Emptying our wallets at Vero Midtown

After an interminable rainy and cold Friday, I found myself at Vero Wine Bar in midtown, waiting for AS to join me. It was early-- about 5:30-- and while it wasn't nearly full, there was about a 15 minute wait for a table while they cleared something off in back. Finally, though, I was seated, AS joined me, and we got to work.

Some wine to start, of course: sauvignon blanc for me, pinot grigio for AS. The pours were generous and the glassware was decent, both pluses. My only gripe is that all the glasses were just a dollar or two more than they should be; without any options under $10, it felt just a wee bit expensive.

Wine

And the same goes for the food. I ordered the "Roasted Vegetable Tower with Jasmine Rice," sans rice (not a huge rice fan), for $14. And this, no joke, is what I got:

I mean, REALLY? Also, how is this a tower?

In terms of size, check out the votive candle in the background-- the entire (did I mention $14?) dish amounted to about a cup of diced vegetables. Granted, it was tasty, just a simple lightly stir-fried mixture, but to say "I felt ripped off" would be a GROSS understatement.

AS ordered the lobster sliders, which she enjoyed. The accompanying fries bore a spice mixture, which made them a departure from the ordinary salt-and-pepper standbys.

Sure.

The high point of the night was when two tiny espresso cups landed on our table, gratis: a light, sweet, eggy custard, gone in two bites. It was a delicious touch.

Yum custard!

And as an aside, a visit to the bathroom revealed one of the smallest bathrooms stalls I've ever encountered-- with the toilet about three inches (max) from the facing wall, it was, shall we say, difficult to navigate.

As we lingered and chatted over wine, Vero morphed slowly from Midtown East Wine Bar into Bumpin' Nightlife Hot Spot. After-workers packed the bar; gaggles of girls packed the tables. The lights were lowered several times until it was nearly impossible to see. The hostess's getup, an insanely revealing bustier/corset type deal, which had looked ridiculous in broad daylight at 5:30, now made a little more sense (all female employees were dressed much more like cocktail waitresses than wine bar employees, it must be noted). All in all, it was a little disconcerting; I tend to visit wine bars because they're laid-back, chill, convivial places to enjoy a delicious glass of wine and a bite to eat. But Vero is cooler than that, and potentially cooler than you, with prices to match. I'm not sure I'd return; with so many wine bars of the former pedigree in the city, I don't think there's room in my rotation for the latter.

Vero Midtown
1004 Second Avenue, at 53rd Street
212-935-3530

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

Getting salted in Philadelphia

Last week, I went on a whirlwind down-and-back day trip to Philadelphia for a quick school visit at Wharton. (Yes, it is b-school application season, and this year my hat is in the ring...) After wandering around the campus, attending an information session, and meeting up with a friend who's a student there, I had about two hours before my train back to NYC. So what to do, what to do? Eat, of course!

First, dinner. Word on the street (Internet) was the Gia Pronto was a good place to get a salad. So with the help of a campus map and a decent sense of direction, I soon found myself at this typical take-out salad, sandwich, and soup joint on Spruce Street.

I went for a make-your-own salad, peering over the glass barrier to choose from the range of high-quality but expensive ingredients. Into my arugula base went organic beets, grilled portobellos, and capers for good measure. I asked for balsamic vinegar on the side, but I suspected I wouldn't need it due to the mushrooms' marinade and the capers' brine. And I was right, kinda.

I took my salad back to the Penn bookstore and dug in. It's a big portion, to be sure, and they give you a big ol' scoop of each of the ingredients. The problem with this salad was evident upon first bite: it was a complete and utter salt bomb. A huge scoop of capers made it salty, no doubt, but I had anticipated that; what I hadn't counted on was the fact that the mushrooms were also unbearably salty on their own. I pondered for a moment whether the salad was edible, and I decided that if I ate it quickly and tried not to focus on the salt, it was. So I ate it.

Boo.

I was disappointed, though. The ingredients seemed well-prepared aside from that, and the greens were fresh. Why dump a ton of salt in your mushrooms, though, Gia? Why? If that hadn't been the case, even with the capers I think this would have been a good salad. It coulda been a contender...

Gia Pronto
3736 Spruce Street
Philadelphia, PA
215-222-7713

Spasso: Bring your winter coat. And hat. And gloves.

Last weekend, with AC in town, she and I and KS and SL met up for a girls' dinner at Spasso in the West Village. They were graciously accommodating to our lateness and the fact that our party trickled in, having no problem with us being seated and ordering before our full party had arrived. It's a sad state of the restaurant industry that that kind of simple unfussiness is truly refreshing.

In any case, we were seated at a window table near an exterior door, and even though the door remained closed throughout the night, I'd estimate that the temperature at this particular table was approximately 58 degrees. Granted, it was 20 degrees outside, but the combination of the glass walls and the air seeping around the door meant that the four of us remained with coats and scarves, and in some cases hats, on for the entire evening. It's not necessarily Spasso's fault that it was so miserably cold in there, but it truly did make the experience somewhat unpleasant.

On to the food. Spasso's menu is typical of the times-- divided up into a half-dozen or more little sections, it's designed to encourage over-ordering and food sharing. Indeed, the first thing the waiter does when he introduces himself and beings to describe the menu is direct you to the housemade stracciatella, which is ideal "for the table." Now, I may be unusually curmudgeonly, but I really hate both a) having to endure an "explanation" of the menu while we're a;; clearly very, very capable of reading and deciphering the menu in front of us, and b) being upsold before we've even been at the table for five minutes. I bet you the stracciatella upsell is incredibly effective, and while I have no doubt it's delicious, it's also listed on the menu and we can order it if we want.

Anyway, rant over. How was the food? There was the traditional rustic bread in a paper bag accompanied by a pool of olive oil to start.

Par for the course

And then AC and KS shared two of the smaller plates, the puntarelle salad and the polenta. The puntarelle, which the waiter described as warm, was actually a cold vegetable salad in bagna cauda with a few anchovies lying on top (in fairness, after the plate arrived the waiter returned to apologize for misinforming us and offered to replace the dish if desired). According to KS, it was tasty but incredibly small.

Shimmery fish

AC was disappointed with the polenta. Apparently she was expecting firm polenta cakes (the rest of us were expecting the softer preparation that arrived), so she wasn't a huge fan. But KS and SL enjoyed it the rich, cheesy, and creamy dish.

So rich

SL ordered the fluke, another small but beautifully prepared dish. She devoured the fish and accompanying vegetables enthusiastically.

Fish obscured

Desserts, in contrast, were hearty portions. Their version of an apple tart involved flaky crust and layered apples, all set in a pool of caramel and topped with a dollop of cream.

American as apple... tart?

When the chocolate-caramel tart arrived, I had a moment of deja vu. Hadn't I seen that before? Indeed, I had, in the online pages of Saveur-- it was a dessert I had considered making for my family's Thanksgiving. Seriously, check out the link and then compare to the photo below-- there is absolutely no question that it's the same dessert. And while it was delicious, it struck me as a home cook's interpretation of a fancy restaurant dessert. The crust was just a little too thick and ungainly, the caramel just a little to thin and oozy...nonetheless, I'm splitting hairs. You like caramel and chocolate? You'll like this.

Seriously, exactly the same

So now for the awarding of spatulas. I hesitate at this point. Spasso is new, and any new restaurant deserves a few months to truly get things down pat. The food was clearly high quality and well-prepared, but the portions are tiny for the dear prices charged. Their dessert program needs to step up its game. It was freakin' freezing in the dining room. But the service, while occasionally uninformed, is friendly and-- perhaps more importantly-- laid back. For all its classic West Village pretensions, once you get inside, Spasso has the feel of a neighborhood joint. And I think the city needs more of those.

Spasso
551 Hudson Street, at Perry Street
212-858-3838

Pure Thai Shophouse disappoints

Last week, Mom was in town for work, and since she's a Thai food fanatic, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to check out Pure Thai Shophouse. So on a chilly, chilly December evening, we convened in the tiny store for some eats.

First off, the restaurant's atmosphere is funky but not exactly comfortable. It's a small place with only a few tables in the back, and each table is wedged in quite intimately with its neighbors. That's one of the exigencies of being in New York, I understand, but the design aspect I took issue with was that the chairs were backless stools. Square backless stools. Not cool, and not comfortable. Unless you're at a bar, there's no reason to be sitting on a stool, and even at a bar the stool should have a back. But, you know, that's just my thing.

First, they do serve their drinks in cool crushed ice, which makes everything better, in my not-so-humble opinion.

Swanky!

But now, to the food. Mom and I both ordered the papaya salad, hers as a starter, mine as my main. While this dish (along with everything else in the restaurant) was quite reasonably priced, it actually wasn't one of the better papaya salads I've had. The earthy taste of the papaya overpowered the flavor mix, so rather than having your mouth pop with the lime, chile, peanuts, and fish sauce, the overall flavor profile was (literally) muddy. Just a little bit... blah. I've had much better. Sad.

Sad emoticon

Mom's Wok Curry Paste with Shrimp was also disappointing. She said it didn't taste like typical Thai curry, so it wasn't exactly what she was expecting. She rated it "okay" but not great, which for Mom is a pretty low rating.

Tear emoticon

And so I write this review with consternation. Everything I've read about Pure has been a rave, and I love the owners' Land restaurants, so I'm extra disappointed that our meals weren't great. Again, everything is reasonably priced, but given all the fantastic Thai joints in the neighborhood, that alone won't cut it. I really have no choice but to give Pure two Offset Spatulas and a sad, slightly confused shake of the head.

Pure Thai Shophouse
766 Ninth Avenue, between 51st and 52nd Streets
212-581-0999

Stout. Hmmm.

A couple weeks ago, NR, LM, the bro and I hit up MSG for the Bruins-Rangers game. Jonesin' for some food and drink beforehand, we convened at Stout, just across the street, for some pre-game fuel.

First of all, let me say that Stout is HUGE. It's got two floors, and even just the top floor is larger than you could even conceive of. We were seated in the far, far back, the farthest table from the entry (literally), amidst a crowd of people scarfing chicken fingers and pounding beers.

The fact that Stout is huge is actually really relevant to this review, because on the night we were there, they were not only huge but apparently painfully understaffed. Sure, there were servers running around, but getting served was a challenge at any point during the night. Fortunately, the bro and I, acting as Advance Team and arriving at the table first, decided to order ASAP to get things rolling. A beer and a Magner's, along with a house salad and a Reuben pizza, were delivered in a relatively timely manner.

The salad, a bowl of mixed greens with matchsticks of green apple, some walnut pieces, and a few dollops of goat cheese, was decent, if small. Once I had finished I was still ravenously hungry and debating ordering a second salad. (I didn't, fortunately... you'll see why.)

Decently fresh

When the pizza arrived, NR had joined our crew, and he and the bro split the pizza. It was a thin-crust pizza topped with Swiss cheese, some sauerkraut, and small chunks of pastrami. While ordering the Reuben pizza was a gamble, it paid off-- both NR and the bro enjoyed this concoction. They planned to finish their meal with a chicken pizza, to be ordered the next time we could flag down a server.

Reuben on a 'za

Our first server (ostensibly the one assigned to our table), passed by in a rush-- the bro flagged her down and said we'd like to order some more food whenever she got a chance. She said she'd be back and then promptly disappeared. We did not see her again. Around 15 minutes passed, and LM joined us; finally, after significant effort and frantic glances at the clock, we were able to order some more drinks, the second pizza, a spinach and artichoke dip, and an order of chicken fingers for LM's meal.

Cue another 15-minute lapse; a manager came over at one point to ask how things were going, and we mentioned we were still waiting for our food while trying to make the start of the Bruins game. He disappeared and returned a few minutes later to tell us the food was on its way. Sweet.

Soon a chicken pizza graced our table. In a moment of group foresight, we'd thought to ask for the check at that point so we could pay and dash whenever the food was done. The check arrived, we paid, and a couple of minutes later the spinach and artichoke dip came. Still waiting for the chicken fingers, we mentioned to the passing manager that they'd never arrived. He left and returned a few minutes later to say that the kitchen had run out of chicken fingers. Yes, really. About 30 minutes after we'd ordered them, they had "discovered" there were none left. Oh, and we'd already paid for them, of course, given that we'd paid the bill in advance.

Pizza #2

Not as good as last time, apparently

To his credit, when we informed the manager of this, he was incredibly apologetic, told us he'd take the dish off the bill, and offered us a round of drinks. Since we were under incredible time pressure at this point, we opted for a round of shots. A bit of Patron in our bellies, the bro and I dashed across to the Garden to work out an issue with our seats while LM and NR finished their meals (such as they were).

But that's not all--apparently after the bro and I left, the manager had returned because he had made some mistake on the bill and was trying to get our party to pay more than we had (we'd paid the right amount for the total bill, minus the chicken fingers, including tip). Really? At that point, given our experience, as a restaurant manager, don't you just let it go?

So I'm really mixed about Stout. The service, obviously, was atrocious, but the manager did make a good-faith effort to fix things... until he came back with the bill issue and further mired himself in bad-service purgatory. The food was decent, however, and not overpriced, and the ambiance is enjoyable if you're looking for an Irish pub/sports bar atmosphere. And if you're in the MSG area, your food and drink options are sorely limited. Would I go back to Stout? I'm not sure-- even with our bad experience, I wouldn't rule it out; the bro has been there several times before and has had good experiences previously. So I'll give Stout two Offset Spatulas rather than one, with hopes that if we do ever return, it will redeem itself.

Stout
133 W. 33rd Street, between 6th and 7th Avenues
212-629-6191

Scarpetta is not "parfait"

Last week, Mom and I ventured into the Meatpacking District for Sunday dinner. Our destination? Scarpetta, a place I'd been longing to visit for a while ever since I had heard about their vegetarian menu. We walked in, right on time for our early reservation, and were told to wait in the vestibule for a few moments by the hostess, who was clearly nonplussed about her job. Soon, we were led into the dining room, classy and understated and mercifully blessed with natural light pouring through the (literal) glass ceiling.

Our meal was marked by ups and downs. Our server seemed awkward and uncomfortable; ordering a glass of wine was a trial, and his recommendations (both for and against certain wines) were almost aggressive in tone. After a couple of false starts, I settled on a glass of Ribolla "Rubikon," a white that was innocuous enough.

Vino, barely white

The bread course was a highlight. Several different types of carbs, from sliced white bread to different types of focaccia to stromboli packed with salami and smoked mozzarella, made a feast fit for a king, and the three accompaniments-- mascarpone butter, a sundried tomato spread, and a spiced olive oil-- were divine (particularly the light, addictive mascarpone butter).

Mmmm bread

I had ordered one veggie appetizer as my entree and one veggie app to share with my mom as a side dish. I requested that they all be brought to the table together; our server said one should be brought first. He said, "I'd like to start you with something because the fish [my mom's selection] will take a while." I said, "don't worry about it" and figured he'd fire everything at once as we had agreed. Wrong! Before my glass of wine had even made it to the table, our shared dish of roasted mushrooms with porcini puree and fingerling potatoes was before us. Because the server's always right, right? Yeahhh. I ate some of the mushrooms; my mom held off until he entree arrived and was thus treated to a cold version of what was otherwise a very tasty dish. The mushrooms themselves were well-seasoned and delightful; the puree was savory and addictive; and the little potato coins were a nice bit of starch to round things out.

Better hot than cold

As the mushrooms sat there half-eaten, our entrees made their way to the table. Mom had chosen the black cod with caramelized fennel and concentrated tomatoes. The portion was on the small side, but Mom really enjoyed it, especially complimenting how well cooked it was.

Lots of orange

My entree was the heirloom tomatoes with marinated eggplant and baby greens. This was a curious dish; it was larger than I had expected, which was a plus, and it was filled with large chunks of tomatoes. Initially I had trouble finding the eggplant, until I realized that there were tiny ribbons of acidic, almost pickled eggplant buried in the mix. Quite curious. It's not a dish I would return for, but it was certainly creative and flavorful.

Last gasp of summer

We were both looking forward to dessert. Mom ordered the chocolate cake, sans espresso sauce; I convinced her to keep the burnt orange-caramel gelato on the plate, and the kitchen added a smear of caramel sauce to round out the mix. I can confidently say based on my tiny taste that this is one of the better molten chocolate cakes I've ever encountered. The cake was the right balance of cakey and fudgy, and the taste was just a bit extra-chocolatey with none of the burnt edge that some chocolate cakes can court. The gelato was also surprisingly good, a nice cool counterpoint to the warm cake.

Almost art deco

I had been choosing between the olive oil cake (concord grape sorbet and pears) and the chocolate & vanilla parfait (hazelnut milkshake and biscotti). I ultimately went with the parfait, and I can confidently say that I tweaked. Sadly, this was one of the worst desserts I've had in a while. The main dessert was a cup of layered mousse/pudding strata, milk and dark chocolate sandwiching vanilla. Texturally, all were fine, but taste-- where was the sweetness? I like desserts because I have a serious sweet tooth, and especially after dinner I crave something sugary to round out the meal. Those who really don't like sweet stuff might find this dessert alluring, but I found the whole thing flat and bland and not nearly sweet enough. Plus, the parfait included a layer of coffee gelee and a crown of coffee granita on top, both of which were powerfully bitter and overpowered the retiring chocolate and vanilla flavors. The whole thing ended up tasting mostly of coffee, a dessert flavor of which I'm not very fond. Had the menu mentioned coffee at all, I would have skipped this dessert entirely. The hazelnut milkshake was a shot of milk lightly flavored with hazelnut; the biscotti were just as you'd expect (dry, crumbly cookies). A bite of biscotto dipped in the milkshake was by far and away better than a bite of the parfait.

Makes me sad to look at

So I'll admit, I left Scarpetta somewhat disappointed. Service overall ranged from mildly unfriendly to stilted and awkward to unpleasant. Food had its ups-- the bread, the mushrooms-- and its low, low downs-- the parfait. And, of course, it's not at all cheap. Our meal (two apps, one entree, two desserts, one glass of wine) came out to around $100. Based on value for money and overall quality of experience, I can't wholeheartedly recommend Scarpetta. As a result, it earns a disappointing two Offset Spatulas and a slow, sad shake of my head.

Scarpetta
355 W. 14th Street, at 9th Avenue
212-691-0555