[Pigging by Wilfrid: January 9, 2012]
Shortly before the holidays, a festive dinner among friends at SD26. As I've written often, I was a long time regular at San Domenico, so when I eat at its Madison Square successor I feel like I eat among friends.
Times do change, though, and it's necessary to remember we're now eating the cuisine of Mattero Bergamini, who opened SD26 under now departed chef Odette Fada. The quality, suffice to say, is maintained.
Here be periwinkles and baby octopi; carnaroli rice and Menaica anchovies; Dover sole and wild branzino; squab and venison; truffles, black or white, in season. It's quite a larder.
And isn't it funny how time catches up. One of several innovations when SD26 opening in 2009 was a wine-list on a tablet. It seemed one sign that the restaurant was straining to shed its skin, to get...well...with it. There were rumors that the old wine list, in its leather cover, was also available, for the comfort and convenience of veterans of the restaurant.
Now that we're all familiar with tablets, it just seems an eminently sensible device for presenting the information, sortable by country, region, color, price, what you will. It guided me through my meal, froma Franciacorta N.V. to a 2004 Barolo.
Several dishes were gifted on this occasion, beginning with a light, layered eggplant terrine, which on the fork resembled the fabled ratatouille of, well, Ratatouille. What looked like a dollop of ricotta turned out to be a much more assertive and pungent Parmesan foam - innocent-looking but packing a punch of flavor. Basil pesto underlined the dish.
My dining companion had the bright idea of using the foam to balance the attack of the anchovy toasts. Not a bad idea, although these meaty Menaica anchovies needed no garnish. Hand-fished, they are immediately brined and packed in salt for three months. Not to be wasted on top of a pizza, although on toast, tenderly topped with a tissue-thin slice of lardo (see it?), they're quite happy.
Against stiff competition, the mussels might have been the dish of the night. It looks like nothing: fat mussels and delicate cannelini beans dished up in a soup bowl with some tomato broth. But eating it, you thought you were within sight of the Mediterranean, not holed up on 26th Street. It may sound trite, but it had that breath of "abroad" about it. A skinny breadstick crossed the plate.
The borlotti bean soup has, if possible, even less swank to it. It's brown. Very brown. It's also velvety, studded with farro, drizzled with rosemary oil, and is a bona fide old San Domenico classic.
Simplicity seemed called for at the pasta stage of the meal. So, with regret, no yolk-filled raviolo with truffle butter, no periwinkle risotto, not even gnocchi with roast chicken livers. Just these ravioli de plin, each full to bursting with melted Toma, the sweet, smelly and ancient cow's milk cheese from Piedmont. A textural delight.
Again, despite the lure of venison with chestnuts, everyone wanted the kid. Or "baby goat" as it's listed. The mode of accommodation is typical of SD26: slowly cooked until the meat tumbles from the bones, and simply but precisely garnished with some pieces of artichoke and a few potatoes. This is my idea of comfort food (the ribs were heartbreakingly good).
Another classic I recall from countless dinners on Central Park South: straightforward panna cotta with strawberries, made solemnly interesting by a balsamico reduction.
And as for the rest, ice creams and ice creams. A happy occasion, a belt-stretching joy of a meal. This is a restaurant which it would be rash to overlook when planning a special occasion meal for anyone interested in serious food rather than passing fads. We didn't even get into the cheeses.
Explore the Website here. Thanks Marisa and all.
Note
The usual clarificaton. I was known to the owners of SD26 as a regular at their previous restaurant long before I started writing about food. I was pleased to accept some comped dishes, but paid for most of the meal and wine. It's customary to comp diners who have remained loyal for some fifteen years, and doesn't have much to do with blogging.
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