[Pigging by Wilfrid: June 23, 2008]
With less flourish than one expects in the Manhattan restaurant world, Gary Robins recently unveiled a mixed kind of formal-casual restaurant-café a few steps up from Sheridan Square itself on the west side of Seventh Avenue.
This is far from an obvious location for a restaurant with any ambition. Indeed, if you didn't know Gary Robins was in the kitchen, you'd assume Sheridan Square was just another open-fronted, beer-and-burger tourist haunt.
The Riviera Café, the Garage - I hardly even know the names - Sixth and Seventh Avenues in Greenwich Village are strung with these large, profitable, uninteresting watering holes, serving fries and churning out frozen, machine-made margaritas. Although Sheridan Square's interior, once you reach it, is soberly wainscotted and - for its size - reasonably sedate, the front it presents to the street is just another jumbled of cheap steel tables.
Following a moderately acclaimed stint at the now-closed Biltmore Room, and a less happy crash-and-burn at the re-launched Russian Tea Room, Gary Robins is at least a known name among New York chefs. I never dined at the Biltmore Room, but Robins' cuisine won three Times stars, adding Asian accents to an American-cosmopolitan menu.
At least one Biltmore signature - a crab cake in a crisp squash blossom wrapper - is offered here, but the general tone of the menu is American seasonal, which is certainly more fashionable than fusion this year.
A hit with everyone so far, the foie gras ravioli was easily the best thing I ate here. Technical skill is on display, the scoops of foie remaining delicate and juicy in the pasta pockets, the spring vegetables from Satur Farm remaining crisp, all bathed in a surprisingly light, sweet, clear oxtail broth. Summer truffles are present, as are some small, tender discs identified by some experts as slices of sunchoke: no, I say slices of radish. It's a fragrant and tasty mélange.
There was nothing to object to in the quail appetizer either, although it's very much the kind of dish chefs are getting right all over town. Like the excellent fried quail at Elettaria, this roast bird was crunchy outside but rare in the center. The menu boasts the scent of marjoram, although you could miss it, and I didn't particularly notice morels either, but the risotto was nicely set off with tender peas and scallions and flakes of bacon.
There is something about the service which gives just the faintest, but annoying, impression that anyone dining there is likely to be a roaming Greenwich Village tourist. The only specific difficulty I ran into, though, was with the wine list, where my first three choices turned out to be unavailable. The well-priced vintage Rioja, in particular, was nowhere to be found. Neither was a Rhone wine by a producer I like. Inevitably, the food started arriving before a resolution was reached, and I eventually took the bottle brought over by the sommelier and offered at the same price as the last unavailable choice I'd made.
The swordfish steak, from the restaurant's "wood-burning grill" was an attractively decorated special. Unfortunately, off-temperature entrées were the order of the day, just as they were at Elettaria a couple of weeks back. The dishes weren't cold enough to be sent back; nor were they hot enough to be thoroughly enjoyed. Food loses its sparkle when it's intended to be hot but arrives only warm.
The duckling, two large hunks of breast, suffered from the same problem. I read that it was anise-scented, but again so faintly you'd hardly notice. It wasn't especially "crisp" either, just competently roasted, rare in the center. The garnish was resolutely seasonal: peas, fava beans, a nice sweet-sharp rhubarb chutney, and some creamily sludged cauliflower. Pleasant (if hotter), not life-changing.
By refreshing contrast, a pot of wild mushrooms from the "wood-burning grill" was piping hot. There was no disagreement that this was the best thing on the table.
I stuck safely to a heap of fresh market berries for dessert, a sweet whipped cream on the side (there was a very liquid panna cotta too, in a martini glass, but I didn't get much of a taste).
With cocktails - a correct mint julep, and a "smoked" margarita - and the $60 wine eventually poured, the check was a shade over $100 a head. I've seen suggestions that prices here are pitched high for the location, but that doesn't strike me as unreasonable. My reservation is that, with the exception of the foie appetizer, I didn't find much here which isn't done as well, or better, elsewhere. And neither ambience nor service especially enhanced the experience. Early days, though...
For the web-site too, which remains under construction .
