[Pigging by Wilfrid: July 29, 2014]
Discreet élan is, of course, an oxymoron. Élan is fireworks and fanfares. It's roast swan, stuffed with a goose. It's ten-foot photographs of Chuck Close's face, filling a wall in a narrow corridor behind a bar.
It's not--decidedly not--David Waltuck's cooking or Karen Waltuck's service. Once you're past big Chuck, this restaurant might be called Discrète. But is that a bad thing?
As it happens, overbearing though I find those Chuck Close self-portraits, my first encounter with them--as I waited for a table--was infinitely enhanced by the sight of the artist himself steering past them, as he left with a large group of friends after dinner. Who could complain?
The bar runs along the left-hand of the narrow front space of (lower case) élan, the calm dining room lies beyond. Yes, very little (other than big Chuck) has changed in mood or aesthetic since it was Veritas. Veteran waitstaff patrol the room. Chef David and manager Karen spend most of the evening not merely schmoozing, but actually joining parties of old friends at table. This restaurant is still very much in extended F&F mode, thronged with those who still miss Chanterelle (1979-2009), the Waltuck's contribution to New York's fine dining history.
Chanterelle was one of the city's most beloved--but also, in its day, most expensive--restaurants, and the very moderate prices at élan signal simpler cooking, fewer luxury ingredients. But the Waltuck style is unmistakeable. Here's how I described it five years ago:
Waltuck...certainly has no shame in offering simple, uncluttered, classic plates. It was a mixture, I think, of the restrained ambience and the restrained composition of the first dish on the tasting menu which gave me a historical epiphany. We are accustomed to thinking of La Grenouille, and the late La Caravelle, as New York French restaurants in the grand old tradition. Chanterelle itself is a French restaurant in what is now a grand old style; only a more recent style than that of La Grenouille, La Caravelle or (the surviving) Le Perigord.
Simple, restrained, uncluttered: i.e., by no means what we're used to today. And it gave me a bumpy ride at first. I was even kind of cranky about the first two dishes I tried, after a pretzel roll with chive butter so good I was licking it off the knife.
Striving to be agreeably casual, despite an unshakeable air of formality (this is a grown-up restaurant), élan has a section of "starters" and a section of "appetizers" on its short menu (and will serve some entrées in appetizer portions). It has "sides" too--no regimentally composed plates here.
The starters are essentially shareable, like the intriguing sea urchin guacamole, or the foie gras "pops." These are really single (large) bites on a stick--and here, immediately, is the Waltuck sensibility. No extraneous elements on the plate (brown on white). No unexpected flourishes with the dish.
Cold (yes, quite cold) duck liver, pounded with figs and pistachios. By no means unpleasant, but other than judicious seasoning, what you see is what you get. No seductive explosion of flavor here.
Roast rabbit salad, which followed, was honestly poor. I ate it regretfully, because who wants to give the Waltucks a bad review. Slices of cold (yes, quite cold), and very dry rabbit saddle, sliced over a very mild tarragon cream sauce. Anyone being served chicken breast like this would be disappointed. A couple of slices of mealy potato, and a salad which--despite a few curious leaves--seemed mainly composed of Boston lettuce. A competent home cook could do better. What about some warmth, some juiciness, the rabbit tossed with some interesting salad ingredients?
That wouldn't be Waltuck. Waltuck is classic, classic, classic--and here it was doing nobody any favors. Could he turn things around with a classic? Yes, of course he could.
His greatest hit, the seafood sausage, present and very correct. "It's changed since Chanterelle," confided my server. Really? The clear flavors of seafood, the snappy pork casing, the toasted pine kernels, the rich beurre blanc with chives. It's still a really good dish.
So too are General Tso's sweetbreads, the classy riff on Chinese take-out. Again, I wasn't sure from the get-go. Those slices of leek were very al dente. The impression from the first few bites--intentional, of course: this is Chinese take-out. But the dish slowly works its magic.
The sweetbreads are firm, biteable. The chili builds a restrained heat. The balance of sweet and savory is just very satisfying. So I forgave the rabbit salad and ordered dessert.
A stone fruit tart, frozen chamomile yogurt. The pastry tuile was crisp, the yogurt refreshing. The peaches and apricots...okay, I'm going to carp again. Peel them.
I mean, I would, if I was serving this at home (although I'd more likely serve a clafoutis, given my pastry skills). It was pleasant; it just could have been a little more refined.
A bad review? It's not meant that way, because it was a very pleasant evening, despite the rough edges. And here's the kicker. With sherry, a Riesling, a red, and a really delicious Tokaji with the dessert, the check barely crossed the $100 line (did so only with gratuity). In 2014, that's generous.
What audience this restaurant will find remains to be seen. It's clearly aiming at broadening its appeal beyond Chanterelle veterans. That's a tough trick to turn, but who wouldn't wish the Waltucks all the best in their efforts?
Minimal website here.
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