[Pigging by Wilfrid: January 29. 2014]
The glow from the big windows of Dover was especially welcome on a snow-ridden, hysterically cold evening recently. Even so, I nearly walked by. I thought the place would be, if not tiny, at least...well, bijou.
After all, look at Battersby. Indeed, all I ever did with Battersby was look. A couple of times in the early days I peered hopefully through the front door, only to be told there wouldn't even be a table if I waited. It was a place to stand outside at 5pm, and I never did.
The sad story of the photos for this review features a camera making its bid for freedom through a hole in the bag discovered too late. I held off publishing in the hope it would turn up; but we're going to have to make do with some illustrative links to other sources.
Now, fair enough, Battersby does book a few tables for tasting menus only, but look at this sassy new joint from Battersby's Walker Stern and Joseph Ogrodnek. Roomy, bright--with plenty of space between the tables--an attractive, three-sided bar, a full-on host station (coat check would be welcome in this weather, though), and an army of smart staff. The kitchen paints pictures with the food.
And, yes: reservations. Online, by phone, by email. "Lo and behold," as Old Mr Flood would say.
The overwhelming impression I carried away from a pleasant, if somewhat imperfect, dinner here was that as soon as the Battersby guys had the opportunity to graduate from a tight, maverick, little-train-which-could operation to a full-on, traditional, even upscale restaurant, that's what they did. Too much is made of the idea that chef-proprietors (especially in Brooklyn) actively seek tiny kitchens, basic accommodations, and shoestring service. Rather, that's the stealth way to get fully in the game.
As for service, who could ask for anything more? I was initially double-teamed by servers, although that more or less settled down into one, designated server for the meal. But any time my server wasn't around, the manager or sommelier swung into action. Enthusiasm is to be applauded, but it did mean some repetitive conversations. When attempting smart service, one of the hard things to do (and I've seen this at The Elm and Betony recently) is to relax; it helps the customer relax too.
The menu adopts the widespread current practice of adding a "snack" or "para picar" section ahead of the appetizers, thus tacitly proposing a four course meal--and adds a raw bar selection too. The advice from the server is use it any way you like. There's a seven course $95 tasting too, and I would have been tempted except--the night I dined there--it featured foie and beef; not things I often order from the carte (out of weariness rather than anything else).
I started "raw" with some broiled oysters. You have the choice of the oysters on the half shell or warm, and it was a night for warm things. In theory, at least. Enthusiasm, again, meant service began in a tumbling rush (it later slowed to an appropriate pace). A foot-long plank arrived at the table bearing a warm--and delicious--soft rosemary baguette, with flatbreads standing in a customized slot along its edge (the bread was refreshed later in the meal).
With that came an amuse, a small, solo, creamily filled cheese gougère. Nice. Unfortunately, the oysters showed up a moment later, steered onto the table with some difficulty by the busser. I was enjoying the bread, Raventós i Blanc cava rosada, and amuse sufficiently that I took my time before pulling the oysters over, which meant that, although broiled, they were barely warm. Good oysters, though, with an unusual accent from a sauce Choron--a tomatoey take on béarnaise more often seen with meat.
From the next ("second") menu column, I took the cod grenobloise. Sole or skate grenobloise is a classic: the poached fish served in a brown butter sauce with capers and olives. The cod filet here was a little on transluscent side for my tastes, but I know I prefer fish a little more cooked than some people. Where the dish fell down was in the over-use of the acidic element--whether juice from the capers or an additional vinegar, vinegar was over-present. The cippolini onions were sweet, the potatoes deftly done.
I took a light Savoy Roussanne with the fish. I had some time to chew on a Nebbiolo while awaiting the meat course--which would be nothing to complain about (service needed to slow down), except that it seemed to have been put together in two stages. Buckwheat in an excellent swirl of richly reduced sauce sat cool on a cool plate. Two impeccable slices of duck breast (not underdone, perfectly trimmed) had jumped red hot from the pan and made the buckwheat's acquaintance.
All of this, of course, is picky, and indicates no more than that the restaurant, which is scarcely two months old, is not quite in a groove yet. When it is, it will be a comfortable option for diners looking for classic food (and interesting wine--I recognized some serious wine pros at another table) in a traditional restaurant setting.
And this is Brooklyn? Yes, yes it is. I want to mention the original Saul, but Dover isn't quite--quite--that traditional.
Appetizers run about $15-$20, mains $28-$40. I never got to dessert.
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