[Pigging by Wilfrid: January 5, 2009]
Farewell to the holidays, which started pleasantly enough but finished with a flurry of unwelcome attacks on my computer and my health, in that order. The former is recovered, the latter improving, but the overture to 2009 will be humble nonetheless. Some sandwiches what I ate.
Part one this week, part two next week, and then we'll see if we can put on a jacket and tie and sit up straight for a proper dinner.
First up, controversy! Opinions among experts have been divided on the merits of Irving Mill, now under the tocque of former Resto chef Ryan Skeen. I have seen the decor compared with Houlihan's. I actually thought it was pleasantly fitted out, in a predictable faux-farmhouse manner, pitched somewhere between Back Forty and Gramercy Tavern. I also liked the circular booths, the fabric on the chairs decorated with manuscripts of Washington Irving (for some reason, a montage of critical comments on the works of Fenimore Cooper greets you in the lobby).
There's a sturdy (and busy) bar upfront, a massive, circular mill-stone table behind it, and various pieces of farm machinery littering the margins of the rear dining room. Simon Doonan of the New York Observer has given us the definitive motto for 2009: "Deep is the new superficial." And so we must all pretend to be eating the fare of simple farming folk, gnawing pig bones and munching vegetables snatched from the soil, all the while seated in a barn. But we shall do it Manhattan style, and pay for the privilege.
None of which is directed specifically at Irving Mill, which is understandably riding the current waves, another being the re-invention of the burger. Call me cynical, but I sometimes wonder if there's much point messing with the concept of a ground-beef patty between two halves of a bun.
For all that, I did enjoy Ryan Skeen's revision of the standard. It's popular too; everyone seated at the bar had the burger in front of them. Chef Skeen blends beef cheek meat and pork fatback with ground "flap meat". The French call it bavette; I'd call it skirt. In any case, it's tasty; the beef cheek makes for a smooth, almost velvety texture in the center of the patty, and the fatback is distinctively present, further raising the fat content. Some will find the experience too soft and smooth - I thought it luxurious. I didn't ask for cheese, but apparently it comes with a thin drape of melted Irish cheddar in any case. The bun is a fluffy brioche.
I thought at first that the burger was well-charred. In fact, on close inspection, it was the bottom part of the bun which had been blackened on the grill. Whatever works - it certainly imparted smokiness. Pickles weren't special (house-made?), and the small crock of skin-on potato wedges, served just warm, were not up to the standard of the sandwich.
One gripe. By all means serve some interesting small-brewer beers on tap, and by all means charge the right price for them. But don't then serve them in skinny-waisted little glasses. Tap beers run $7 and up, and for $7 I'd like a full pint of Brooklyn Pilsener. Fifteen dollars for the burger, including garnishes.
Now look at that. Do you know, in all the years I've lived here, I'd never eaten at Sarge's, the Third Avenue deli which will be forty-five years old this year? And I might never have done so, had I not happened across the words "pastrami burger" on a discarded check. What could this be? Surely not a patty incorporating pastrami along with the ground beef? Surely Sarge's was not re-inventing the burger too?
No. It's simple pastrami on top of a burger. I thought I should eat it. And I worried it might be overwhelming, imagining a six-inch stack of pastrami slices on top of a slab of ground beef. It's not so scary, though. Sarge's pastrami, which is very tasty indeed, is sliced much thinner than the Katz's standard, and several slices are layered over a charred burger like so many fallen leaves. A standard bread bun, toasted, and it comes with coleslaw and pickled - deluxe is extra.
There is enough pastrami to do the job of seasoning and accenting what would otherwise be just a serviceable diner burger. Under ten bucks, without fries, and served to you in a red leather booth under Tiffany-style lamps.
Speaking of pastrami, one can't be eating the stuff exclusively at Katz's, although that remains the city's unchallenged standard. I have long been an aficionado of the restaurant in the Ukrainian National Home on First Avenue, a peaceful, wood-lined oasis of reliable home cooking. I usually get the tripe soup - which is outstanding - and follow it with a solid goulash or stew of some kind, or perhaps some kielbasa. For a recent lunch, I nervously branched out.
The pastrami sandwich. As big as you need, and certainly good, although no Katz's. Not only you do get the thick, golden fries, but you'll already have been served the copious basket of soft and sweet European to chew while you read the menu. Another under-$10 bargain (I think the sandwiches - there's a burger too - are lunchtime only).
Next week, more fat and calories.
