Saturday Evening Smörgåsbord

Today for the first time since we arrived here in August the weather turned cool enough to feel like Autumn. So, it seemed like the perfect night to sample the cuisine of Scandinavia without having to worry about the consequences of eating a heavy meal of Swedish Meatballs and then heading down into a cozy 90-plus degree subway station. For this occasion we chose to dine at Aquavit Cafe on 55th Street near Park Avenue.

The Cafe is the somewhat less formal auxiliary to the Aquavit Dining Room, with which it shares a common entrance and kitchen. We stopped by on a whim, curious to see if the three of us could get in without a reservation at that time on a Saturday evening. Luckily it was no problem, with the exception of what I have come to expect as the usual reaction from the maître d'. I find that they seem to practice inflection and intonation of the question "do you have a reservation?" in such a way as to suggest that they sincerely wish they could help you but honestly, you are foolish to think that you would be able to visit there without planning ahead. That ritual completed, he promptly led us to a table amid the half-empty dining area.

While I was certainly aware of the existence and reputation of Aquavit from previous visits and had been wanting to try it for some time, I did not realize until my visit there (sparked by a glance at a brochure near the restrooms) that the executive chef, Marcus Samuelsson, is the same person who has been enlisted by Starbuck's to try to bring some culinary credibility to their undeniably lackluster food offerings. I quickly recognized his image from the many times I have now seen it splashed against a wall next to a refrigerator case of plastic-clad sandwiches. While Starbuck's does seem to work in a few locally sourced baked goods, the rest of their food is industrially produced in regional baking centers, and I have found that it is typically on par with what one would get from a Hostess thrift shop. I stick with the Espresso. I have to admit that this realization definitely lowered my expectations for the meal I was about to have at Aquavit, as it is an undeniable reality that the chef's recent associations require his reputation to come to equilibrium somewhere between Aquavit and Starbuck's.

That said, we decided to start out in Scandinavian style with the herring sampler (three varieties, curried, pickled, and in a sour cream sauce) along with cocktails. I tried a Manhattan Martini, which was infused with cucumber and garnished with a couple of cucumber ribbons, while my wife had the Aquapolitan, which incorporated lemon and cranberry.

Not being a frequent preserved fish eater, I expected the herring to be somewhat challenging to our relatively untested (by herring, anyway) palates. It turned out not to be a challenge at all, though and all three of the herring varieties were interesting and appealing in their own way, without any strong fishiness. The sour cream version was the richest, and the curry had a pleasantly sweet flavor of apple.

Along with the herring, we were presented with a complimentary bowl of herbed popcorn, which little J in particular quite enjoyed (he wasn't big on the herring). They also provided a selection of breads including a couple of rolls and some flatbread.

For the main course, I tried the black cod while my wife chose to stay with the traditional meatballs. Although there wasn't a children's menu we managed to find an appropriate choice for J, a baked flatbread equivalent to pizza. We just had them hold the onions.

Of course the meatballs were good, and included the traditional lingonberries and whipped potatoes. The black cod was also excellent, served with a dash of whipped sweet potatoes and a sort of glazed eggplant. J was uncertain about the flatbread/pizza, but thankfully he enjoyed the bread and other starters enough to make up for it. Both adults gave it an enthusiastic thumbs up, though.

Regarding the earlier comments on reservations, as we were finishing we witnessed an interesting incident wherein an elderly woman, well-dressed and burdened by a couple of fresh shopping bags, came through the lobby and prepared to make herself comfortable at the table next to ours. Apparently she had just breezed past the maître d', and by the time he noticed her she was already in the cafe dining room. He quickly hustled over and, clearly somewhat flustered at this flagrant lack of deference to his assigned responsibilities, asked in an assertive I-call-the-shots-here tone if he could help her. He was obviously trying to hide his disbelief and impression that she either just dropped in from another very distant planet where people can just walk into a restaurant of Aquavit's caliber and just grab a seat of their choice, or else she was suffering from mental disease of a sort that would severely impair her understanding of social and restaurant conventions. For her part, it seemed that she felt this questioning was an affront to her dignity, and for a awkward moment it seemed that a confrontation was brewing.

Before it got started, though, another staff member, clearly recognizing her from across the room, quickly came over and greeted her by name. The maître d', realizing that this must be a regular (curious he didn't already know that if it was indeed the case) or friend of the staff, quickly backed off and tried to withdraw from the situation as graciously as possible. The woman didn't seem to want to let him get away easily, though, asking him a couple of times Taxi Driver-style if there was a problem.

Late Dinner at Koi

This evening was another late night at work, and afterward I joined a colleague at nearby Koi on West 40th in midtown, right next to Bryant Park. Koi specializes in Japanese cuisine, particularly sushi, with a California influence. I'm not sure, but I think what that means is that all of the waiters and waitresses are moonlighting while they wait to get their big break into movies or TV, and can break out a portfolio including head shot on a moment's notice.

My friend and I concentrated on the sushi, which was good, but to be sure there was a gap between the food I was eating and the amount of money I paid for it. Clearly one who goes there cannot be satisfied if they think that all the money goes toward ingredients and preparation; I have had equally good sushi here at places where the cost is a third of that at Koi. The secret of enjoying the experience at Koi lies in knowing and enjoying those extra things you are getting for your money.

For starters, there's the interior design of the place, which definitely incorporates LA-inspired aesthetics and attention to fashion detail. Many of the walls are covered with meticulously trimmed miniature bamboo forests, which are attractive and soothing to look at. Fixed along the back wall and covering a good portion of the ceiling there is some kind of treatment that looks like massively enlarged chicken wire, behind which and shining through is a vortex image that serves as the focal point of the restaurant. I'm not sure what it all means, but it must be something pretty clever and profound, and while I am not design-conscious enough to appreciate it I sometimes like to daydream that I am. Sitting in the midst of it gives one the impression that they are smart and sophisticated, and surely that's worth at least a 50% upcharge.

Adding to the atmosphere is the louder-than-usual-for-a-restaurant music, which although not quite the intensity required for a dance floor prompted my friend to remark that the place couldn't decide if it wanted to be a restaurant or a nightclub.

The staff at Koi was obviously screened heavily for aesthetic appeal as well. Not just for the host(ess) positions as usual, but also the wait staff, who all appeared stylish and sleekly dressed. I didn't get a look in the kitchen, but I assume the line cooks would also have been wearing black silk shirts and faux-alligator shoes.

Of course all of this emphasis on style and dare I say superficial features attracts a certain type of patron, of the sort that would tend to appreciate the emphasis on good looks and style. Again, I can't claim to fall into this category, but I can appreciate that paying for the illusion of belonging there even for a few brief moments justifies a higher price.

On the food front, I enjoyed some competently prepared sushi and maki including a rock shrimp California roll that the waitress recommended. I have to admit that the miso soup was probably the best I have had anywhere. I also found that our waitress was more helpful and friendly than I expected (based on the atmosphere I expected haughtines and arrogance). I think I would skip dessert next time, which although compelling in presentation tasted like it was made from pre-fab ingredients chosen for their utility in creating an attractive visual arrangement.

Columbus Day Feast at Bar Americain

The idea of having Columbus Day as a holiday from work was quite a novelty for me, this being the first time I have worked for a company that made it an official observance. In fact, I hadn't realized that this was even a possibility except for those in the banking and perhaps scholastic professions. So, In honor of the occasion and newly discovered holiday it seemed appropriate to celebrate with a fine evening meal.

In thinking about the appropriate choice for this particular day, our first thought was perhaps something Italian. But wait, we thought; perhaps Spanish would be more appropriate. After wrestling with the choices for a few minutes we hit upon the perfect choice: Bar Americain. What better way to celebrate the arguable and somewhat dubious discovery of the continent then by sampling celebrity-chef-rendered versions of some of the best cuisine subsequently to develop there.

A side note about Bobby Flay: by now it is fashionable for foodie snobs to look down their noses at celebrity chefs and the food TV network that once seemed so novel. I have to admit that I myself used to enjoy the sport of making disdainful comments during the many episodes of Bobby's shows that I somehow found myself watching against my better judgement. How did this guy get a TV show, I wondered, remarking at how he came across as a kid with an undeserved sense of culinary entitlement rather than a knowledgeable authority on food and cooking.

But, this was before I had visited any of his restaurants. After my first trip to Bolo, I began to have second thoughts. The food there was excellent, with interesting and well-presented menu choices. I reasoned that this could be explained by a top-notch supporting staff. How much time did Bobby really spend there, anyway? Surely by that point he was just coming in to an occasional cameo between book signings and endorsement photo shoots.

After that, though, intrigued by the experience at Bolo, I had the opportunity to visit pretty much all of his other restaurants, in both New York and Las Vegas. Each time I visited New York, I found myself looking forward to revisiting his places more so than any other. I had to admit that whatever involvement he had or whatever he was doing to supervise his restaurants and their menus, they were all unarguably good, and Bobby deserved a large part of the credit, if for nothing else than assembling the staff and creating the right environment for them to flourish.

So, our expectations were high as we went in to Bar Americain for dinner. I am happy to say that we were not in any way disappointed. Everything there is executed very well, from the bread baskets that include among other items herbed corn sticks.

Our favorite appetizer is the Lobster and Avocado seafood cocktail, which we shared along with a simple mesclun salad. We followed that with the rack of pork, which was served along with a nice take on creamed corn that included red bell pepper and green onions. My wife had the daily special buttermilk fried chicken, which came with biscuits and a honey-mustard horseradish dipping sauce.

We debated about whether to have dessert, but the waiter made such a big deal about cleaning the table of crumbs and bringing out a new white napkin to cover over the spots of sauce from the pork that I had strewn across the table while transferring portions between plates that we gave in. I know that's the reason they do it, and it always seems like the ritual is a bit insulting, as if to say that somehow there's now way they can let you continue the meal until they can clean up some of the mess you have made. Nevertheless, they went to some effort and we didn't need that much convincing.

Between the three of us we had a chocolate layer cake with ganache, peanut butter, and rocky road topping, a black-bottom tart with roasted figs, and also a plum tart with vanilla gelato. All were exquisitely prepared and presented, and tasted just as good.

Say what you like about Bobby Flay, we will be going back again for more.

Dinner at Artisanal

This evening we headed down to Murray Hill for dinner at Artisanal, just off of Park Avenue. This was our second visit since moving here, and when a friend mentioned a recent lunch there earlier in the week we were reminded of how much we enjoyed it the first time, and thus planned a return visit in short order.

If one weren't already aware before entering, it would become quickly apparent that Artisanal is all about cheese in just about every variety imaginable (although centered mostly around French varieties). One interesting feature is the cheese cave, which is an alcove off the main dining room surrounded by refrigerated cheese where you can reserve a table and be ensconced on three sides by dairy. There is also a cheese counter where you can walk in off the street and purchase a block of one of their more than 200 varieties to take home with you.

This evening we decided that we might as well go for the most indulgent cheese experience of all, the fondue. We ordered the specialty of the day, and while I didn't quite catch the whole list of ingredients, I believe the waitress said something about garlic confit. By default they serve it with bread cubes, but you can also order a variety of additional items to bathe in the cheese. We chose apples, crudite, and dried beef slices.

One of the things I like about Artisanal is that they offer wine tastings that include three two-ounce servings. My wife and I like to try different wines but usually a single glass is enough, so this is perfect for us.

Our waitress this evening was clearly new on the job, and she had a lot of trouble recalling the specials for the evening. Not that we minded, but she was clearly a little bit exasperated that she had to keep pulling the note card out of her pocket for reference as she was going through the list. She omitted the game bird du jour that was mentioned in the menu, and when I asked about it the only thing she was clear about was that it had buckshot in it. I had to ask her to repeat what she said because I thought perhaps I had heard incorrectly, but she repeated that indeed it was likely to have buckshot in it, and she thought it was partridge. Apparently they don't stress the game bird part of the menu, since she didn't have anything about it on the card and had to go check with the kitchen about it Given the emphasis on the dangers of residual buckshot in the preparation certainly it seemed like they weren't anxious to push it. Apparently not much of a big seller.

Given the emphasis on cheese and bread, we asked the waitress if there was any way we could get a grilled cheese sandwich for our five-year-old son, which we didn't see on the menu. She indicated that she would check with the chef, and returned a few moments later saying that indeed they could do it since they had a grilled cheese sandwich on the lunch menu. It's a good thing, too, since if she had said no I was inclined to ask to see the chef in person for an explanation about how it could be that the kitchen couldn't turn out a grilled cheese. Not that I would always expect to be able to order something off the menu ala Burger King have-it-your-way, but at a high-caliber outfit like Artisanal I would be surprised if that they couldn't accomodate such a request.

Happily, though, all was harmony as the meal got underway. The fondue was excellent, and after that we ordered the skate wing with fruit and cauliflower as well as the octopus salad. Both were excellent, and just the right light accompaniment to the heaviness of the fondue.

For dessert we decided to go all out and get the chocolate fondue for my wife and son to share, while I got the caramel and praline cheesecake. The fondue was just the right consistency so as to coat the dipping items without to much dripping, with a very refined smooth deep chocolate taste. The marshmallows were particularly popular with the youngest in the family. Likewise the cheesecake was an excellent choice, just the right degree of fluffiness, so that you don't feel like you are eating a brick of cheese and eggs.

Tal Bagel Bakery

This morning for breakfast we wanted to try out the closest smoked fish and bagel place to our apartment, which happens to be Tal Bagel Bakery on 1st Avenue. Up until now we have only tried the sturgeon at Barney Greengrass over on the upper west side, which is really good but a bit of a trek. We wanted to see whether we could get anything at all similar without leaving our neighborhood.

We walked in and approached the counter at about 9:00AM, which is apparently just before the breakfast rush because they had at least ten people waiting to take orders behind the counter and only one other customer. We had to back away for a couple of minutes since we wanted to browse the overhead menu for a bit. Clearly the anxious staff was geared toward a clientele that walks in knowing exactly what they want, and wants it fast.

When we were finally finished perusing the choices and had decided what we wanted, I managed to get the attention of one of the staff (once they peg you as a browser you become invisible to them until you do something conspicuous to gain their attention, kind of the same feeling as the weird forehead guy from the subway scene of the movie Ghost).

In order to stay in the Barney Greengrass spirit, I ordered the sturgeon on a pumpernickel bagel with cream cheese, onions and tomatoes. My wife had the lox spread on a sesame seed bagel. We also tried a banana muffin that was billed as fat-free and "no added sugar" (which always leaves me wondering about the baseline sugar level before it counts as "added").

On a side note, it was a bit hard to understand the man behind the counter between the noise level and the fact that there were some language differences. The one thing I could understand clearly is that he kept calling me "boss" after each question (as in, "you want onions on that, boss?"). For some reason this made me strangely uncomfortable, and made it even hard to keep up with the order process since in addition to the noise and other distractions, I had a voice in my head that kept saying "why is he calling you boss? Nobody ever calls you boss. You're not the boss of anything" and so on. I was reminded of a Letterman show segment from a long time ago they called "Stop calling me Chief" where they would interview someone and end every question with "Chief." It had the same unnerving affect in both cases.

Once we had successfully acquired our food, we found a table and sat down to eat. The sturgeon bagel was excellent, and I would definitely get the same thing again. I couldn't exactly compare it to Barney Greengrass since my usual choice there is the scrambled eggs and sturgeon, but in a smoked fish and bagel showdown I would have to say that Tal is easily in the same league. I wonder how sugar- and fat-free the banana muffin actually was, but it was actually pretty good as well.

Next time we will be ready to fire away with an immediate order rather than waiting.