[Pigging by Wilfrid: October 2, 2013]
The south side of East Houston between Broadway and Lafayette is home to a few battered old bars and restaurants. The long, dark, dive Milano's. The veal-parm veteran Emilio's Ballato.
But just upstairs at number 47, in the premises which once housed Nolita House, a name chef is bringing the cutting edge to this dowdy micro-neighborhood. Ignacios Mattos--once of Il Buco, but more recently and relevantly of the terrific early incarnation of Isa is running a rather good, modern tapas bar.
Now, there's nothing about "tapas" in the way Estela presents itself, and I've long argued that New York can't support real tapas bars anyway for economic reasons. And the look of Estela isn't very modern. But graze on--or share--the small plates here, and you're as close to a no-kitsch modern Spanish tapas experience as New York will allow you to get.
It's a long room at the top of a rickety staircase. The bar is the focus; it was packed even on a non-prime weekday evening; and people were indeed grazing and sipping rather than eating full meals. At tables, happily, meals are coursed: yes, servers bring out food not "as it's ready," but in orderly and appropriate sequence.
The menu is heavily biased towards snacks (pickles, $5; salami, $5) and small plates, with four larger plates at the end of the list. The wine-list, put together (and served) by former BHSB sommelier Thomas Carter, hares off in another direction, with blockbuster Barolos, Burgundies priced from $95 to $975 dollars, and boutique Beaucastels. But you can sink into the tapas mood with a Fernando de Castilla fino for $10.
Amusingly, chef Mattos told Serious Eats: "We...make it very dark so you can't take pictures in here." Fail! Does he not know just how dark New York restaurants can be? Really, this is fine: you can see the food.
For example the exemplary croquetas de bacalao--one of my tapas benchmarks. Salt cod, mixed with just a little potato, in a crisp breading. A pleasant smear of creamy, herby dip was left undescribed (I did ask my server about it, but the reply made no sense). Something chopped into it--cucumber, pickle? Anyway, not an aioli. Dishes arrive here without verbal descriptions.
There was some aioli, you see, with the mussels escabeche. Mussels escabeche on toast, as the menu divulges. My server recommended the dish, and she was right to do so. Not so much because the mussels are amazing--they're not--but they form a meaty part of four well-structured, hearty bites: husky toast, garlic, cilantro, and a bracing vinegary broth--the elements meet in a large mouthful, and get on well together.
At Isa, in its early weeks, Mattos advanced his own version of avant-garde, forage-based, near-Nordic (he's a Mediterranean chef at heart) cuisine. Dishes were tumbled with all kinds of unexpected leaves and foliage, and some were downright challenging. I made two attempts at the daikon with horseradish, and never really got it.
Here, the only Isa-like dish I lighted upon was thinly sliced raw squash interleaved with equally pale discs of raw scallop. It had that white purity, the confrontational yuzu dressing, the austerity. But it was good; again, not because of the main ingredient--you'll eat better scallops--but because of the orchestration of accents.
Charmingly named P'tit Piaf rosé with the scallops; a Spanish red with the next dish, blood-cake with an egg on top. Morcilla, if you prefer, and the (I'm pretty sure) home-made blood sausage does have the smooth, crumbly texture of a morcilla.
Nothing experimental here, just a comforting, lusty dish, and if you like this kind of thing--which I do--a real highlight.
All these dishes were priced between $12 and $16; all decent-sized portions for one, but shareable too.
Dessert was very shareable. If anything, there was a little too much of it. I'm used to panna cotta arriving as a wobbly igloo in the middle of a plate; but this is a bucket of the stuff.
Really good too, slathered with honey; and there was (again undescribed verbally or on the menu) some kind of fruit at the bottom of the dish, some crunch too. As Pete Wells says in his review, "a little snap, crackle and pop..." Guess he didn't get the lowdown either.
And why not a thimble of dessert wine from the Jura with that. It has an unexpected kick, like it's been hanging out with grappa.
What a nice little restaurant. Perhaps not the cutting edge as some commentary would imply: I'd say, well-executed and satisfying. Yes, four dishes and four glasses of wine will take your check into three figures (just), but it amounts to a meal. Add one of the large plates, and it will start to look expensive. But that would be a big meal.
Add one of Thomas Carter's fine wine selections, and you're rich.
Here's the website.
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