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

An appetizer platter to remember

Do you like fried food? Of course you do! Even I like fried food, and that's kind of bad, because my body doesn't exactly like the fried food in return.

Regardless, if you like the stuff that's been in the fry-o-lator, you should check out O'Lunney's on 45th near Broadway. It's a huge Irish pub with a few quirks up its sleeve-- check the manager who looks like Michael Douglas, or the exceptionally bizarre mosaic on the wall (??). They've got a lot of beers on tap and TWO kinds of Magner's (yum!). And they've also got the following appetizer platter:

Hand in the shot!

Yep, it's a doozy. Wings. Loaded potato skins. Fries in a cup (hot and crisp but undersalted). And panko-crusted chicken fingers, a really interesting and culinarily creative touch. It's not cheap, but it's the perfect just-ever-so-slightly-better-than-it-has-to-be dish for sharing if you're looking for a place for happy hour with friends.

See you there!

O'Lunney's
145 W. 45th Street, between 6th Avenue and Broadway
212-840-6688

Bye-bye Ciro, hello West End

Behold, the newest entrant into the Hell's Kitchen dining game, West End Bar and Grill, located at the corner of 49th and 8th:

We're waiting...

This swanky looking joint replaced Ciro, which "went on vacation" and never came back. I'm excited-- West End looks interesting, and we could always use some more options around that area. Stay tuned...

I did it! The Wine Century Club is finished!

Readers, I have done it: After nine months of research, agonizing, and concerted, dedicated wine drinking, I have finished my Wine Century Club challenge! Wine varietal 100 was a delicious, aromatic, grassy bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, the varietal I'd been saving for last, consumed at home after a particularly not-so-awesome day.

The final bottle

The final glass

So, here are some things I learned during my quest:

1) This one's obvious, but there are some truly good off-the-beaten-path wine varietals out there. Take Goldmuskateller, a grape I'd never have tried if it weren't for the WCC; it's intensely flavorful, fruity, vibrant, and food-friendly. I learned I really like Malbec, my new go-to red wine. And albarino is a new summer favorite. And this was the point, of course: break myself out of my comfort zone so I don't ALWAYS go for the sauvignon blanc when faced with a wine list. That said...

2) I still really like sauvignon blanc. Man, it's delicious.

3) Finding obscure varietals is not easy, especially when you're largely confined to by-the-glass menus and under-$15 racks at the liquor store. Most of the by-the-glass menus around this city have the same usual suspects: pinot grigio, chardonnay, merlot, pinot noir, cabernet sauvignon, etc. etc. It's probably because most wine drinkers aren't that educated (me included) and therefore aren't that adventurous; unknown varietals scare them off. But sheesh, guys, it gets boring! How bout an erbaluce every now and then?

4) Since finding obscure varietals isn't easy, doing the Wine Century Club takes a LOT of research. And by research I mean countless hours on the Internet, spending quality time with restaurant wine lists and Googling the lesser-known wines, or standing in the aisles of a wine store, doing the same on my pathetic Blackberry browser. Some grapes have two names but are the same varietal! Some areas of the world don't put grapes on their wine labels, making the search that much more difficult! I'm talking HOURS here, people. By far and away, that is the aspect of this quest I will miss the least. It's positively freeing to be able to walk into a restaurant and just order a glass of wine that you want, just because. Or, you know, a cocktail!

5) And sometimes I just wanted some sparkling wine, but after the 10th varietal or so, I'd already tried every varietal that goes into typical sparkling wines. And so I gave up bubbly for the last, say, five months. I miss it. And I'm dusting off my champagne flutes as we speak.

5) But that said, if you like wine-- even if you know nothing about it, or next to nothing, like me-- the Wine Century Club is worth doing. It's an easy, painless, dare I say largely FUN way to learn a little bit more about wine and expand your palate in the meantime. If you're interested, check out the official site here.

In the meantime, I have a glass of sauvignon blanc waiting for me...

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

A quick bite at Taboon

For Dad's last meal in town, we stayed local. Up 10th Avenue we went to Taboon, one of my local favorites and a place I hadn't visited in a couple of months.

Neither of us was very hungry, but it was pre-theater and we had to eat, so we stuck with appetizers for both of us. First, of course, came a gratis plate of their intoxicating flatbread, as good as ever.

Some of the best in the city

And then, for dad, came the Kube, a bulgur wheat croquette filled with skirt steak and a bunch of seasonings, all sitting in a pool of eggplant tzaziki. It was small but filling, and Dad enjoyed it.

Is Lady Gaga inside?

My choice was the beet and pear salad, with a leaf or two of arugula and some oil-soaked walnuts. I had requested goat cheese rather than the included blue cheese, and a small ramekin of about a half ounce of goat cheese semicircles came on the side. Overall, the salad was okay, not the best I've ever gotten at Taboon; without the cheese mixed into the salad, and with the combined effect of the beets and the crunchy pear cubes, the overall impression was a bit too sweet. Ah well, next time I'll stick with my tried-and-true zucchini cakes.

Pretty

And that was that. I'm still a huge Taboon fan, and I'll be back soon to try my old favorites.

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

Nearing the Wine Century at Lupa

Last Tuesday was the designated Fancy Meal Night during my dad's vacation. To nobody's surprise, I was given free rein to pick the restaurant and precious few instructions beyond "Tuesday." After a quick perusal of OpenTable, I hit upon an odd but somehow spot-on choice: Lupa.

Yes, Lupa is highly acclaimed and known as one of Mario Batali's best, but for some reason I'd never been there. So on a slightly chilly and blustery Tuesday evening, I met Dad at the Spring Street subway stop and we headed to Lupa.

It's a cute little place, charmingly rustic and highly crowded, with throngs of after-workers crowding the front bar. If you mind being packed in next to your fellow diners, don't go here. But if you can get past that, you'll likely have a surprisingly enjoyable-- and surprisingly reasonable, given what it is-- meal.

Our server, it's worth noting, was incredibly friendly and accommodating, even getting into the spirit when I presented her with my Wine Century Club challenge. See, at that point I was 97 wines in, and given my limited knowledge of Italian wines, I basically posed the challenge for her to find some varietals I hadn't tried within their by-the-glass menu. Magic: a glass of Frascati Superiore (white) and a red with nebbiolo, and I was magically at the 99 wine threshold. (Stay tuned...)

98...

99...

What better to sop up all that wine than their focaccia, eh? Two conjoined pieces of pillowy, oil-soaked bread, spotted with rosemary on the crust. This fairly begged for a sprinkling of coarse salt to bring out the flavors, but even without it, it was some gooooood carbin'.

Mmmhmmm.

To start, Dad had the misticanza salad, which he prounced good for what it was, a mix of slightly bitter upscale lettuces and some fennel to round out the mix.

I'm clearly still getting used to this camera

I chose the broccoli rabe with ricotta verdure, an ample tangle of the veggie slicked with creamy ricotta. Surprisingly, the overwhelming flavor of this dish was lemon: there were bits of lemon rind hidden in the mixture, and it gave an otherwise potentially heavy dish a truly light flavor. I wish there had been some more punch in the ricotta (perhaps a bit of ricotta salata thrown in?), but overall, this was quite enjoyable.

Quite pretty, actually

And then the mains. Dad went for a daily special, pappardelle with pork ragu. In typical Italian fashion, it was a small portion, but Dad raved about the taste and quality.

Homely but tasty

My choice was the escarole, walnut, red onion, and pecorino salad, sans red onion. This turned out to be a light and almost refreshing salad, with the bed of shaved pecorino adding a salty bite to the crunchy greens.

Lots of shades of white

And all this, of course, was a mere prelude to dessert. Though there are choices on the dessert menu, look around the dining room and you'll see nearly every table chooses one thing only: the signature Lupa tartufo. It looks innocent enough, but it packs a true wallop. A thick, yielding chocolate shell-- not shatter-hard but almost the texture of milk chocolate-- gives way to pure, intense hazelnut gelato. A shower of hazelnuts crowns the orb, and the baseball-sized confection sits in a pool of hazelnut-studded chocolate sauce. Push through to the center of the tartufo and you'll find a brandied cherry amid a protective case of what seems like chocolate cake (or maybe a bit of brownie?). No matter-- it all disappears in the work of a couple bites.

Oh. Yum.

Lupa was a pleasant surprise. The prices are reasonable, the service friendly and laid-back, and the food (ahem, dessert, ahem) worth returning for. It's the perfect place for a classy meal when you don't feel like going through the classy-meal rigamarole. Go. You'll enjoy it. And isn't that what it's all about?

Lupa
170 Thompson Street, near W. Houston
212-982-5089