Saturday’s meal at Gilt Restaurant in the Palace hotel, goes down in the annals of history for me. I will remember it for the largest aggregate of a-holes I’ve ever encountered in a single dining experience. Had they been snobby, perhaps I could have handled it. Gilt is a two-Michelin-star restaurant after all! (say with snout in the air) No, these people were downright antagonistic. In some moments I forgot we were the customers at a fine restaurants. I thought perhaps we should step into the boxing ring!
We started off on poor footing when our table wasn’t ready when we arrived. I’m a rather understanding person and I know that timing doesn’t always work as a hostess might like. There is a proper way to remedy the situation, but quite the opposite occurred. After waiting patiently for 15 minutes, my Dad inquired about the situation. The hostess said:
“There are people lingering at your table. They arrived 30 minutes late, just like you arrived 20 minutes late.”
WHOA WHOA WHOA!
Firstly, we had not arrived 20 minutes late. We were a few minutes late, perhaps 10 at the most. Had we been on time, our table wouldn’t have been ready anyway. Regardless, why would she say that to a customer? Is it just me or is that a completely unacceptable comment from a hostess? Not to mention we waited a full 30 minutes after our reservation and nobody offered us a complimentary cocktail, which I feel is a common courtesy when a table isn’t ready.
My Dad spoke to the manager who graciously apologized and promised we’d be taken care of once our table was ready, in a few minutes.
We sat down and the sommelier brought a complimentary glass of Champagne. Things were looking up.
We expected a waiter to say hello and bring menus. He was nowhere to be found. We waited and waited. Eventually we grabbed somebody and asked for menus and he begrudgingly brought them. Apparently he was our waiter. I’m still not sure if he was supposed to be.
To digress for a moment: In advance of our visit I called Gilt twice and had lengthy conversations with two different hostesses. I had some questions about the menu. I needed to confirm that there was something E could have due to his kosher diet. The menu changes frequently and it is pretty brief so I was anxious about ensuring he’d be comfortable with the preparations. Though I was rushed off the phone, both hostesses assured me that they’ve had Kosher diners in the past and they could handle the situation comfortably. There was a note on our reservation about the dietary restrictions.
Somehow the message was not delivered. Our waiter was completely uninformed and I had to re-explain everything and ask what the chef could do. I don’t like inconveniencing the kitchen but I had heard that Gilt was good about making accomodations, especially when notified in advance. After a long discussion with the waiter, he spoke with the chef and told us what they could do. Trying to be nice, my Dad said “Thank you, we really appreciate him going out of his way for us.” Rather than letting it go, the waiter actually said “Well, he doesn’t like to do it, but he will.” I was flabergasted. Was this necessary?
It is rare when service is so rude that it actually overshadows the food. The tragedy here, is that the food at Gilt is pretty damn good. My squash tortelloni was nicely al dente and faintly sweet with tender, almost pureed quail wrapped in a bright green. (The waiter superfluously informed us that it was deboned) My sister’s foie gras with candied black olive was divine. My delicately spiced tandoori cod with roasted eggplant and lentils was flaky and luscious, though slightly overly salted. A dorade royale with uni aioli, gnocchi and baby squash was another star.
But it would take the meal of a lifetime to offset the thick, asshole attitude of the people who work at Gilt. A couple of days after the meal, I’m still fuming about it. The above are just two of the prime examples, but I could go on for hours if there’s interest ;) I won’t be returning to Gilt. In fact I plan to continue loudly complaining about our experience. There are too many other excellent restaurants in New York. I don’t need a side order of attitude, and neither do you.
Location: 455 Madison Ave Food: Very Good Service: Poor Average App/Entree Price: 3-courses for $89 Value: Poor You Gonna Finish That? Not even worth a doggy bag.
The extravagant SHO Shaun Hergatt opened less than a year ago in a risky climate for restaurateurs of all types, but even tougher for those with fine dining ambitions. I still recall when I wrote up SHO Shaun as part of the June restaurant report. Opening a glitzy French-Asian fusion restaurant with a long name, deep in the Financial District in the middle of a recession is frankly, ballsy. What were they thinking?
With every card stacked against it, SHO Shaun has plowed through this year, receiving praise from critics galore and even a Michelin star. Did I mention they’ve only been open for 7 months? Nevertheless, I’m never one to accept one opinion as fact and I couldn’t wait to see for myself. Though not a household name, Shaun Hergatt had great experience at Atelier de Joel Robuchon and other hotel restaurant experience at the Ritz Carlton both here and in Australia.
It has been some time since I had a meal as dazzling as dinner at SHO Shaun Hergatt. The seasonal French-Asian menu is a stark contrast to the fusion cuisine of yore which is now painfully tired. You won’t find any duck breast with shiitake mushrooms here. You almost need a dictionary to read the menu. Tetragonia? Tatsoi? Rosella gel? It was all so exotic and exciting. And the service was perfectly orchestrated in a down-to-earth yet prideful manner. You’ll get inspired amuse-bouches like lobster creme and bread with truffle butter and a finale of petits-fours. Though the menu might sound intimidating, it all makes sense when the food arrives. SHO Shaun doesn’t force you to think as you eat, which was off-putting at Corton.
The martian-looking dish above is the red chilli and coconut milk glazed quail with a shiitake duxelle and tetragonia (a leafy vegetable similar to spinach) The quail was crispy and sweet on the outside with a juicy center. As I sliced into the shiitake duxelle, liver oozed out with a richness counteracted by mustard. A quail egg was sandwiched between the duxelle and quail meat. Each component was complex and magnificent on its own but even better when combined.
For my entree I had flaky, sweet Chatham cod with a light dusting of fennel and orange kaffir lime-scented crème on the side. Its delicate flavors were a nice leveler to the quail appetizer.
My poor cod was greatly overshadowed by my Dad’s three-day short rib with a sweet crunchy crust of hazelnut and cranberry plus creamy parsnip purée on the side. The short rib’s tremendous flavors lingered on and on. I read on Always Hungry that Chef Hergatt make the luscious, tender meat by “marinading it for two days in red wine. The fat-end of the bone-in short rib is then roasted and braised in red wine marinade for six hours. The meat is de-boned and portioned into the length of a Mars Bar. It’s glazed with a reduced braising liquid that gives it the appearance of a chocolate-coated candy bar.” The plate is also adorned with slices of tomato confit, which tasted like sweet sun dried tomatoes and a few pearl onions. It’s a tough battle between the quail and the short rib for favorite dish of the evening.
For dessert we had the java cremeux with apricot croustillant and cardamom ice cream. I never go gaga for desserts (unless it’s a cheese plate) but I enjoyed the interplay of spice, coffee and sweet apricot. The flavors were spot-on with just enough sweetness. Even better than this dish though was the chocolate caramel salts which arrived with the petits-fours.
I sincerely hope that SHO Shaun’s unfortunate location won’t dissuade people from visiting. They’re doing everything right and I applaud Chef Hergatt for persevering to build such a phenomenal restaurant, against all odds. I’m sure he met many non believers along the way. Plus, $69 for a three-course meal like this is outrageous in New York! This food is truly transcendental. Absolutely check out SHO Shaun Hergatt for your next special occasion. It will wow you!
Location: 40 Broad Street Food: Excellent Service: Very Good Average App/Entrée Price: 3 Courses for $69 Value: Excellent You Gonna Finish That? Every last bite.
If my feelings about Corton were a Facebook relationship status, they’d be the tenuous: “it’s complicated.” There were some moments when I felt in love then others when I felt we were better as friends. Generally, I just couldn’t commit.
I don’t put much emphasis on decor but if I did, Corton wouldn’t fare well. As you can see in the photo above, the room is basically in drab shades of grey which let the food stand out but don’t do much for one’s spirit.
Corton has been receiving tremendous accolades since it opened last year, including two Michelin stars amongst the ranks of Picholine and Momofuku Ko. The food is sort of a heady take on French cuisine. The menu is deceptively simple but then each dish arrives deconstructed into three or four precious components. Most arrive with a long explanation and great pomp and circumstance. For some dishes the playfulness worked and for others I was left scratching my head.
We started off well with a luscious amuse-bouche of foie gras with port chantilly and cauliflower creme. It was like a foie gras custard and as I stirred the cauliflower through the foie gras it sliced the richness. A seemingly basic square of cod got a tableside drizzle of bright green sauce and a copper pot of just-soft, creamy pumpkin and Jerusalem artichoke risotto. This dish alone was lovely but then came a tiny plate with a little ball of crisp cod served atop a smear of tartar sauce (their version of fish and chips). Then another plate of some forgettable foam and greens completed the single entree. I wondered why all the extra side components, they didn’t seem to add much except confusion and extra thought. Too much fuss and not enough substance.
Headiness is sometimes good, like in a tete de cochon and serrano gelee served with a single farm egg. My sister described it as one of the most inspiring appetizers she’d ever had. The duck with turnip gelee was profoundly juicy, served in three little slices with a nice char on the outside of each. I loved the playfulness in a lamb three ways including lamb sausage, lamb belly and lamb loin. Though served in the same separate plates and pots, the three components were cohesive and each added a layer of flavor to the dish. Even the butter had a creative spin with a kiss of seaweed, adding a green hue and a delightful saltiness. As befuddled as I was at times, most of the flavors really sang.
A hamachi appetizer with avocado and cucumber was the only dish to arrive complete on one plate, but the rolled fish with little balls of avocado was sorrowfully bland compared to others like “the sea” which my Dad had, a smoragasboard of underwater creatures like madai with yuzu and lobster with Burgundy truffle. (As I’m writing this post I’m practically ducking my family members who will most certainly be throwing rocks at me upon reading this. They loved every minute of it.)
My Dad brought 2 old Bordeaux: a 1988 Chateau Petrus and Ducru-Beaucaillou which drank beautifully. The Petrus had an incredible smoky character which paired well with the lamb and duck that others had. The service was near impeccable with the exception of a long pause after our entree when nobody cleared. We sat with dirty plates for a good 10 minutes while busboy after waitress plus the sommelier walked idly by our table. It was a puzzling moment. At a restaurant with the elegance of Corton, staff should always be willing to step in and help. Whether you are the sommelier or the busboy, if you have a free moment and a waitress is occupied, it’s not above you. Finally the sweet manager passed by and she happily cleared for us.
After all of the joy and confusion, we closed the meal with a delicious cheese plate of an American cheddar, comte, ashed goat and Roquefort with cherry preserves on the side. Apparently our waitress heard us conversing throughout the meal and took it upon herself to bring a complimentary bowl of sorbet with a candle for my Mom’s Birthday. It was such a sweet gesture! By the end of the meal I had warmed to Corton once again.
Location: 239 West Broadway
Food: Good Service: Very Good Average App/Entrée Price: $85 for 3-course Prixe-Fixe Value: Good You Gonna Finish That? Meh, you can taste the side.
The Basics: I’ve never felt such an intense hatred towards a waitress as I did during our meal at Belcourt, an open-air, uppity French bistro on a casual strip of 2nd Ave. Everything we requested seemed to be a huge ordeal and took far longer than necessary. It reminded me of the scene in “Wet Hot American Summer” when Paul Rudd crashes the table setting onto the floor and then makes a hilarious scene out of picking it all up.
Basic requests like: “Can we have some more water please?” “Can we have some butter for our bread?” All elicited this reaction. I thought we were asking for her first born child when all we needed was a basic level of service. When you wait an hour for lunch and your waitress behaves like the above, you lose your appetite. The East Village offers a lot in affordable, satisfying food. Head to Mermaid Inn, Counter, Redhead, Esperanto or Jack’s Luxury Oyster Bar before considering Belcourt.
Best Dish: Yes, the lamb burger my sister had was juicy and flavorful. And my crisp truffle fries had the perfect amount of funk and salt. Food: Very Good Service: Poor Value: Poor (Their $11 bar sampler consisted of 5 olives, 5 nuts, and 5 crackers) Average App/Entree Price: $11/$23 Location: 84 E 4th Street You Gonna Finish That? Not even worth a doggy bag.
How did you get a reservation here? We were asked, by not just one, but both parties who sat adjacent to us over the course of our meal. Reservations at Keith Mcnally’s revamped Minetta Tavern are about as coveted as an Excellent from Frank Bruni (which it earned), so people were curious. Bruni even called it “the best steakhouse in New York City” and his reviews was surrounded by a pool of praise from others. Combine trendsetting restaurateur Keith Mcnally with sublime food and you have a recipe for a tough table. To say that Minetta Tavern has a lot of hype behind it is a gross understatement. I was lucky enough to have a cousin with an “in” for a reservation, I couldn’t wait to see if the hullabaloo was warranted.
Minetta had historically been a traditional Italian restaurant. It opened in the 20s and has attracted all types of celebrities over the years, but recently lost its luster. Mcnally (of Balthazar, Pastis and Schiller’s) saw potential in this relic, and decided to give it a facelift and a new French menu. Conveniently, the speakeasy style of Minetta is en vogue, so little has changed in decor. Photographs and caricatures of notorious patrons still line the walls, reminding of times past.
The new menu is upscale French brasserie-style, though Minetta is intensely focused on steaks. I read from Bruni’s review that Minetta has their own aging room at Pat La Frieda purveyors and a special broiler to get the perfect char on the meats. I started with slick slices of tuna carpaccio with Summer truffles and specks of crunchy almond. It tasted almost oil-cured and melted in my mouth with each bite, perhaps the best tuna carpaccio I’ve had. My sister had the calamari stuffed with a meaty cod puree and piquillo peppers which was bursting with flavor. I was tempted to order the “tartare goutez”, a tartare tasting of veal with black truffles, lamb with olives and beef with mustard and cornichons, but I held off, knowing I had to order one of the famous steaks.
Boy was I grateful for my light appetizer, when the meat arrived! Their famous cote de boeuf serves two, but I promise this mountain of meat is enough for at least three! It was a juicy pile of thick cuts, each charred on the outside and rare on the inside. I’m typically more of a fish eater but this steak was pretty incredible. Along with the steak came a few chunky marrow bones that we scooped out and spread on crisp potatoes Anna. The intensely seasoned marrow at Minetta put mine to shame. My cousin had the bone-in New York strip which was a bit salty for her taste but my sister found it perfect. All of the richness left us yearning for our side salad, which was missing in action. When I asked the waiter where it was he said they bring the salads about 20 minutes after the entree since “that’s how they do it in France.” Maybe French people order salads separately after their entree but in my 6 months spent in Paris I never ordered a steak with a salad and had the salad arrive after a deliberate pause. Give me a break, guys!
My rhubarb sophie cocktail with vodka, cucumber, agave and bitters tasted disjointed and watery. Though Minetta has a creative cocktail list, my cousin and sister were happier with their Provencal rose, and I would recommend sticking with the wine list.
Despite the noisy, bustling space the service was great. Our waiter (who looked just like Rainn Wilson) handled the crowds with grace and was attentive and friendly.
I have to say though, the scene at Minetta was strangely, older. We were there on a Tuesday at 7:30 and the entire packed bar and nearly all of the restaurant was filled with folks my parents age (no offense Mom and Dad!) who seemed to have commuted from Jersey (our neighbors confirmed this). I don’t think it’s the prices as I see young people at nice restaurants all the time. Are they all Mcnally’s friends?
The food at Minetta lives up to the hype but let the crowds die before attempting a reservation. It wasn’t fun to move my elbow and have it hit a passerby’s butt, on many occasions!
Minetta Tavern: 113 Macdougal Street and Minetta Cuisine: French Average App/Entree Price: $14/$24 Food: Excellent Service: Very Good Value: Very Good You Gonna Finish That? Every last bite.
Bar Artisanal, owned by Terrance Brennan of such classic French restaurants as Picholine and Artisanal, opened last month as a casual “barsto” (bistro/bar) offering small plates and a cheese and charcuterie bar. Though still a new restaurant when we visited last Friday, our experience reflected pretty poorly on a restaurateur with such a long tenure.
After waiting over an hour past our reservation to be seated, the restaurant had an uphill climb towards our happiness. We had a 9:30 reservation and were not seated until 10:30. For such a large restaurant, it was pretty obscene. I think I actually used the word obscene many times as we waited at the bar, with nary an explanation by anyone, until I finally interjected nearly 50 minutes after our reservation. The manager Reggie, despite his attitude (he called me “sweetie” and pointed out how busy they were), promised to make things right by buying us a round of drinks and offering us a free appetizer and dessert. Fine enough, at least they were focused on making us happy.
Bar Artisanal is truly gorgeous with its soaring ceilings and old-fashioned black and white checkered floor. When we finally walked through the dining room to sit I was warming up to the place, until we met our misplaced waiter.
He spoke to us as if we were tourists who had just arrived in midtown. We asked him for the cheese list and rather than answering like a normal person he began to recite his shtick: “Well, let me tell you the way things work around here” he said, and I knew we were destined for trouble. I hate having a menu explained to me. And yes, even if it’s called “Plats Principaux” I can gather that it’s the entrée. I’ve eaten in a restaurant before, and I know that “steak-frites” isn’t a salad.
We began with some petits plats including burrata with caponata and arugala and watermelon, feta and tapenade. Both preparations were fine enough- it’s hard to go wrong with cheese- but they were basic. The crispy cod with chorizo, fingerling potatoes and cockles was a high point but the undercooked arctic char with capers and cauliflower brought us down to a low again. Our cheese plate, of course, was lovely, consisting of some aged Gouda, salty and rich Roquefort, Parmigiano and tangy Chabichou. We finished up with two pissaladieres (French flat breads), neither of which was memorable. The gorgonzola, fig, and truffle honey was loaded with bitter radicchio, so much that the other flavors were missing. And a simple buffala mozzarella, tomato and basil was as basic as it sounds.
I also don’t appreciate everyone plates around me being cleared before I’m finished. Whether it’s a “barstro” or not, someone with the pedigree of Terrance Brennan should train the waitstaff to wait until everybody is done. I shouldn’t have to feel bad for wanting to enjoy the last morsel of Roquefort.
Topping off the cheesy service, lackluster food, and long wait time, we had to remind the waiter about our free appetizer and dessert. I appreciate the gesture from the host, but when you have to remind people, it’s far less grand.
I’ve heard so many murmurings about the great value of Bar Artisanal and how great it is for Brennan to open an affordable option in these times. Yes, you can get a burger for $20 (woohoo?), but appetizers are still $14. There are plenty of appetizer/entree combinations at Artisanal (the original) that cost the same! What am I missing here? I suggest passing on Bar Artisanal and letting the Euro-hipsters (read: suckers) have it.
Bar Artisanal: 268 West Broadway, near 6th Cuisine: French “barstro” Average App/Entree Price: $14/$20 Food: Good Service: Good Value: Poor You Gonna Finish That? Meh, you can taste the side.
I can’t remember the last time I entered a meal with so little expectation and left so inspired. On a whim, my parents secured a last-minute 8:00 Friday reservation at Allegretti, and I came along. I knew the restaurant had opened within the past year, but that’s about it. Their old-fashioned blue and yellow toned web site with a rooster symbol did not hype me up for the meal. Though probably fine cuisine, I anticipated old-fashioned, haute French.
I was so wrong. The Provencal food, hailing from Nice, is like a fusion of French/Mediterranean with some Italian influence to boot. You’ll find olives, artichokes, and seasonal vegetables like ramps, sugar snap peas and leeks sprinkled everywhere on the menu. The Mediterranean influence plays a hand with chickpeas, fava beans, and pine nuts. And then you remember you’re in France with a cassollette of garden vegetables and a fish soup with gruyere cheese. What you won’t find is a cream sauce or foie gras. The only caviar on the menu is eggplant caviar. The food at Allegretti is truly a breath of fresh air.
We had the ballotine of rabbit with young herbs, baby vegetables and a quail egg. We had nicois ravioli stuffed with braised oxtail and swiss chard. We had roasted veal sweetbreads with a pine nut crust , English peas, and veal jus. My black sea bass arrived naked, accompanied by some baby aritchokes, fava beans and mushrooms. I poured its delicate jus on top, until I had the perfect amount. Every dish was a star.
Eat the nicoise-studded olive bread and steer clear of the side dishes. An underseasoned wild mushroom trifolatti and dense chickpea fries were the only issues. Save your appetite for the complete plates, side dishes are superfluous.
As always, my Dad brought incredible wines, and the Sommelier at Allegretti was accomodating. We promised to give him a glass of the Gevry-Chambertin Serafin 1993 that my Dad brought, and he seemed delighted.
Our waitress was warm, knowledgeable, and excited to talk about the cuisine though slightly overbearing at times. There were moments when she’d linger at the table for longer than desired, though not enough to interfere with the meal.
After our experience, I did some homework on Alain Allegretti and discovered that he has quite a pedigree, after being the Executive chef at Atelier de Joel Robuchon (not to mention, very handsome!). Shame on me for not knowing anything about such a talented chef who is blazing his own trail here.
A restaurant like Allegretti should never have a free table on a Friday at 8PM. I would blame the dire economic times but I’ve had plenty of meals at packed restaurants in today’s economy. Is it expensive? Oh yes. Save it for your next special occasion. But please don’t let Alegretti be a secret. It deserves far better.
Alegretti: 46 W 22nd Street Cuisine: French (Provencal) Average App/Entree Price: $17/$33 Food: Excellent Service: Very Good Value: Good You Gonna Finish That? Every last bite.
In a city where fusion restaurants are about as exciting as vanilla ice cream, the staff at Indochine remain pretentious, despite their incompetence. French-Vietnamese cuisine was a novelty in 1984 when Indochine opened its doors but it has since become one of many fusion restaurants of every color and flavor imaginable. Indochine is a beautiful restaurant with large palm trees inside the room and bare white walls. It feels like a special place. But if I returned I would serve the staff a slice of humble pie. What do I know though? The restaurant was packed on a Saturday evening at 8:30, so packed that we had to wait 15 minutes after our reservation time, for our table to be ready. I guess a lot of people sacrifice friendly service for good food.
I was there for a friend’s birthday so I sampled a lot from the menu. We started with a spicy beef salad special as well as tender and delicately spiced lamb loin, served atop shrimp crisps. Another standout for me was the filet mignon carpaccio with ginger scallion oil, one of the best I’ve had. A steamed Chilean sea bass marinated in black bean chili paste had just enough ginger broth to make the fish slick and flavorful, without drowning it. Unfortunately the sweet rice and sticky rice were a gloppy mess, lacking any elegance of seasoning or texture. Stick with the steamed jasmine rice, a safer bet. Their extensive menu of specialty cocktails fared well: a friend had some kind of Maker’s Mark tangy berry concoction and I had a cucumber infused gin martini, both well-made.
Though the food was generally good it does not make up for the snub hostess or our bumbling waiter who forgot dishes without apology, all the while maintaining a thick attitude. Some might choose food over service but I’m not one of them, especially when the meal isn’t cheap.
Indochine: 430 Lafayette Street (between 4th and Astor Place) Cuisine: French-Vietnamese Average Entree Price: $18-$23 Food: Good Service: Poor Value: Poor You Gonna Finish That? Not even worth a doggy bag.
What was surprising to me about Le Bernardin was not the sublime food or the impeccable service-I expected that-it was the real warmth of the restaurant, the lack of stuffiness. Le Bernardin is an iconic place for French cuisine in Manhattan. It has been the king of French seafood in New York since it opened here in 1986 and has only improved in stature since Eric Ripert took the throne as executive chef in 1994. It has been one of few restaurants in New York to win 3 Michelin stars for years now.
Yet the wood-paneled room with blue carpeting and oversized plants feels comfortable. And the people at Le Bernardin don’t exude any kind of arrogance. The menu offers a choice of a 4-course prixe fix or more extensive tasting menus. The selections are so exciting for a seafood lover, I really had a tough time choosing. Whether oddities like geoduck or uni are your cup of tea or “barely touched” escolar, the kitchen at Le Bernardin allows the fresh flavors of each dish’s centerpiece to express themselves, without much distraction.
Star appetizers are the layers of thinly pounded tuna with a touch of foie gras and a layer of crispy baguette, studded with chives or a smokey, warm octopus salad with lemon confit. A bountiful tray of warm breads are generously served between courses. Le Bernardin’s take on a “surf and turf” was also exceptional served with buttery, crisp kobe beef, round eggplant “fries”, and seared white tuna. Even the amuse-bouche, which for me is rarely of note, was a tiny bowl of rich, seafood soup with chunks of lobster. One miss though, was the bland calamari stuffed with sweet prawns and wood ear mushroom, in a calamari consomme. I sampled enough of my Dad’s crab-stuffed zucchini flowers though, to make up for it.
I’m not typically dazzled by desserts but they did some neat things here mixing sweet and savory like a “chocolate sweet potato” and a dish with bacon ice cream. My heart is always with cheese and their gooey assortment of types I don’t remember (except roquefort) was a killer finish.
Service was timely without too much pomp and circumstance. I had expected a well-orchestrated display of synchronized steel-lid-lifting, but as mentioned before, Le Bernardin was more relaxed than I’d expected. Le Bernardin was definitely one of my top dining experiences, and I highly recommend it for your next special occasion.
Le Bernardin: 155 W 51st Street near 7th ave
Cuisine: French, Seafood
Average Entree Price: 4-course prixe fix is $109 Food: Very Good Service: Very Good Value: Very Good You Gonna Finish That? Every last bite.
Word to the Wise: Jackets Required. Also, Le Bernardin makes a point of serving exclusively eco-friendly fish.
After creeping down the staircase and into the ornate basement of Bobo, I double checked with the host that I was in fact, in the right place. With no sign present at Bobo, it’s tough to tell, and my question was met with a smug “yes” by the host. I had hoped we could have a chuckle at the ambiguous entrance, but I was wrong. I waited for my cousins and sister at the bar, admiring the setting, and hoping the pretension would slowly disappear.
Bobo really is beautiful, as it’s an old 1800s town house, refurbished into a restaurant. Walking through the main dining room and out to the garden was like creeping through a decadent dinner party, to our own private hideaway in the back. But the service and the food turned the meal into a sour occasion.
An appetizer of sweetbreads and a quail with spicy almond sauce were hits, but a pathetic $17 tuna crudo appetizer was frankly, a joke. The dish consisted of 3 paper-thin slices of tuna with some cilantro tossed on top. I’m happy to pay for food that’s worthy of its price tag, but this was an insultingly small dish that was devoid of flavors. Wild striped bass with basil puree and chorizo had a tough consistency and lacked seasoning.
Aside from the misses on the food, our waiter was absent for most of the meal, forcing us to pour our own wine and explain to the bus boys where to deliver each plate. The attitude and prices at Bobo warrant far better.
The Brunmeister himself had a perfect analogy, comparing BoBo to an attractive cheerleader. You wanna hate’er because there’s not much substance, but she’s so pretty to look at!
I don’t relish paying for tap water without warning, either. I get that they have an Italian filtration system and it’s not purely tap, but a warning and an option would have been appreciated. I’m all for charity, but why not donate proceeds from my cousins’ $17 bird food tuna appetizer?
Such is the plight of BoBo. And after a year in business and a few chefs, it’s clear I’m not alone in my opinion. Perhaps if they cut out some of the pretension, starting with placing a sign on the door and offering free tap water, their situation would improve. Save your money on this one.
Addendum: Just 2 days after I posted this review, I got word that Bobo has yet a third chef who promises to bring larger portions and less fussy, more fun food. If anybody pays a visit, please share your thoughts!
Bobo: 181 W 10th Street and 7th Ave Cuisine: French Average Entree Price: $22-$34 Food: Good Service: Poor Value: Poor You Gonna Finish That? Not even worth a doggy bag.
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