contrarian quarterly

WD-50 Tasting Menu

Having not been back in far too long we dropped in to WD-50 for the summer tasting menu recently. If there's a more fun place to eat in town we've yet to find it. Any hint of fussy service has evaporated - this was a careful but relaxed meal with a cornucopia of new combinations and experiments. The space seems to have grown into its bold orange and royal blue, and bustled Friday night so much that the noise pretty much impeded conversation, at least until we got them to sit us in front at a table where others didn't seem to be shouting directly at us. White noise  machine, perhaps? Two bottles of wine between the two of us surely hampered our recall, but dinner proceeded somewhat as follows, in courses plated with WD-50's  characteristically ever more lapidary DaDa plating.

Amuse, in a tiny white bowl – clam in a broth with cucumber 'pasta,' a gin and tonic gel dollop'd on the side & a tasty dehydrated lime chip atop. Savory, subtle, playful, fun; so many layers of flavor here and none screaming; all rather at once simple and symphonic in combination.

The first (and a terrifically delightful) course was yellowtail (hamachi) with coffee-infused water chestnuts, chorizo powder, plantain gnocci, a bright orange puddle of nasturtium flower soup and strips of light spicy nasturium leaves. Again, none of these were overpowering flavors but the nasturtium and plantain were both homey and novel; strangely harmonic too with the meaty intimation from chorizo dust - and the coffee! A small symphony here as well, tiny bites none thrown off kilter by any other.

The newest variation of WD's foie gras inventions - from the first we tried, a chocolate and pickled anchovy foie (the only that we found wanting; anchovies in oil rather than vineagar would have been our choice); to the nori-caramel filled foie bon bon (which we loved) - now Chef WD is turning out foie torchons filled with beet juice, which he serves on bright green dehydrated pea 'soil' with incredibly delicious candied olives. Worked really well; quite fun to eat, and again an impossibly sexy plate as when you slice open the torchon it oozes beet red. The olives here were phenomenal and it all worked as an ensemble. Neverthless, to pick among the three foie dishes, the saltier nori approach we prefer to this sweeter beet's.

Next was a new and improved (ever prettier and better plated) version of WD's fairly famous beef tongue with fried mayo deconstructed sandwich. It arrives sporting the closest thing to salad on the menu - minced iceberg lettuce, albeit in a tiny strip - and onion streusel. We continue to find ourselves rather indifferent to this dish: the mayo cubes feel a bit kitschy, but that may have always been the point.

Squab breast followed, fairly raw, which made it feel as if you were eating something fabulously young and taboo. A delicious pumpkin seed ricotta and mango thing somehow registered as its bath and while we don't remember the last time we had squab, this we found quite tasty indeed. Well-matched with its pumpkin seed ricotta hominess.

A non-dairy channeling of warmed ricotta was next, divine in its combination with artichokes - what had been done to them we don't know but lo, was it tasty! Also, preserved cherries, Thai basil and a drizzle of lemon oil.

Lamb belly was perhaps the last of the savory courses. Wonderful distillation of lamb flavor here, in a form indistinguishable from a crispy strip of bacon. Served with another of the evening's culinary highlights: the quite phenomenal carrots confit, all lightened by a hibiscus sorbet.

Which brought us to the end of the meal, sort of. Everytime we're on Clinton (often, as Alias is another beloved CQ haunt) we dream of dropping in to WD for dessert, because yes, these are likely the coolest ever. We usually manage to abstain. Tonight though, included were three of Sam Mason's geniously none-too-sweet sweets:

1. A  mini-football of grapefruit foamy mousse with two separate grapefruit intensities, neither terribly sweet but an effective palate cleanser with no dearth of charm on its own.

2. A chocolate hazelnut torte draped with a beeeautiful if tragic-looking chocolate bird wing fallen to earth, burnt and lacey that afforded much pleasure.

3. Most hilarious dish of the evening arrived last: ice milk gelatto rolled in corn flakes, to end the meal as it were with breakfast. Made us long for a Sunday morning with Tweety, Sylvester and Bugs.

Marcona almonds in chocolate to close, though Wylie's pa dropped by and insisted we have a sip of a Spanish sherry, which was delicious but a bit lost on us after two bottles of wine: a white 2002 Gruner Veltliner, Karl Lagler's Smaragd ‘Ried Steinborz’; and the 2003 Morgon Beaujolais.

A new New York institution that the Quarterly heartily endorses.

* pix hijacked (as usual) from various pages we might be able to find again should you need to know.

Zak Pelaccio's 5 Ninth

Always a surprise when a place lives up to its hype. We've been to 5 Ninth twice now - once for dinner and once for brunch. Quite liked the beautiful, pared down space with its minimalistic, Meat Market industrial country aesthetic, and found that the food artfully balances SE Asian and Chinese influences with the freshest Mediterranean and American (North and Central) ingredients. In contrast to what we find in so many East meets West fusion approaches, nothing (so far) has emerged from this kitchen to our table overly sweet. In fact the approach to fusion itself here not at all fetishized but quite organic, creative and damn tasty. Worth noting is that the first level has a bar and outdoor tables; there's a bar on the second floor with some loungy tables, and a dining room another floor up. Except for perfect outdoorsy days, such say today, the top floor is likely most comfortable for dining.

A recent brunch in the garden included superb Berkshire pork on grilled bread with poached eggs and a pickled cilantro hollandaise - well timed as it was after a spinning class and before softball in the Park. We also tried the Shanghai Noodles: a complex, delicious broth with yes, noodles, Chinese broccoli and more Berkshire pork. An order of steamed pork dumplings impressed us too - leagues better than any other variation on that theme we've tried.

Dinner quite good as well, even if we were made to wait a while (45 min?) in spite of having had a reservation. It was a weekday night and the place overflowed with young and beautiful but some convincing threats from one in our party (not me!) did finally secure us a seat. A spicy greens salad (with bleu cheese and corn) to start was less successful than the other app: perfectly grilled octopus. Roast black bass in a coconut milk broth as a main had great flavor and texture, though of what the other main consisted I no longer recall. A peanut butter ice cream something for dessert seemed to please the sweet tooth in the group, but e'er the serious diner I forwent such nonsense, opting instead for a third glass of the Movia Pinot Grigio from Slovenia - minerals, white fruits and a touch of honey.

Nice spot, and best brunch we've had in ages - perhaps it's the novelty but I did much prefer it to Prune's.

Veritas

Such a lot of noise in the popular press about establishments where the food itself command marginal interest. Such at least we have find to be the case at Alto, the Modern at MoMA and Cru: all terrifically overrated in terms of food. Veritas however, in spite of its low-key approach, deserves far more praise and accolades that it's accorded. A recent dinner began with a 1999 Gruner-Veltliner: FX Pichler's gorgeous "M".

Amuse was squid with eggplant caviar - wonderfully smokey and complex with a great play of the textures against eachother - that had great appeal in spite of a general disinterest in eggplant. Next came our bid for what constitutes the city's best sweetbreads; then black bass and scallop mains, both in foams. The scallops were perfectly browned and yet not at all overdone with well balanced flavors in the sauces. If you've ever wondered why so much fuss has been made over foams that so seldom taste of anything, Veritas' inimitable chef Scott Bryan is here to convince you that they can impart as much interest in flavor as they do in texture.

We shared a cardamom ice cream on lemon and blueberry tart for dessert and forwent the second - the prefixe is a huge quantity of food. I love this underhyped, understated place...which in spite of its kind of formal appearance remains fun and not at all stuffy.

Craftbar Redux

Craftbar's new space, in what was Morell's downtown, took a moment to get back up to speed, but once again they've got all pistons ablaze. While we're not nearly as fond of this space as the original and can't quite say the redesign approaches the old Craftbar's level of style and aesthetics, the food is still among NYC's top tier on this casual, accessible level. The room accomodates more diners now and reservations, for all but the 10 tables up front and the bar, are required. Two of us recently sat down for a proper lunch in the back and shared three apps and a main.

• one extrordinary foie terrine, with bing cherry jam (of a most unique texture), marinated cherries and ramps, and hot buttered toast.

• grilled octopus with chorizo and piquillo peppers - perfect as usual: tons of flavor and not at all rubbery.

• dandelion salad with cured anchovies and a poached egg: one of the city's best salads, definitely a rival of our other favorite - Lupa's escarole, pecorino & walnut.

• braised and roasted bunny with escarole, fava beans and Dijon gnocci. Pretty good really and the gnocci simply killing, with achingly adorable bunny chops. Truth be told however, we're still partial to CQ's roast bunny.

One lonesome 2001 Chenin Blanc by the glass sufficed as we were due back at work, so though the bunny could have used a Pinot Noir, we refrained. We'll return soon though and make up for such dismaying teatotaling.

Blue Hill Stone Barns and Dia: Beacon's Michael Heizer

In honor of a visiting CQista from St. Paul we recently made our way up to the restaurant Blue Hill at Stone Barns. Part of an otherwise non-profit agricultural center, BHSB is housed in huge Norman-style stone barns built by the Rockefellers in the 1930s on a couple few of the center's 80 acres, about 30 miles north of NYC. Blue Hill here in town uses produce from the farms as well, but the experience of eating up at the Barns is of a different caliber entirely.

Our meal started with an asparagus soup amuse, on what the waiter said was the last weekend of asparagus season. The distilled essence of asparagus this soup achieved I can still almost taste: light, not undersalted, transcendental. We asked that each of the four courses to follow be brought out separately as we were sharing and our waiter happily obliged.

12 Greens salad with eggs came first: wonderful flavors here, all different bitters and the eggs of course from the farm and fresh. Next was an asparagus pate which again was just brilliant - chef Dan Barber clearly a magician with the stalks. Of our two main dishes, black seas bass in a Spring vegetable broth with asparagus, zucchini and fennel came first, each element bursting with its own flavors. The Barns' own Berkshire pork 3 ways followed: belly, sausage and loin. After a bottle of Gruner Veltliner that carried us most of the way through the meal, we shared a split of the 1998 La Rioja Alta Vina Ardanza for the pork: a lovely match. As we were verily the last table to leave, the kitchen kept sending out desserts to go with our white peony tea: Rhubarb soup, basil soufflé, pistachio ice cream…the lot of them on par with any dessert you might care to compare.

However this stellar meal - surely one of the best to be found in New York - was just a primer for the real reason for our trip up the Hudson: a pilgrimmage to Mecca, which here at CQ refers to the Michael Heizer installation at Dia Beacon. Titled North, East, South, West, a more moving piece of art we don't know that we've ever seen. Each of the four twenty-feet deep inversions that comprise the piece has a different geometry: a compound cube, a cone, a wedge, and a conical section; and each, inserted into the museum floor, is lined with Cor-Ten steel whose color - an orange/brown, changes as it oxidizes. The uncanny volumes in this sculpture, when seen close up, redefine relationships between body, solids and void in spiritual as well as in physical terms. If you make an appointment to be up at Dia first thing in the morning you can walk within the walled off space right up to the pieces, lie on the floor and peer into them until you weep. We certainly did, then went straight out to buy bullet-proof vests for our next pilgrimmage: Heizer's Nevada installation, City.


 

Fancy Food Show

City Harvest, who deliver food to roughly 1/3 of New York City's 1.6 million hungry, collected about  100,000 pounds of food at the closing of the Javits Center's Fancy Food Show today. Exhibitors were breaking down when the lot of us hit the floor at 4; by 6 the work was pretty much done. We had to work fast: perishables can only remain two hours unrefridgerated before they're in City Harvest trucks. Many hungry have compromised immune systems so you have to treat their food with extra care.

First we filled huge bins with perishables - everything from spanking fresh tristar strawberries, raspberries and currants to pounds of truffle butter; preserved artichokes & fresh and smoked mozzerella and a thousand other fancy Italian and French cheeses; dals and chicken korma in bags; smoked salmon and trout; ramps, wild arugula, pink and white striped chick peas, a lot of stuff I'd never seen before. Then in a second round we hit the non-perishables: rainbow-striped, black and white dried pastas; all manner of chocolate, oil, spice. NYC's hungry families will be eating well indeed for a couple days.

To volunteer takes a brief initiation as City Harvest has many a way to put spare time to good use. At CH's Mobile Markets you go to projects in the Bronx and Staten Island and give away as much fresh food as families can carry. At one last May Eric Ripert did a demo stir fry with winter vegetables. CH volunteers also hop on trucks to pick up from restaurants the food they bring to a central processing, re-organize and send the trucks back out to shelters. 500 shelters a week.

Billie Holiday Bday / Night in Tunisia

A slew of Californian CQistes came for diner tonight to help celebrate Billie Holiday's birthday. To the tunes of the permanent (now through April 15!) Billie Bday Broadcast on WKCR, the CQ editorial board assembled a meal fit for the all-but-cheese Veganese via the cuisine of our beloved Tunisia. Quite simple of course:

• Watercress n' chevre (goat cheese) salad
• Garbanzos set to chill with harissa and cumin, then added to a fresh chop of parsley, olives, red onion, lemon & the season's first decent cherry tomatoes
• Grilled asparagus
• Filled Tunisian flatbread (something like a round Calzone) stuffed with a leek n' swiss chard sautee,with mozzerella and Parmagiano cheeses, topped within by freshly roasted oyster mushrooms

Though of the the belief that Swiss Chard invariably needs a touch of pancetta, we refrained. Vegetarians were quite contented; didn't even mind a glass or two of wine: the 2001 Aalto from Ribera del Duero (couldn't wait) and a couple 1997 Valserrano Riojas.

Basque Bash

CQ's latest feast took its cues from the culinary munificence of the Basque Country.
After an afternoon set in rosemary, crushed coriander seeds and garlic, a number of bunnies got roasted whole - one for each two guests. We baked baby organic chick peas (soaked overnight) separately in homemade roasted vegetable stock with saffron, onions, garlic, corander seeds, bay leaves and a chile. The beans went in a good half hour earlier than the bunnies, which meant that after a bit more then an hour of grazy appetizers - tapenade and a greens jam with semolina flats & a few fine bottles of white - dinner was set. Each plate fairly groaned under its half bunny, mess of garbanzos and fat quiver of skinny roasted asparagus, wrapped in strips of smokey bacon. Not that much work but a memorable feast, the lesson of which may well have been never serve bacon-free dinner: a single strip (pounded & sliced lenthwise from a standard Niman cut) brought all the flavors together.

Dessert was an Istara (Basque sheep's milk) cheese gratin that couldn't have been more delicious or more simple: lightly toasted then chopped a cup of walnuts. Whisked 3 eggs with half a cup of sugar (dark Muscovado) then mixed in a generous cup heavy cream. Added the nuts and the grated Istara (4 oz minus nibbles), mixed just to combine, and poured into a buttered baking dish. After a little less than a half hour on 375, a knife exited the gratin cleanly. We let that sit while we passed a huge hunk of (Italian, yes) Piave cheese around, delicious as it was with the now cold semolina flats, then served the gratin in wee ramekins. The evening's sole regret: desert was a dish of which only one guest got seconds, though more would have liked it.

The above menu comprises a CQ interpretation of recipes culled from Gerald Hirigoyen's fine book, The Basque Kitchen. We never get through San Francisco restaurants without visits to either Hirigoyen's fine Piperade restaurant and / or his sweet, new and much less formal Bocadillos. Preferably, both.

To drink: CQistes brought scads of wine about which we are quite embarrassed to say we didn't find time to make notes. No fewer than 3 very pretty white 'Valley Girls' from the Loire Valley graced the table -the 2003 Chavignol, the 2003 Closel Savenierres and, and... well we encourage you to weigh in should you remember. A 1994 Gran Reserva from Rioja Alta showed pretty well: rusty and hearty if a little brutish, which we like. It worked perfectly too with the stunning 1991 Burgaud Cote Rotie we opened next, which garnered unanimous accolades as Wine of the Evening. After dessert we cracked a camomile-infused grappa, whose deliciousness - for those of us generally adverse to all but the freshest camomile - came as a great surprise.

Culinaria Povera alla Toscana

In honor of a far-flung Contrarian in town for the weekend, we whipped up a Tuscan feast last night, culled in its entirety from Paula Wolfert's brilliant Slow Mediterranean Kitchen. Compliment of the Night award went to the guest of honor, for his proclamation that "If you can get this here, no need to go to Tuscany."

Appetizers: Fresh grilled semolina triangles for two dips: a dandelion herb jam and evoo-simmered melted leeks. The herb jam is a staple here at CQ HQ. Steam an assortment of bitter greens and herbs - dandelion with cilantro, celery leaves and parsley - with a few skinned garlic cloves at the basket's bottom. Saute til dry with sweet smoked paprika, ground cumin, a pinch of cayenne, a rough chop of black olives and the smashed steamed garlic. Keeps for a week - mix with S&P and lemon to serve. The leeks we hadn't made before but all were quite happy with the result. The bread could have been neither simpler nor tastier: fresh vermont butter and semolina pasta flour kneaded a while. The grilling however did improve the thinner we pounded the rounds.

Poor Man's Bread, Kale and Black Pepper Soup. Madam Wolfert says this recipe comes from Siena and in the book it looks quite simple. Would have been a cinch too, but of course we decided to make it yet much slower by doing a broth instead of using water. Roasted aromatics and root vegetables enrich broths with a smokiness to which we've grown quite partial; they also helped compensate for the pancetta we couldn't use in this dish once we discovered that one attendee didn't eat pork, poor fellow. We've also taken to cribbing an idea or two from Daniel Boulud's Cafe Cookbook: his veg stock calls for equal parts whole white peppercorns, whole coriander seeds and whole juniper berries. We used Swiss Chard instead of Kale, alluding to rather than embracing the rampant phenomena of ingredient fetishism: at 28 cents more the bushel, who's to complain? Melt some onion and garlic, saute the chard a few minutes; add the broth, bring to boil then simmer a while. To assemble: place grilled bread at the bottom of the bowl, ladel hot soup over and top with grated cheese. We let the Parmigiano melt a spell before serving, and must say that the soup looked fantastic. Wolfert shares a very interesting trick in this recipe: add a Parmigiano-Regg rind to the soup while it's cooking; remove and rinse when done and save to reuse!

Pork Shoulder Coddled in Olive Oil with Tuscan Beans and Arugula. This dish hails from Arezzo, where people have at times been so poor as to have to kill piggies for lack of pig food. A recipe akin to Sicily's olive-oil poached tuna, we've long wanted to give this a go and last night proved just the occasion. Now of course, first our minds raced to Berkshire Kurubota pork shoulder, so over to Lobels we ventured. $28 a pound sure seemed steep for shoulder, but it wouldn't break us, and anyway one of the land's fiercest eminence gris was expected at the table. However, apparently Lobel's online and the shop itself share only the most tenuous of associations. Lobel's does not for instance keep shoulder in stock and will only order a one for you if you take the whole thing - which they said would weigh in at 8 pounds! As an alternative, the kindly butchers suggested that they could carve up some Kurubota loin. 'Really, loin? But we want shoulder.' 'It'll work just as well,' they promised. 'Um, ok. What will it run us?" $78. $78? We smiled, thanked them and hightailed it down to Faicco's on Bleeker where the exact size shoulder cut we wanted, 2.5 lbs, came in at $11, ka-ching.

Which is where the fun started. It's always charming when recipes say things that sound short and sweet in a single phrase - and that phrase then ends up costing a couple hours labor. Such was the case with Wolfert's direction #1: "Trim away all the fat, sinew and membrane from the pork. Cut the meat into 2-inch chunks." Seriously, two hours. However at that point, Thursday night, we were still earnestly enthsiastic about the Slow aspect of Slow Food, tra la. Set the chunks up in a fennel & thyme rub overnight and the next day, after 30 minutes lightly bubbling in 2 cups of evoo on the stovetop, you coddle the chunks in the oven at 250 for two and a half hours. That you can leave in the fridge up to five days before you serve it. Meanwhile the cannellini beans were soaking and the broth and dips done.

Which raises another aspect of this particular feast: though prepared all but entirely in one NYC studio apartment kitchen, it had to then be transported to another apartment (one with a proper dining room) to serve. So it was: with two sandwich ziplocks of cooked beans; a big ziplock with the olive oil-preserved pork; yogurt containers of leeks, dandelions and two of soup; as well as a plate of semolina rounds - we caught the bus cross town. So last night upon arrival, all that was left to do really (doesn't this sound easy!?) was slowly reheat the pork in the oil, drain that; scoop off the oil and add the reserved meat juice to the beans. Serve on a big colorful ceramic plate from Tuscany: pile high the beans, sprinkle with red wine vineager-marinated red onion, top with the meat and surround with arugula.

Cheeses for dessert.

To drink, 7 wines:

Whites: Verdejo, Chablis & Scheurebe

1. We drank a lemony but well-balanced white 2002 Basa from Rueda, Spain - just west of Ribera del Duero -  as the cooking wine: wine to drink while cooking. Pinot Gris-y, cheap n' tasty.

2. 1993 Raveneau Chablis "les Clos" Gorgeous. Sea air, minerals and subtle lemons; stones as seductive as they were reserved. And yet, butter. Why is American wine never so well balanced? Though opened early on, we finished this with the cheese course a few hours later and it had only improved. A case, please.

3. 2001 Muller Catoir Haardter Scheurebe Spatlese. Far, far too sweet for the likes of the CQ palate. Pineapple and honey sans adequate acidity and contour. Obscene, as in cheap lingerie.

Reds: 2 Pinot Noir and 2 Syrah

4. 1976 Misserey Romanee Saint-Vivant, from  Wine of the Evening here. Burgundian elegance with huge body and verve. Muscular, flexing and meaty but not at all aggressive.

5. 1994 Saint Innocent, 7 Springs. Can't say this holds a candle to our preferred Oregon Pinot Noir, Domain Serene. Kind of brutal but not half bad: cinnamon and clove but craggy.

6. 1983 Guigal Hermitage. Wonderfully developed; we guessed this was a Bordeaux.

7. 1983 Gentaz Derivieux Cote Rotie, Cote Brune. Bretty, which is to say has some stink to it: rustic, barny, just what one seeks in Cote Rotie, with the chocolate-bacon nose, body and length.

These last two, 6 & 7, both northern Rhone red and hugely enjoyable, had been decanted for a couple hours by the time we tucked in. Exxxtra funky, developed and possessed of pointedly changing noses, the both.

 

Modern at MoMA

Ducked into Danny   Meyer's new restaurant at MoMA the Modern for dinner. What a smashing space. Roberta Bendavid's floral design seems right at home in, or practically in MoMA's sculpture garden. Architect Peter Bentel, who also did Grammercy Tavern and Craft after a career building libraries and churches, makes a fine showing here as well. This of course is whites, slates & muted greys, but the Modern echoes notes from Craft's lighting as well as its pitch-perfect tones and industrial glass wine wall. Slats here too receed - not as they do in Craft's to a navy blue sea-abstraction - which as we have indeed noted reminds us of Ed Ruscha - but to a photo of leaves, big and waxy as if in forrest. These are Thomas Demand's studio shots; he opens soon at MoMA. Reminded one CQist at the table of his childhood dentist's  - the same leaves cover the insides of the menu - and a discussion of Highlights Magazine ensued.

Of the silver - by Robbe & Berking - we were all especially enamoured of the sporks. Two kinds of plates - white scalloped and textured vs. austere rounded edge rectangular ones and the thin, fluted, playfully-shaped water glasses among others - Spieglau - caught all eyes. Dinner started off with a bottle of Billecart Rose, about which it's awfully difficult to complain. Amuses were a tiny if flavorless eggplant dollop in a thin pastry shell; then a rectangular plate of shrimp confit: one big shrimp in a silver spoon that folded under itself to stand (we all coveted these spoons) with a small timbale of purple potatoe salad topped with 'American caviar'. Not shrimp people, we so can't speak to that, but American caviar? Mush! No texture but quite a strong punch of salt, which did make sense with the potatoes if it depressed us in and of itself.

Next to drink was a Japanese Yuzu mandarine wine - Kiuchi - fun and certainly unique. Not quaffable exactly but focusing, as mandarine has an incognitoness that if you can't name certainly poises you to think more pointedly about what you are tasting. And as we were tasting blindly, en pointe was perhaps the ideal direction to head. The lovely Hirsch 2002 Riesling appeared next, which has a smoke to it that we love. Proved a good match too for the first course: foie terrine. The foie was ok, nothing to leap around about and the too smokey toast fought with rather than complimented it. Though generally not Wellfleet fans - strictly PEI oysters raw - our most charming host insisted we try one of his Wellfleets. Dressed in a creme fraiche chive thing, Lo, but were they delicious. Of the table's other bites, oddly the langoustine had a deepsea hot dog or rather Crifdog smoke on it. Soon appeared another white, this Jean Luc Colombo's quite remarkable Marsanne, Roussanne, Viognier blend from the Rhone Valley: Wine of the Evening.

A very good 96 Talenti Brunello came next, actually a corked one came next and then a proper one, and of the Brunello none of us could drink enough, which seems odd now as we were only four drinking at a table of six. Still could have polished off a magnum, though this was yes our fourth bottle. Luckily more food arrived to preoccupy us: we had the cod, perfectly cooked and kind of re-skinned one might say in a layer of thinly-sliced chorizo coins. Enjoyable. A bite of wild boar found its way over and that we quite liked too. Not sure though that this is food enough for the aspirations behind it - which to all appearances seem to be 4*. Cheeses and desserts followed and again though nice, none stood out. Tallegio, Chabichoux, Jura Morbille...the French Blue we liked best, and desserts we cannot recall at all.

If a great space and knowledgable sommelier are all you really need for 4*s, the Modern has it bagged. What restaurant can best gazing out on the Modern's sculpture garden? And yet... the food seems more miss than hit. A diehard devotee of Alsatian food and wines, CQ found that should Alsatian chef Gabriel Kreuther eke out more of a definitive NY-Alsatian identity he would stand the Modern in better stead. At the moment that seems to me a ways off, in spite of the lovely time we had.

Indubitably, the bar promises to be a scene. We did wonder though if they meant for it to be ironic that the Modern's unisex bathrooms were attended by an immigrant so old school as to turn on and off the faucet.

Devi

Lunch yesterday at Suvir Saran and Hemant Mathur's new restaurant, Devi. Pretty space: 20 foot ceilings draped in flowing tumeric and tamarind silks with clusters of stained-glass bejeweled lamps. An antique Indian door and reliefs complement Devi's welcoming vibe. Two separate draped alcoves make for almost private dining spaces; there's also an upstairs.

The food distinguishes itself with old, deft flavors and as statements as much as plates. These deals however are difficult to imagine they can sustain. The $20 lunch  includes an app and a main. A little bowl of lotus chips came out first which, while in some sense your basic fried starch were nonetheless thin, delicious and pretty.

Stuffed chicken appetizer: hyperbolically good. Chicken rolls filled with chevre, spinach and chicken; tomato chutney on the side. Jousting chili powders and aromatics with depth and good texture, far more character in these bites (and not small ones!) than anything we remember at Tabla, but that has been a couple years.

2 big Tandoor grilled Jamison lamb chops with mustard seed-curry leaf potatoes; pear chutney; and maybe our favorite bites of the day: paper thin, dry and crispy fried okra sliced lengthwise in a salad with onions and tomatoes. In vain we searched for this in Suvir's cookbook: paper-thin, paper-dry okra?!!?! One can only hope it's on the veggie menu, where we suspect Devi's real delights lie.

Wines by the glass looked kind of dismal on the other hand. We didn't glance at the full list, but do remember the remarkably potable Indian wines they served by the glass at Amma that so surprised us. Perhaps they'll do that again.

Chef Hemant came out to say hello and then affably sent a dessert tray on the house: Chai Pannacotta with cardamom on a masala shortbread; Shrikhand, a yogurt with marscapone, creme fraiche and citrus; and a green banana flan. The subtle Shrikhand was our favorite, but after the too much food we were perfectly powerless to stop eating, the tiniest bites of these three creams sufficed. Yum.

2001 White Burgundy

Fat and steel, cream and acid: white Burgundy synthsizes opposites. No surprise then to find there a Temple of Janus, the god of two faces: one coming, one going, one happy, one sad. Contradiction may be at the heart why of Burgs appeal to CQ, but we also think it works as Breakfast Wine.

Following: other thoughts with which we left a recent 2001 1ere Cru tasting, where 8 participants tried 8 wines blindly, each ranked them and then took averages of rankings.

CQ's #1 - Ramonet, Chassagne Montrachet, Morgeot. Group's #3 of 8. Lush minerals and floral notes in the nose and what some called slutty or promiscuous oak on the tongue, balanced by great acids and a hugely long finish. All one could hope for in a baby white Burg. Kind of strange to be seduced by oak, but at least one's assured this is old and french rather than young and flexing. $48

CQ #2 - Bonneau de Martray Conton Charlemagne. Group's #1. Beautiful nose of ash with muted banana; others noted hazelnut and butterscotch. Robust elegance with impeccable structure. Interestingly (?) the lightest in color of our 8 - almost clear. $60

CQ #3 - Sauzet, Puligny Montrachet, Les Combettes. Group's #2. Subtle creamy lemon petrols with a sour cream edge in the nose; both taut & fleshy palate. $56

CQ (closely tied for #3) #4 - Chateau de la Maltroye, Chassagne Montrachet, Dents de Chien. Group's #4. We found cappucino, cinnamon, coffee, chocolate notes in the nose - not sweet but rather soft and pretty, with an urchin-like acidic curl to it; fat and complex on the palate. Quite long too; a bitter flirtatiousness that wouldn't unhand you. $70

All these four really lovely.

CQ #5 Colin-Deleger, Chassagne Montrachet, Vergers. Group's #6. Still really nice wine: a flinty chalky lemony nose but a little too sweet on the palate; fell apart structurally at the end. $40

CQ #6 Bernard Morey, Chassagne Montrachet, Morgeot. Group's #5. Nice nose, could definitely feel the youth on it though. A great deal less to be found in the mouth: thin, burnt lemons. $35

Of the last two we were less fond:

CQ #7 Michel Neillon, Chassagne Montrachet, Les Champgains. Group #8. Nose of sugar with a gushy slosh on the palate and saccherine aftertaste. $50

CQ #8 JM Boillot, Puligny montrachet, Referts. Group's #7. Our notes read: "Yuk. Imploding wine," another mentioned "Welch's grape juice"; one suggested faint hints of botrytus. $48

White Chardonnay grapes in Burgundy gain complexity and grace from growing in  acidic, minerally chalks and limestone, high in calcium carbonate. California'a fat, round, buttery Chardonnays grow in less acid and more fertile soils; if good wine can be made from them it wil be through manipulating how the climate, not the soil effects grapes.

WD50 Redux

WD50 just continues to improve. The wine list is looking a great deal better, with a deeper take on (CQ's preferred) old world selections and less emphasis on freaky Californian juice. (Kind of hilarious though to note that a Long Island Chardonnay - what a horrendous idea, Long Island may be great for potatoes but grapes? - cost twice that of the list's Austrian Rotgipfler.) The Asian influences here become e'er more pronounced, but in concert with less expected Mediterranean influences. Japan and Greece for instance both made an appearance in our lovely amuse: goat cheese souffle with a cucumber broth and dehydrated flakes - subtle, ineffable flavors that worked exactly as an amuse is supposed to, priming us for the delights to come, intimating the chef's style and soliciting appetite.

We shared 3 apps: the octopus, the beef tongue and the nori caramel-filled foie gras bon bon. The octopus, tender and flavorful, managed to be understated even in combination with a grapefruit smash - is that a jam? - olives, string beans and sprouts. Here again, the sprouts, citrus and presentation harked to Asia while the olives and beans evoked the Med. Yet as an ensemble the dish worked. The tongue had great flavor and texture and we fell too for its dehydrated onion dust heap, but the famed fried mayo cubes seemed a bit gimmicky. More novel than anything else - they did bring us back to life in 1989's Barcelona: late, late nights after the fourth disco, wasted and round about dawn we'd venture to the fritas depot for a paper cone filled with crispy french fries splashed in mayo. Adored the foie dish: terribly sexy when sliced and it oozes black. Quite preferred it to the brioche foie brulee at Jean Georges. It also seemed that the raw material, the foie itself was of a higher quality and better texture than that of its anchovy and chocolate foie predecessor.

We had two big plates: cod with its smokey mash potatoes, gorgeous pickled mini mushrooms and red pepper swoosh; and the lamb chops, with a laser-thin sliced leek and delicious (braised?) fingerlings. We had the appley 2002 Savarey Chablis but found it a little soft, lacking in minerals and steel. Polished it off regardless and were happy to find more verve and muscle in glasses of the 1998 Alsatian Baur Riesling. Lamb admittedly could have used a red.

As perhaps we've mentioned we think pastry chef Sam Mason is pretty much a fucking genius, so though no longer at all hungry we gave one of his desserts a spin. How to ignore black sesame ice cream? A perfect texture and remarkably hued: steel-green, battleship grey. A black sesame flag waved from atop our football scoop and on the other side of the plate, torched grapefruit slices sat on the tastiest part of this dish: an olive oil cake. Almost nothing sweet here - just gorgeous, unique, strange flavors balanced, challenging and new.

Wines by the Glassist

Though it was a bit past noon yesterday when we wandered into Craftbar, it was in some deeper sense still early. To brace ourselves against the day we first gave the Alsatian 2002 Paul Zinck Prestige Riesling a spin. A bit flabby unfortunately with none of the requisite verve. A 2003 Anton Bauer Gruner Veltliner from Donauland also lacked the swarthy, determined gate we had in mind to carry us through lunch and the Albana/Sauvignon Blanc blend from Srabismo di Venere in Emilia-Romagna, while interesting seemed a little sloop-shouldered and vaguely sweet. Finally a well structured, flinty Bordeaux arrived with just the punch we wanted: the 2003 Sauvignon Blanc/Semillon blend from Chateau La Caussade in Sainte Croix du Mont. Craftbar had on the list for $7 a glass. Wish we knew where to find this as the bottle can’t be more than $10 in a shop. Its steely muscular profile with toast, minerals and yeast was the perfect kickstart; a couple few of these put us in in good stead for lunch. For lunch: roasted sea bass on the bone with crisped and smoky skin in a pond of pequillo peppers, tripe and roasted cippolinis for one. For the other, a braised and roasted bunny. Phenomenally good, both.

We shared a couple cheeses for dessert: the Basque Abbaye de Bellocq, which hadn’t quite enough funk on it, and a stunning Lingot (also goat) du Quercy. A glass of Henri Darnat’s 2001 Clos du Domaine Meursault Burgundy from the Cote de Beaune paired well - nothing in common with the Bordeaux of course, this was a deep, soft, elegant, complex pineapple-and-pollen whirlpool. Fortified, we poured ourselves into theater seats for a screening of Sideways – an utterly charming flick – and then walked over to the wine bar Enoteca at I Trulli.

We’d loved the 1997 Tegolaia from Travignoli once sold here, but I Trulli has since moved on to pouring the 1999. When asked how the two compared, the sommelier poured us the 1999 Brunello from Castelli Martinozzi instead. Lovely fellow by the way: tasteful, knowledgeable and not at all the pretentious sort one so often finds at wine bars. Used to be the sommelier at Babbo for three years. Well this Brunello – good god, what a supercool wine. We at CQ could consume it case upon case and well may. Here though we did stick to just the one glass, as when it was gone our new found sommelier next recommended another: the simpler if also gorgeous Aglianico del Vulture Riserva, 1998 from Tenuta del Portale. Aglianico has so much unassuming character and none-too-fruity fruit; this seems an Italian's Italian and one well paired with I Trulli's house-cured prosciutto, coppa and soppressata. It was though getting on and for a night  cap after our arduous day we had the lovely if leagues softer Puglian Rupicolo di Rivera, 2002. Velvety, dark, unctuous: this is another it'd well pay to keep on hand. This week, the sommelier said, he'll have new fall flights lined up.We'll be back.

*cribbed wine chick graphic  by Alexandra Reszczynski 

Breakfast Wines

Beauty, poet and sculptor Gita Ghei once noted that if ever you're having a bad day, just have breakfast and you can start over. Taking her wisdom to heart we've begun to research which wines work best with, or instead of breakfast. Yes, Rieslings may have the upper hand from the get go, and though this first installment begins to look into that possibility, we also intend to give fair shakes to Muscadet, Cortese, Sauvignon Blanc, Semillion, Chenin Blanc and Pinot Noir among others. Please remember that CQ encourages your comments and suggestions on this or any other topic. Post them by clicking on 'comment.' 

One morning not long ago we dropped into the lovely new Discovery wine shop on New York City's Lower East Side where importer Domaine Select was hosting an Austrian tasting. Several winemakers were on hand to present their wares and while much more than just Rieslings and Gruner Veltliners were poured, all were white and all reasonable suitable for early morning ministrations. In the rather random order in which they were poured:

Sudsteiermark (South Styria) Lackner-Tinnacher; Muskateller, Gamlitz 2003. South Styria, in the very southern tip of Austria, has vineyards graced with warm Adriatic winds. This wine showed fresh, steely acids; subtle, muted sugars; great balance of green and muscle.

Sudoststeiermark (SE Styria) Frühwirth, Klöcher Tranminer, Hochwarth 2003. Rose petally; earthy, fuller fruits.

Thermenregion, Karl Alphart, Rotgipfler 2003. Our favorite, maybe.
Georgeous, explosive minerality; clear, faintly tropical fruit invoking distilled banana mango. What glorious structure here though, like the young Brigitte Bardot. Rotgipfler varietal only grows in this wee place, close to Vienna but sheltered from cold NE winds by warm Hungarian winds. The grape seems not to be much exported as yesterday when we dropped in to Discoverey they sadly had none on offer.

Donauland/Wagrau, Leth, Roter Veltliner, Scheiben 2003. Oddly, Red Veltliner is both older than and not related to Gruner Veltliner. It is a late ripening grape harvested from the beginning to late November. From fifty year old vines, this is powerful wine and exactingly trimmed. Its nuanced spicy fragrances hinted to apricot without overbearing sugars and its big, elegant loping length had a pretty, unsticky finish.

Donauland/Wagrau, Wimmer-Czerny, Taminer Trio, Mitterweg 2003. We were quite fond indeed of the hyperminerality here, which we'd imagine renders vitamins redundant. Low low acids meant this had less body than the others. The Riesling is a descendant of Traminer and this wine was a blend of 3 Traminers: Red, Yellow and Gewurtz. Notable was the delicious yeast here that the winemakers carefully cultivate on their own vineyards which certainly pays off.

Kamptal, Brandl, Reisling, Heiligenstein 2003. Another top pick. Huge complexity, very light in color. Minerally pepper spice. Lovely, come to think of it, for breakfast; reason enough to get out of bed.

 

Riesling Redux

Another recent CQ foray into Rieslings, this time via Germany, occurred in the wake of an American contrarian's trip to the fatherland. There he'd learned to rustle up the Black Forrest delicacy, Schwabian Maultaschen, pork and leek dumplings. When correctly pronounced Maultaschen sound like Malatov, so we suggested that armed with his arcane neo-Malatov knowledge, our comrade host a bash. Not only could he showcase the dumplings, which don't sound bad as dumplings go, but clearly the babies are intended to accompany Rieslings.

With appetizers - marinated Portuguese sardines served over toasts first layered with ripe avocado and topped with scallion strips and a chive mince - we opened the 2003 von Hovel - Schartzhofberger - Kabinett: petrol and grapefruit, well balanced and bright. Pretty and playful if remarkably low in alcohol. In fact all the evening's wines were nearly alcohol-free, which had the odd effect of rendering the CQ directorate quite able to fly itself home (our host has a helipad on his roof), yet just as surprised to wake up the next morning - not having gotten even tipsy - with a remarkably bad hangover. Sulphurs, we've been told.

The pillowy and undressed Malatov dumplings were served warm with a traditional potato salad – grain mustard and apple cider vinegar - cold. With the Malatovs we opened two Spatleses: the floral, tasty 1998 Münsterer Pittersberg, Kruger-Rumpf which reminded us a bit of autumn’s too leggy impatiens. Its low acids were a touch flabbier and not as articulate as we'd have preferred. Superior, we agreed, was the elegant 1997 Brauneburger Juffe, Max. Ferd. Richter which age had left with a poised citrus bounce, and one bereft of youthful sweetness.

With a homemade and thankfully none-too-sweet pumpkin pie, we popped the 1999 Niederhäuser Hermannshöhle - Auslese -- Dönnhoff. This we found a bit monotonous and syrupy, rather sans character or interest. But then we aren't much of Sauternists either.

Sumile

Curious about chef Josh DeChellis, we ventured out to the West Village's newish Franco-Japanese fusion Sumile last night. The restaurant's design underwhelms: minimalistic to the point of dull with unadorned white walls in a boxy space and kind of annoying postmodern architectural notes - floating ufo lamps under a triangular ceiling with a mirror at the back. Ditto the bar area: a pretty if sterile, elegant doctor's waiting room kind of vibe. Interesting smoky-glass see-though kitchen window, though. And indeed, one finds here some genuinely tasty and new things to eat.

The waiter's suggestion of 3 small plates per person was really too much food for us. These are not exactly little plates, but we are not exactly gluttons. Several of the dishes were delightful, though we'd advise sticking to 2 small dishes per person, or 5 for two people, and emphasize the request that they be presented one at a time. The little dishes are mostly $14 each, though several tack on supplemental charges from $2 - 6. Entree-sized portions are available for $28.

Very delicious amuse of I can't remember what fish, mashed and spiced a la spicy tuna - cum - brandade with daikon slivers.

Wonderful grilled octopus with shiso leaf and grapefruit salad with shanso. Suprising, fresh combinations of meaty and properly grilled, not-too-tuff o.pus with bitter leaves, acidic citrus and a subtle none-too-sweet if sweetish sauce. While yes, we disdain sweet food and grimace at the thought of fruit anywhere near dinner, this was a dish that merits return.

Terrine of suckling pig (top and bottom layers) sandwiched a foie mousse. Topped with paper-thin matsutakes, this arrived on a rectangular plate with two fat slices on one side, a poached egg and smoked duck on the other. A wee mound of grated green apple with wasabi harmonized well and again: no suffering here. Interesting, delicious combinations, textures, ideas. The foie mousse was not transcendental but more than serviceable - and in cahoots with the piggy, a perfect egg & duck jerky, made for another great dish.

'Line caught' chatham cod on 'sea-scented spinach' topped with toasted pumpkin seeds: though not at all spinach fans, we did like whatever they did to scent it: bitter, salty and complex in its broth and wonderfully contrasted with the nutty toasted pump seeds. Not a stellar dish, but enjoyable and points for uniqueness.

White pekin duck ramen-shoyu aji with matsutake 'perfume' bore a terrifically close resemblance to ramen, pho, any number of soupy noodle dishes. We weren't that into it. The duck, magenta and chewy, wasn't bad exactly, but reminded us why we prefer duck smoked or roasted.

These four had come out in pairs; only now did we request that the last two plates be brought separately, which we do wish we'd requested from the get go. Favorite of the evening: Warmed diver scallops with crispy sweetbreads and tamari shoyu / uni shiso.
Great dish. Some of the very best sweetbreads in town; scallops perfectly fresh, bright and bouncy. While again we're not fans of sweet flavors in food, this sauce balanced spices and intimations of sweetness with ineffable subtlety. Had this with octopus and the terrine been the meal, it would have been remarkably good.

Flatiron steak with wholegrain shoyu & braised shitake. Could have done without this one. Looked pretty, but the meat was so-so, the shitake soggy.

Three winners out of six though isn't bad. To drink: several carafes Akitabare "northern skies" junmai akita sake. We'd return, especially for the early bird special: $35, 5:30- 7.

WD50

Meals at Wylie's Wonderland Emporium of Emperor's Delights may well leave you hungry but that just lends all the more reason to order dessert, which is fine news. We're f the considered opinion that pastry chef Sam Mason's creations seldom fall short of genius. Never overly sweet, always rife with interest, each bite imparts a sense of having been made with whimsey and heart.

Certainly the most beautiful plating in town: of the (what seemed) 40 courses that preceeded our most recent WD-50 desserts, everything on the tasting menu could have been a sculpture by Hannah Hoch via Bulgari, Robert Reiman and Baskin-Robbins. The flavors sometimes register less harmoniously, as this is high-wire pairing and indeed hits occasional glitches, but on the plate one never finds a visual gaffe. 

Chef WD has yet to cease staking out & developing his ever more strange-and-lovely culinary vocabulary. Themes include dehydrated dust crunches - tomato, celery and nori (last we had it, served with a nori foam) and his paper-thin, dried & fried slivers of fruit: lime, pear, apple. Signature smoked mashed potatoes always incur copious delight at CQ meals: familiar and comforting yet singular and new, they often arrive with fish and mingle with flavors at once spicy and faintly sweet, coalescing into statement.

Quite as original and delicious: On top and mixed into a (delicious) venison tartare we like the especially wondrous puffed crunchy rice powder. An emphasis on ginger has pleased us: one evening we found it in both a cucumber 'noodle' - julienned cukes steeped in ginger-creme fraiche, and in a ginger cotton candy dessert. This idea of 'noodles' made from anything but wheat derives (we guess) from Spain's Ferran Adria, who first did it with calamari. Wylie expands on that theme: here you will find shrimp, mustard and sake noodles too. However, Wylie's slow egg (baked for 1.5 hours at 140 was it?) in a gorgeous asymmetrical bowl with parmesean oil may top our list of favorites, its texture and flavors transcendentally delicious. (Paula Wolfert, we note, has a number of slow egg preparations in her Slow Med cookbook.)

Little convergences throughout the tasting and flavors echoed and picked up on different dishes imbue the meal with a kind of literary or poetic reference system. No lack of complexity here, but it's connecting the inferences that sometimes challenges. WD50's Wonderland vibe may not speak to the palate as much as to the intellect. The music of Ornette Coleman always leaps to mind here as while neither WD nor Ornette could be called user-friendly, both richly reward those who find their way to the table. 

Craft, Craftbar, 'Wichcraft

An industrial, casual majesty subsumes Craft, the most formal of Tom Colicchio's three restaurants on East 19th Street. But in spite of gorgeously lit 20' ceilings, milk-chocolate leather paneled walls, and cherrywood draftsman tables that seem recycled from Valhalla, nothing's stuffy here. Horizontal, minimalist light fixtures run down fiberboard ceilngs and draw vision back into the restaurant's depths. The colors - muted cement and browns with navies - embue the space with an understated power. The back wall seems a kind of Turner-meets-Ed Ruscha seascape, on a grey-blue day in sun after rain. The taste evident in the space's design certainly contributes to why Craft consitently ranks among New Yorkers' favorites, but unquestionably it's the food that draws us back. No longer new, Craft has matured into a place where you are assured an interesting meal made with the finest ingredients and honed techniques, all of which hinge on Colicchio's fundamental commitment to simple, straight forward, well-crafted cuisine.

Recently, in a mood for red, we ordered the 2000 Roero CaRosso: a well-balanced, complex bottle with earthy, chocolate notes. Though it opened up over the meal, it matched astonishingly well with our first little plate: chantrelle mushrooms from Oregon. Colicchio's mushrooms have consistenly proven among our favorite dishes in town and these - simple, minerally, with a texture at once meaty, soft and crisp - did not disappoint. (He gives a comprehensive class on his mushroom techniques in to "Think Like a Chef," a book from which we'd also recommend his roast tomatoes.) We shared 4 other little plates as well: squid, presented with trademark Craftian simplicity in parsley and oregano, oil and lemon. Tender and bright spears of broccoli rabe, neither overcooked nor overgarlic'd, though not unlike many dishes at Craft, a tad generously salted. A rabbit ballentine, with a dollop of tapenade and gelatin cubes of rabbit fat and chicken stock, that inpired us to try a few at home.* And a solitary sour note: sardines we ordered, marinated in vinegar, which while not bad in themselves clashed with everything else. Grilled they'd have been a more harmonious component, but their acidity upset the more earthy harmonies, aromas and flavors of the other parts of the meal. Which brings us to the risky bit about a meal at Craft: one must take care to choose plates that will work with eachother. The menu, comprised of ingredients (vegetables, meat, fish) whose preparations (brasied, roasted, sauteed) diners choose, can be dizzying. We shared a stunning pomegranate sorbet for dessert and a couple Nebbiolo grappas from (genius) Steve McCarthy's Clear Creek Distilleries in Oregon. Of course, these wee plates together cost us about two weeks salary, so we've been overjoyed to find food on par with Craft's at much more reasonable prices, next door.

Recent meals at Craftbar have all been thoroughly delightful. With bit of care it has even proven possible to to walk out, sated with a glass or two of wine, for under fifty bucks a head. But then, we stick to small plates, which have proven better than mains. Chief among recent favorites: the poached egg, anchovy and dandelion salad with radishes and baby yellow tomatoes. Now granted, dandelions, poached eggs and anchovy happen to be among the holiest of trinities in our culinary constellations - but Craftbar's made a point of deliciously contrasting the bitter, salty and sweet. We fondly recall the wonderful combination of a recent bonito special, which they'd smoked but left rare inside, served with a lemon saboyan: smokey, citrusy, salty, light and fat.
A properly charred grilled octopus Craftbar serves with preserved lemon. Their meatballs are among the best we've had. Also recommended: fried sage leaves stuffed with boar have a delicious light, bitter crunch that gives way to soft, unctuous meat. Sometimes a bit greasy, but these primarily occur to us as a fine invention. Sweetbreads with a balsamic glaze, sliced turnips and carrots have proved the finest rendition in recent memory. The charcuterie with bressaola, soprresatta, proscuitto, coppa, salami is a great bargain at $17, and includes a especially wellmade duck ham. A moist and creamy Foie gras, with plentiful and high quality liver, drizzled with basalmic, should under no circumstances be missed. Additionally, we've never had or needed a reservation at Craftbar, which like Craft itself is a simply stunning place. We best like the bar there and have been impressed by the wines by the glass list, which is seemingly always in rotation and never without an intriguing new taste.

What we cannot for the life of us figure: among all this haute cuisine, what happened to the once-fabulous 'Wichcraft? A stellar idea, yes, but an exectution that has plumeted like a boulder from the sky. All serious passion and interest has evaporated from the sandwiches as far as we can tell. Among the losers: celery has proven to have a suprising capacity to destroy all the other flavors in a goat cheese, avocado, walnut pesto and watercress sandwich. Marinated broccoli rabe, roasted peppers, black olives, caramelized onions and mozzarella on a baguette tasted like leftovers from a family style Mama's Italian Eatery in the Burbs. Slow roasted pork, red cabbage, jalapeños and mustard on ciabatta roll has all the allure of a deli hoagie. But with a little attention, we're certain things could turn around at 'Wichcraft. There's no doubt that Colicchio's hat full of tricks is anything but tapped.

Mas or Less

After an initial nod to French farmhouses in the dark, rough hewn wood in front of the bar, a sophisticated urbanity decimates any lingering 'country' notes at Mas. Odd, considering this West Village restaurant describes itself as Country French. Instead, minimalist design rules the day: slate grey walls lined with a single slim, horizontal mirror; white leather banquets and white ceiling; a big glass cube wine cellar in the center of the room; gorgeous dark wood floors. Though exceptionally well lit, Mas didn't fare as well on the food and wine fronts.

We drank by the glass, my companion starting with reds. First he ordered a Corsican Patrimonio from Antoine Arena which had a very big, overripe and gamey nose but no body. It smelled curiously Spanish, which meant that it was leagues more interesting than the Faugeres he tried next: this rather rang with tinny emptiness. He was going to give the Bandol, Dom. Tempier ($17/glass?) a run, but after the waitress poured him a taste, he sipped my 2002 Txacoli and joined me. The Txacoli may be old hat by now, but I love its dependable structure and light. I'd tried a 2001 Alsatian Riesling d'Epfig first, but it seemed to me a lonesome wine that shirked towards something & fell short.

Soon, Prince Edward Island mussel amuses arrived in paprika sauce with sunflower cress. They looked sexy, but tasted and felt a bit too much like slimy bilge. Not a happy amuse. The Big Eye Tuna appetizer was my favorite dish of the evening, in a beurre noisette with fried shallots and minced chives. A gorgeous fish that played really well in its vinegar it especially stood out against the other appetizer we shared: Portuguese sardines on a parmesean toast with carmelized onions and a pine nut dressing. Sounds good, but had none of the crunch, flavor or resilience of the sardines one finds in say Portugal. Mushy fishies threw no spark, so a bite sufficed.

We shared two mains: wild ramp-wrapped sliced lamb loin again looked fabulous, and its meat was surprisingly delicate and tasty. The dish's airy mashed potatoes had been plated in a comma-shaped dollop; references to text in food always please me. Yet an ineffable stodginess suffused this dish: I had the sense that Harriet Nelson whipped it up. Oddly, the plate's most delicious component - two quarters of artichoke heart (a la Barigoule) on the side - did indeed hark to Provence, making me melancholy that they were not the dish instead. Distilled, crystalized artichoke flavor perfectly textured by its cooking method gave me an intimation of what I wanted - affirmation for my fierce loyalty to French country food - but of it the slightest hint. Our other main left me with a more extreme version of the same impression. A "pigeon baked in a clay pot" comprised of two wee wings and a couple slices of breast included hunks of clay on the plate, which the waiter cautioned me not to eat. Did Mas need to prove that they had used the ancient, authentic technique about which Paula Wolfert has written so well? Could they not have kept the mud to themselves? I thought the bird perfectly vile and hardly touched it, but it came with a too too tiny slice of a stupendously delicious Bordelaise duck tart, which would have made me content on its own. Alas. When asked recently what sort of new restaurant New York needs, my first thought was a Provincial French farmhouse place. Mas is not that, Mas is less.

The CQ Diet

Calculations of daily hours gained as a result of liberation from thoughts about sex and food: 16.

Could you imagine finding an extra 16 hours a day?

We were experimenting with the CQ Time and Pleasure Management System (TM) and set its parameters to the problem .The result: the CQ diet. Comprised of a single meal daily, each of which requires 2-5 days to prepare, the CQ Diet guarantees a culinary experience as rich in fats and flavors as it is intellectual nourishment. Emotions, class biases, and physical desire: CQ has grabbed all food anxiety by the throat and reengineered it on your behalf in CQ's exclusive Once Daily Repasts.

ODRs: Slow Food ethics for Thin Thigh Lives.

*please note: measurements and cooking times largely approximated. we don't do pastry for a reason.

short hand may include the following:

T = tablespoon
t = teaspoon
c = cup
h2o = water
S&P = salt and pepper
evoo, extra virge = extra virgin olive oil

CQ Breakfast: 3G's at 3

Breakfast is perhaps our favorite once-a-day delight. This one, with grapefuit zest, roast pork, a poached egg and even greens covers all the bases. To be served at either 3 (am or pm) only.

1. The brine: in hot water, dissolve .5 cups sea salt & 3 tablespoons sugar. Add to 3 cups of cold water and mix with .5 teaspoon cracked peppercorns, 2 fresh and crumbled bay leaves, 1 teaspoon thyme. Emerge a 5 pound Kurobota pork loin and marinate in fridge 2-4 days.

2. 4 hours before serving, remove from fridge. Drain and pat dry meat. Smash 4 garlic cloves, 2 inches grated ginger and the zest of one organic grapefruit with salt and pepper. Poke the pork with a sharp utensil, then rub and stuff holes with your triple-threat 3G mash. Tie up the loin in kitchen string, weave the net with fresh rosemary, sage and thyme and let stand 30 minutes. You can also refridgerate this for a day or two.

3. Preheat oven to 275. In a superhot skillet doused in extra vigin, seal the loin til the surfaces are all brown, +- 5 minutes. Set on a rack, in roasting pan.

4. Douse skillet with champage (or whatever you drink while cooking) scraping up all the brown bits and set aside.

5. For the roasting pan's empty moat, assemble assorted roots and alliums: skinned shallots; parboiled baby red, white and blue potatoes; Vidalia or Walla Walla onions quartered; a head of garlic with the top third lopped off. Drizzle them all with extra virge, sprinkle with some S&P, add a few fresh sprigs of rosemary, thyme and sage; then arrange the lot about your roast rack in the pan moat.

6. Cook for about 35 minutes, turn and continue to roast uncovered for another 10-15 until internal temperature reaches +-140F. Remove from oven, cover and let cool 1 hour - 3 days.

8. Wash, spin dry and lightly dress wild arugula with warm roast juice. Plate 2-3 thin slices of pork loin over rocket bed and surround with onions and potatoes. Top with an organic, just-poached egg and drizzle with still warm roasting pan juices.

Serve with a breakfast drink and perhaps a jar of Dijon.

I, I & I Post-Colonial Feast: Cauliflower, Lamb and a Ribera

ODR - Once Daily Repast - to be served at 2:30 am or 4:30 pm, only.

The Mediterranean and the Subcontinent may be distant geographically, but should you explore their cuisines' proximity, bridges between the two began to appear as if in a dream. Or so they did for us when we decided it was high time to merge the two. Originally, for instance, thinking ourselves quite fond indeed of Italian cauliflower fritti we'd imagined spicing an Italianesque batter with cardamom, cinnamon, cumin and our homemade garam: not far itself from a cauliflower bhaji. However the 3 sticks of butter and 6 quarts of oil in Chef Battali's recipe reminded us that since we don't own a deep fryer, perhaps another route would be best....Alora:

Couviflor a la Inde:

1. Separate 1 head of organic cauliflower into smaller-than-bite size fronds. Wash and drain.

2. Melt 1 tablespoon ghee and to this add 1 T black mustard seeds. When popped, add some tumeric and an onion finely chopped. Grate a couple few inches of ginger and stir this in a spell. Soon but not too (might it need another knob of ghee?) add 2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced (remember Good Fellas?) with a razor blade; 1-2 fresh chopped red (or green) chili(s), seeds optional; and 2-3 (boned, rinsed, drained and minced) salt-packed anchovies, imported (don't forget!) from Italy. Stir, inhale and taste.

3. Before long, add goodly shakes of cinnamon, half a cinnamon stick, some cumin seeds and the seeds of 12 cardamom pods; a dash or two of cayenne and one half teaspoon (or more) of garam masala. Again: stir, inhale and taste.

4. Should you find yourself contented thus far: add a skinned and chopped ripe tomato; a cup of plain goat's milk yogurt; the zest of one lime; and a few hearty twists of pepper from a mill. Stir (you are, we hope, using a wooden spoon) and add the cauliflower. Cook till pleasing, approximately 18.6 minutes though perhaps 24. Keep warm and to serve, add chopped mint, cilantro and lime wedges.

Lambsies*

1. 3 hours before you want to eat, rub a rack of lamb with a very simple but delicious (SbD) dry marinade made of unequal parts fresh and chopped mint, parsley, rosemary and thyme with 2 cloves of minced garlic. Let it sit at room temperature.

2. 2 hours later, wipe the lamb of its herbs and once naked, season with S&P. Douse a skillet with oil and seal the lamb: 3-4 minutes til brown. Set aside, pour the fat (most of it) from the skillet (but don't pitch the rest!) and preheat your oven to 300.

3. Lightly oil a shallow clay baking dish and lay the browned lamb within. When the oven's toasty, pop in the lamb. Should be done before too long: 38 minutes is one guess. If you're the thermometer sort, we've found that 132 is a nice temp for still-pink.

4. Heat your unwashed and fat-slicked skillet, add a clove of garlic (thinly sliced with razor blade); the juice of one lime and half a cup of water. Bring to a boil, scraping up charred bits. Off the heat, add the zest from the lime, a dash of Extra Virge and some S&P.

5. Carve the rack, plate and slather in juices. Sprinkle with fresh chopped mint and cilantro to serve.

If you think rice and or fresh chapati in order, by all means, make them. After all, as a CQ Dieteer you're only eating once today!

CQ recommends a couple bottles of Ribera del Duero with the I, I & I Feast: India, Italy and Iberia. 1994 drinking well about now.

*shamelessly culled in a very much improvised manner from p. 208 of Paula Wolfert's brilliant Slow Mediterranean Kitchen.

Lure

Monday night before heading to Infernal Affairs at the Angelika, we ducked in to the former Canteen, now Lure, for a couple drinks and a few tiny plates at the raw bar. Though beautifully presented, compared to the incredibly well-appointed place itself, the food seemed a relative afterthought. If you're a sucker for the understated elegance of the teak, navy and white leather of luxury yachts, as we unreservedly are, then you'll agree that this is simply a stunning space. Really would be a shame if this new restaurant with its $2 million renovation goes the way of all the other places that have been in this space over the last decade, but as it seemed to us, unlikely will the food grant Lure staying power.

We didn't eat much actually. First we had five cubes of arctic char on a checkerboard of dill puree with dollops of creamy horseradish topped by trout roe and specks of crispy-fried char skin. Though perfectly fresh and a fine melange of textures, the horseradish cream all but drowned the fish. That would proove a consistent theme in our rawbar tastes: wonderful fish in gorgeous presentations overwhelmed by gobs of too-creamy or sweet goo.

Second: five yellowtail slices with half-domes of a lemon and jalapeo jam and baby mint leaf. Fish again, lovely once liberated from the sweet jam, which was reasonably interesting, yes, but far too plentiful as served. A quarter of the amount would have sufficed: a half-grape's worth on what would be a small piece of sashimi made the fish all but imperceptible.

Chef sent out tastes (2) of yellowfin tuna cubes with slivers of hot chili peppers under olive oil brulee. Again: fairly smothered in all that creamy nonsense, but the chili and tuna were indeed tasty without quite such imposing slabs of whatever it is 'olive oil brulee' actually consists.

Most favored of our little bites: three slices of lobster bruschetta. Toasted sourdough rubbed with roast garlic under seemingly close to raw, incredibly tasty lobster with chili dust. This one won us over.

As mentioned, the tuna was a gift; we each had 2 drinks - a Huber Gruner eltliner for me and my friend, beer but this still managed to add up to $100.