New York minutes/End of February 2009
The good: The New French, yet again, where my consort and I headed on finding Pearl closed for vacation after the devastating “Gomorrah” at IFC (toxic waste, toxic assets — what’s the diff?) The place was surprisingly empty on this Monday night, and only one waitress was working, but we had unsurprisingly great service and food, hanger steak with fries and great sauce for Bob and the salad with tuna for me. Half the meal was spent marveling that such careful cooking can be dispensed for such beyond-reasonable prices — the amount of labor that goes into the salad alone is daunting, a thought that was reinforced as we stood up to leave and saw the chef roasting a huge batch of red peppers for the next day’s round of copious salads. WIGB? The burger is calling my name. . . 522 Hudson Street at 10th, 212 807 7357.
The not bad: Cafe Luxembourg, where we reserved for complicated reasons involving crossed signals on concerts and Connecticut plus overbooking at West Branch and Kefi too busy to take reservations, and where the room and vibe, as always, compensated for perfectly adequate food. I had the New French steak on my brain and stupidly succumbed to the 7-ounce steak frites, a dish that was decent enough but nothing like what was stuck in my cranial sieve (and a lot more expensive). Bob was bummed that his chicken was the reheated kind, but our friends were polite about their chicken and their tuna burger. Bob’s beet salad to start was pretty okay, though. We split a bottle of gruner and got away for around $115 a couple. Probably the best part of the evening, besides the conversation, was knowing that that lame Compass next door has only survived from CL overflow. We met there for a glass of wine beforehand, and it was like God’s waiting room. WIGB? Inevitably. It’s the poor man’s Balthazar, but that is not a bad thing. 200 West 70th Street, 212 873 7411.
The transporting: New Leaf in Fort Tryon Park, where we stopped for lunch on our way to avail ourselves of the already dirt-cheap PJ Wine’s loyal-customer deal on bottles at cost and where the setting was like a Hudson Valley inn without the Metro North ride. For reasons I still question, I had the portobello wrap, with zucchini, peppers, basil aioli and tapenade (and, allegedly, Fontina, although it tasted more like smoked mozzarella), which came with a big mound of mesclun. It was actually better than a wrap has a right to be, and Bob’s chicken potpie was its rival, with puff pastry for a crust and a very rich sauce around perfectly cooked carrots and, he said, overcooked chicken chunks. Like almost everyone else — tourists and old people and hooky-players like us — we had to have alcohol, and the sauvignon blanc was a good pour for $9. One waitress, one busboy and a couple of managers worked that busy room like a winning team. WIGB? Absolutely. It’s so far away and yet so close. 1 Margaret Corbin Drive, 212 568 5323.