[Pigging by Wilfrid: October 6, 2008]
Can anyone still believe in a Manhattan restaurant which has tables with tablecloths, takes reservations, has no "dining counter" and offers a menu divided between appetizers, entrées and desserts?
Where the appeal doesn't lie in a funky location somewhere south of East Broadway or in an online reservation system - but in the food and wine?
Maybe the Allegretti team are just crazy to think that a conventional restaurant of high quality, and fairly high prices, can be a success on a quiet block on the wrong side of the Flatiron Building. This is not a neighborhood for semi-formal restaurants, unless run by Danny Meyer.
Trust me: while we still have a few dollars in one of the few remaining banks, we need to believe in Allegretti and eat dinner there, lest we face a future of unrelieved Asian tapas, Wagyu sliders, lobster tacos, and Momofuku Klones. I simply can't remember the last time someone attempted to open a serious, grown-up French restaurant below the Ducasse-Robuchon level of expense. Maybe Cru?
To be honest, I had noticed the name Allegretti since the opening about seven weeks ago, and had lazily assumed it to be another mid-scale Flatiron Italian. By no means: Alain Allegretti is the chef, a native of Provençe, and he comes to his first solo New York venture with an impressive resumé, having worked his way from Restaurant Alain Chapel and Ducasse's Louis XV to executive positions in New York at Le Cirque and Atelier.
The menu, to be accurate, is French-Mediterranean - the riviera comes to East 22nd. There's a short list of pastas between the appetizers and the fish. The soups are traditional: pistou and a kind of bouillabaisse. But I had decided to insert a pasta course, so I began with a light salad Niçois.
Allegretti's is a bijou version of what can be a hearty standard, piled with potatoes and eggs and slathered in oil from canned tuna. The tuna here is fresh, the potatoes tiny. Quail eggs, cherry tomatoes, and crunchy green beans are seasoned with slivers of anchovy, and a crouton spread with black olive tapenade completes the presentation.
If the other pastas are as good as the oxtail ravioli, then a pasta course needs to be part of any dinner here. The pockets of home-made pasta were stuffed fat with tender, orange-accented beef, and served over chard in a light broth, also scented with orange. A touch of Parmesan adds earthiness. The use of orange is canonical in the Provençale braised beef dish known as daube, and works really well here.
As tempted by the veal rumpsteak as I had been by the Perugina sausage, I nevertheless surmised that fish would be a particular strength of this kitchen. So, with a glass of chilled Mas Julien from the Languedoc, I took the filets of rouget. Regular readers will be tortured by the memory of some of the lame fish dishes I've been served in New York recently: this was outstanding.
The pieces of fish are expertly crisped - no flabbiness here - and a light saffron-seafood broth is added at the table. Underneath the filets, a heap of buttery zucchini, cut into the tiniest, sweetest slices. The final touch, a scattering of pine kernels. First rate cooking.
The excellent little rolls, stuffed with black olives, preceded dinner and made a welcome reappearance with the cheese-plate. I think I ate a lot of them.
As noted, the table settings here are grown up; the room itself is cool monochrome, but not clinical. Service is appropriate, and from sommelier Megan Finn exceptionally pleasant and attentive. The wine-list is a knockout, and indicates some serious investment. It's international, but there's a natural focus on wines from the southern French regions, especially the Languedoc - several vintages, for example, of Mas de Daumas Gassac, red and white. Not only are these wines competitively priced, but some of the top-end Bordeauxs and Italians on the list show little or no mark-up. If you can afford a claret which fetches $300 retail, you at least won't pay much more for it here.
The only downside to the evening was the last-minute desertion of my entourage, meaning I tasted less of the menu than I'd hoped. That's why this will be a two-part review, and I relish the excuse to return. This is potentially an important restaurant.
An appetizing web-site right here.
