Chillin' on the Porch

Last night AG and I planned to meet up for drinks. Having not seen each other in several months (really? it's come to that?), we wanted someplace low-key where we could hear each other talk-- and someplace that was also near enough to the office so AG could return if he needed to post-drink (boo). We first tried the bar at Aureole, which I've been to once before and found to be swank but also chill. Well, one look at the bar this time around revealed an absolutely PACKED bar area with suits shoulder-to-shoulder. No thanks. So we steered ourselves toward Bryant Park to take in the Southwest Porch.

The Porch is something of a pop-up hangout spot courtesy of Southwest Airlines. AG and I arrived to find the place also-- surprise!-- packed. But as soon as we were about to turn around and leave, two lovely people decided to depart. So we spent an hour chilling on a porch swing, sipping beverages. No, really, we did.

Our view of the Porch from the swing

I went with an $8 glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Though served in a plastic cup (which I understand, this being outdoors and all, although it's still disappointing given my love of good glassware), it was zippy and zingy and all those z-words, with an alcoholic bite that jumped out at you first thing. AG went for a beer. I asked several times for a glass of water to accompany the wine, and eventually a server swung by with two cans, saying they were "complimentary water." Two things here: 1) I've never heard anyone refer to water as "complimentary" in this manner, pitching it as a HUGE plus; and 2) I've never, ever had non-carbonated water in a can. It was cool, yet somehow still disconcerting, as though it was supposed to be carbonated but they just forgot.

Southwest Airlines water. In a can.

So all in all, the Southwest Porch is a really cool place to chill on a nice summer evening. "Swing" by (har har har) with a friend or two, grab a drink and a bite to eat, and enjoy the urban semi-oasis that is Bryant Park. It's quite nice, actually.

Haloumi dreams at Taboon

Ever since I moved to the far western reaches of Hell's Kitchen, I've wanted to eat at Taboon, a Mediterranean restaurant on 10th Avenue. But for some reason, I've never made it-- until now. AV and I were looking for a hearty meal before a night out, and fortunately Taboon had last-minute availability... at an outdoor table, no less. So we skipped the few blocks to Taboon for some delicious, delicious food.

We walked through the very Greek-looking, airy dining room, past the searingly hot wood-burning oven, through the door to their sidewalk tables. It was a tremendously beautiful night, and we enjoyed watching the scenic traffic on 10th Ave as we made our decisions. After placing our order (which didn't make our waiter very happy... read on), our first course-- the bread-- arrived.

The bread at Taboon is something quite special. It's a long loaf of puffy flat-ish bread, brushed with olive oil and spotted with rosemary, delivered freshly baked and piping hot. The fragrance is almost intoxicating, and the combination of the airy, warm interior and the crackly, substantial bottom crust (from being baked on the wood-burning oven) was spectacular. We had ordered a side of tzaziki, a yogurt-based dip, which we slathered all over the bread. And then ate plain off our knives. And forks. And fingers. Um, it was good.

Best in a long time

Soon our entrees arrived. And by entrees I mean appetizers-- we had both ordered apps (and no booze, in anticipation of the drinking to come later that night), which was the cause of our waiter's visible displeasure. AV had selected the Sea Scallops, which came with "Kaffir lime butter infusion, crisp parmesan over canellini bean puree." It was visually pretty and also, according to AV, very tasty. I tried a small dip of the puree and it was indeed enjoyable.

Pale and lovely

My own selection was the haloumi salad. Let it be said right here and now that I love haloumi cheese. There's a good haloumi salad at Pera, which I've had a few times. But this dish satisfied my craving and then some. Small dices of delicious seared haloumi were scattered atop a dish of tomato, cucumber, fennel, onion, green pepper, kalamata olives, and oregano. There was a light lemony dressing lubricating the whole mixture. I gobbled up all the veggies and the cheese, and I used some of the cucumber rounds to scoop up the remaining tzaziki. Rarely has a salad left me that satisfied.

Oh, haloumi, how you haunt my dreams

Without question, the food at Taboon was top-notch. The service wasn't quite so refined; after we declined dessert, our server tried repeatedly to push add-ons (coffee? tea??). Sorry dude, I know we weren't doing much for your bottom line, but give us a break. Regardless, I would most certainly go back... I'll be dreaming of that haloumi for a long, long time. Taboon earns four Offset Spatulas with ease.

Taboon
773 Tenth Avenue, at 52nd Street
212-713-0271

Communing with nature at I Trulli

This past Saturday, as I was walking back from Lab Tastes, contemplating the beautiful weather, and thinking about dinner, a lightbulb went off in my head. It was such a beautiful evening, I figured I'd try to grab a last-minute reservation at one of my favorite al fresco dining places in the city. Lo and behold, a reservation was procured, and so I surprised AV with a trip to I Trulli.

I Trulli is an upscale Italian restaurant with an attached (nice) wine bar, but the best part of the restaurant is the back garden. I've been to one of their very cool garden parties before, but this time we were there for a normal al fresco dinner. We were seated all the way at the back of the garden, right where the canopy ends so we could see the sky. Our table abutted a fountain-y water feature. Soothing. Zen.

We were given a wine menu first, and as we both hemmed and hawed about whether to order drinks, changing our mind about half a dozen times, eventually food menus appeared on our table as well. Another couple was seated at the two-top right next to us shortly after we were, and AV and I being the mature adults we are, we mentally "raced" them service-wise through the meal (so far: they got food menus before we did, but we got bread first. Hah!). We finally decided to order drinks-- for AV, a Jack and coke; for me, upon the advice of the waiter, a glass of erbaluce, a flavorful and very delicious white wine I'd never had before-- and ordered our food at the same time. When I tried to order the beets/green apple/arugula/ricotta fritter salad without the ricotta fritters, our waiter graciously steered me away, informing me that without the fritters, the salad wasn't special. So I made another choice, and we got down to the bread basket in front of us.

This bread cylinder offered two types of thinly-sliced focaccia, a tomato-topped variety and one with a coarse sea-salted crust. Both were superlative examples of what focaccia should be: tender on the inside, oily on the bottom, robustly crusted on top. Additionally, instead of butter or olive oil, I Trulli provides a small dish of fresh ricotta as an accompaniment to the bread. This cheese was so good AV and I nearly licked the little dish clean, a fact one of the runners noticed as he offered another dish (N.B.: We accepted the offer, yet no second dish of ricotta ever appeared. Somehow, that's worse than never offering it in the first place. What a tease!).

That ricotta is like semi-liquid gold

We had ordered a dish of olives as a first course, but unfortunately the olives and our entrees arrived simultanously, which visibly distressed our waiter. Oh well. First the olives: there was a good mixture here, and all the olives were fresh and tasty. However, I managed to ruin a perfectly sound olive course by deciding it would be a good idea to eat one of the whole garlic cloves buried in the mixture. For some reason I thought it would be cooked. It wasn't. So I ended up eating an entire ENORMOUS raw garlic clove, which burned going down and made its angry presence known through my breath and pores for approximately 24 hours after the fact. I can't decide whether AV or I was more upset about that.

Monstrous garlic clove = deadly weapon

For his entree, AV had selected the sheep's milk ricotta ravioli in a butter and sage sauce. The tiny dices of carrot and potato on top were a curious (and it seemed relatively un-integrated) addition to the dish, but the pasta itself was tasty. It was cooked perfectly al dente, which AV approved of, although he noted that the pasta-to-filling ratio was a bit "interesting." It pained him to say it, but he ultimately pronounced the pasta not as good as Sfoglia's. Damn you, Sfoglia!

Handmade by "Dora," according to the menu

My own choice, since the beet salad was a non-starter, was the simple Insalata: "Mixed wild, baby, and local greens, radishes, ricotta salata, and sherry vinaigrette." Every element of this salad was delicious, especially the ricotta slata and even though I don't like radishes, the paper-thin slices of the vegetable were unobtrusive. Even the dressing, which I ordered on the side, was surprisingly zippy. It wasn't necessary the MOST interesting salad I've ever ordered, but it was definitely solid.

Looks lame but was tasty

We had other plans in mind for dessert (stay tuned...), so we skipped out after we finished the entree. I must say, I recognize that I'm turning into a true Manhattanite by how much I relish a meal outdoors in a peaceful space-- and I Trulli really fits the bill. The food was definitely on the better side of solid (especially the bread course), but despite a few service hiccups it's really the al fresco dining experience that will bring me back. Indoors, I Trulli is probably a three-Offset Spatula restaurant, but in my opinion the back garden earns an extra spat. Four OSes it is.

I Trulli
122 E. 27th Street, between Park and Lex
212-481-7372

Lovely atmosphere and okay food at Bryant Park Grill

The other day, I was treated to another work lunch with two team members at the Bryant Park Grill. Since it was a lovely day, we headed over to the park, eager to eat outside.

So incredibly beautiful outside

We had a reservation, and I went inside and checked in at the hostess stand. She asked whether we wanted to sit inside or out; I said out, and she sent me outside to the outdoor host's stand. There was a huge line, and I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to join the line or cut in front, so I just stood awkwardly to the side for a while until the host noticed me, I made puzzled comments, and then they seated our table. Phew.

Standard menu

We looked at the menu and quickly placed our order. A bread basket arrived shortly after, offering three kinds of bread: a mixed grain roll, a ciabatta-like white roll, and a cheesy breadstick. I chose the mixed grain roll to start and dug out a dollop of softened butter from the ramekin. The roll had promise, but unfortunately the exterior was soft rather than crisp, so it was unpleasantly reminiscent of the rolls you get in airplane meals, you know? The interior of the roll was a bit better, but I still wasn't satisfied. I moved on to try one of the ciabattas. It turns out that these were flecked with pieces of olives, which usually aren't good but in this case weren't bad. The bread was crisp and really chewy. Together, the two rolls provided a suitable carb fix for the time being.

Many bread options

Disappointingly soft roll

Better ciabatta

Our entrees arrived shortly after. L had ordered crabcakes; they came as two reasonably sized, golden-brown cakes with some lettuce in between. She finished most but not all of them; I didn't get a read on how good the dish was, but it looked pretty standard.

Sunny crabcakes

S ordered the chicken Caesar salad. It was enormous, with almost an entire chicken on the side. This got points for good value, and S enjoyed the taste.

So...much...chicken

I ordered the avocado, shittake mushroom and spring onion salad, except I replaced the avocado with celeraic. While substitution came as requested, I asked for the dressing on the side, which they didn't do. The salad was small, and while the menu description said it was on a bed of arugula, it was actually mostly frisee (boo). The dressing was very flavorful, and the mushrooms were good but in very small quantity. I don't recall encountering any spring onions. Overall, this salad was very...meh. And as I finished it, there was a pool of oil at the bottom. Not so appealing.

Mediocre salad

Bryant Park Grill is a lovely, lovely place to eat if it's a nice day. When we were there, the sun was shining, people were happy to be out of the office-- and some days that's all you need. Food-wise, the Bryant Park Grill (at least the outside part) could step up its game a little bit-- but still, I wouldn't hesitate to go back if the opportunity presented itself. For that, I award BPG three out of five offset spatulas.

Nizza-- or, like, NOTza

I pass Nizza, a new French/Italian/Mediterranean-ish restaurant on 9th Avenue, every day on my way to work. I've been psyched to go there ever since it opened not too long ago. There was a short write-up in the Times about the place, and it was mostly positive. What could go wrong? Ahh, funny you should ask.

My brother's girlfriend's mother was in town, and she was kind enough to get the four of us tickets to Young Frankenstein for Saturday night. All we needed was a quick pre-theater meal nearby, and I figured Nizza would fit the bill. I called early in the afternoon to try to make reservations, but they only take them for parties of five or larger. The hostess suggested we arrive close to 6, at which point the wait for a table would probably be about 10-15 minutes. Sounds reasonable.

We showed up at 6 on the dot and put our names in with the host. Now, I live in New York City and have seen my share of apathy, but this man was by FAR the most apathetic person I have ever met. He just BARELY cared enough to take our names-- quite a burden, I know. Once we got past that hurdle, we moved our party outside and stood by the telephone pole on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, watching the crowded restaurant. It was approximately 60 degrees out, but Nizza had the entire front of the restaurant open to the elements and its sidewalk tables out in full force. Now, call me crazy, but that's a LITTLE ambitious in my farmer's almanac.

About twenty minutes later, a hostess came out to offer us an outside table. Um, no thanks, but if I'd like to eat outside in the freezing cold I could buy a slice of pizza and eat it while walking home. We declined the table, and I went inside to ask how much longer it would be for a table inside. Mr. Apathetic Host gestured vaguely to the room and said that there were "a couple of tables" about to finish up. Right.

We waited another fifteen minutes, at which point I went to the host and told him we needed either to be seated or to leave-- we were reaching the point of no return, as it were, in terms of fitting in a good dinner before the show. I wasn't rude, mind you, I just told him, hey man, it's time to fish or cut bait. Fortunately, he pointed to a booth in the corner and told us they were busing the table now. We watched the table be bussed and set up, and since nobody came over to seat us, we sort of walked over to where the host was standing near the free table and loitered nearby. He made some sort of gesture indicating we could be seated. We obliged.

We sat there in the booth, which was wedged in the far corner right next to the entrance to the kitchen, watching servers and busboys buzzing back and forth around us, for several minutes. Nobody came to take our order; hell, we didn't even have menus. Finally, we stopped one of the hosts/hostesses (this restaurant seemed to have several, an excess that seemed actually to diminish the level of service rather than increase it). We asked politely for some menus or a waiter, at which point the hostess said snippily, "The menus COME with the waiter." Wow! Great news! Or it WOULD be great news if a waiter would actually show up with these fabled menus. Needless to say, the hostess disappeared, and a few minutes later she reappeared with some menus. Still no waiter.

We quickly decided what we wanted and waited for another few moments, at which point-- joy!-- a waiter appeared. Now, I'm no expert, but I've been to at least a handful of restaurants in my time, and I've deduced that the usual protocol in these types of situations is for the waiter to introduce himself in some way. There's not necessarily a need for the pseudo-ridiculous "Hi, I'm Megan, I'll be taking care of you tonight," but at least a perfunctory "Good evening" or "Welcome" is usually in order. This waiter, on the other hand, shattered the paradigm. He showed up at our table and said, "We also have [insert specials here]." Seriously. That's all. In Homeric poetry we call this "in medias res"-- that is, "in the middle of things," or starting a conversation as though one had already been going on. Apparently our waiter and we had been talking extensively, likely about what was already on the menu, before he arrived and announced what they also had. Cue my mind exploding.

We did manage to place our order, though, and requested a plate of bread (for those of us in the quest of end-of-passover leavened carbs). We sat and chatted for a while; about ten minutes later, the plate of bread showed up (mediocre-to-decent foccacia with dipping oil). Then about two minutes later the rest of our food showed up, all at once. Well, sort of-- one dish was missing, which we requested and they brought out a few minutes later.

What did we get? My dining companions ordered the butternut and leek soup, the bibb lettuce salad, the focaccette (fried ravioli filled with crescenza cheese), the margherita pizza, and the chicken involtini. I ordered an arugula salad, which had parmesan cheese and pickled onions. The salad was good, if simple. I tried a bit of the pizza, and it was decent, flatbread-style, with a chewy crust and a light hand with the tomato sauce. My companions really enjoyed the rest of the food-- as my brother put it, "everything else sucks, but the food is great." The only sort-of-dud in the group was the one dish that showed up late, the broccoli bruschetta with avocado and walnuts. It showed up as one bruschetta (bruschetto? I don't speak Italian...), with a somewhat unappealing pile of greenish crap on top of it. The bread was grilled but spongy and soggy on top under the pile of... stuff. I ended up putting most of the topping onto my salad and eating it as a salad condiment, if you will, but quite frankly I'm not sure what was in it. It seemed chock-full of leeks, not broccoli, and I was stunned when I checked the menu while writing this post and learned that there was supposed to be avocado in the dish. I think I found one walnut sitting on the side of the plate. Let's just say that if I had been a judge in Top Chef, I would have called the cheftestant out on soggy bread, lackluster plating, and lack of flavor. But then again, I'd also be an asshole and say things like, "Let's just say it's not just his gnocchi that was dense" or, "Please pack your knives and go" while sporting a fakely concerned expression on my face. But I digress.

Overall, the food was okay, but certainly nothing I'd come back for, even if the service had been stellar. Frankly, the restaurant was a pretty unpleasant place to be-- it was noisy and harried, with the servers rushing around the packed tables. Nobody seemed to care much about anything that was happening. Our server brought us the bill as soon as we were done with our meals--no inquiries about whether we wanted dessert or coffee, which we didn't, but it seemed somewhat self-defeating not even to ASK. And while we were in the midst of the payment process, two servers rounding the corner into the kitchen collided, causing one of them to slosh a large dish of soup all over the floor. As she cried, "Shit!" inappropriately loudly, the other one pointed to her and said, "You've got some white bean on you!" Wow. Caring is sharing, people.

It's rare that a dining experience in New York pisses me off, but I left Nizza in a bad mood, and not just because I got a work request on my blackberry in the middle of dinner. Is it too difficult just to PRETEND to care? Apparently so. Nizza, you disappointed me.