Wine in shot glasses at Aria

Last weekend, the girls convened at Aria to celebrate several milestones, a job quitting and a relocation and new job chief among them. The destination was Aria, and as I approached and saw the packed crowd, I despaired of us getting a table. But--glory!--not only did they have seats for us, but they willingly seated me at a four-arrangement at the bar area even before my three companions had arrived. How refreshing!

A few things to note about Aria: It's loud, as most wine bars are. It's handsome, with wooden accents on the walls and a stark white tiled bar filling up the space not taken by wooden communal and individual tables. And the waiters wear suspenders and old-timey shirts, which is a little, well, pretentious.

And a mixture of pretense and casualness pervades the entire evening. The cocktail menu is printed on a laminated, faux-aged piece of parchment (remember when you used to dip your paper in coffee and burn the edges to make it look old when you were in elementary school? Yeah. That). It is so, so packed that you can't exit your chair-- literally-- without the person next to you, and probably the person next to him or her, getting up and moving their chairs. When the waiter comes over, he leans over one of your party-- very, very close over the shoulder of one of your party-- to explain the specials, which he writes on the menu in ballpoint pen. Why not just print the specials, especially if you have more than half a dozen? And especially if explaining the specials requires crowding your customers' personal space and shouting for several minutes to be heard? Nominally, it's because you "circle" your choices on the menu when you want to order, which also comes off as an affectation in a wine bar atmosphere like this. What's wrong with doing things... normally?

Oh, and there are no normal wine glasses, despite the fact that this is a wine bar. Bubbles are served in small tankard-looking glasses; still wines are served in small rocks glasses, filled to the brim. If you've read this blog before, you'll know my passion for good glassware, so needless to say this doesn't fly with me. Not only does it not leave room to enjoy the wines the way they're supposed to be enjoyed-- you know, smelling, swirling, enjoying the beauty of the wine in the glass-- but it also allows Aria to charge similar prices for smaller pours. I'd estimate that the serving size of the still wines here is 3-4 ounces, rather than the typical 6-8 that a big glass holds at a typical wine bar. Oh, and the water is served in two-ounce shot glasses; fortunately, they leave a bottle of tap on the table, but really, what IS the point of having to refill your water glass EVERY time you take a drink? Sheesh!

19th Century, perhaps?

I mean... really?

Okay, ranting aside. Let's talk about the food and drink. We had two orders of prosecco, one nero d'avola, and one albarino to start. And then came some bread with a few olives in olive oil (I nicked the olives ASAP, and they were quite good).

Typical bread

Luscious olives

And we tried a cheese and several of the cicchetti, which were described as "Venetian tapas." The cheeses, at $5, were quite a bargain; I chose the Humbolt Fog Ashed Goat, which came as a big wedge of flavorful aged goat cheese, along with a handful of walnuts, a dish of honey, and a pot of incredibly, surprisingly delicious guava jelly, which went incredibly well with the cheese.

I ate all of the jelly. And the cheese. Actually, everything.

The ciccetti, at $9 each, range from good value to rip-off, depending on the portion and quality. Some of the better values included the enormous lamb shank, which KS pronounced delicious.

This thing was HUGE!

Slightly less of a good value, but no less popular, were the grilled eggplant stuffed with goat cheese (so tasty that the girls ordered another portion after finishing the first) and the crab cakes.

Eggplant (order #1)

Crabby

The octopus was well-cooked but not well seasoned, and the mushroom bruschetta with montasio cheese wasn't entirely successful-- AC didn't like the cheese, and it became too much like super-bready pizza (although kudos for the large portion).

Pretty, but bland

Pizza? Is that you?

The girls capped the meal with a petite $8 order of tiramisu in a pool of chocolate sauce.

Props for the spoon presentation

And once we were finished, the waiter wasted no time in semi-ungraciously hinting that we should leave. Yes, it was busy-- but the fact that we clearly couldn't linger without ordering more made us feel effectively ushered out the door.

Overall, I think Aria is a bit too precious for its own good. Sure, it's a departure from the normal dark, brooding, romantic wine bar, but the fact that most wine bars follow a specific formula-- great glasses, large pours inviting atmosphere, low-key service-- is simply because that formula is really, really enjoyable. The silly glasses, the "circle-your-choices" ordering, the uneven portioning and quality of the food-- it all adds up to a little less than the sum of its parts. I commend Aria for doing something different, but I think it's just not my style, and it wouldn't be my first choice when choosing a West Village wine bar to return to.

Aria Wine Bar
117 Perry Street
212-242-4233

Riverpark: If you can make it there, you'll be rewarded

Last week, I received a kind invitation to the friends and family period at Tom Coliccio's newest masterpiece, Riverpark. I'd read a number of early reviews that commented on the middle-of-nowhere location, and boy are they correct-- it's all the way at the river (um, obviously) in Murray Hill, accessible by some sort of pseudo-pedestrian-promenade, and located deep in an office building. To get to the restaurant you walk through a deserted highrise lobby, growing ever more certain that you're in the wrong place until finally you spot Riverpark's entrance.

Inside, the space is clean, sleek, and modern, with a few funky touches (check the pattern of the glass on the wall, for instance). But the main dining area doesn't make use of the river view, which is a bit too bad. Regardless, once you get rolling with the food, you'll forget about any view (or lack thereof).

That's because the food is pretty darn good. Start off with some wine-- in this case, we went for a bottle of Aglianico del Taburno. It was spicy and complex and very red. Wine Century Club? Check.

And then dig into the bread. Small, warm ovular baguettes with a thin crust, brought to a new level by a sprinkling of pretzel-style coarse salt. Rip off a piece. Slather in butter. Chew. Repeat. And then just try to stop. (Hint: You can't.)

Gone in 60 seconds

AS chose the braised octopus to start. He raved both about the flavor and the texture, which avoided the usual octopus chewiness. There was broth; there were cockles; there was baby bok choy. All the food groups were represented.

Delicate

And then came the entrees. AS chose the duck breast, which came with celery, pomegranate, and black trumpet mushrooms. The plate, shown below, looked remarkably like a certain forest floor tableau that graced our table at Del Posto many moons ago. Unlike the miscellaneous vegetable shavings of Del Posto, however, this dish was delicious, beautiful, creative, and tasty. The small cubes of celeriac were an especially nice touch.

There's duck in there somewhere

My choice was the baby lettuces, with marinated vegetables, herbs, and champagne vinaigrette. It was also quite good; there was a solid mix of small lettuces, clearly very fresh, that were enlivened by tiny bite-sized vegetables (many of which seemed to be baby multi-colored beets). It was a decent-sized portion and a bit more creative take on the usual mesclun salad.

Roughage

That did it for the savory courses; of course, we moved on to dessert. But first, an interlude with a tiny, tiny little cup of espresso.

That spoon is about two inches long

And now the sweets. AS ordered the chocolate tart with salted caramel and chocolate sorbet. Overall, I'd say that it was okay; the tart's cookie crust was a bit too thick in proportion to the chocolate filling, which made the dessert slightly clumsy. The chocolate sorbet, however, was tasty and smooth.

All forms of chocolate

My choice was the molasses pound cake with maple-roasted pears, creme fraiche, and pear sorbet. This dessert was also, on balance, middling; the cake was sweet and bouncy-textured but rather average; the pears needed to be roasted a minute or two longer to achieve that meltingly tender texture that pears can achieve with time. I really liked the creme fraiche, but there wasn't all that much of it. And I really didn't care for the sorbet, which tasted strongly of cinnamon or star anise in a way that I don't particularly enjoy. It definitely quelled my craving for a dessert, but I wouldn't go out of my way to order it again.

Lots going on here

So on balance, the savory food at Riverpark was unquestionably top-notch; the wine, service, and dining room were all lovely; but the desserts could use a bit more refining. No matter; if you can make it out to the far reaches of Manhattan, Riverpark will certainly provide you with a four-Offset Spatula meal. Just don't get lost on the way back.

Riverpark
450 E. 29th Street
212-729-9790

Pros and cons at Craftbar

Saturday night found me at a girls' dinner at Craftbar. I've been to the restaurant once before, almost two years ago, and had had a four-Offset Spatula time. While we definitely enjoyed each other's company while we were there this time around, experience-wise we weren't quite so lucky.

Once we were all there, we were led to a table promptly. Unfortunately, said table seemed to be in the middle of some arctic jetstream airflow, with air conditioning pumping down directly onto the table. I'm especially sensitive to cold, but for the record it wasn't warm out to begin with, and let's just say I was freezing. Once we piped up, they turned the A/C off, but it came back on about halfway through the meal. By the end of the dinner, I was--literally--shivering. Think about that.

Our server was friendly but professional. Unfortunately, one of her other tables was a twenty-person bachelor party seated right next to us and at the exact same time as we were. That meant that the pacing of our meal was off, as both she and the kitchen tended to them. While our entrees were rushed out promptly, our server tended to disappear for long periods of time, stretching the period between dinner and dessert and dessert and the bill far beyond what it should have been.

But how was the food, you ask? Good question. First, the drinks-- KS ordered a cocktail called the earl gray bees' knees, a concoction with earl gray Tanqueray, honey, lemon, and egg white. While that sounds pretty darn foul to my palate's ears, KS loved it and cited it as one of the best things on our table the whole night.

On to the rest of the fare. First, the bread-- Craftbar's traditional breadsticks. These are dense, greasy things; set one on the table, and you're left with unappetizing grease spots dotting the brown butcher paper covering the tablecloth. There's some rosemary in there, but given the denseness, they're just dry. They beg for a dipping sauce. Or rather, they beg to be actual bread so you can have some butter or olive oil and actually enjoy them. Did I say that?

Tall. And greasy.

All the rest of our food came out at once. I went with the arugula, pine nut, and parmesan salad, which came in a salty lemon vinaigrette that stung my lips. This was actually pretty good and a decent portion with lots of cheese shavings, although a little audacious at $12. Really? I could make about 15 of these salads at home for $12. I guess that's not the point, but...

Filling, with lots of nuts & cheese

AC and SL shared the octopus appetizer, which came salad-style with fingerling potatoes and roasted lemon puree. Girls love their octopus, and this rendition was no exception.

Pretty!

Upon KS's recommendation and the server's confirmation, AC and SL also shared the lamb pappardelle. KS caved and ordered it as her entree as well. The concoction is listed as "Papparedelle, milk-braised lamb, stinging nettle, pine nut." KS remembers it as having a flavorful, reduced broth and a memorably tasty character the last time she ordered it. This time around, however, the consensus was: 1) the kitchen forgot salt, and 2) it was dry, dry, dry. Even from across the table, I could see that there was pretty much no sauce coating the pasta, which meant the strands stuck together in a congealed mess after a couple of minutes. The meat was pronounced dry as well. KS left about half of her portion, and AC and SL didn't want to finish theirs either. Disappointing.

See the bottom of the plate? Yeah, that means no sauce

Oh well, more room for dessert, right? Once we were once again granted the server's attention, we consulted the menu and placed an order. After a short delay, the desserts appeared. Upon the server's recommendation, AC and SL shared the pecan tart, an appealing pastry accompanied by a decadent-looking scoop of chocolate sorbet. The girls dove at the plate hungrily, raving about the sorbet, which was almost as rich as chocolate ice cream.

Just look at that glossy sorbet

I chose the carrot cake with roasted pineapple and cream cheese ice cream. Like the lamb, this proved disappointing. I'm used to Billy's Bakery's incredibly moist and almost gooey carrot cake, and compared to that, this carrot cake was austere, much more like dry carrot bread than cake. The crust tasted bitter and burnt, and I realized how dry the pastry was when I found myself hunting around for the occasional baked-in raisin for a welcome burst of moisture. The ice cream, however, was tangy and cool, and the pineapple (with an interesting spice note-- ginger, perhaps?) was a creative complement. Construct a bite with a bit of cake, dollop of ice cream, and a few squares of pineapple, and you're in business. Get a bite of just "cake" and you're left with a sad face.

Looks... wholesome

We paid the sizeable check and left the buzzy dining room. It seems as though you can have a great meal at Craftbar if you choose wisely; you can also leave thoroughly disappointed and much poorer for the experience. I believe the appropriate term for that is "inconsistent." Would I return to Craftbar? I wouldn't avoid it, and I'd come back if someone else were paying. The location is great, and there are some gems buried in the menu. But would I seek it out? Not especially. That means it loses one of its four spatulas this time around, settling around a thumbs-up-thumbs-down three.

Craftbar
900 Broadway, between 19th and 20th Streets
212-461-4300