simon says french food blog

Down at The Dutch

By Joe Ray
MANHATTAN

I’d been looking forward to dining at The Dutch for almost exactly a year. It was almost impossible to read Sam Sifton’s glowing NYT review and not want to immediately get on the subway, or a plane for that matter, and head to SoHo’s newest hotspot. The amazing Blaine Wetzel told me his dinner at The Dutch the best meal he had when he was in the city for a 48-hour chef-fest last fall, beating out his experience at a not-to-be-named Michelin three-star.

When my wife, two friends and I visited The Dutch a few weeks ago, however, I wondered if too much of chef Carmellini’s energy had been siphoned off into The Dutch in Miami, which opened last fall. So many great chefs are tempted to replicate a good thing with other restaurants or even a product line – Wolfgang Puck Vanilla Fusion Coffee, anyone? – but it’s an art form that needs to be backed with a lot of good business sense and an unflappable team.

Stacked atop The Dutch in Miami (Dutch Deux?!?!), Tribeca’s acclaimed Locanda Verde and a sausage joint in Madison Square Garden, The Dutch in New York seems to be teetering.

To set things straight from the get-go, ours was a solid dinner. “Little oyster sandwiches” lifted the whole fried oyster genre, allowing their full briny goodness to shine through in two perfect bites. Korean-style hanger steak had a sensual, sushi-like quality to it. The waiter referred to the dish I’d get – black fettuccine, octopus, rock shrimp and Calabrian chili – as “seafood everything” and, sure enough, the tentacles of perfectly-cooked squid mingled in with the dark noodles as if they’d tangled together on the tide.

But there was a lot about our meal that went pear-shaped.

When my wife asked the not-too-busy bartender if she’d let the hostess know that the other two members of our party arrived, the response was full of New York snarkiness:

“I can do that as soon as I’m finished making drinks,” she said, implying that they’d be the drinks at the end of her shift, so I did it myself.

A steamed halibut, crispy rice and mushroom-yuzu broth dish – a variation one of the signature dishes here – was solid, but gave no indication why it had become a favorite.

Dario, our Italian friend, went big and ordered $52 bone-in New York Strip, aged for 28 days, but he waved his arms about in trademark Italian style, trying to come up with a way to describe his disappointment.

His steak, which had come all the way from Nebraska, could have done with a few more days in the cooler. There was an odd, cake-like texture – not unpleasant, but not what I want from a steak – and that ambrosial combination of concentrated flavors, tender texture and lovely nuttiness that aging a steak imparts were absent. It was solid, but not the steak-house quality that its price tag implied.

The Dutch is a beautiful spot, we had a great waiter, a fantastic sommelier and a couple of lovely desserts to boot. The space is an assembly of great moods depending on where you sit, and it’s the spot rumored to be heir to Balthazar’s throne – a place to see and be seen while soaking up all of the components of a great meal. That’s the kind of restaurant I wanted to eat in and the one I’m still sincerely hoping to visit.

The Dutch
131 Sullivan Street, Manhattan
+1 (212) 677-6200
‎ thedutchnyc.com

Follow me on Twitter: @joe_diner and on Facebook.

Your Favorite Restaurant’s Secret Ingredient

NEW YORK CITY
By Joe Ray 

Some of the nation’s top eateries are quietly embracing data mining to eke out profit in a tough economy. My new story profiles the business, pioneer Damian Mogavero, and checks in with chef Daniel Boulud - now on wired.com.

Prime Meats: They do that as well as anyone these days

By Joe Ray
BROOKLYN, NY

I stretched my birthday a bit. Last Monday’s delightful diner à deux at Roberta’s is followed, a few days later, by dinner with friends.

For this, Prime Meats does not disappoint. Here, you get all the thick glasses, beards, vests and cocktails you need to know that you’re smack dab in the middle of Brooklyn. It’s a fantastic spot and with our big table for 11 at one end of wooden-paneled, high-ceiling-ed dining room, it felt like a tiny church in New England.

Tipplers in the pews, we finish our cocktails (old fashioned this time, applejack Sazerac next time), and I ask the wonderful Amy Zavatto to be in chargee of picking out a few bottles for the table. Among others, she steers us toward a fantastic 2009 Red Tail Ridge from New York State. New York reds – who knew?

Plates arrive – an order or two of bluefish rillettes, (a clever natural for that preparation) create quite a stir, but I’m almost too happy nibbling away at smoked sweetbreads to notice. I want to share and hoard.

The real sharing comes with the mains – I share bites of my steak frites – with just about everyone and reap the benefits. Friends return the favor with crispy and moist schnitzel, juicy, taut bratwurst, and tangy homemade sauerkraut. Elisabeth has an iceberg lettuce salad with Maytag blue and bacon.

“They do that as well as anyone these days,” she says.

I look over at Amy, who, after biting into her cod, takes on the look of a parishioner at prayer and Jonathan does the same when I offer him a second bite of my New York strip. It’s crispy on the outside, with a ribbon of tasty fat on one edge, and pink happiness within.

“You know,” he says, snapping out of his trance, “you can throw all the ingredients you want in a dish, dress it up however you’d like, but that? That’s hard to beat.”

***

A quibble - It took a little while to get to our seats; Two people in our group were running rather late and, in short, the staff didn’t want to sit us until every member of the party of eleven arrived. We offered to order right away, offered to wait to order until they arrived. The staff, some polite, some a little less so, declined, but it wasn’t quite full enough in there to put up that kind of a stink. I get it if half of a party of four is missing, but how rare is it that one couple in a much larger group gets held up? It puts a good dent in the pleasure of an evening.

Prime Meats
465 Court Street
Brooklyn, NY
+1 (718) 254 0327
frankspm.com

Pizza and Perfection on the L Train

BROOKLYN
By Joe Ray

Cue the rock music, throw on a cool T-shirt and hop in the L train to Williamsburg – Roberta’s cures what ails you. While the possibility of a lamb dish worthy of a spot in Daniel next to a pizza might sound a bit schizophrenic, here it works just fine.

With its woodsy feel and merry, multicolored light garlands on the walls, Roberta’s, est. 2008, has a feeling of a saloon that sits not too far from the 49th parallel – one that hits full swing by 7 and stays that way till the last tippler is pushed into the Brooklyn night at closing time. I was invited by my sweetheart, Elisabeth, who’d picked up on some very strong hints on where I’d like to celebrate my birthday and we were not let down.

These guys, particularly chef Carlo Mirachi, have some serous friends in the food sourcing business. ‘Beef Carpaccio’ shows up with the marbling of something noteworthy and turns out to be Wagyu from a farm on a big, flat state out west. A drizzle of stellar olive oil creates a dreamy, one-two-three-four adagio progression between vegetal freshness, slick vegetable fat, beefy meatiness and Wagyu fat. I got as much pleasure nibbling away at it as watching Elisabeth enjoy it – something she readily encouraged.

One plate over, tiny bay scallops with crispy bits of trout skin, Meyer lemon and poppies snuggled in a bowl, reminding me of not one but two childhood favorites – Mom’s broiled scallops, and, thanks to the poppies and the almost bread-y flavor to the broth they waded in, the frozen Pepperidge Farm rolls she’d make in the oven when I was little.

The big gun, however, was the lamb breast main course, cooked sous-vide for a long time then sizzled for a short time to create a crispy/melting combination that recalls the textures of a savory crème brulée. Nearby, a comma of yogurt, dollops of a light mint aspic and gently-braised leaves of, I believe, radicchio and swiss chard provided punctuation marks of acidity, bitterness and a faint sweetness. Any three-star restaurant would be proud to serve the dish at three times the price.

Next to the lamb, we’d ordered a pizza – this is a pizzeria, after all – and maybe because it was next to something so spectacular, our pie was the evening’s only relative whiff. The ‘Tracy Patty’ pie features tasty mozzarella, ricotta, lip-smacking boquerones (vinegar-drenched anchovies), garlic and savoy cabbage, but it lacked some juicy agent like tomatoes or more of that amazing olive oil to shuttle each slice it to its final home.

No matter. Next time we go, we’ll likely try another pie. Perhaps the ‘Voltron’ – it’s got sopressata.

While some crow that the bar-like atmosphere is an odd or uncomfortable place for food this sophisticated, we could have cared less. This is the kind of spot where you want to grab good friend or three on your birthday and have one of the best nights of the year, fussiness be damned. Mirachi's created an American doppelganger of Sicilian chef Francesco Cassarino's wonderful Pizzeria Caravanserraglio.

On the subway and once nibbling some of Elisabeth’s fantastic birthday cake at home, we got talking about the best dishes we’d ever had. Rare are the meals that engender that sort of conversation.

“What were the tens?” Elisabeth asked, a question that brought us around the world and back to the meal still in our bellies.

Our lamb, we agreed, was a 9 ½, the scallops a scarce point and a half behind.

“What about the Wagyu carpaccio?” I asked. “A solid eight?”

She responded without hesitation.

“That was a ten.”

Roberta’s
261 Moore St.
Brooklyn
+1 (718) 417-1118
www.robertaspizza.com
(Editor’s note: No reservations at Roberta’s - go early or wait in line.)

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is a Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

Is Paris The World Champion of Gastronomy?

By Joe Ray
PARIS

That's the question French food critic Francois Simon posed to a little panel: Nick Lander, Carlo Petrini, Ken Hom, Anissa Helou, Yumiko Inukai and...yours truly. For a recent article in Le Figaro's magazine, Figaroscope.

Here's my response in Version Originale...

World capital? That's loaded question.
Twenty years – even 10 – ago, the question was bandied about for fun but we already knew the answer, but now, just using the places I know well, it’s a legitimate debate. Barcelona combines an unquenchable curiosity and solid base to keep themselves on cuisine’s front edge. Sicily combines incredible raw ingredients with solid value and New York could win on sheer numbers yet it is Paris’ equal in quality and exponentially more diverse. India is a time machine whose cuisine never ages.

Plus, in Paris, coffee is awful and the beer second rate. It’s also pricey. That said, you forget all problems instantly when the former butcher who can hold four bottles of wine in one hand and owns Le Severo puts a côte de boeuf aged 40 days under your nose. You forget it when Pierre Gagnaire boils down a great vat of red wine to make a tiny component of a sauce. You forget it when Laetitia at Le Bistro Paul Bert greets you with a smile, seats you at your favorite table and gifts you with a glass of wine and when it comes to choosing a bottle of wine doesn’t foist something you can’t afford on you. You forget it when three bottles, two glasses of Calvados and one conversation into a meal, you realize with a start that it’s 5 a.m. and you’ve been at the table for nine hours.
Undeniable world champ? Not anymore. However, the French exception still reigns. Let’s call Paris first among equals.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is a Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

 

NEWS FLASH: EARLY CHRISTMAS IN COBBLE HILL

By Joe Ray
BROOKLYN

The Txikito gang has been doing some early Christmas shopping. Alex Raij and Eder Montero, the couple who made Chelsea a better place by opening both Txikito and El Quinto Pino, signed a lease on Monday for a new Brooklyn restaurant, La Vara, slated to open in early 2012.

Located in the spot recently vacated by the ill-fated Breuckelen restaurant at 268 Clinton St. - next to the lovely Ted & Honey Café - Raij says the cuisine will be “Spanish food seen through its Moorish and Jewish roots.”

The food will be a mix of small plates and shareable larger dishes.

“The basis will be home cooking, not the traditional ‘meat, starch, veg,’” says Raij.

Who’ll be running the line? “We will, for now,” she says.

Somewhere in there, Raij will also be having a baby.

“We did our last opening like that,” she jokes.

Why change now?

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

 

Le Stuffing - Eight Chefs & Eight Meals in 48 Hours

By Joe Ray
New York City

It begins with a discussion about trick journalism. It ends with a self-imposed dare to eat eight meals in two days, cooked by some of the world’s best chefs. I don’t even need to move. All I have to do is stay awake and hungry.

I score a seat at eight of them — four on Saturday from 1 a.m. to 5 p.m. and four more in the same time slot on Sunday, with a few hours on Saturday night to run home, take a shower and lament the dark circles beneath my eyes. Along with my camera gear and notebooks, I bring a Dopp kit and extra pressed shirts. On site, I take frequent catnaps in a back office set up for event staff and journalists, a space that rapidly takes on a locker room smell.

... read the rest here in The Daily.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner.

 

GHOST RESTAURANT

By Joe Ray
NYC

The boss is in town, looking to dine and wants to know where we should go. I almost panic. Where do you take the most-feared food critic in France? I call friends and comb over the list of places I’ve been until I remember the place I really want to try: M. Wells in Queens.

Something of a media darling, M. Wells is/was also a gastronomic UFO housed in a diner: they do what they wanted to, which is pretty admirable in my book. It received incredible raves and, since I’ve been there, one blazing, bizarre review whose subject matter I’m not touching with a ten-foot pole.

Since then, the restaurant has apparently been forced out of their Long Island City location by their landlord and, at this point, there are only rumors about it resurfacing.

When we arrive, François promises to share some of his Caesar salad with smoked herring but it disappears before I point my fork in his direction. I try ‘Bacalao Magasin’ a veritable bath of olive oil that poaches, heats or finishes carrots, shrimp, beans, peas and salt cod in a great terracotta bowl.

For our ‘Big Dish’ – menu choices here are divided into ‘big’ and ‘small’ – we try the ‘BibiM Wells,’ a seafood riff on the Korean dish, which is something of a bunt that could have been a home run with more thought given to the play of texture that make the original so good.

The night we’re there, I wish we were with a much larger group to try the big dishes, where much of the creativity appears to lie – BBQ short ribs, lamb saddle with za’atar, tahini and pomegranate molasses, chicken wonton pot-au-feu – but get a sense of the bigger game the chefs seem to be after with an escargot and bone marrow pasta dish with shallots and a red wine ‘purée’ – the mollusk cousin to octopus and bone marrow pasta. M. Wells’ snails are served right in the bone, two forms of slippery goodness bathing in the wine sauce, covered with crunchy, garlicky breadcrumbs.

What is (“What was”?) most interesting at M. Wells is the idea factory the place became. Francois and I get talking about it - in Paris, you’d wonder about the chef’s motives, what they want to accomplish and, often, what their next step will be. Here, creation seems to be the whole point – there is no next step.

Brouhaha aside (please) it’ll be interesting to see what happens next.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

 

INSERT GONG HERE

By Joe Ray
MANHATTAN

On a recent trip to Richmond, B.C., the value of a good guide was reaffirmed when exploring Chinatown. (Anywhere, for that matter.) With thousands of options, how do you figure out where to go, let alone the two specialties on 100-item menu?

Craig Nelson figured out Manhattan’s Chinatown on his own. Not For Tourists guide editor by day, Nelson spent years worth of lunches trying every place he could walk to near their offices. Then he made his own app – Chinatown Chow Down. (Insert gong sound here).

We started with pork buns at Mei Li Wah Bakery – brown (baked) or white (steamed) – is about all you need to say at the counter. We scarfed them in the street - they’re packed with sweet, meaty flavor. Total cost for both? $1.60! Cheaper than a Snickers bar!!! Ha!

We had sit-down handmade noodles around the corner, fritters and a mustard green sandwich from a street-food vendor which we ate in the park under the West Side Highway. We capped the tour with my favorite – fresh sour plum juice at Yuen Yuen. It’s sweet, sour, funky and smoky. How did they make it smoky? No matter – just keep it coming. How much? $1.25! Fresh juice for less than a Coke! Where’s that gong?!?!

 

Chocolate - Distilled To A Science in Red Hook

By Joe Ray
Red Hook, BROOKLYN




The mysterious voicemail from a well-informed friend arrived at the last minute. “Dude, we’re meeting in Red Hook in an hour and going to this bar that’s never open to taste homemade chocolate and drink homemade hootch. Wanna come?”

I arched an eyebrow, checked on clearing my schedule and called back.

“The guy designed one of those James Bond-style jet packs. That’s all I know. This is New York — are you coming or not?”

How do you say no?

... read the rest here in The Daily.

NYC'S SWAN SONG OF THE ALABAMA SLAMMER

NYC
By Joe Ray

A bit out of sequence, but, this stuff isn't getting any younger. Above, a shot from the scene at the 'pop-up' Fatty Johnson's in the Village last night - barman/journalist/pal Toby Cecchini announced "sundry a selection of reviled cocktails from the 70s through the 90s" signing off on the invite saying "Join us if you dare, and feel free to bring anyone you don't particularly like."

Jello shot and a Blue Hawaiian, anyone?

Fatty Johnson's - MAP
50 Carmine Street
New York, NY 10014
+1.212.929.5050
www.fattyjohnsons.com

BERRA PIZZA LOGIC

By Joe Ray

BOSTON

It might be my inner Red Sox fan talking, but the best pizza we found in New York was in Boston.

This is completely unscientific but while in the city, I had to make a choice between burgers or pies and went with the former. Pizza stops were a bonus. Spills and all, Spunto was grand and Lombardi’s had fantastic toppings, but their crust must be an acquired taste.

Seeking a slice in Boston’s North End a few weeks later, we asked a Sox-capped local in front of a packed back street bar where to get a slice. The ‘slice’ part of the request gave him some trouble as he flipped through his mental Rolodex.

“Ah! Il Panino Express.”

Sold.

We ordered at the cafeteria-style counter, sat, bit and stared at each other in amazement.

She said: “This is better than New York.”

He said: “Yeah.”

Crisp crust, sweet sauce, a good dose of good cheese.

We’ll get ‘em next year.

Il Panino Express - MAP
264-266 Hanover St.
Boston
+1 (617) 720-5720

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.

 

MONKS AT THE TABLE

MANHATTAN

By Joe Ray

There’s a lot to notice when we arrive at WD-50. The most outstanding is a booth of guys who look like they could be fraternity brothers, yet they’re silent as monks, paying close attention to what they’re eating; the antennae are up, they love the challenge.

You have to be up for the ride. Chef Wylie Dufresne bristles at the thought of preparing anything leaning toward making standard bistro fare for his customers. He’s just not interested.

What would he rather do? Stuff like floating plump scallops and pine needle udon in a bowl of grapefruit dashi. He deconstructs eggs benedict. He chars avocado. (?!?!) Even if his family is in the business you have to wonder how he thinks of this stuff, but when you put bites in your mouth, the combinations and preparations will stand hairs on end and leave you wondering how no one thought of it before.

Daniel Boulud’s kitchen at Daniel has a beautiful wall of spices sourced from around the world while Dufrene’s wall has pectins, starches and syrups. Yet the adjectives Dufresne cuisine inspires are words like ‘clean’ and ‘clear’ – you leave feeling like you’ve eaten a healthy Japanese dinner. His parsnip tart somehow makes me rethink my understanding of the vegetable. Parsnips!

Some argue the validity of this type of experimental cuisine - they should eat here to join the converted.

Finally, all hail Dufresne for having the confidence to keep and highlight the work of pastry chef Alex Stupak. Instead of a clash of egos (that would usually lead to the latter getting dumped), you just sit there and say ‘wow’ all meal long.

Count on about $65 plus drinks if you go à la carte. The tasting menu runs $140 plus $75 for wine pairing.

WD-50 – MAP
50 Clinton Street
New York
+1-212-477-2900
www.wd-50.com

Full disclosure: I ate at the restaurant while working on an upcoming story about Dufresne and his collaboration with chef Daniel Boulud. That said, Dufresne didn’t realize we were in the restaurant for dinner until dessert was over and the check was paid.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.

FORK SLAPPING GOODNESS

MANHATTAN

By Joe Ray

I lied. I said there was ‘one’ NYC restaurant I’d really like to go back to eat in and, well, like I said…

Even at brunch a short while back, you could tell the new Le Pescadeux is a spot to watch: there’s a perfect smoked trout omelette and a steak and eggs that might stop your heart for multiple reasons at prices that won’t. And that’s not even counting Champagne and chats with Chuck.

Dinner’s what I’d really like to try, preferably with a partner for footsie. The restaurant’s fish-focused Quebec cuisine (harking back to owner Charles Perelmutter’s origins) is on display – and he’s breaking his new chef’s back to please by offering dinner ‘duets’ - a pair of half-sized portions – a great way to showcase what you can do and get a good new restaurant’s good name out there. Perelmutter chalks it up to “culinary A.D.D.”

I checked in with Perelmutter to find out about a chef change – the impressive Matthew Ridgway left and has been replaced by Adriano Ricco (clever poaching on Chuck’s part as Ricco’s done stints at BLT Fish and Tabla) – here’s what Chuck had to say about the ‘duet’ concept.

Even if I am in a great Seafood restaurant I get bored with my fish halfway through, and look to see what I can 'mooch' from others, usually with no success (people don't share anymore). I decided I would not be bored again and now I, and my guests, can enjoy 2 different half orders of fish prepared 2 different ways without getting their reaching fork slapped away.

Note the capitalization of Seafood.

Right now, I’d take the grilled octopus and Wild Rock bass with a little neck nage … kick the tires on a fun concept and see what the new chef can do.

Le Pescadeux - MAP
90 Thompson St
New York
212-966-0021
[email protected]

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.

EYE FOOD

BROOKLYN

By Joe Ray

They could serve Spam in the can here and I’d still come back. With a view this good, it really doesn’t matter what you eat. At Alma, it’s all about the view of southern Manhattan from the roof.

I joined friends of mine here - they were nibbling away on sturdy Mexican food - and accidentally figured out a peculiar system that allows you to bypass the restaurant’s Mexican-themed drink offerings, get a tasty microbrew at the b61 bar downstairs (try the Sixpoint Ale), then walk it topside and enjoy it with your guacamole and fish tacos.

“It’s almost winter!” you cry?

No worries - the roof deck is still open on the weekend and imagine it to be just as blissful watching an autumn sunset or when the snow flies.

Alma - MAP
187 Columbia Street
Brooklyn, NY 11231
+1.718.643.5400

www.almarestaurant.com

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.

EGGING FOR MORE

RED HOOK, BROOKLYN

By Joe Ray

Now that I’m back home and typing up a bushel of NYC blogs, the one place I really want to go back to is Brooklyn’s Fort Defiance. Not only are the drinks top notch, chef Sam Filloramo wowed me while, thanks to some sort of new restaurant timing/shipping glitches, he was still working from a half-empty* kitchen.

His deviled eggs were so good, I went home and told my mom about them and if that wasn’t enough to get me to want to go back, the ever-changing menu they now post on their Web site does: rabbit and chorizo hash, oysters Rockefeller, pan-fried catfish … my word. Apparently, they even do breakfast and all I can do is imagine the possibilities.

I’m interested to see how the combination of a serious drinks bar combined with chef who’s making his mark pans out. It can only be good.

Fort Defiance - MAP

365 Van Brunt St

Brooklyn, NY

+1 347-453-6672

www.fortdefiancebrooklyn.com

*Apparently, in mid-September, after the equipment arrived, a health inspector stopped in to check the kitchen and found gas equipment without gas service - like a car with an empty gas tank - and decided the restaurant would be better off closed for the week until they got the pipes hooked up… go figure.

Click here to see my Boston Globe Travel story, “Small Wonders” - featuring an interview with Fort Defiance owner and drinks expert St. John Frizell.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.

Last Hours in New York

By François Simon

NEW YORK CITY

The party's almost over, it's time for me to leave New York. A visit to the Lowell Hotel (Member of the Leading Small Hotels of the World; 28 East 63rd St.; (212) 838-1400; www.lowellhotel.com), conveniently located just off Central Park, tucked away in a tree-lined enclave - is profoundly comfortable with a fireplace in certain rooms. There’s also a visit to Zabar's (2245 Broadway, between 80th and 81^st St.; www.zabars.com): an Aladdin's cave of cookware - highly recommended by our friend Gould. Thank you! Feeling petered out, hot and somewhat homesick … 

BLINK AND YOU’LL MISS IT.

The Food Leprechaun strikes again.

We found SoHo’s 10-seat Snack by walking in front of it - all three paces of the facade’s width. The name is odd for a sit-down Greek restaurant, but it’s a perfect lunch spot: the hummus is deep-flavored, brightened by lemon and there’s a fish roe spread that’s pure sea-salty goodness.

Two doors down, there’s an even tinier establishment – Porto Rico Importing – a four-seat coffee shop with three beautiful ladies holding court on a bench out front. We sit with them, sip an espresso and watch the world go by.

Snack - MAP
105 Thompson St, NYC
+1 (212) 925-1040

Porto Rico Importing
107 Thompson St. NYC

NYC: At The Four Seasons Restaurant, Taste the Sweet Thrill of Power

By François Simon

NEW YORK CITY

Here, you are at the foot of the Seagram Building (99 East 52nd St. and Park Ave.; (212) 754-9494), a prime example of the influence the Bauhaus had in New York. Here, you'll see only extremely serious looking gentlemen, the egghead type, admirably boring (very few women); they're probably congressmen, mayors… These are the characters who fall victim in our fantasy scenarios to corruption, violent death and perverse girlfriends They're gathered around very classical dishes like this wild salmon; the fish, at least, is quite honorable.

I was delighted by this episode because it carried with it a sort of irresistible atmosphere - the feeling of power or something like that - and I enjoy approaching it and feeling its sweet thrill. The setting is magnificent, though the grill is much nicer with the bar. The restaurant - on the other side - is more academic

Map  Web

New York: Lunch at the MoMA

By François Simon

NEW YORK CITY

This Sunday morning had a funny little taste to it. I found myself roaming the streets for hours. The rain stopped and out came the sun with its sticky thickness. I took shelter in the Museum of Modern Art, jumping from one room to the next to avoid groups and caterpillar-like queues before dropping into the museum restaurant.

At first, I regretted not having gone to the dining room that offers a view of the gardens. That's where you'll find the gastronomic restaurant ($ 55 for lunch; (212) 333-1220). I actually sat at the bar. Much better as it turned out with its fashionable small-plate snacks like this vegetable-lobster verrine. It was perfect.

I left feeling revived, all the more so because I'd found my lost copy Tom Wolfe 's "From Our House to Bauhaus." Then, I stopped by Tiffany's and came across a very funny elevator attendant. A man distractedly walked in and pushed the number for his floor – the 3rd floor. Expression of surprise on the capped employee's face: "Why don't you go ahead and push all the buttons… Want my cap, while you're at it?" The daydreamer looked stunned, the elevator car audience was delighted.

Map www.themodernnyc.com