[Pigging by Wilfrid: November 4, 2013]
Contra, a new hideaway on Orchard Street, should save the New York Times some money. No point Pete Wells hauling three or four dining companions along to each of his review meals, to ensure a full review of the menu.
They'll all be eating exactly the same thing. This is another no-choice, prix-fixe restaurant. The good news is, the meal is (currently) set at $55.
There's scarcely a sign outside the place. You glimpse people eating through a narrow window, push a WD-50-like wooden door, and there's a bar to your right, a narrow dining room to the rear; all clean wood (plus tiles and brickwork, which makes the indie-Blur soundtrack rattle around the rafters). The pedigree of the team behind the restaurant (chefs with Noma and Isa on their résumés, the sommelier ex-Mugaritz) has guaranteed crowds since the opening a few weeks ago--but I walked in on a weekend around 9:30 (several free tables). Don't try too much after 10:00, or you risk the kitchen being closed.
Service is pleasant, which doesn't mean it isn't straight out the formal dining playbook. Tableware is brought in a box and replaced after every course; tastes of wine are offered, with the bottle correctly presented, before pouring; and they also pass the "napkin test" (it's neatly folded while you are away from the table).
The menu, I believe, changes daily, so here's a snapshot of what they're doing. It's in the current idiom of somewhat "New Nordic," slightly strewn, kind of unusual combinations, but I found nothing as aggressively challenging as some of the dishes at Aska.
The first course was, though, cerebral. It made me think in two ways. First, it made me wonder whether thin slices of pear would really go well with a thick slice of warm celery root (they did); and if a dollop of sharp, lemon confit would help the combination (it didn't--neither did the briny strands of seaweed). Second, it made me reflect that serving a four course dinner for $55 is made slightly easier if the ingredient cost for the first course is--what?--85 cents or so?
Nestled between the two half slices of celeriac, a walnut or two, mashed with olive oil (some kind of oil, anyway), which didn't really have much flavor apart from the oil.
At this point, I'm wondering whether the trend of intellectual rather than sensually enjoyable food really has legs. But things looked up with a good-sized hunk of monkfish tail; the menu made no mention of it, but I swear there was some pancetta or bacon fat spilt on this dish, and it was all the better for it. The menu indicated "salsa verde," but the sauce was pale and buttery. Sprout leaves, and yes, more seaweed (but not the briny kind).
My only reservation was that, to my personal taste, the monkfish was undercooked--kind of jelly-like in the center. I admit I was also thinking it would have been good well-roasted, with a slab of bacon, and maybe some mashed potatoes. But I am old-fashioned that way.
Linda Milagros Violago's wine-list is really intriguing, packed with French country wines (doubtless leaning towards organic). I'd started with La Grange Tiphaine "Rosa Rosé" from the Loire; then went to California with a clean, bright Chenin Blanc to accompany the monkfish.
I hadn't expected course three to be the highlight of the meal, but it was. Two batons of chicken (thigh meat), with a vividly golden and crunchy-crisp skin. A splendid corn coulis. Sunchoke chips, which I love. And of course some sternly bitter leaves, just in case you forgot yourself and started dancing on the table.
I thought the house Rhone would suit the chicken, and it turned out to straight from a box (the box brought, indeed, to the table). Certainly potable, and I continued drinking it with the cheese.
Given the structure of the menu, I wouldn't have expected the cheese to be priced to share; but it was certainly portioned that way. It was heap of the Grafton Naked Cheddar from Vermont, a nice selection even without bread.
The desserts, I felt, were kind of out of order. First, a sour cream parfait--texture of a kulfi, almost; but not quite as dense. With it, a sweet quince paste, and some sort of paste-cum-jelly made from olive oil. It reminded me of Meredith Kurtzmann's palate (the gelato genius at Otto).
The second dessert reverted to battling with the diner's expectations. Beet sauce (sharp, beetroot-flavored). Beet chips (very beetroot-flavored). A scoop of yogurt (sharp, sharp). And beneath it all, a Nutella-consistency sweet hazelnut spread. Other than the hazelnut, this was very much a palate-cleanser rather than something to finish the meal with.
But never mind, tomorrow it will all be different. And it's a journey into the unknown you can afford to take (if you can afford to eat out at all). With wines, and the added cheese course, around $100.
Here's the menu-free website.
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