[Pigging by Wilfrid: June 14, 2010]
Suddenly we are all Bowery bums, headed to Boulud's DBGB or McNally's Pulino's or criss-crossing the old cattle track in search of kicked-up meatballs or Taiwanese gua bao.
For once, restaurant pioneer Keith McNally didn't need to breathe life into a wasteland neighborhood. The Bowery came off life support when a pizzeria on the corner of Bowery and Houston was no more than a gleam in McNally's eye.
Pulino's was a long time in the making. A year ago, McNally commented to Restaurant Girl:
"I'm currently building what I hope is my last restaurant. It's a pizzeria on the corner of Houston and the Bowery. It's already over budget and behind schedule and I'm at the stage where I'm pulling out my hair and wishing I weren't doing it."
But he did it, of course, tapping award-winning San Francisco chef Nate Appleman to head the kitchen, and pulling the predictable McNally trick of making a rough, awkward old space look beautifully lit and glamorous. When I dropped in recently dinner (bar seats are plentiful), he was stealing back and forth among the tables looking like a cat who had just had the cream. Famous faces were present, for sure, and those who weren't famous were, for the most part, beautiful. Supplicants for tables huddled around the door. But as at Balthazar, there was a sense that the situation was under control, chaos avoided. Certainly the kitchen seemed to be operating with cool confidence.
The secret is out, of course. McNally and Appleman have been in the restaurant-by-stealth mode favored by David Chang at his Noodle and Ssäm bars. This is by no means a pizzeria; it's a full service restaurant which happens to serve about a dozen misshapen, thin-crust pizzas heaped for the most part with traditional toppings - and not cheap either (up to $17 or $18). Regular readers will know that I am reluctant to eat pizza unless I am assured it's very good - and even then I am usually disappointed (hello Motorino). The positive feedback on these pies has been muted, so I made for the meat. It was a wise move.
Appleman joins the bevy of chefs around town who wrassle whole pigs in a secluded back room. I've complained about the practice recently, especially its tendency to make menus monotonous. Confronted by the excellence of Pulino's inhouse meats, objections are silenced. Although the bar was comfortable (and my perch commanded a great view of the room), it was busy, and no description of the salume board was volunteered. Left to my own devices, I had no trouble identifying a slab of pork pâté, old-fashioned in the best sense - the pâté of childhood, rich, well-seasoned and satisfying. The darker meat next to it looked like bresaola, which is beef or course, rather than pork, but I suspect it's the kitchen's version of speck, pleasantly chewy and with a sweet accent.
Headcheese was thick cut, almost soft enough to spread - this is now a dish rivaling pork belly in popularity - and the white streaks of lardo melted delightfully on slices of hot, oily-garlicky toast. Only the ham (pork loin?) was ordinary - by no means bad, but not a show-stopper. I was only sorry the house-made njuda, a Calabrian salami, didn't show up. About twenty bucks for this tour of a pig, and plenty for two to share.
Taking my eyes of the meat for a moment, I convinced myself that a ground octopus bruschetta was a novelty which should be experienced. Naturally I expected octopus somehow spread on toast: not quite. A sizzling cauldron of finely minced cephalopod shows up with toast on the side. Essentially, Appleman has made a first-class Bolognese sauce, tomatoey and oniony, using a startling alternative to meat. It wasn't especially easy to spoon it onto the toast; I recommend spooning it direct into your mouth. What needs to happen, of course - and it's so obvious, it surely will - is for this to be a pasta sauce. The addition of fresh peas enhanced flavor and texture. Really good.
I know, I know... I've been complaining about meatballs too, as they take their place on every new menu in the guise of haute cuisine. But these are goatballs. They really are - they taste powerfully of old billy. And again, there's enough to share. As a goat cook of some merit myself, I don't underestimate the work involved in trimming goat meat to produce meatballs as tender, lean and gristle-free as these. That's some hard work. There are some little lardons in there to kick it up, and some diced fruit - apple, I am going to say; again, I didn't get a lecture when the dish was delivered.
The wine list is modest, with a few whites and reds available by the carafe. I drank the Cynar cocktail - a refresher with gin and cucumber - and enjoyed a simple Primitivo with the goat.
Pulino's has received some mixed reviews, but if this sampling represents what Appleman can do with meat when effort and creativity is required, I'd expect him to sending out some good roast and grilled meats too. I look forward to going back and trying them (and may even risk the pizza). Not for the first time, McNally has conjured a handsome restaurant out of thin air, but a restaurant which also feeds you well.
The website, unlike the restaurant, is still under construction.
