancé, beef. A hamachi crudo was refreshing with yuzu and the notorious duck meatballs didn’t disappoint. Brussels sprouts and sunchokes are usual fare in seasonal menus and they both served their purposes well at Perilla.

The portions were larger than what I usually see in the city for the same prices, and considering I was unemployed at the time, I couldn’t complain. The food and the service matched the ambiance: nothing was overdone because everything was modest. Maybe now that chef Dieterle has made it past Bruni’s claws, he’d be willing to cook outside of his comfort zone. But you know what? Maybe I’d like for him to cook just the way he’s been cooking.

Keens Steakhouse

72 West 36th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues
212/947.3636
$130 for two, with drinks, with tip
♥ ♥ ♥

To celebrate my getting a new job during these harsh economic times, the Dr. took me to Keens Steakhouse for their legendary mutton chops. I think I might have to keep him around for a while.

The meat from a sheep less than twelve months old is called lamb, and as we all know, is usually tender and mild in flavor. The meat from an older sheep is called mutton, and for reasons I can’t find on the Web, is not as popular on New York City menus as lamb. Someone please explain why I can’t enjoy mutton much more often! We ordered it medium-rare and it was perfectly bloody and hefty. Keens wouldn’t be the only Herald Square Theater District survivor today if they haven’t been this consistent since 1885.

For lack of better wording, mutton is more manly. I felt stronger and more carnivorous when I was eating it even though we were sharing one $45 chop. There is no lack of male reminders at Keens–the collection of churchwarden pipes from old customers cover the ceiling, from Teddy Roosevelt’s to General Douglas MacArthur’s. Walking in, you’d think you’ve entered a museum rather than a restaurant. If it wasn’t for Lillie Langtry, actress and paramour of King Edward of England, taking Keens to court in 1905 for having denied her access to its gentlemen-only premises, it will still be a rendezvous of the men’s club today. She won her case, swept into Keens in her feathered boa and ordered like a man.

Bubby’s Pie Co.

1 Main Street in DUMBO, Brooklyn
718/222.0666
$45 for two, with a drink, without tip
♥ ♥

We descended on the island of Brooklyn earlier than we would want to be, but Bubby’s was already teeming with young families and baby strollers. We squeezed ourselves past the waiting crowd and told the maitre d’ we would take the two empty seats at the bar. At Bubby’s, the bar is the way to go if there’s less than four of you so you avoid the long wait, but you also sacrifice service.

At the bar, we ordered a bloody Mary and a diet Coke. We split the grass-fed burger and opted for a salad instead of fries and shared a side of two eggs over-easy and bacon. As soon as our plates were placed in front of us, it took more than ten minutes to start eating because we had to wait for our waiter to walk by so that we can remind him about the ketchup and mustard. I walked to the other end to find one of the two guys running the bar, but couldn’t find them. When one of them came out of the kitchen, I couldn’t get his attention until he returned to our side of the bar to hear the lady next to us complain about her eggs. (She ordered fried and got scrambled instead.) But when we finally started eating, it was a very pleasant burger, and not because we were extremely hungry but because it as juicy, perfectly medium-rare and well-seasoned. The salad was boring so we mixed in some of the egg yolks with it to give it a kick. In fact, forget about well-crafted salads when you go to Bubby’s: order anything that’s heartier and heavier than a bowl of freshly tossed vegetables and expect to wait.

Irving Mill

116 East 16th Street between Irving Place and Union Square East
212/254.1600â€Ž
$129 for three, with beers, with tip
♥

Wow, they made a big deal about the burgers here. Don’t get me wrong: they were satisfying, but nothing more incredible than what other places in the city has to offer. It also didn’t make up for the confused service we received from our waiter who seemed out of it.

We ordered a few appetizers with our burgers to split between the three of us: salt and pepper pork ribs, crispy pigs’ ears salad with radicchio topped with creme fraiche and arugula-shiitake mushroom salad. We also ordered a side of kale to eat with our burgers. It was perplexing when our waiter brought all the vegetables for appetizers, leaving my friend eating the kale while two of us ate our salads. When we brought this to our waiter’s attention, he seemed to forget that the kale is offered as a side on the menu.

For shiitake, mine looked very much like button mushrooms. I couldn’t pin-point if it was the lack of dressing or tossing of ingredients together in a bowl, but they didn’t meld with the greens. What I expected to be a hearty salad was really dry and boring. I’ve had better salad from delis than this one. The salt and pepper pork ribs brought the same unexciting feeling. How can anything be well-seasoned and at the same time taste bland? When the busboy took away my plate, he spilled the leftover rib juice on our table and we watched as it remained on our table until we had to leave.

I ordered my burger medium-rare but it was pretty rare inside. I didn’t mind it, but I know that that would be unacceptable to many. The fries on the side were limp and soggy. At this point, our waiter disappeared and never returned. We had two different guys bring us coffee and our bill.

The saving grace of the night was the crispy pigs’ ears salad. They were truly crispy and mouth-watering but I would have been more satisfied without the creme fraiche on it. If the service was more pleasant, we would have stayed and ordered extra drinks to try and salvage our night, but we couldn’t wait to get out of there and just give our waiter a break.