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Gawker had some fun today and posted the winners of their “Best Redesigns of The New York Label.” The science pick is diggity “science is sexy.” And a bit creepy via Jurassic Park; I like the implications.
The warm (is this word over-utlized?)…perhaps. Okay, the rustic Italian kitchen vibe of Il Buco sounds about perfect on a cold, snowy New York day. I foresee crudo as a starting point with a glass of white and then seguing into a pasta dish (portions are small but just right) or Maltagliati con Galletti e Pancetta (rough cut pasta, chanterelle mushrooms, pancetta, nepitella, parmesan). The family tables are great to share a meal with friends and fork over to try your neighbor’s bowl. It’s as if you’re sitting in a n old Umbrian barn or someone’s home. The subterranean wine cellar (where Woody Allen sat his character Melinda of yes, Melinda and Melinda) is uber-romantic if not the perfect, dark and moody cinematic spot. Check it out live. It’s moody and perfect.
Words hardly describe the magical, a warm-lit and very fulfilling experience at Il Mulino (on West 3rd Street) The scent of warm garlic, onions and red wine fill the small room as if someone opened a magic potion which captures your nose in seconds flat, intoxicating you to have a drink while your table opens up. This only adds to the excitement of actually sitting down. The bar is small and crowded. No room for coats; one must hand off their winter jacket off the bat. Once you sit down, the assault (on all senses) begins. And, the three or four special occasions I have been; each time is oddly different (company wise) although the food and service stays the same.
Once you sit down, Mulino owns you, from the fun wait staff (donned in tuxedos) who flurry by without much notice except to occasionally make you laugh, the bussers filling your water (watch out for the curse of the bottled water; specify if you want tap). One bill boasted $200 of Evian ; yikes.
No one is here to rush your food experience which can take hours but the cozy vibe and those insanely brilliant starters are just a bit of what’s to come. It’s not a place to be modest or shy about taking in massive amounts of food. Ditto your wallet. I have sampled (which you often do here in a family style way:: Spezzatino Di Pollo Alla Romano, Bistecca Alla Griglia (the prime New York aged strip), Ossobuco (veal shanks roasted in a red wine sauce)…this is hard to type, I’m starving for GOOD food…Rigatoni Bolgonese (braised veal, lamb and beef served in a rich tomato sauce).
Everyone is considered equal at Mulino, sure you could be sitting next to so and so and him and her but the service is there to make certain you leave satisfied (re: stuffed to the brim). And, after the last of the Grappa is poured, you certainly feel a sense of euphoria, your senses having gone on a roller coaster. Sleep entices you. Mulino is a special place, and I urge you to go. It’s a special joint for friends and family. I have great, fond memories of the place. Always will.
Should I be in New York City tonight, I might venture to the Mercer Kitchen upstairs (I pass on the Russell Crowe/Jack Bauer subterranean life) opting for a glass of vines or champs, excellent (crisp) french fries (with mayo please) and perhaps a flatbread. The staff still blows you off (literally, you must wave them down or trip them; this includes the bus staff when your water is tapped). I like the place hasn’t changed– decor or attitude wise–and it’s fun to see the neon sign of Fanelli’s across the way and the people outside passing without a glance. I met an old friend there for many a frites. My grandmother snubbed Demi Moore at the Mercer. I sat with my Pop after dinner at Balthazar for a night-cap (Johnny Walker Blue) and Donna and I had a $20 glass of champs (Kimmie D too). The lighting is dim, the leather seats show wear and tear and a fashion crowd still keeps the place a glow. it’s good company for one or two…because, you will always listen to the conversations around you. (image: image: theweblicist.com)
While I’ve hit many shows of bands, which have come and gone, and those I never really knew, it’s refreshing to see this venue still alive. And, although Williamsburg and Brooklyn, in general, seems to be sprouting the indie scene bands these days, it’s still nice to know there is a bit of grit off the Bowery (and Delancey Streets) at yes, the one and onlyBowery Ballroom. Long before the trendy Box and slutty burlesque carvinales started opening, this was the place to be. The Hells Angels at the door weren’t always nice and thought my ID was fake even though I was 23 at the time and the ID was quite real (many thanks to the state of Missouri). Still, they kicked me out but I felt somewhat, well, cool. (imaeg: Photo by Lauren Klain Carton)
I went to shows where pretentious ”rock and roll” bands tried not to go on stage because only 10 people were in the crowd and they relied too heavily on their back up DJ who pressed buttons on his mixer. They liked to hang behind the curtains or upstairs where the bands gather and drink Jamieson and the girls sip pricey champage even though they haven’t had a meal for 2 months. They were always lame but it made for a good story.
My first show at the Bowery was Luna with its chill, hush beats courtesy of vocals from Dean Wareham and the cool blonde headed chick. (2001). One centers around the crowded, downstairs art-deco style bar before descending upstairs to hear the tunes under nice lighting and a hard floor. Rock n’ roll.
- main dining room; cipriani downtown (photo via cipriani)
Although I tried to get my brother to write something up here, he’s busy and it’s too good to pass up. it’s still raining here and I turn my attention to the corner of West Broadway and Broome where Downtown Cipriani resides. Although it’s not my shtick per se, I’ve had way too many memorable meals, Bellini’s, sightings and hard to repeat moments under its spell. One can spend hours here. The food isn’t that great for the douja…and let’s face it, you are going to drop some cash…the Bellini’s taste better when you’ve had three. Step under the yellow awnings to reveal a surfboard in the corner (Peter Tunney, anyone?) and enjoy a people watching lunch with (always heated) outdoor (unlit) cigars. Sit at a large table inside with art(y)or those who think they are arty, know-it-all people, Euros and their modellas. Or hang in a Halloween costume while skinny things skimp in and out. Send me their food, not their check. Still yet, the deer pasta with a glass of milk is divine. So is facing Peter Beard’s photographs while enjoying a decadent downtown with lofty space. Yes, an old Soho life that is Cipriani still insists on pumping a bit of pre-recession glamour LONG before Tommy Hilfiger invaded next door.
Love it or hate it…it’s still there. Not going anywhere soon. And, renovations are ongoing at its upstairs club.
Minetta Tavern, Black Label Burger. Image: aht.seriouseats.com
While it’s Sunday and it’s uncertain what to eat. I think about New York. I think about hamburgers in New York. After just checking in on Burger of the Month Club… those “7 guys on a quest to find the best burgers in the five boroughs,” I must politely disagree on their recent rankings. And guys: you really should have one chick on your club. Girls like to eat. Their picks (from 1 to 10): Peter Lugers, Donovan’s Pub, City Hall, Primehouse, Bobby Van’s Grille, Burger Joint, Landmarc, Genesis, Royal and Black Iron Burger.
the spotted pig.
Everyone likes to debate a burger, so please, tell me yours.
Look, I love Luger’s like the next guy. If you haven’t had Midwest beef lately, you aren’t living. New York has it’s share of burgers; different dressings, buns and meat preparations. I love hamburgers. Drumroll, please. This is MY LIST … in no particular order. Minetta Tavern, P.J. Clarkes, Corner Bistro, JG Melon’s, Spotted Pig, McHales (RIP), Chumley’s (hey, showing signs of life), Steak Shack, McSorelys, and Tavern on Jane.
Disagree with me or the professional burger guys? Tell me…seriously, I want to know your secrets.
P.J. Clarke's image via: Esquire.
Jonathan Lethem has done it again…this time with Chronic City more in line with Motherless Brooklyn and Fortress of Solitude. Per usual, he hits on pop culture, sitcoms and the Upper East Side. A departure from the Brooklyn tones.
Plus, I like the dust jacket. It’s on my list to read along with finishing the Omnivore’s Dilemma and two back issues of the New Yorker. Once I read; I will review. A new section; Book Reviews. Novel idea.
what was promised to re-open in Fall 2009 to celebrate its 30th anniversary is now a forgotten…yes, sadly Chanterelle has closed. The New York Times gave it a banner review of 3 stars, excellent…a critics pick. Times excerpt: “Some restaurants win admiration. Others inspire love. Chanterelle does both. It’s not hard to understand why New Yorkers keep a warm spot in their hearts for Chanterelle. Few restaurants are as welcoming or comfortable to enter.”
sadly...gone. but, you can still buy the cookbook.
This off the heels of Gourmet’s demise. Oddly enough, Gourmet named the Chanterelle cookbook one fo the best of 2008. Now both are gone…
