[Pigging by Wilfrid: July 21, 2008]
As long ago as October 2007 I reviewed this ambitious project by Neil Ferguson on a dark block of Allen, and commented that I would surely return.
Ferguson, having taken the fall for the Times's two star review of Gordon Ramsay at the London, where he had been running the kitchen for his famed and charmless compatriot, has enjoyed a supremely successful comeback with this dark, romantic downtown boîte.
It's almost a twenty-first century Alison on Dominick. The latter had impressed diners in the early nineties as a seductive, candle-lit replica of a French country restaurant, located in the then far-flung and remote streets west of any recognizable part of SoHo.
How quaint that now seems, and judging by the rapidity of development, one can be confident that a few years hence, Allen & Delancey will seem no more out of the way than Gramercy Tavern. In any case, I should beware such resolutions. The press of new openings and lure of old favorites had me postponing another visit until news of a re-hauled menu finally sealed the deal.
Allen & Delancey is now one of downtown's toughest tables, so I simplified matters by trying a late-night walk-in to dine at the bar. I snagged the one available, uncomfortable, corner seat; but by the time I'd ordered the significantly tipsy crowd had thinned and I could spread myself out and enjoy the distraction of the posse of models awaiting enthronement in one of the rear dining rooms.
The bar-stools look swish enough, but give way beneath your weight with a disappointing phssst, and aren't great for long sitting. Service in the bar - which is dimmer than I'd remembered, but not as gloomy as the back room - is professional; stretched, however, by the need for the bar-tender constantly to duck out and provide service at the bar table(s) next to the entrance.
I applaud assertive menu changes at a restaurant which could easily coast on its established repertoire. Gone is the raviolo of sweetbreads; gone too the meticulously composed parcels of beef and cabbage. The famous bone marrow, served out of the bone with shallots and caviar, survives on a short list of signatures.
Over a flute of Marques de Gelida cava - a current favorite house wine of mine - I pondered an appetizer of "Pickles, Leaves, Fruits, Herbs, Fungi, Vegetable" (sic). Ferguson - recall "Beef, Cabbage, Onion" - is a minimalist poet of the menu. I asked the bar-tender if it was essentially a salad composed of representatives of those groups; she said yes, but averred that it was good.
I ordered the peeky-toe crab ravioli, instead. A mistake on two counts - I had absent mindedly discounted the fact that I was committed to a pasta main course (my fault) and the crab was not very flavorful (not my fault). Like everything coming out of Ferguson's kitchen, the ravioli were neatly, deftly assembled, and washed in something buttery. The other elements of the dish were just fine: a light avocado purée, some apple, and slivers of pistachio (Sicilian, of course...). That's a nice flavor combination right there, but the crab was just bland.
Experts had directed my attention to the veal and trotter canneloni. I tackled these with the aid of the Petalos, a dark, warm-blooded wine from the Bierzo.
One solitary nugget of sweetbread lurked beneath the pasta cannons. And a little heartbreaker it was too - so golden, crisp and tasty that I wished I hadn't been chased away from the roast sweetbreads appetizer by the threat of licorice in the garnish.
The rolls of pasta and meat were rich, luxurious, the tender, braised, shredded veal studded punctuated by gelatinous slivers of pig's foot. They were served over a crisp asparagus spear and - meticulous work again - fennel which had been laced with streaks of pancetta.
Cheeses are from Saxelby at Essex Street Market, and are therefore both American and good. Familiar Bayley Hazen Blue, Pleasant Ridge Reserve, and a new cheese to me - Kunik (from New York, goat's milk with added cream).
For all its gritty location, Allen & Delancey knows its crowd - downtown but upmarket - and knows they'll pay for its pleasures. Even with modest wine, this is a $100+ a head restaurant.
Although I liked the entrée and found typical touches of skillful technique everywhere, the dishes never quite light up the room like fireworks. Ferguson puts me improbably in mind of Al Gore "I may not be the most exciting chef, but I will work hard for you every course...".
The current menu and everything else right here.