Gilt

This gilded Midtown mecca tucked away inside the Palace Hotel has managed to pull off a rare feat in the New York dining scene: they’ve provided a perfectly understated and sophisticated dining experience in the most pretentious of settings.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that my meal at Gilt was one of the top three meals I’ve eaten in New York City. The food was serious without being too fussy, the service was seamless without pageantry, and at the expansive wine list offered the flexibility to go for broke or to pinch pennies.

The seared duck breast was probably the most perfectly executed classic preparation of the dish I’ve ever eaten. The “caviar and eggs” first course was a perfectly balanced concoction consisting of a poached duck egg accompanied by briny caviar and rounded out by the earthiness of Matsutake mushrooms. The red wine braised short ribs were another winner served as three well-marbled distinct cubes of extremely tender rib meat paired with horseradish-spiked potatoes and Hen of the Woods mushrooms. The desserts were predictably rich and photogenic, and the après dinner assorted truffles were particularly noteworthy, delivered in flavors like salted caramel, mint, and almond.

The most remarkable part about the service was that it was perfectly unremarkable; I never wanted for anything until I realized I already had it. I wondered if my server was commenting on my hygiene when he appeared from nowhere with a neatly rolled napkin served between polished silver tongs. My napkin had fallen off my lap. I didn’t notice. He did.

It’s hard to put a value sticker on a meal that has a prix fixe price tag of $88, but I’ve paid more for meals that were nowhere as satisfying.

LOCATION: New York Palace Hotel, 455 Madison Ave, Midtown East

COST: $85 prix fixe, $110 tasting per person

WINNERS: real gold desserts during dinner, Gossip Girl being filmed in the hotel during dinner

LOSERS: real gold plated desserts the next day

Eatery

I give a lot of credit to restaurants who are successful at delivering exactly what they promise, provided it’s a decent idea and they keep the focus on the food. Eatery in Hell’s Kitchen keeps it real with a menu where you can understand all the words and wouldn’t be surprised to find any of the dishes as leftovers in your mom’s fridge.

All pretense was brushed aside in the creation of this comfort-food-heavy self-described “New American” where menu items recall childhood flavors and textures such as “Mac and Jack,” the unofficial house entrée topped with frizzled onions. I don’t know if I really agree with the “New American” tag, seeing as how our Moms have been making a lot of the dishes for generations and the influences are less “American” and more “hodgepodge of delicious flavors from all over the globe.”

The shrimp spring rolls were piping hot, which conveniently matched the black sesame dipping sauce that left tongues-a-blazing. I couldn’t really pick out the flavors of the individual ingredients inside – shrimp, banana, and eggplant – but I can say that the combination after being deep fried was a heavenly mess.

The white cheddar sauce atop the just-like-your-momma’s meatloaf was a tasty saving grace glazing the fairly bland loaf. The buttermilk mashed potatoes are definitely not Weight Watchers-approved, but pretty delicious and creamy.

The pork tenderloin was something that would have been acceptable for leftovers out of Mom’s fridge, but I expected more flavor from something professionally prepared. If I didn’t know the side was made of spuds, I’d have sworn the potato gratin was actually lasagna. Super cheesy. Super thin slices of potato, and super delish. Game on.

If you like fried, sweet, and delicious desserts, the churros served with tres leches sauce are a must-have. I’d actually come back just to have them.

The vibe is trendy casual; again, not trying to be something it’s not, but staying true to being a solid neighborhood choice at prices that won’t break the bank.

A lot of people might describe a rite of passage in domesticity as successfully recreating your mother’s meatloaf, and by that measure, Eatery has passed the test.

LOCATION: 798 Ninth Avenue (53rd St.)

COST: ~$30 per person

WINNERS: inventive cocktails, good value, tres leches churros

LOSERS: the website doesn’t list a chef’s name, which creeps me out a little. Is my mother secretly employed here?

Peter Luger Steakhouse

I’m calling bullshit on the 24-time winner of Zagat’s most beloved New York steakhouse. As a visitor to the Brooklyn bovine mecca, it’s easy to get caught up in the lore of one of the country’s most well-known steakhouses.

For starters, the tuxedo-clad bartenders don’t offer a wine list, but instead offend oenophiles by listing off only the various varietals served by the glass. Requests for origins or maker were rebuffed with a long look over the spectacles as if I were a child asking for a tipple in my Shirley Temple. What I ended up with was a pinot that I’d bet money was made in Arkansas.

The service never got any better and if I had to put it on a scale, I’d put it at some of the worst in the city, right after Dick’s Last Resort, one of those Midwest chain restaurants where they wear condom hats and you pay to have them make fun of you. The seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else, which I can empathize with, seeing as the restaurant is located in Brooklyn, after all.

There are a few non-steak options on the menu, but none that I would ever care to order or write about, and no one that I’d care to go to a steakhouse with would be eating them. There are really only three options on the menu – steak for two, steak for three, and steak for four – all porterhouse cuts with a decently-sized filet.

The steak was served in the style of so many New York steakhouses where the porterhouse comes out sizzling, served family style and conveniently cut into manageable pieces. Without regard to my preference for the filet or the ribeye (aka chubs cut) or the serving temperature – which was widely disregarded anyway (we’d ordered one medium and medium rare) I was served the preference of the waiter, which was ironic, since his disposition seemed to convey complete indifference anyway.

There were a couple of bright spots in between the soul-sucking appearances of the wait staff, most notably the perfectly charred ultra-thick-cut bacon. Not quite as good as the bacon at Mark Joseph, but probably second best in the city. The sides of super crispy small cubed potatoes and perfectly creamed spinach with just a touch of cream were also winners.

The wine list boasts a staggering few dozen or so decently priced bottles. I mean, come on. I don’t need the three hundred bottle textbooks served up at many New York steakhouses, but if I’m going to be paying damn near a hundred bucks for a steak, give me a decent selection across a few different price points and varietals. I’d have to say this is the weakest wine list of any serious steakhouse I’ve ever seen.

If you’re willing to leave the island just to say you’ve been to the storied steakhouse, be my guest. Just don’t say you weren’t warned. And bring cash – it’s the only way to pay.

LOCATION: 178 Broadway, Brooklyn

COST: ~ $100 per person

WINNERS: Steak sauce, bacon, extra crispy potatoes, perfectly creamed spinach

LOSERS: poor service, abysmal wine list, cash only

Apiary

If East Village newcomer Apiary were a dairy product, it would be half and half. Half great ideas, half terrible. The good news is that the best ideas were the entrees, so come late and leave early and you’ll be satisfied.

The ambience falls into the ‘great ideas’ category. The casual elegant theme was reflected in the sharply dressed waiters, neckties neatly tucked into crisp white shirts. The chrome tipped bare bulbs protruding from plastic chandelier-shaped sconces created a cool just-barely-goth vibe.

The wine list is solid and decently priced, with plenty of varied options by the glass and the list drawing heavily from California’s Central Coast and leaning heavily toward bigger bolder flavors. I can’t remember the last time I saw this many zinfandels on a menu (three offerings by the glass) but I approve. I. Heart. Zin. The lack of a full liquor license is a disappointment.

The first terrible idea was the grilled octopus appetizer. I get that octopus is supposed to be a bit chewy – its tentacles have suction cups attached to them for christsake – but this preparation was also fairly dry and the combination couldn’t be saved by the celery leaves which were the one saving grace about the dish.

The first good idea was the near-perfect preparation of the pork belly. The pickled cabbage bestowed a nice acidic pairing. I wish it was crispier.

The best dish on the menu is a photo finish between the Moroccan chicken served with couscous, an unlikely choice from a fairly mainstream American menu, and the bold slow-cooked rabbit served with both the legs and the Serrano ham-wrapped loin. Whoever made the octopus should take notes from the guy making the chicken. It was probably the moistest piece of white poultry meat I’ve ever had, and the sweet sauce accompanying should have been served with a sauce spoon so that you don’t miss a single bite of that sweet deliciousness. The tender rabbit loin was also a home run and the crispy brown butter spaetzle was a perfect fall accompaniment.

The goat cheese cheesecake left much to be desired with a sloppy presentation and dry texture. The goat cheese flavor was big and bold, but I wish I’d spent the calories on another piece of rabbit. It seems like Neil Manacle is still doing some experimentation with the menu, but I have a good feeling about this place based on the quality of the food they did get right.

LOCATION: 60 3rd Ave (bet. 10/11)
COST: ~ $43
WINNERS: Moroccan Chicken, Braised Rabbit, Lighting, Vast Selection of Zinfandel
LOSERS: No vodka, European toilets

Casellula

This neighborhood wine-and-cheese emporium lives up to its top billing as a grown-up smorgasbord of all the things your mom told you not to eat too much of as a kid: meat, cheese, and, most importantly, booze.

The restaurant has no formal kitchen, but instead some high-powered toaster ovens and an arsenal of premium ingredients prepared by a creative kitchen. This 25-seat Hell’s Kitchen staple is at capacity most nights, but it’s worth the wait to score a seat at this still under-the-radar gastronomic gem.

The cheese selection is staggering, with a seasonal rotation of more than fifty fresh, bloomy, pressed, washed-rind, and blue cheeses in service daily. Veteran fromager Tia Keenan impeccably pairs accoutrements such as dried and fresh fruits, chocolates, and nuts with each offering and is happy to prepare a tasting course for faithful fromaggies.

The selection of three, five, or eight meats is a sweet and spicy journey through Spanish, French, and Italian influences and a perfect warm-up act for the most remarkable item on the menu, the Pig’s Ass Sandwich. Loaded with braised pork shoulder, cheddar, pickles, and a just-spicy-enough stone ground mustard, this sophisticated ham and cheese delivers a mouthful of nostalgic familiarity.

The wine menu by the bottle is vast, but the small number of selections by the glass is a little disappointing for a wine bar. However, the restaurant does staff tastings often, and if he’s feeling saucy, owner Brian Keyser may be convinced to open a bottle early for a discriminating patron.

I’d like to make special mention of the Beehive Cheese Company’s “Barely Buzzed” offering, rubbed with coffee and lavender for the sole purpose of helping increase its popularity and helping to keep in on the menu when in season. It’s one of the best combinations of flavor and texture I’ve ever laid tongue on, and, in my humble opinion, one of the most interesting and unique cheeses I’ve ever tasted.

You’re better off just saying no to the dessert menu, if only because the selections are so impeccable it’s hard to pick just one. I once saw a table of six women order three consecutive servings of the chocolate cake, suggestively served with a carafe of fresh cream poured over the top.

Get in while you can – this cheese mecca won’t stay a secret for long.

LOCATION: 401 W. 52nd St.

COST: ~ $25

WINNERS: Pig’s Ass Sandwich, Barely Buzzed, cheese selection

LOSERS: good luck getting a seat

Yerba Buena

If there’s one thing Yerba Buena excels at, it’s making some of the most amazing cheap food in New York City and making some of the most interesting and delicious drinks that make a food writer a little foggy about remembering the meal. Ok, that’s two things, but to be fair, I was seeing double after the generous pours at the bar including the OUTSTANDING “Piquito Picante,” a concoction of gin, jalapenos, Cointreau, and a bunch of other random stuff you’d find in the garden. The friends I went with had been raving about this drink all week, and I’d mostly written it off as bullshit. I mean, I can take some mint scraps for the sake of a good mojito, but I’ve mostly preferred my gin with an olive and some vodka, minus the gin. The only thing I can say about the Piquito Picante is that you’ve just gotta try it for yourself and I’ll bet you they’re making it at Milk and Honey.

The fish tacos are by far the best item on the menu, and this is coming from a gal who learned early in elementary that ordering fish in the cafeteria meant a semester-long banishment to the decidedly “uncool” lunch table and also maybe a kick in the ass on the playground. Perfectly crispy fish alongside spicy cabbage and some sauce sent right from God himself made me beg my culinary compatriates for another round, but, alas, there was more greatness to be devoured.

The barbecue beef short ribs were a close second to the fish tacos coming on strong with a big fatty, meaty flavor paired with a the perfect smoky sweetness of the just-spicy-enough barbecue sauce. Raise your hand if you’ve ever had a french fry made from hearts of palm. Then you’ve got to try them here. Just another nod to the playfulness of the menu and invention going on behind the pass.

One of the greatest values about Yerba Buena is the affordability and variety of the wine list. Heavily sourcing South American and spicy Californian varietals, there a number of bottles in the $30-$50 range that make perfect compliments to the bold flavors of the food.

LOCATION: 23 Avenue A (East Village)

COST: <$50 per person

WINNERS: excellent value, arepas (short ribs), cocktails

LOSERS: my hangover

Per Se

What do you get for a thousand dollar dinner for two? Foodporn. Every dish at Thomas Keller’s blue-doored temple to gastronomy overlooking New York’s Central Park looks EXACTLY like it came out of one of the multitude of glossy coffee table monstrosities being hawked at Barnes and Noble for upwards of $50.

First I’d like to take on the haters who complain of hunger upon completing the nine-course-plus-one-thousand-amuse boches. Folks, if you’re looking to walk back through the blue door with your belly hanging over your belt, you overshot the Argentinian steakhouse in Hell’s Kitchen by a few blocks. I’m betting that the same people complaining about being hungry after dining and drinking for nearly three hours are the same kinds of people who can stomach an entire gallon of eggnog at the family Christmas party and complain that Aunt Marjorie didn’t adequately anticipate the family’s festive needs. (Nearly) each course was a titillating experience of flavor and texture that left a body yearning for more of the goodness but at the same time not quite sure it could handle another bite of such intensely rich flavor.

Keller’s menu is seasonal and changes often to accommodate the freshest and most perfect produce. The caviar and oyster appetizer is a year-round staple and rightfully so. The perfect marriage of crunchy, briny, and creamy, you just know another good thing is right around the corner. The wine list is lengthy, as expected, and the sommelier’s PERFECT recommendation to order a half bottle of red and a half bottle of white was brilliant, and a request to put the private label zin on ice for a few seconds was happily observed.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the Per Se experience was the absolute perfection of the service. During the entire course of the three hour dinner, I was quite sure that my captain had never been more unassumingly elated to have served someone in his entire food service career. I would not have been surprised if, behind the tall draped curtain serving as a backdrop, he had been watching our every move from a hidden camera waiting for the last morsel of food to vanish before swooping in to cue up the next course. (I’ve actually heard this rumored to be true at other swanky joints, but not specifically at Per Se.)

I don’t care what the pastry chef earns, she deserves a raise. Outside of the baklava at the Majestic deli on Seventh Avenue, she makes some of the best desserts I’ve ever laid tongue on. And as Chris Farley says in Billy Madison, “I know from experience, dude. If you know what I mean.” The “Peanut Butter and Milk” dessert is an intensely bitter chocolate explosion just salty enough to want to keep licking your lips and wishing for a glass of dessert wine. I can’t say enough about how delicious the rest of the meal was, but I can say that I’d have been happy with 8 out of the 9 courses coming from the pastry kitchen. And then I probably wouldn’t have bitched about being hungry.

WINNERS: dessert, Thomas Keller’s cookbooks, and at $275 a head not including alcohol, at least service is included

LOSERS: the restaurant is in a mall. Please. $150 supplement for shavings of white truffles? Please.