[Pigging by Wilfrid: July 28, 2008]
This has been the season to review Scarpetta - former Alto chef Scott Conant's new Italian venture - or Convivio, current Alto chef Michael White's make-over of Scott Conant's L'Impero.
So I decided to be contrarian, and see what was kicking at Alto itself, while everyone's attention was elsewhere.
If the foregoing re-cap is insufficient: Scott Conant opened L'Impero, a well-priced and modestly swanky trattoria in Tudor City in 2002, earning three stars from the Times. In 2005, he followed up with the much swankier - indeed rather grand - Alto in midtown. With a vast wine-list, and finicky dishes representing the lighter touch of the para-Tyrolean Alto Adige, this was taken by many to be a shot at four stars. The Times disabused such presumptions by cantankerously awarding two (later upgraded to three).
My own cruise through the Alto tasting menu revealed dishes carefully put together, but flavors that rarely flew off the plate; and the price was high.
Last year, chef Conant walks out on this mini-empire, and is replaced by Michael White, who sets about re-tooling L'Impero as Convivo and lowering the prices. The ticket at Alto, recipient of a Wine Spectator Grand Award this year, remains alto indeed, as do the restaurant's pretensions.
In fact, the entry price is not sky-high. I noticed a number of patrons toying with the large, $16 starter salad or a plate of pasta, and just a glass of wine. I assume they seek out Alto because they prefer dining in a plush room, under a titanic wine-wall, with solicitous service in suits, even if nothing more than spaghetti with tomato sauce is on the menu.
Floating the boat out a little further, you can choose three savory courses and dessert for $88 (although there are several supplements, including twenty dollars for an Amish - uses no electricity? - veal chop). Of course, I thought it best to "knock the bell", as Liebling would have said, and embarked on the chef's seven course blow-out: $136.
Let's just pause to put that into context, because the context is relevant to what follows. A tasting menu of comparable length at Jean-Georges currently relieves the diner of $148. Daniel is rather more expensive, offering six courses for $175. On the other hand, Eleven Madison Park sends out a longer series of courses for $145, and Fiamma asks only $125 for a dinner of the same dimensions.
I am simply seeking to establish that by setting the price-point at $136, Alto is playing with the big boys; and that is the standard by which it should expect to be judged.
Gimonnet is a good choice for the house champagne, and with a flute in hand, I was off at a gallop. The mumbled greeting from the chef looked like a taste of tuna, but turned out to be a forkful of lamb's loin; tender and savory, but an odd selection to awake the tastebuds. The following courses arrived hard on each other's heels, putting me in fear of eating seven courses in an hour (the pace later slowed).
A cooling tomato and basil soup was appropriate, given the greenhouse temperature of the evening. As I have mentioned elsewhere, I am not fond of tomatoes; but I can tell when they're sweet (as they always are, for example, at Blue Hill). This soup was sour. Not unbearably so, but it was dish to get through rather than enjoy.
Nor, it has to be said, am I a booster for crudi, the trick of taking raw fish and slathering it with oil and crunchy salt which Esca taught us several years ago was echt Italian. Sashimi I love; but if the fish is good enough, even good oil only masks the subtlety of the flavor. This hamachi was actually a little stringy, but the main problem - as I found at Esca - was the tongue-puckering dose of salt.
The fish course arrived breathlessly - and I thought it odd that it preceded the seafood risotto. A small slice of sea bream on a sweetish red pepper cream with some pieces of black olive. This is one of the dishes which commands a supplement on the carte. It might have been a nice piece of fish, but it really didn't matter as it was cooked completely dry. I could perceive that the olive garnish made sense, but beneath the fish was a hank of broccoli rabe, as chewy and bitter as any you might find on a steam table; it might have killed the fish, had the fish stood a fighting chance in the first place.
I assume the risotto was freshly made, as a welcome break preceded it's delivery. Portions had so far been diminutive, but that often befits a lengthy dinner. The risotto, served in the central dimple of a huge plate, was outright small. I couldn't detect oysters at first, then I thought I found them chopped in the rice. But no - these were whole oysters, not many of them, and just very small and ragged.
I have bought oysters like these and used them for cooking. I wouldn't serve them at home on the half-shell. I contend that in a $136 tasting menu, the oysters should be plump and pristine. Craftsteak serves superb oysters at $4 a piece, and you honestly only need three for this small risotto portion. If it can't be done within budget, then make an oxtail risotto, or a risotto with asparagus and peas: the rice itself was pleasantly chalky. This dish looked penny-pinching.
Jugs featured heavily in the service, and a waiter poured an onion cream over the rice. I wasn't sure I wanted onion with my oysters, but since the oysters were so depressing, and the cream had no flavor, no harm was done.
A second pasta course followed, also diminutive. I am a fan of agnolotti del plin, those little, pinched, meat-stuffed ravioli. Five little ones were delivered, again sitting in the center of a white frisbee of a plate. The menu had mentioned parmiagiano fonduta, but I didn't particularly notice it; my bad, maybe. Lifting one of the baubles, I did find some red wine sauce underneath: the stuffing was just fine - minced veal, I presume, with a hint of sage.
More good news: the Barbaresco was opening up nicely by this point, and the final savory course was tasty enough.
This was the roast sirloin, with fresh peas and pea shoots, a little meat reduction drizzled around it. Notably flavorful - beefy. A very pleasant respite before the kitchen again did something it really shouldn't be doing at this price-level.
It sent out a pre-dessert. So far, so good. It was a scoop of mango gelato. Not terribly imaginative. A large scoop too, and I was forced to reflect that I'd have preferred to fill up on the agnolotti than on ice cream. I didn't finish it. Guess what?
Yep, there's another big scoop of the stuff. Now, to be strictly fair, the second scoop was apricot, not mango. It accompanied a pleasant mascarpone cheesecake (nice amaretto base). But you cannot be serving two flavors of gelato, one as pre-dessert and one as dessert. Guys, you cannot be this lazy at a $136 per person price-point.
A light , palate-cleansing pre-dessert would be in order; but I suppose this continued the theme of amusing the palate with a piece of lamb.
Service was pleasant, but hampered by the fact that I had some three of four different servers - in addition to the bussers - which meant the wrong wine-glass appearing, only to be snatched away by the next person, to the mystifcation of whoever then showed up with the wine; which meant being asked, as I embarked on the second course of the tasting, how I was enjoying my entrée. Not really a big deal, if only the corner-cutting of the kitchen hadn't disposed to me to criticism.
Perhaps one can enjoy a brief meal here: a full-sized plate of pasta amd a glass of wine. Certainly the wine-list is worth browsing, especially for those who can afford to consider verticals of prized Italian reds.
But as a high-priced gastronomic destination, it's not currently, on this evidence, worthy of attention.
Alto presents itself for inspection here.