[Pigging by Wilfrid: February 8, 2010]
So there I am, sitting at a corner table in this corner restaurant on West 12th Street. And I am saying to myself, this all seems very familiar. Perhaps in a previous life...
Little has been done to the space, and after all it was always sympathetic enough. The walls are a muted green tone, tables are bare, polished wood, the lines are clean - nothing of the chintzy bistro about it. Servers wear brasserie-style long white aprons, but the menu is New York 2010.
For one thing, there's an unbroken list of plates. No division between starters and mains - although there's a short list of "snacks" too. The menu instructs that the dishes are all "generous" tasting portions. Fortunately, I'd checked the gallery on the website, so had some idea what the phrase meant.
I started with a snack which turned out to be fairly substantial. Clam bellies lend themselves to being breaded and deep fried, but I'd not seen the trick done with razor clams before. The result is a morsel which looks like a sort of forked chicken finger. Ideal for dipping into a little pot of sauce, described on the menu as a chili "compote," although I found it pleasantly tomatoey rather than spicy.
Finger food - unavoidably so, because there's no cutting the razor clams in the cute little bowl they arrive in - and enough for two to share. The clams are firm, biteable, but avoid being chewy (no grit too - properly cleaned).
Charcuterie and cheese are placed neutrally on the menu, as if you might start the meal with either of them. There's a foie gras terrine and a tête de cochon, but I couldn't resist the jambon de Bayonne. And not least for nostalgic reasons: for all the assiduous promotion of Italian and Spanish hams, and choice delicacies like jamón Ibérico, I can never forget that the first cured ham I ever ate was the simple Bayonne ham served at the beginning of just about any meal in any French country restaurant or bar. It's milder than a prosciutto, has none of the deep, almost aggressive nuttiness of the finest Spanish hams, but it's well worth eating.
The soft leaves were curled attractively on the plate, and well accompanied by pickled baby root vegetables. Bread service - slightly warm white rolls - could use improvement.
The plates on the main part of the menu are comparable in price - around $16 to $18 - and its perhaps not surprising, therefore, that the foie is a good bit smaller than the pork belly. But it is sensationally good. Hudson Valley duck liver, of course, but within the limitations of that ingredient I've rarely come across a more enjoyable presentation. Rather than thinly slicing the lobe, chef Jesse Schenker hews a thick chunk and roasts it. The result is a caramelized surface, a creamy rare interior. This takes some skill and timing, and the kitchen nails it beautifully (and makes me think the crisp sweetbreads would be worth sampling too).
The meat is so fine, one scarcely cares about the garnish, but it sits over some figgy stuff and is moated by thin strands of a sweet sour sauce based, I assume, on balsamic vinegar. Excellent.
I took a bit of a punt with the pork belly dish. That cut of meat now backs diners into a metaphorical corner like a bore at a party. Here, though, the threatened garniture is rock shrimp. Oh, really? I have had my problems with porcine versions of surf 'n' turf in the past, but I decided to give it a whirl. The shrimp sport a tempura batter, and perch along the belly log like so many pigeons dressed for a party. A scoop of romesco sauce on the side.
One end of the belly turned out to be a little dry for some reason, but the eating got better as I moved along, and by the end of the dish I had found some merit in the juxtaposition of fatty, rich meat and crisp, sweet shrimp. I don't know that it's the best concept, but it's quite well done. The ocean trout with bacon and cabbage might be my choice next time around.
I take cheese after the entrée, as is only right, and rather than accept a selection from the very short list, I chose the Shropshire Blue - as much a nostalgic favorite of mine as the Bayonne ham. It's from west of Birmingham rather than east of Birmingham like Stilton, but the cheeses have much in common. This has a yellow paste, is sweeter than its famous cousin, and has less aroma of undusted library books. A great cheese, and the kitchen doesn't mess around with it.
I sampled several of the wines by the glass, including an Oregon pinot quite sweet enough to enhance the foie, and a Primitivo rustic enough to match the simplicity of the ham. While the prices on the menu are kind, one shouldn't overlook that that - as with any small plate or tapas menu - things add up. To make a dinner, you will need two of the tasting portions as well as an appetizer, and two $17 tasting plates equals one $34 entrée. The math is easy, but also easily forgotten. Still, with conservative wine choices, it is possible to keep the cost per head below three digits.
I should mention that I dined here on a quiet evening, and so haven't experienced kitchen and service under strain. With that qualification, Recette has occupied a familiar old spot in a pleasingly up-to-date manner.
