Brand-new Hummus Kitchen is AWESOME

After a brisk fall day spent walking around midtown, I ended my afternoon in my own neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen. It was still early, but my stomach rumbled for dinner. There was only one solution: the brand-new Ninth Avenue Mediterranean entrant Hummus Kitchen. So there I went.

Even though it was still early in the evening, the tiny ten-table dining room was nearly full when I arrived. I managed to snag a tiny table for two (or, er, one) along one wall and settled in to taste the magic that Hummus Kitchen could produce. I looked over the relatively brief but entirely appealing menu (included below, as it's not up on their website yet) and made my selection.


While I waited, a server brought over a tiny dish of olives. I popped a few of the briny and flavorful bites into my mouth as I looked around the dining room. It's a cute space, with exposed brick walls, painted tiles on the floor, and chandeliers that look alarmingly like giant tea-steeping balls. The servers ran frantically up and down the center aisle, shuttling hot dishes to tables and scuttling back to the prep area to refill water glasses.

Complimentary olives!

After about ten minutes or so, my selection arrived. I had ordered the "Mixed platter" of mazze, which allowed me to taste most of the delightful appetizers on order. Because it's the restaurant's "Grand opening," they threw in a gratis dish of hummus and plate of pita.

The mixed sampler consisted of two oblong falafels; a sample of roasted cauliflower (in this case, just one large floret); couscous taboule; babganush; shredded feta and beets; green tahini; and a bureka (a triangular puff pastry stuffed with "feta cheese, eggplant, and dry tomato").

The Mixed Platter of deliciousness

I started with a bite of falafel, which was flavorful, tasty, and deeply fried. Then I moved on to the bureka. The pastry tore apart into flaky layers, and a bite revealed a spiced, somewhat greasy crust encasing a flavorful filling. I dug the rest of the filling out with my fork, skipping the pastry (don't get me wrong, it was delicious, but just a bit too greasy for my stomach). The cauliflower was next: It was fork-tender with a standard cauliflower taste. It improved with a smear of the green tahini, which tasted deliciously of sesame.

So much visible spice

A forkful of the couscous taboule revealed a burst of minty flavor, which was mellowed somewhat by the surrounding tiny grains of couscous and bits of tomato. A dollop of tahini mixed with the taboule made an irresistible combination.

Yummy green tahini makes everything taste better

Then came the babaghanouj. It was intesensely smoky with a delightful creamy texture that was highly complementary to both the cauliflower and the pita. Finally, the beets and feta were delicious-- the beets were sweet with a tenderly cooked, while the feta was definitely fresh and not overly salty.

Smoky eggplant and sweet beets

But the hummus-- ohhh, the hummus. It came swirled in a tiny dish and topped with chickpeas, paprika, a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkle of parsley. The accompanying pita bread was warm and fluffy, with an airy thickness double that of the cardboard stuff you buy in the store. A scoop of the warm, impossibly fresh hummus on top of a torn bite of pita was heaven-- the creamy, flavorful hummus lovingly clung to the bread, carrying perhaps the odd bit of warm whole chickpea. Forgive me for becoming rhapsodic here; this was seriously, seriously outstanding hummus.

Best hummus I've ever had

Fluffy, airy pita

Since Mediterranean food can sometimes be very heavy, I didn't intend to finish the dish of creamy hummus, but I couldn't help myself. Before I knew it, the dish was empty and wiped clean with a final bite of pita; the rest of the mezes had also been packed away. And yet-- I didn't feel stuffed, I felt incredibly, happily satisfied. And I wasn't the only one who was happy: When my server stopped by mid-meal to ask how things were, I replied that the hummus was spectacular, and she beamed. Literally BEAMED. It is clear they take incredible pride in their hummus here (which, incidentally, is made fresh in-house nearly continuously).

While in typical new-restaurant style, the place is clearly still getting its footing service-wise (there often seemed to be some backups with prepared dishes at the pass, for example, and the large number of servers seemed almost to be bumping into each other), but it was all in good fun-- people seemed happily harried, if that's even possible. And I must add that the food is incredibly cheap: my mazze sampler was the most expensive thing on the menu at $8.50. Since the food is so fresh and so delicious, it's an impossibly good value for the money, which elevates Hummus Kitchen to the rare non-upscale four Offset Spatula restaurant.. If you like hummus-- or if you're even willing to try to like hummus-- I implore you to stop by Hummus Kitchen. It will change your outlook on the chickpea.

Hummus Kitchen
768 Ninth Avenue (between 51st and 52nd street)
212-333-3009

Final Lunetta Update: Demotion

5:51 PM: Took the subway down to Lunetta; arrived around 4:30. Asked the cordial manager if my gloves were still there. He opened a small drawer (note: drawer located approximately 6 inches away from the phone, which apparently was too much for "Elise" to navigate earlier), extracted my gloves, and handed them to me.

Upshot: One pair of gloves reclaimed and a lot of time wasted. Lunetta, you really failed at this one. I'm demoting you to one Offset Spatula and a firm "don't go there" status. Dear readers, if you can at all help it, just don't go there.

Lunetta Update: This Place Sucks

Saturday, 1:39 PM: Gloves, not surprisingly, have not made an appearance over the past 5 days. Decided to call Lunetta to see if they're even still there, as if they were, I would go pick them up this afternoon. Got "Elise" on the phone; asked if my gloves were still there. She said she'd check and put me on hold. A minute later she came back and said "We're in the middle of a very busy service. Please call back later" and hung up.

Uhhhh....

Curiouser and curiouser at Lunetta

On a quiet Sunday evening, I met my friend SB for a catch-up dinner at Lunetta in the Flatiron district. I arrived first and was greeted by an almost painfully empty restaurant... there were two or three people at the bar and one other table in the huge dining room. The cavernous ceiling made sounds echo embarassingly. We were led through a forest of empty tables to a table near the window looking out over Broadway and handed menus.

The server came over to recite the specials. It was one of the most painful such episodes I've been a part of--she just couldn't remember them, and as such defaulted to descriptors such as "a lot of": this dish has "a lot of bayleaf" while that has "a lot of mirepoix" (yes, she actually used mirepoix to describe a part of the dish. Twice.). Regardless, we weren't really interested in the specials; we pretty much knew what we want. Nonetheless, the waitress finished her recitation and disappeared. For a long time. She spent a good ten or fifteen minutes telling an animated story to the bartender as I glared at her across the room; finally, just before the point at which I was going to flag down anybody walking by, she returned to take our order.

In the meantime, fortunately, we had bread. It was the pretty standard peasant loaf you get around town-- definitely good but nothing special. Along with a bottle of generic olive oil for dipping, the bread course was... standard.

Bread alone.

A few seconds after we had placed our order-- truly, it couldn't have been more than a minute-- a runner emerged from the kitchen with SB's salad. Granted, it was only lettuce and dressing, but it was almost alarming how fast it came out. The salad was, as promised, mixed lettuces- huge pieces of lettuce coated with herbed lemon vinaigrette, which SB noted was very good. Still, $9 for that plate of lettuce is a ripoff. I'm sorry, but it is.

A wild thicket of huge lettuce pieces

The lettuces finished, we waited for the emergence of our entrees, and they appeared in a reasonable amount of time. SB had ordered the meatballs, which came with "toasted garlic tomato sauce" and parmesan cheese. SB said the meatballs were good and very filling, but come on, $19 for seven small meatballs? Seriously? I know this is New York, but at some point things just get out of hand.

It's $2.71 per meatball!

I had selected the roasted beet salad, which was purported to come with "arugula, ricotta, and toasted hazelnuts." The salad had big chunks of beets as well as beets cut into ribbons, which was innovative, I suppose. There were about 2 or 3 hazelnuts cut up into small pieces on top of the salad, which itself was overrun with curly lettuces and radicchio (um, sorry, but that's not arugula). There was a pretty substantial pool of ricotta cheese under everything, which was a nice surprise. This salad was good, but for some reason it left me feeling a little sick, and I'm miffed that they traded yummy arugula for bitter and tough (and cheaper) lettuces.

Notable by its absence is the arugula

We were both pretty full, so we skipped dessert and asked for the check. Perhaps needless to say at this point, it took about 15 minutes for us to get change, bringing the overall ratio of waiting time to eating time for the evening to about 45 minutes to 15 minutes.

Now-- here is where it gets interesting. We left the restaurant and I hopped on the subway home. Almost immediately after boarding the train, I realized I had left my gloves on the banquette (damn, I KNEW I was going to do that). So once I emerged at 49th Street, I immediately called the restaurant. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "Hi, I just left the restaurant, and I think I left my gloves there."
Woman on phone: "Hold on, let me check." [Leaves, returns a few moments later.] "Yep, I have them here."
Me: "Great. Would it be possible for you to mail them to me? I can send you the postage."
Woman: "Um, I have to go get the manager." [Leaves.]
Manager: "Hi, I have your gloves here, but I can't mail them back to you."
Me: "Why not? I'm just saying put them in an envelope and stick on a couple of stamps." (Backstory: these gloves are actually glove liners, so they compress into pretty much nothing and weigh about .01 ounces.)
Manager: "The budget for this restaurant is very small, and the owner counts the stamps. And we can't send them COD." [COD? Do they even do that any more?]
Me: "Really? Like, three stamps? That's, like, a dollar."
Manager: "Believe me, I'd pay for it myself if I could, but..." [Trails off. But what? But the owner also counts the number of stamps you purchase personally to ensure you're not using them to mail things to customers?]
Manager [perhaps realizing the ridiculousness of this conversation]: "Let me get your address and I'll see what I can do, maybe I can get one of the servers to bring them there or something."

Ooookay. Now, a few things: 1) I realize that this request is a little bit above and beyond. The restaurant is not obligated to mail things people left there back to forgetful patrons. 2) Yes, I know I should just go and pick them up, but as I explained to the manager on the phone, I wouldn't be able to do so until next weekend at the earliest, and doubtless the gloves would have "disappeared" in the meantime. 3) And yet-- we're talking a dollar here. A DOLLAR of postage. Maybe-- just to be safe-- two dollars. I wasn't asking for FedEx overnight service. I was asking for a plain envelope and three stamps.

So- that leaves me in a precarious position. Based on our restaurant meal alone (or rather, the sloppy service and the flagrant overpriced-ness of it), Lunetta would get two Offset Spatulas. But I presented them with a customer service challenge: Will they go above and beyond and somehow get my gloves back to me? Or will the gloves disappear forever? I declare that one spatula hangs in the balance... if I ever see my gloves again, I will upgrade Lunetta to three OSes for better-than-average customer service. But if the gloves are lost for want of three stamps, I will demote Lunetta to one OS. Which will it be? Stay tuned to find out...

Lunetta
920 Broadway at 21st Street
212-533-3663

Plywood: France overtakes Greece in the old Kyma space

On my way home Monday evening, I walked past the former Kyma space to see how things were coming along. Lo and behold, the butcher paper was off the windows, revealing the restaurant-to-be inside. Looks like the winner is "Brasserie Athenee," which looks like a wannabe Pigalle (coincidentally across the street and up two blocks). The interior is suitably brasserie-ish, and it looks as though the space will be bright and bustling... that is, if people go. There's already a website up, and Opentable claims the place will open on Wednesday the 5th. We'll see. I still mourn the fact that I never got to Kyma.

Requisite chandeliers and banquettes... but will the food be any good?

Brasserie Athenee
300 W. 46th Street, at the corner of 8th Avenue
212-399-1100

LWF&D goes to Brooklyn!

You may have noticed that this blog is quite Manhattan-centric. It's that way for a number of reasons, primarily because that's where I live. But this past weekend, I was lured off the island with the promise of a nice dinner with MBF at Applewood in Brooklyn.

Applewood is a cute little restaurant in a Brooklyn brownstone. The centerpiece is the roaring fireplace, and the hostess kindly led us to the most desired (by me) table in the house: the two-top right next to the fire. If I could have climbed into the fire and eaten my dinner amongst the flames, I would have, but social mores being what they are, I settled for thoroughly enjoying dinner alongside it.

Applewood focuses on seasonal, local ingredients, and the menu makes that clear. There's a menu insert just for the daily specials (written down, which is awesome), which included not only food but wine specials as well. To start off, we ordered a bottle of their special white wine of the evening, a Sancerre. As the menu promised, it was crisp and bright with robust citrus fruit.

We placed our order, and soon the bread man (bread man!) arrived toting a cloth-lined wicker basket full of bread. He placed a trio of spreads on the table and spooned three slices of bread onto each of our bread plates. Two were house white, one was whole wheat. The spreads themselves included a cream cheese with roasted garlic, French butter, and white bean with smoked paprika. Everything was really soft and spreadable, and both the roasted garlic cream cheese and the sweet butter were delicious. I wasn't a huge fan of the white bean, primarily because I don't like smoked paprika. The whole wheat was the winner of the bread options; the white was tasty but almost bordered on cakey, with a tight and spongy crumb.

So spreadable

Any place that gives you three slices of bread by default is fine by me

After a reasonable delay to allow for copious bread consumption, our entrees arrived. MFB had ordered the venison special, which came with "rapini, potato pave, chestnut cream, juniper jus." Sure. I tried the rapini and potato pave, both of which were rich and delicious (especially the potatoes). MBF declared the venison to be very good as well.

Game-tastic

I had chosen the beet salad, which came with house-pickled gherkins and a cheese described as "sweet grass dairy 'hopeful tomme.'" This salad was tasty but a bit puzzling; while the ingredients were all together on one plate, I didn't really understand why. The beets and the cheese, which turned out to be a mild, semi-hard cheese shaved over the top of the salad, definitely went together, but the beets were like red herrings. I will admit, though, that the marble-sized gherkins were some of the cutest things I've seen in a very long time.

You can sort of see one of the gherkins hiding under the beets at the bottom. Such an adorable foodstuff.

Our entrees out of the way, we moved on to the raison d'etre of any meal: dessert. Applewood's dessert menu borders on the eclectic; I definitely favor more straightforward, traditional desserts, but Applewood stayed just this side of too out-there, so I was safe.

MBF selected the "pear semifreddo, brown sugar bread pudding, candied bacon, sour milk granita" for one reason and one reason only: the candied bacon. He was wary about the sour milk element and inquired about it to our waiter, who asked by way of explanation whether we'd ever been to NYC Icy. Um, YESSSS!! When the dessert arrived, true to NYC Icy fashion, the sour milk granita tasted like sour milk, which was weird. I don't know what they meant by "brown sugar bread pudding," but I didn't spot any bread pudding on the plate. But the semifreddo was tasty, and MBF could not stop raving about the candied bacon. Seriously, bacon candy. What will they think of next?

Can you see bread pudding on there? Maybe they were talking about the sauce...

I had selected the honey-almond cake, which came accompanied by parsnip ice cream and lemon sabayon. I really hate parsnips, so I asked whether I could replace that with something else, perhaps the caramel apple ice cream found elsewhere on the menu. Unfortunately, the pastry chef was rationing the caramel apple ice cream, so our waiter suggested whipped cream instead. Perfectly fine. The dessert was quite delicious: the cake was moist and rich; the lemon sabayon tasted like the filling of a top-notch lemon square; and the whipped cream had flecks of real vanilla beans in it. As a bonus, the chef also sent out a little dish of the parsnip ice cream just so I could try it. I did. It tasted like parsnips. Enough said.

The cake is bleeding sabayon

Why would you ruin perfectly good ice cream with parsnips?

We finished our desserts and thought we were done-- but then they brought out a plate of complimentary petit fours with the check. The mini madeleine was yummy, but the pistachio brittle was a standout. Petit fours are such a lovely gesture-- they just leave you smiling as you walk out the door.

My dentist is going to kill me for that sticky brittle

Applewood was a delightful place, cozy and upscale while still friendly and unpretentious. The food was incredibly good and was definitely made with top-notch ingredients. All that AND a warm fireplace added up to a solid four Offset Spatula restaurant and a compelling reason to forsake civilization for the wilds known as Brooklyn.

Applewood
501 11th Street, Brooklyn
718-788-1810

Openings: Hummus Kitchen

Walking home after doing some shopping on Saturday, I noticed a new presence in the neighborhood: Hummus Kitchen. Located on 9th avenue near 51st street, it's a tiny, rustically-decorated restaurant that seemed to be about half full early in the evening. I examined the menu, which was short but sweet-- a listing of Mediterranean offerings, including hummus (of course) and various salads and soups and other goodies. Everything was very reasonably priced. As I stood there gaping at the menu, a woman came running out of the restaurant crying, "Can I offer you free hummus?" I was momentarily flustered-- did she mean right now? Was she going to give me a container of hummus? Or did I have to go in and sit and eat?-- but then she thrust a coupon into my hands and explained that it was valid until January. Phew. Apparently Hummus Kitchen opened on Friday night, which made it all the more impressive that there were several people inside at 5PM on day two. Either way, I'll definitely be back to check it out... the menu did look really good, and who can argue with free hummus?

The bearer of free hummus on the left... if you stop by, you may be granted a coupon as well!