[Pigging by Wilfrid: July 1, 2013]
Chef Roberto Hanechak evidently ended up at Plan B via Bouley and Nobu, but there's no telling where he picked up the curious, sly, largely successful dishes he's serving at this left-field tapas boîte.
Boîte? Well yes, precisely because nobody could call Roberta's, or The Pines, or St Anselm boîtes. You could not be further from New Brooklyn (or downtown Manhattan) cuisine; yet the food could hardly be more adventurous.
Although the design is intended--I think--to be cutting edge, a sort of Manhattan version of Gòtic meets Modernista, the oddly named Plan B has a real throwback feel to it. High-ceilinged, "sexily" lit, and packed with very trim young women, this is SoHo circa American Psycho: 1991, but really timeless.
The backs of the (very comfortable) banquettes are streaked with what looked like horsehair.
This reminded me of an Argentinian steak restaurant I used to frequent in London in the 1980s.
All the action is on the menu, which for dinner consists of small plates--and to my surprise, most of them are indeed sized as tapas rather than as raciones. They'd be small for sharing. I ordered four. Then ordered a fifth--but with a cocktail and several glass of wine, my check (to my suprise) crept not far into three figures.
An inaudibly announced amuse came with the Pacharan Cup. Certainly this involved some duck, and I think it was served on a slice of (not very sweet) pear; at least, that would be an appropriate gesture toward the classic Catalunyan pato con peras. But I can't swear to the pear. The refreshing Cup introduced a berry liqueur (Basque, but served everywhere in Barcelona) to what otherwise would be a Pimm's #1. A nice taste of summer.
Another thing you'll find served almost everywhere in Barcelona is the ear of the pig. Offal devotee that I am, I never see much point to these very chewy, gristly slivers, usually turned briefly on a grill in the typical tapas bar. Here the kitchen deep fries them, crackling crisp--effectively turning them into chicharrones.
They come with a pepper sauce for dipping ("Very spicy," whispered the deliverer).
I didn't know what order my food would appear in (dishes tended to arrive before the previous dish had been cleared--but blessedly not all at once). The beef testicles showed up a little too early in the parade. This is not to say they weren't good. I've cooked a lot of sheep (ram?) testicles in my time, and bison testicles too. For the most part, they're delicate morsels, closer to sweetbreads than anything else.
These were delicate enough or texture, but had an unmistakeably beefy kick. They were smartly paired with sweet pickled onions. I'm not sure the trim young women thronging the tables were eating bull's balls. But the oyster pickleback shooters seemed to be in high demand.
Next up, a contender for dish of the year. Just breathtakingly good. If you like fresh eel, you should visit Plan B just for this: "fresh eel filets, tres leches gnocchi, oyster mushroom, red pepper, fish stock."
The eel slices, tender and white; the slightly chewy mushrooms; the sweet gnocchi; all fragrant with stock and superbly balanced; piping hot from the hotpot.
Another novel item I had to order was the duck heart soufflé, which turned out to be a thoroughly deconstructed dish. I expected to find duck hearts under the cloudlike soufflé cap, but no: nothing underneath it. The hearts were to be found only in mousse form. The thing to do was take a little mousse, a little sweet soufflé, bathe it in the duck juice, and slurp it down. Very good.
And there was bread to help with the surplus mousse, earthy and rich.
After the success of those three dishes, I thought I should explore further. I rejected the python sausage, convinced it would taste like a chickeny boudin blanc, and called for morcilla.
And the morcilla was fine, in a loose, juicy style, but this is a restaurant where more adventurous ordering seems to pay off.
Wines by the glass are reasonably priced--around $9-$12--but although cocktails are heavily promoted, don't overlook the sherry selection. Among a mere half dozen choices are some of the very finest sherries in the world, not least the Apostoles 30 y.o. Palo Cortado and the huge Gonzalez Byass Matusalem Oloroso, both suitable for dessert consumption.
The website is here.
Comments