[Pigging by Wilfrid: May 31, 2011]
Whatever the vicissitudes of the international interests of D. Boulud and Partners, their profile in New York City remains unblemished. Here comes another surefire winner.
Smart but not formal, classy but not unduly pricey, hard by Lincoln Center - and a little close to Picholine for Terrance Brennan's comfort, Boulud Sud is a polished addition to the portfolio.
Of course, just because chef Daniel can do not wrong as far as the NYC dining public is concerned (compare the panoply of Vongerichten clangers - V, anyone?) doesn't mean everything he does is to "die" for.
I just missed the original Restaurant Daniel, but Café Boulud - which slid neatly into the space a dozen years ago - has relentlessly qualified as one of the best restaurants in town at its price level. dB Bistro Moderne is as good as any theater district restaurant. DBGB was an inspired dowtowning of the Daniel concept. Bar Boulud's charcuterie was wildly over-praised, but it's a very nice Lincoln Center bistro. And now, triple dipping into that neck of the woods, comes Épicerie Boulud and - just around the corner - Boulud Sud.
The Épicerie looks like, and probably is, an expensive gourmet food store with uncluttered shelves. Its big windows draw passersby. Boulud Sud is practically invisible, behind a characterless door on West 64th. Picholine, on the same block, may have a more appealing entrance, but the newcomer seems nevertheless to be cocking a snook.
Picholine, after all, has been making the proffer of upscale Mediterranean cuisine for almost twenty years. Despite a makeover not long ago, it still has a very traditional, front-room/rear-Siberia feel, and has also relaxed its traditional grip on post-Lincoln Theater diners (it closes at 10pm, Monday through Thursday). It has always been very expensive - dinner entrées are typically top forty dollars.
Here comes Boulud Sud with its bright, modern dining room (same conference room-style chairs that A Voce introduced us to), flexible pan-Mediterranean (and then some) menu, and moderate prices (no late hours though). They might stop this in the second round.
It presents a challenge to relative newcomer Lincoln also. The menu is much more accessible, the decor less curious, and while executive chef Aaron Chambers is to be seen in the open kitchen, he is rarely - unlike Mr. Benno across the way - to be heard.
Three weeks old when I visited - so I forgive the hyper-rapid service to which I needed to call an early halt - Boulud Sud makes diners the tripartite menu offer familiar from Café Boulud and dB BM. In this case the categories are "Of the Sea," "Of the Garden," and "Of the Farm," which you can figure out for yourselves. My server really wanted to explain them, but I wouldn't let him. The whole set-up reminded me of Braudel's mighty work, The Mediterranean, which sets out to base the region's history on an analysis of its geographical structure. But that's probably just me.
Anyway, I thought I'd start out with a paddle in the blue. What could be more Mediterranean than sardines? Hilariously, these were the least southern sardines I can remember eating. Baltic written all over them. Hamburg on a cold night. I am not kidding. No, they were lovely sardines, meaty and boneless. The mode of accommodation, as Liebling would put it, was in a Sicilian escabeche. All I can say is that there is not a hair of difference in flavor profile between sardines prepared this way and soused herring - the matjesherring of Baltic ports, called "rollmops" in London.
I love it, a taste of my youth, but all the pine nuts and raisins in the world couldn't transport it to southern climes. Never mind; nice dish after I stopped laughing.
Next up and more predictably flavored, ratatouille. I love that movie. I liked this dish, pleasantly put together and with the enhancement of an oeuf mollet, sort of sitting in it as eggs often do in Turkish stews and braises. No tweaks here - a good rendition of a classic. So there's your sea and your garden.
They reared some lamb on the farm (of course in the Mediterranean sheep and goats roam free on steep hillsides). Two huge, juicy hunks of braised lamb shoulder, perked up with apricots and almonds. Lamb "Cleopatra," if you will. A sort of Egyptian sweet'n'sour, and I could find nothing displeasing about it.
Apparently they don't make cheese in the Mediterranean, so I was prompted to consider dessert. My serve boosted samsa, a Turkish affair I hadn't heard of. The center piece was a small brik with an almondy stuffing - a variation on the theme of the lamb - accompaniedin a bold act of diplomacy by a Greek yogurt panna cotta and a glass of orange-blossom scented milk coffee. The panna cotta was very light, almost but not quite liquid. The brik was just a little dull but I was grateful it didn't make my teeth ache.
Prices then? I drank deeply of Yannick Pelletier's Languedoc red from St Chinian, but really you have to be quite thirsty here to get your check for a three course meal into three figures. That entertaining sardine dish? Nine bucks. An absence of frills admittedly, no amuses, no candy with the coffee, a simple bread'n'oil bread service. But this is a restaurant which wants you to come back.
Slightly flashy website here.
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