Slightly Salty

Cookshop - American with a twist

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 01:06:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Cookshop
Location: 156th 10th Ave. at 20th St.
Price: $110 for 2
Server: Larissa
Cuisine: American (Mediterranean influenced)
Chef: Marc Meyer

Myste is addicted to informercial shopping, particularly when said wonder item promises to help you firm that winter ass in only 20 minutes a day. This tendency is already well developed, but this winter she's added a new regimen to her winter ass reduction routine, it's called Veganism. Sorta. Yes it's true Myste has traded in the meat sweat for tofu farts. Yay for me!

In addition to a fine new ass, Myste proudly still sports a healthy bad attitude and a big salty opinion, and even occasionally will chow down at meat masacre dining establishment (or two) with her unenlightened and salty friend Wyoming. Thank god.

But what does this have to do with Cookshop? Nothing. Except we found a good cause and justification for being carnivores for a day. Cookshop (horrible website design btw) buys from local farmers, and uses organic, grass fed, free-range and local (when possible) meats and seafood. Get your closest hippie friend and hug them with a clear conscience!! However, to capitalize on this concept more, their website should very clearly state this. As it was, excellent and thorough online researcher that I am, I'd read it somewhere from some link at some place - but Myste wanted to call to make sure.

When you walk in, the lighting is warm and low, the music is groove oriented and laid back, and the staff all are friendly and attentive, but the bar is really not that cool. For one thing, it's right by the door. Not that this is uncommon in the city, however there was zero ambience at the bar. The bar is a simple L shape, with good spirits and cocktail list, but cheap uncomfortable chairs, no plant life, and really is just not a cozy belly up and stay awhile kinda vibe.

The hostess seated us promptly, but we would have liked it if she'd offered to take our coats in the entry way, as the tables are close together, and wrangling your winter gear in someone's face is just not cool.

Our table was cute, simply set with a large red pepper grinder, simple dinner silver, white napkin and a finger bowl of salt and obligatory candle. In the dining room, the music is not nearly as audible as it was in the bar, and you can definitely hear way too much of your neighbors conversation (and chewing).

Within an acceptable 2 minute time frame (hell yes we follow foodie rules) our server, Larissa came by to greet us and get a cocktail order. Myste ordered the Herbal Sour, and I ordered the Havana Sidecar. Myste's sour herbal clear-conscicience thang was delicious. Tart, not too sweet, floral, goodness in a glass. But my sidecar was a sugar bomb with a shit-ton of brandy in it. Couldn't even finish it. There's no universal guide for sweetness either, because anticipating a possible sugar fest, I asked Larissa before ordering if it were on the tart side of a sidecar. She informed me that it was pretty much perfect, more on the tart side. Alas - it was not.

With Myste's new dietary code of ethics and my food allergies, ordering is now a special and delightful treat for a server. We apologize. We know we're assholes, but have you seen Myste's ass? Please.

Getting on with it... Larissa was informed of our desire to avoid dairy, and my allergy to eggs. We asked about the Squid, the Venison and the Spinach. Rather than check, she said "yup, you should be fine with those." She evidently did talk to the kitchen, but we weren't made aware of this.

Bread arrived and Larissa disappeared for a long long long long time. We had plenty of time to admire the bread.
We also had time and lack of sound barrier to overhear the couple next to us bitch for 10 minutes about wanting to pay their bill. Eventually the couple next to us "Excuse me MISS-ed" our Larissa and she came to pick up their bill and take our wine order.

Ever the unruly and non-committal diners, we asked for tastes of two of the red wines by the glass, the Rioja and the Chianti Classico. Larissa patiently and expediently brought each to our table to taste. The wines were both great, excellent for the region and varietal style, and moderately priced between $10-13 per glass.

First up on the palate was the Seared Montsuk Squid, in a harrissa sauce. This dish was Wow. Yes Wow. Fresh squid, perfectly cooked, a little bit of grill smoke, and served with a combo of ingredients that make a mouth explosion. This is everything we wanted to taste at once: toasted almond, green olive, apricot, and harrissa combined to form heaven. It was savory, slightly sweet, slightly tangy, spicey and delicious. Cookshop changes their menu often. Go tomorrow, and order 3 of them, because it's not a very big portion, and you will want more.

Next came Myste's friend Luis and some kind of special seafood soup. We were suprised to see someone Myste knew, and even more suprised to get free treats! Luis informed us that the aioli had no eggs, so clearly the kitchen knew I was allergic, however no aioli touched my tongue. I'm incapable of believing that the main ingredient in aioli (eggs) is simply not in theirs. Crazy, I know, but fuck you.

The seafood soup was served with crostini, aioli on the side and no spoons. Larissa came by to check on us and quickly fetched us said utensils. The already luke-warm soup was quickly becoming even less warm. Temperature aside, the soup was velvety and delicious, in need of a bit of salt, but maybe that's what the aioli was for.

For dinner Myste and I shared the Venison. Yeah, vegans, that's an animal. We know. Focus here.

Hudson Valley Venison with farro, black trumpet mushrooms and a spiced red wine sauce - perfectly cooked, not gamey and totally awesome - but again, only room temperature. There was no hot nothing on this plate. Even the sauteed spinach side was warm, not hot. But the Venison was incredible. The sauce had hints of rosemary, clove and cinnamon, and would have been the most amazing thing since Cheez Whiz, if it had just been HOTTER.

For desert Luis brought us Pear Cider, Tangerine, Banana and Black Fig Sorbets. I hogged the Pear Cider and Tangerine because I'm a wanton tart, and Myste - sweet occasional Vegan that she is, had the Black Fig and Banana sorbets. See, no fighting. We're not sure if the sorbets were made in house, but whomever is making them is a national treasure. These were not icey or gooey or stringy or clumpy like sorbets can be. Nope. Smooth full figured goodness.

After desert, Luis came out for his photo op: . Isn't he cute?

Bottomline: The food and flavors are truly outstanding. The chef has got his thang down - and is cooking with a conscience. To really dial in this restaurant however, a few things are needed. One, get the food out HOT. Two, work with the bar a little, and Three, make sure the servers are staying focused on slow nights, at the end of the shift. We know it sucks to work late on a slow night, but guests don't give a flying fuck about that.

il Buco - Italien Restaurant

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Sat, 19 Jan 2008 17:30:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: il Buco
Location: 47 Bond St. (E. Village/NOHO)
Price: $212 for 3
Server: Michelle
Cuisine: Italien
Chef: Ignacio Mattos

il Buco came about because Myste was cruising the job listing section of craigslist, and clicked on one of the links in an ad. We called last minute and secured a reservation for 2 at 8:45. We were going to meet Salty Stephanie earlier at the bar to discuss salty things before dinner. Instead Stephanie forgot all about her salty bitches waiting for her, and was late. il Buco accomodated a 3rd person without delaying our dinner reservation for more than a few minutes - and it must be said, they were busy.

Since Myste and I sat at the bar for several hours, we're now intimately aquainted with the bartender, Eric - from Seattle. Clearly we love him already. He was inobtrusive, funny and attentive to all his guests. Myste's water glass was never empty, unlike our souls.

We were seated in the dining room, upstairs. The whole decor of il Buco is warm and cozy. It's a rustic country italien kitchen kind of feel, as if you could be in someone's kitchen waiting to eat. The tables are all wooden, several are set-up as family style. One party dines on the other end, and the other party is separated by large flower arrangements at the other end of a large table. The table settings were simple, one fork, one knife, cloth napkins. The music is low. Whatever they were playing sounded like it might fit well with the environment, but it was simply too quiet. We heard everyone else's conversation, and in a busy restaurant, that's freaking loud. Turn it up!

The server, Michele came by to take our order, and mentioned that the menu was seasonally created with fresh appetizers and entrees, and also features a standard season appetizer page with additional items. Michele came back from checking on my allergy requests and informed us one item could not be ordered, and helped us to choose another. It must be said, her pronunciation of all the italien dishes was spot on. Where-as we sounded like hicks from Arkansas trying to speak french. It weren't purdy.

Here's where we salty bitches look up from copying the menu down (not at all suspicously) and realize that every man who works here is fucking gorgeous. Seriously, it's like you've died and gone to calendar boy heaven, and they're all there to serve you. Brilliant.

After taking a gander at the quite extensive wine list, with, understandably, a HUGE italien wine sectionn, we settled on the Temperance Hill Pinot Noir. The wine list is, as noted, huge. It's also organized by region, rather than characteristic or varietal. For people who are not familiar with Italien wines, this could be overwhelming. We also noted that the wine list (and the by the glass list) didn't have much quality wines in the lower priced options. They mitigate this possible confusion by having one very knowledgable Sommalier on staff, Daniel. (and he's a calendar boy ladies. Check January).

Back on topic, we started with the housemade mozzarella buffala (is that how you spell that?). This was not one of the specials, but rather, one of the standard appetizer suggestions. It was a hot mess to look at:
but tasted divine. Creme fraiche, marjoram, lemon, mint and parsley combine to make a squishy, delicious mozzarella mess in your mouth. Smear on bread if you're daring. Their bread is thick crusted warm centered goodness. They serve it simply with stellar olive oil and sea salt. Side note: they offer olive oil tastings. Judging by their house olive oil, this sounds like a decadent delicious thing to do some day.

Next up was a special cauliflower appetizer. The cauliflower was raw, thinly sliced and served with shaved formeggian, shaved black truffle, and a host of other herbs we don't remember. What stands out about this was how light it was. Actually both the dishes, even the mozzarella were light and left you feeling hungry for more, not weighted down. And this is italien food folks! Too many italien restaurants leave you feeling like you ate 6 loafs of bread and a vat of pasta and then laid in your own sweat to die. Not il Buco.

For dinner, Salty Stephanie ordered the zucca salad which had roasted butternut squash with French arugula, Marcona almonds, pecorino romano and chestnut honey. Again, this yummy treat lives on the standard appetizer menu, so you can go and get yours. It was fresh, lightly dressed and delicious. It was not doused in vinegar and killed in balsamic. Go Ignacio!

Myste and I shared the Branzino fish special and the Rabbit special. The branzino (striped bass) was perfect. The Zolfino beans (some kinda white bean) were cooked perfectly - slightly al dente. The branzino was served with the magic beans, meyer lemon, and ligurian olives. Everything about this dish was proper. The fish was a tender medium rare, perfectly seasoned, skin on delight. The accompanying elements and the presentation were spot on. Stephanie kept stealing beans.

In fact, the only thing to stop Stephanie from stealing beans was the tarot reader. Yes you read that right, the tarot reader. This woman in (what else) a long black cape was wandering around and asking tables if they'd like their tarot read. "How did SHE get in here?" by one Salty Stephanie pretty much sums it up well.

Next Myste and I had the Rabbit special: dijon marinated rabbit loin, with housemade pork sausage, potato puree, parsley, and red onion. The rabbit was slightly overcooked and was kind of a rubbery rabbit, but the pork sausage was the best thing ever, so it saved the day. Seriously, the sausage tastes like a gingerbread cookie. How do you do that? The combination of food elements, again, was flawless.

Myste clearly liked the rabbit. This chef Ignacio is a man genius (and can be found on the calendar in the month of April).

For desert we had coffee, but only to stay alert enough for Daniel to escort us through their wine room. Downstairs is the wine cellar. It's slightly chilled, with high ceilings and a very gothic, albeit rustic theme. The wine is stored on it's side, and the temperature is of course climate controlled. The highlight is that you can make a reservation for the table in the cellar, or book a private event in this room. Next time we come we're going to have a lot of wine questions for Daniel, just to monopolize his time.

Bottomline: The food was brilliant, and although the rabbit wasn't perfect, everything else about this place is. The staff is knowledgeable (and hot), the wine list is wonderful, and the timing was excellent. Nothing was out of place, poorly plated, timed or other. We didn't have to ask for anything. And best of all, it's really reasonably priced. Go now, and go often.

Woo Lae Oak, Korean BBQ

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 17:46:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Woo Lae Oak
Location: 148 Mercer St. (SOHO)
Price: $270 for 5
Server: Ryan
Cuisine: Korean BBQ
Chef: Us

We had made a reservation for 7:30, but weren't seated until about 8:00 pm. While waiting we took note of our usuals: the music was loungy and nice, the interior was swanky and upscale asian influenced, it was warm and pretty and the bar and tender were good.

When they finally seated us, they seated us all the way in the back of the restaurant at one of the larger party tables. Sounds good on paper right? Wrong, it was so LOUD you couldn't hear 7 inches from your face.

After we had been sitting there a good 10 minutes, Ryan the sashaying waiter came hurriedly by and took our order - pretended to listen to our questions, answered nothing and disappeared for another 15 minutes. He then returned with drinks, took our order and we did not see him again for 2 hours. Or rather, we saw him sashaying to other tables with drinks looking extremely busy and overworked - when in fact, his only job is to take the order. Other people deliver food, plates, drinks, etc. Wow.

We got our appetizers promptly. And our first round of drinks stayed on the edge of the table waiting to be cleared Bussers eventually cleared the apps, but no-one cleared the other dishes. We wanted more drinks, where was Ryan? Oh that's right - not at our table. I went to the bar to order and the bartender hand delivered them to our table.

Now at Korean BBQ, the raw meat comes in a box, and you cook it yourself. We ask this: how long does it take to throw meat in a box and drop it off? We waited in between appetizers and the raw meat delivery for an hour. That's fucking ridiculous. Even if it is Christmas.

No one was around to answer questions. The runner and our server both had full frontal lobotomies and couldn't answer even the most basic question: how long should this be cooked? Ok we had ostrich, scallops, sword fish and beef. Ostensibly all of those things have different optimum cooking times yes? We thought so too.

But we didn't get any responses to our questions, so we tried to drink enough sake to kill any bacteria our self-cheffing might create.

Myste successfully drank enough sake for an army, so she's safe. We'll report back this week on the other salty team members.

We'd go into specifics on the food, except nothing was amazing or memorable or even pretty enough to take a photo of.

The food was fresh, but that's about all we can say about it.

Ryan sucks, the runner sucked, the bartender did not suck, and when we left we had to get our own coats from the coat check.

Bottomline: Woo Lae Oak - you suck.

Sweetwater Restaurant, American Bistro

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Tue, 25 Dec 2007 18:55:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Sweetwater Restaurant
Location: 105 N. 6th St. Brooklyn (willieburg)
Price: $140 or 2
Server: Nicole
Cuisine: American Bistro
Chef: who knows? Not TK

The second we salty bitches entered this Argentinian owned bistro, we loved everything about it. A little known fact - yes we do love. Rarely, but it does happen. But back to Sweetwater, the floors are with that same small patterned Afghan lookin' tile pattern that they have at Dressler and several buildings in this are. But Sweetwater takes it one step farther, because they just have mad style. Sweetwater has that tile pattern on the business card AND on the website as well.

Ok back to Sweetwater the restaurant: The ceiling tiles are vintage and painted gold. The booths are dark mahogany, and the interior is dimly lit, with wood, art, and a comfortable easy going staff. The music was rock, not sappy navel gazing singer songwriter bullshwag either, but not rock out with your cock out either. Twas good.

Immediately upon seating hot salty Myste got the owners attention and he sent over two glasses of champagne - Myste says it was for the holiday's, but I don't agree. We fight and we love. See?

Nicole, the sassy red-headed server we plan to go back and visit often - promptly greeted us and brought us menu's. The wine list is small, but well chosen, and extremely well priced. It's a neighborhood joint, and the owners understand that. Nothing is too expensive, although it is a bit expensive if you are used to the hipster thai food spots on Bedford. We ordered a bottle of the Three Graces Pinot Noir from Willamette Valley. We love Oregon dirt. It's better dirt than you have. No seriously...

Then onto the food menu... We love that the specials are hand written and paper-clipped inside the menu. The staff wears their own clothes, and actually (shocking) has their own personalities. They hang by the bar and joke with the owner. (Have we mentioned we love Argentinian men)?

Nicole checked on my tiresome allergy requests and came back with the green light. We ordered Mussels in a tarragon cream sauce, to start with and an arrugula and butternut squash salad with goat cheese, and was perfectly dressed in a sundried tomato vinagrette with toasted pumpkin seeds. It was so delicious that we ate the whole thing before we remembered to photograph it. However the mussels fared better:

The mussels were spectacular. They were light, not too creamy, perfectly seasoned and fresh. We clearly like the sea-pussy, but we like it clean. Theirs is clean. However Nicole was no where to be seen for many momento's and we salty bitches wanted spoons. Broth requires spoons. Eventually we asked yet another charming cute staff member, and spoons were provided.

A note about the staff, everyone is super down to earth, very friendly, and they all clearly like each other a lot. We love to be in an environment like that, but as we are salty, we have to say it can cause some inattentiveness to the customers. However personality and friendliness are WAY more important than timely spoon delivery, and we totally loved Nicole. She was a breath of fresh air, completely friendly, warm and easy on the eyes!

About 2 glasses of champagne and half a bottle of wine later it dawned us that we had no water. We really wanted some, so Nicole accomodated with her own kind of psychic grace. She appeared and offered water right before we could request it. The tap water is served in vintage inspired bottles with little table glasses. So cute, it just adds to the whole 'thang' this place has going on.

For our main course we had an acorn squash stuffed with risotto. It was beautiful, but really totally bland. The risotto badly needed salt, some kind of better cheese, and something - oh we don't know - interesting. Cranberries? The facts: the risotto was pretty much cooked right, and the squash was too, but the presentation completely showed up the taste. Like an LA girlfriend, it was a hot exterior, but a lame ride.

Next we had the pancetta wrapped pork tenderloin with mashed potatoes in a green apple red wine reduction with fresh parsley. It was dry and slightly overcooked, and vaguely smokey flavored, but at least it had flavor. With a proper temperature this dish would have been great.

Another thing we should mention is the crowd. It's really kind of hipster free. In good ole' willieburg that's amazing. I guess all the hipsters were following the rotating PBR $2 special, because they were most assuredly not here. The crowd was laid back, neighborhood people. We dug it. However, if the hipsters were more drink savvy, they'd love this place too because Sweetwater boasts pitchers of vodka lemonade, sangria, mojito's and margarita's. You will see we two salty girls here again...

Just when we thought we were going to leave, the fabulous owner Paublo presented us each with a glass of Malbec. Did we mention we love him? Some random guy walked by and took a picture of us. What have we learned here? Let's recap: Oh yeah, clearly we're salty drunks, but most definitely NOT hot drunks.

We're more like hot messes:

Bottomline: We love Nicole and the staff and Paublo, we love the interiors, the atmosphere and the appetizers. The main courses need some work, but this is the kind of affordable neighborhood vibe we dig. If you're in this neighborhood, and especially if you have a date, come to Sweetwater. You won't regret it.

Jane Restaurant, American Bistro

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 18:27:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Jane
Location: 100 W. Houston Street (SOHO)
Price: $250 for 3
Server: Julian
Cuisine: American
Chef: Jason Heiselman

Jane is part of a trio of restaurants owned by the Corner Table Restaurant Group. Located in SOHO, we stumbled on this casual spot one drunken afternoon of shopping and decided to review it.

Our reservations were for 5:30 pm, when they opened for dinner. We seem to have a knack for catching restaurants with their pants down. This is no exception. The staff meal, or possibly new menu tasting was going on in the dining room while they were seating for dinner. The lights were up all the way, and their staff was all sitting and chowing. It felt like walking in early to see a hooker, and she's still servicing someone else. Exhibit A:

We were brought to our table by a young hostess who evidently had never heard of a corkage fee. She also evidently didn't feel it necessary to remove the 4th table setting. However, our server Julian promptly detached himself from the carnage in the dining room and came to greet us. They accomodated our corkage request quickly but not cheaply. $25 corkage fee. Julian was pleasant and eager to please, although seems young and slightly inexperienced. Actually, a lot of the staff seems inexperienced, yet eager to please. It's a start.

Julian cleared the extra setting, served our wine, and gave us the specials. But the sugar bowl from lunch with chunks of sugar that had been congealed sitting in it, remained. More about this later...

Although we brought the Melville 2005 Terraces Estate Pinot Noir, we still felt inclined to peruse their wine list. It's a small list and could use some beefing up, however, it is organized by charcteristic and not by varietal or region, which these salty bitches prefer.

Whilst perusing the wine list, my salty mom, who is a designer, stated her distaste for the interiors. However, Myste and myself like the pixelated flower pics and simple bistro interior. The music at Jane is excellent. They play all variety of underground electronic and soul, as well as college pop and eclectic loungy shit you ain't never heard. We dug it. They really need to get their scheduling down however. The lights slowly dimmed as the carnage was cleared from the dining room, approximately 20 minutes after their first seatings for dinner. Downstairs in the banquet area they had a huge trash bag spilled all over the entrance way, which is directly en route to the loo. Yo, get it cleaned first, then open. The hostess stand boasts an impressive array of electronic music devices, but looks like a cord fest. Here's a tip: closet doors.

All external appearances aside, the flower arrangements were beautiful, the table settings were lovely and simple and the atmosphere is great when they finally dim the lights and put their party dress on. We suggest a manager to move the upstarts more quickly into position.

The menu is cleverly designed, with local fresh ingredients, organic if possible and shows a good mix of French and Italian influences in a modern american way. The chef has a creative take on things and we really wanted to order everything. In the interest of our waist lines, and our timeline to see Xanadu, we did not follow the eat everything strategy.

25 minutes later, the busser brought bread, and we were finally ready to order. Julian checked for my allergy requests without delay and we love that. We also love his tattoo of a boombox on his forearm. Hot.

These salty bitches and salty mom shared a Butternut Squash Risotto and the Braised Pork Salad special. The Risotto was off the charts. Creamy yummy perfection, just enough salt, chive, greens, and chunks of butternut squash. We were scraping the bottom of the bowl. But as we are now classy rollerskating theatre bitches, we didn't lick the plate.

Lets have a moment of silence for the Braised Pork. _____ Ok, this dish is just fucking stellar. The pork was so tender and succulent that we sucked it down in a hurry. Seriously, this was the tenderest thing since Tender-roni. Cranberry orange sauce, frisee and mixed greens, braised pork yum, and you have one simple awesome dish. One complaint, more cranberry orange goodness please. We could bathe in this dish.

The presentation of both were simple but pretty. Julian brought the proper share plates and silverware, and had good timing and attentiveness - except for the still remaining sugar bowl - we were the ONLY table with sugar bowl. Were they trying to counter the salt?

45 minutes and 2 appetizers in, they finally lower the lights even more. Now it's sexy time. Here's us getting sexy:

At this point, we have drank a gallon of wine, and we need water. Nobody can be found, finally Julian reappears and asks if we need water. He fills our water and sets the pitcher on the table to take a photo of us 3. The water pitcher stays, but Julian goes. We later see him with another pitcher at other tables. We appreciate that they want to keep us hydrated, but really, you can keep the pitcher.

For dinner, we salty bitches ordered the 2004 Tammarack Cabernet Sauvingnon from Washington. Since liquid diets are not exciting, we also ordered the Sea Bass, The Scallops, and The Pork Chop.

The Sea Bass was in a light tomato broth with tapenade, chive, basil and white beans. Note we were halfway in before it dawned on us to snap a pic: It was beautiful and perfectly cooked. Not dry, not oily, definitely fresh. The presentation was beautiful, with whole cherry tomatoes, which can actually be hot explosions in your mouth, but were not dangerous as we were afraid they might be. It did need a little more salt, or a little more tapenade, but it was delicious.

Next the scallops. We love scallops, even though they look like breast implants before they're implanted. They're yummy. Diver scallops served with tomato based sauce, hominey, bacon, some kind of green, onion, cilantro and just perfect salt and pepper. The dish was southwestern influenced, and Myste and I loved it. Salty mom wasn't sure, but she ate it up anyway. The dish was brothy and Myste asked for a spoon, which she got, but we salty mom and daughter did not. So we had to use our tongues. We salty ladies like our scallops to be Medium Rare, but these were about Medium. They were still fantastic, and if they were just slightly less cooked, would have been stellar.

Finally, the pig.
The pork chop was with butternut squah, root vegetables, apple compote and a marsala wine with honey sauce. The Pork Chop was slightly over-cooked, and not trimmed enough. Lotsa fat still on one side. The compote and the butternut squash and root veggies were Myste's favorite thing about the dish. It was seasonally appropriate, light and perfectly balanced. It could have used less cooking, and more trimming, but we still thought it was divine.

Julian and bussers cleaned the wreckage, and offered desert menu's - and the sugar bowl remains:

Salty Mom and Myste ordered a Banana Bread Pudding with Chocolate Gelato. It was with banana, caramel, chocolate, and was nutmeg goodness. I observed over my espresso as they chowed down. The espresso's were all hot and well made. We switched out the sugar bowl (finally) with a new one that did not have yucky lumps. Salty mom and Myste had their eyes rolling back in their head over this desert. I was jealous, but managed not to stick a fork in their eyes.

Bottomline: The restaurant needs some finessing and some management, but has (to quote New Kids on the Block) all the right stuff. Some better training, time management and hidden staff meals, and a little better attention to temperatures o the food, and we would have given this a 4 shaker review. However, we will definitely come back, and bring friends.

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 17:01:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Morandi
Location: 7th Ave. and Waverly Pl.
Price: $200 for 2
Server: 1st Chris, then Aldo
Cuisine: Italian
Chef: Jody Williams, self-taught

It should be said that we arrived at this restaurant at that in between time. Our reservations were for 3 pm. However, one of the reasons we selected this location was that they served food all day, and were supposedly a professional and established restaurant.

It was snowing and cold, and we were promptly seated. The interior is very rustic italian, with wood and country print everywhere. It's homey and cozy. The music is instrumental and vaguely gypsy sounding. It all went well together. Our first server, Chris, greeted us promptly and admitted he didn't know much about Italian wines, but happily found the wine captain to answer our questions.

The wine captain needs to consider brushing up on his technique. We told him our budget (under $60) and what we liked (ie: full bodied, low tanins, not too much acidity). The first wine he brought us was fucking swill. Seriously. Not only that, it was highly tannic, very light bodied and heavy in acidity. It couldn't be further from what we'd asked. He could have played it safe and dropped off a Primativo, but no. The second bottle he brought a taste from the bar, which was a better fit, although honestly, not stellar. He then sent Chris, our server over with a bottle. Chris presented the wine, but it was corked. The second bottle was fine. We had the Aglianico 2003 by Ocone.

We put off ordering food for awhile, as we were having a salty business meeting with Stephanie. Chris was patient and followed up periodically.

We wish he would serve at nights, because when the night server came along, everything went down hill in a hurry.

We started to ask about my allergies, but Chris was leaving, and so he introduced us to Aldo the Idiot. He told Aldo at the table about my allergy and our requests. Both disappeared, ostensibly to check on our food, or so we thought.

5 minutes go by. Keep in mind it's nowhere near busy. Finally Aldo the Idiot shows back up and asks "K are you ready to order?" Clearly he has been sniffing glue in the supply closet and not, as requested, checking on allergies. We asked again whether there were any eggs in the dishes we were considering. He paused for all of 2 seconds before replying "uh, nope."
Us: "did you ask the chef?" Aldo the Idiot: "There are no eggs in either of those dishes." Us: "Are you sure, do you mind just checking?"

Aldo the Idiot goes away for another 5 minutes. He goes nowhere near the kitchen, and in fact proceeds to flirt with some of the other girls working there. He then comes back to our table, "Are you ready to order?"

Wow.

We told him we were considering leaving, as we weren't certain of the food. Again he says "There's no egg."

So we order the Raw Beef Carpaccio with the aioli on the side. But it came with no aioli. See the thing is, Myste is not allergic to egg, so she should be able to have the death sauce. Aldo the Idiot appeared before we had tried it and asked "How is it?" Just Wow. Without said death sauce, the dish had fresh arugula, fresh good quality beef and parmesean, but was wildly uninteresting until the busser brought us salt. (We love salt).

After we were already eating the Carpaccio, the busser brought bread and oil and salt. We think this should have been prioritized a little sooner. Just a suggestion.

We asked them to make something not on their In Between Dinner and Lunch Grey Zone menu. To which they accomodated. We ordered clams in a white wine and butter sauce. Aldo the Idiot says this at our table "I'm sure we can do it but it's going to cost more." No shit right? And really, wouldn't it be better to just say "it will cost _____ but we are happy to accomodate your request."

The clams were not truly fresh and several were musky like a hooker in summer season. We were not given spoons to get the broth. But the salt goes a long way, and after adding it to the dish, it was dramatically improved (except the rotten sea-pussy flavor of a few bad clams). The bartender looked over from his perch and realized we were using the clam shells as a spoon, and brought us spoons while Aldo the Idiot tried to harass his fellow female servers (who were setting up the dining room).

Next we ordered an endive, pommegranate, pear and walnut salad. In keeping with the other dishes, it needed salt. Try it out folks, a little will not kill your cholesterol. The endive salad had way too much olive oil and parmesean, and no flavor whatsoever. With ingredients like pear and pommegranate, it's hard to fuck it up so badly, but they managed.

At this point, the dinner menu was available. Red power tie suits were dining all around with new menu's. But we still had the In Between Dinner and Lunch Grey Zone Menu. Aldo the Idiot was visibily irritated when we asked for the dinner menu, as he clearly had designs on us leaving. No such luck.

I ordered a shrimp dish with polenta, tomatoes, and artichokes. Again, all fresh ingredients, well prepared, but in need of salt and pepper. This is cooking 101 people. It's a little obvious the chef is self-taught.

Myste ordered the grilled calamari in lemon and olive oil. It was with calamata olives, lemon, tomato, peppers, onion and was spicey smokey goodness. In this case, not cleaning the grill for a 100 years worked well. The calamari was smokey and perfect, not rubbery. And shock of shocks, it didn't need salt.

Here's where we comment on the aprons. The servers were all wearing these burlap sack aprons that add 10 pounds to the hips. Seriously? Why?

We ordered two cocktails from the bartender. The bartender is a genius. He made the classics classically, and hand delivered them to our table. Don't go for Dinner, but check out the bar, it's homey, cozy and you can get a damn good drink. If you're adventurous, and you don't want an Aldo the Idiot, eat dinner at the bar.

For desert, we asked Aldo the Idiot about eggs in the bitter chocolate and cherries. Me: "is this really just dark chocolate and cherries? Or is there egg in there?" Aldo the Idot: "No egg." Me: "Are you certain, would you mind checking?" Aldo the Idiot: "No eggs." He then ordered the dish for us. What shows up on our table? Pudding with cherries. What is pudding made of? Eggs. We asked the runner "excuse me, what is that?" "Oh, it's pudding with cherries."

Wow.

Aldo the Idiot arrived to 'see how we were doing'. We asked "doesn't this look like pudding to you?" "No, it's the chocolate and cherries." "Well, it looks like pudding to me, would you ask the chef please?"

Remarkably, this time Aldo the Idiot went and asked the chef, then promptly came and took away the dish saying "I"m sorry, there is egg in here, I hope you didn't eat any." Then he asks if we want anything else. From you Aldo? No you've done enough, thanks.

Bottomline: The food needs salt, is reasonably fresh and could be tasty, but they have asshats like Aldo on dinner shifts, and waiters like Chris on days. We think it's dumb. Don't show up during the Grey Zone, bring your own wine, and don't have any special requests or questions, as no one thinks it's important to have a dialog with the chef, or evidently any knowledge of the menu whatsoever.

We would go back for cocktails, but that's about it.

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Sat, 01 Dec 2007 17:56:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: West Bank Cafe
Location: 407 W. 42nd and 9th Ave
Price: $75 for 2
Server: Michael
Cuisine: California
Chef: Not on website - is this a fuggin trend?

Periodically we like to punish ourselves by having lunch in Midtown. In keeping with our loathing for business lunches, we found a business lunch spot and descended our swarm of saltiness upon it.

First things first, the interior blows. Light up templates of gaucho style hats on the walls, overly lit, no atmosphere whatsoever, music? The only thing we liked about the space was the refurbished old floors.

They didn't ask for the reservation name, but when we called insisted we needed a reservation. Hmmmm... We were seated with menu's but no wine list. Clearly we don't look old enough to drink. When the wine list was finally procured we were completely and utterly horrified by the graphic design of it. There was good info and descriptions printed, and overall it was a semi-decent list. However, it was hard to read and very ugly to look at.

At this point we'd been sitting for about 10 minutes. No water. No offer of water, but bussers and servers wandering around blindly everywhere. There was one big party and only us in the whole place. Totaly empty.

Finally our Wait-er showed up and introduced himself in a slimey fake voice that made Myste want to scratch his eyes out. Still no offer or question on water. But he took our wine order. Our friend Stephanie arrived, and we all waited another 10 minutes while watching our server wolf down some food, before he came over and took her wine order. When he brought the glass of wine we asked if we were allowed to have any water. He virtually screamed to the busser 2 feet away "CAN YOU GET THESE LADIES SOME WATER PLEASE!!" We think he's gross. And lazy.

Michael of the slimey wait-er voice took our order and went away. Myste and I, lushes that we aspire to be, drank two glasses each of the Sancerre. It was fantastic. But to get a refill we had to practically balance the glasses on the edge of the table. Same with water.

The food, when it arrived, was quite good, and nicely presented. Myste had a nicoise salad. The eggs were whole and separated on the side (good for me, with a tiresome egg allergy). The tuna was sashimi grade and perfectly prepared, the greens fresh and the green beans were also very fresh. My scallop dish was perfect as well, and they accomodated my substitution without issue. If the food weren't so good, this place would have gotten 1 shaker, due to the exceedingly poor service, terrible menu design and awful interiors.

The desert menu was nicely selected and we appreciate an option for fresh berries and whipped cream. So even dieters might get to munch something sweet.

The other saving grace was that we were not charged for our second round of wine. Possibly because they sensed the poor service, but also possibly because he forgot.

We understand that at the end of a shift, people get lazy - however - we like to bring the salt to you, dear reader, with unsparing regularity.

Bottom line: Bring your own water, bring food for the waiter so he doesn't have to hide in back, and take a qualude prior to arrival to ensure greater patience. Ear plugs will be a good thing, if you need water from the busser, to make sure you don't get your eardrums blown by the yelling service staff.

Although the food was totally dialed in, we won't be back.

Pure Food And Wine - Raw Cuisine

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 20:16:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Pure Food And Wine
Location: 54 Irving Place and 17th, NYC
Price: $302 for 4
Server: Courtney
Cuisine: Raw Food/Vegan
Chef:Who Knows Really - but the PROPRIETOR is: Sarma Melngailis & Matthew Kenney

Pure Food and Wine is a Raw Food Vegan Restaurant in the Union Square area of Manhattan. When you first enter the restaurant, an amazon hostess tall enough to play professional basketball greets you and takes your coats. She gives you a ticket just like a fancy schmancy nice restaurant. Our party of 4 got seated right away and presented with the menu's.

The colors in the dining room are nice. Harlot red and dark wood, but the tables are all really close together. Since Myste doesn't shower much, we felt bad for the true vegetarians who had to breathe her meat sweat in. The lighting is low and sexy, but the music sounded like chanting in the background. Evidently it was a mix of New Order, White Stripes and Hendrix - but it was so crappy sounding you couldn't make it out. There's a series of duck paintings on the wall that seem to mock your inability to have any meat, but do look pretty cool.

The napkins on all 4 place settings were practically country kitchen table cloths. They can double as a blanket should you get cold. Seriously. One is enough for 4.

The crowd is just not cute. No getting around it, these are not your supermodels, but then neither are we. To quote our friend Charles "so buckled they can hold my pants up." Or another Charles quote "money is no cover for a good face." He's even saltier (and perpetually single) than we are. (this is Charles)

And this is a guest, notice Myste pointing at our subject here:

We thought the crowd was dressed well and upwardly mobile. Maybe even transplants from LA. They most likely all went to liberal arts colleges and read blogs (hopefully not this one). They're probably buzz hunters in search of the newest Eco-friendly swanky restaurant around. They found it, they were nice enough to let us in too.

The wine list has a guide on it for the non-consciously aligned wine buyer. You have O for Organic, S for Sustainable Farm Practices, B for Biodynamic (big word, no translation), V for Vegan (no shit). The wine list was admittedly pretty crappy, even without said guide. Their choices are probably limited, but come on. We ordered a Yamhill Pinot Noir for the first course. It was raisiny and light bodied, but pretty good. Our server paused mid wine service to hold the bottle aloft above Myste's head while she yammered at another table. Pretty cool.

Between the 4 of us, we ordered Sushi rolls with asparagus and some other stuff in it. The star of the night was a pear salad with a cashew nut cheese that knocked us out. Just order at least 2 of those and no one will fight. We also had the mushroom croquette thingys. They were tangy and stringy and texturally strange, but good. Final appetizer was the thai lettuce wrap with tamarind sauce. We need spice, and there weren't none. They were otherwise ok.

The service really was great. They were on top of their Mis En Place (that's fancy for get me my silverware bitch). The water was always full, and they wiped our tables in between courses. They employ the fancy fold napkin whilst you're peeing technique as well.

Courtney patiently re-answered all our ignorant menu questions. She knew her shit.

With our second course, we had a bottle of Donorara (or sumthin like that) Malbec. Fresh glasses and uninterrupted wine service. We ordered the Stuffed Red Pepper, Chilli Lime Tortilla Wraps, a Smoked Portobello Something, and the Zucchini Lasagne, which was a freaking disaster - more on the Lasagne later.

The Red Pepper was awesome. Again, that cashew nut cheese is a miracle. We loved it. It was beautifully plated (see our blurry photo) and very well balanced in flavor.

The Chilli Lime Tortilla Wraps made Charles more happy than the crowd did, but we thought they were gooey guacamole fests. The Smoked Portobello Thingy was delicious and savory. Smoking a portobello is genius. Seriously. Finally, the Zucchini Lasagne. Wow. Just wow. This thing was fucking horrid. It was purdy, and clearly took a long time to prepare. Pesto, fresh sliced and layered zucchini and tomatoes with that cashew cheese. That's all good on paper. But it was also SOAKED in this tomato paste that tasted like a sugar bowl was dropped into it. No savory, no texture, just blah.

For desert we had the Ice Cream Sundae with 4 spoons. This was a party in your mouth. Coconut/Cashew and Cherry goodness. MMMMM No espresso to lube you up though. Only $5 teas. Get real. Witness how much was left over:

Bottom line: We had a great time. The food is mostly good, and actually filling. The wine list needs some help, but bring good company and maybe your own wine (or get trashed earlier than your reservation somewhere else) and it's a great night out. A grown up restaurant with a future forward menu. So hot this year.

Angelica Kitchen - Vegan Restaurant

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Sun, 11 Nov 2007 00:52:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Angelica Kitchen
Location: 300 E. 12th St. - cross St. 2nd Ave.
Price: $30 for 2
Server: bad shoe guy
Chef: Peter Burley
Style: Vegan

Angelica Kitchen has been serving hippies for over 25 years. That's pretty good for a culture that eventually drops smoking weed and often re-introduces meat into their diets after they turn 30. Being the equal opportunist hungry bitches that we are, we don't shy away from vegan food. Every now and then, if you just don't want a colonic, have some vegetables instead. It's working for us.

Anyway, Angelica's looks like a ski lodge, with hooks on the walls for your coats, cafeteria tables and warm yellow and gold walls. As you might expect of any good hippie rooted establishment, there were fancy tapestry fabrics hanging from the ceilings. Hey, at least there's no incense and everyone eating either has a job or a trust fund to cover the bill. The hostess and all the servers sport some of the ugliest sneakers under one roof you may ever see. Other than that, no apparent dress code.

Besides the aforementioned hippies, the clientele seems to be a coming together spot for trannies, drag queens, yoga princesses and people who are just better and more conscious than you (in other words we were totally at home). It's cozy, it's warm and you just FEEL healthy when you sit there. On a side note, if you are looking for a healthy breeder female who will make a good mom for your offspring, you should become a regular here and learn to use 'sustainable' and 'green' and 'eco-friendly' in casual conversation.

But really, it's the food right?

The food at Angelica's Kitchen is actually fucking good. It's not heavy, it doesn't taste like potting soil like some vegan restaurants. Vegetables are used with abandon, and shock of all shocks -spices actually are too!

We had hot apple cider, which burned the roofs of our mouths it was so hot. But it was delicious and we had to stop ourselves from trying to get to-go cups for refills. I mean there is a limit to even our tackiness. We also had the Wee Dragon Bowl. Along with ancient wisdom, they serve up steamed veggies, beans and rice and the sauce of your choice. Myste had the wheat free cornbread, which - in keeping with vegan tradition, was so thick you could play street hockey with it. However it was, astonishingly, actually moist. How do you do that anyway?

I had their special, which was some kind of Morrocan tagine. It had sweet potatoes, carrots, celery, leeks, cauliflower, tofu, saffron tofu sour cream, rice pilaf, enormous trees of broccoli, and tomato. The broccoli was ridiculous. You need a chainsaw (or at least a knife, which they don't seem to have in the restaurant) to eat it. The flavor was savory, a little bit sweet, perfectly textured and filling. We loved it.

We love that there was no ice in the water, and no asking for refills. The glass never got empty. That's fucking cool. What's not fucking cool is that they are cash only. After 25 years, you can afford 5% visa/mc fee's. Pony Up.

Bottomline: Go there to work off a hangover, to feel better about yourself for not going to the gym, and in general to have a cheap, healthy awesome dinner/lunch. Do not take anyone who you need to impress with your uber trendy nightlife knowledge. Do not go if your dining companions are vegetable intolerant.

Wined Up - Tapas Cuisine

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 18:21:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Wined Up
Location: 913 Broadway - 2nd Floor (above Punch)
Price: $150 for three
Server: it's a mystery
Chef: Chef Corbett (is that a last name or a first name?)
Style: Tapas

What to say about Wined Up? First of all, we hate the name. Second, the business card sucks. It's got Punch Restaurant on the back in 90's raver orange, and the Wined Up side is black with circles and 1200 different font styles on it. Call us stupid but we like simple.

First impression of Wined Up is good. The decor is simple and elegant. High ceilings, big flower arrangements, floating wine display and simple table settings make for a lovely first impression. Then there are the frowning service staff. Oops. Namely the harried and stressed out manager who probably just needs a spa day and a date with the Rabbit (ladies you know which rabbit).

Their wine list is impressive and again, is a more modern list. It's arranged by style and characteristic rather than price or varietal. They have a lot of inexpensive and moderately priced wines, not too many expensive or boutique wines. European and domestic wines are featured, and you can find some really great deals here.

The menu's were well printed, and simple. We ordered a trio of cheeses, a trio of charcuterie's (meat yo), the duck confit, some kind of beet salad thingy, some toasted almonds, and french fries. We LOVED the duck and the meat yo, and the cheese wasn't bad either. The almonds tasted like someone's salty feet had been resting in them for days, and the french fries were crispy but not sinful enough. Healthy fries? Who needs that. Oh, and fries should be served hot, not tepid.

We ordered a french rhone wine whose name escapes us, as has our receipt. The wine was fantastic, and only $50, but they serve their wines in table wine glasses and we would have preferred to see some stem ware. Is it too much to ask for a wine bar?

The table next to us had to demand they bring up some stem ware, but as we are salty enough, we decided to deal with what the default glasses are.

Really, the reason this spot gets a 2 and not a 3 is because of the atmosphere. There wasn't any. It felt cold, aloof and impersonal in there, and wildly boring. You should take corporate people who you dislike to this place, because it fosters an environment where everyone is stiff and restless. The lighting could be taken down a notch, the music up 2 notches, the staff given some "love that joker" smiles, and then maybe you would have a 3 salt shaker place.

Dressler - Heavenly Goodness - 10/25/2007

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Fri, 26 Oct 2007 01:48:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Dressler
Location: 149 Broadway & Bedford, Williamsburg
Price: $146 for two
Server: Jeremy S.
Chef: Polo Dobkin
Style: Heavenly Goodness Cuisine

First things first, props to a restaurant for LISTING CLEARLY their chef's name on the website. Rudimentary right? But a lot of schmancy places don't put it on their websites. Dumb oversight perhaps, but the staff at Williamsburg's Dressler have got it right. Right down to the smallest detail.

The first thing that should be said is this place is absolutely gorgeous. It's not over the top, it's not snooty, it's not designed to show how wealthy and tasteful the owners are, or to cater to a douche-bag clientele. It's simply, elegantly, tastefully done. With a subtle dose of eclectic for good measure. They sat us next to these half walls with carved wood detail. Beautiful, but they'd be even better if they'd occasionally run a rag down the side and clean up the liquor spots and spilled milk spots...

The walls are covered in alternating mirrors and whimsical carved metal that has been backlight by some kind of warm opaque plexiglass. Some of the walls and detailing is in in carved wood, the chandeliers are a complicated sculpted metal that is somehow very soft and beautiful. There are fresh branches instead of flowers, and small tiled floors in a pattern vaguely like an afghan. The music is a mix of electronic and college pop, and is blended in well with the locale, you have the feeling it's been well selected. The staff is understated, cute and decidedly NOT hipster elite. Thank fucking god. Williamsburg has been overrun by the hipsters. Best of all, it's 2 blocks from my house...

The crowd at Dressler is the hot 30+ crowd. Everyone was well behaved, not business dinners with morons, or hook up and fuck me girls and the guys who pay for them.

Myste feels very strongly that we mention the sea-salt dish in the center of the table. A nice touch. The tables are set simply with brown butcher paper, and simple silver set up, a candle, and thankfully - water (unlike Salute!).

The server was professional and inobtrusive. We ordered a decently priced bottle of wine (Les Sorceres du Clos Du Fees, 2005) which I totally slaughtered the pronunciation of. He corrected me gently and professionally as he served the wine (which was delicious).

Let's stop here a moment to talk about the wine list. Kudo's to the staff for designing a modern wine list. Gone is the list by price or by varietal. Instead it's designed by characteristics of the wine's actual TASTE. For example, light bodied, Bold, Spicey. In blends they list the varietals to aid you in choosing something tailored to your taste. Everyone can be a wine genius with a list like this.

We shared the Quail, which was with some heavenly creamy polenta, pickled watermelon rind, pancetta and some other shit - hey we're not chef's. The flavors were perfectly balanced, and even more appropriately - perfectly selected for fall.

We also shared the Diver Scallop appetizer. I wanted to take it to bed with me for the next week, but I had to share...
Fingerling potatoes, mushrooms, leeks perhaps, and some fancy root vegetable all accompanied the scallop. The scallop was cooked perfectly and the dish was the kind of thing bitches like us wish we could eat for breakfast on a daily basis.

Then came the snapper. And this is why this is only a 3 salt shaker restaurant. The snapper had all the makings of WOW, but failed to deliver. The fish was slightly overcooked, the pork was dry, it was too oily and too salty (and clearly we like salt). Maybe it sat too long under a heat lamp, or maybe it was just an off moment in an otherwise awesome kitchen... Of course we ate it anyway. Please, like we'd leave any food on the plate...

For desert was a plum thing with spice cake and some kind of cracked black pepper and vanilla semi-freddo? I had a bite of the plum and was totally happy. Myste, having no tiresome egg allergy ate the whole thing and grinned like a fool the entire time. She liked it so much she bought another one for the handle-bar moustached man's wife a few tables away.

After dinner cocktails, Myste had the Ascot, which was lovingly attended to by the bartender, and was actually perfect. Both of us bartending bitches are snotty and hard to please. My Spanish coffee was also perfect and with a delicous slightly melted whipped cream top lovingly patted into place by said bartender.

When we got up to pee, the waiter folded our napkins for us. That's just neat.

Bottom line? Go and bring people who need to know that you are in the know, ya know? And if you do go, there is a good chance we will be belly up at the bar, because we'd move in right now if they had beds (or pillows even). This is our favorite classy little sassy neighborhood haunt since we left Seattle.

Salute! - Italian Restaurant - 10/25/2007, Lunch

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Thu, 25 Oct 2007 21:01:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Salute!
Location: 270 Madison Ave and 39th
Price: $89.41 for two
Server: Nicholeta H.
Chef: Carlo Apollini

Salute! is located in the hell of all hell's, known affectionately as Midtown to locals and cab drivers everywhere. We hate Midtown, but we were hungry and in Bryant Park - so what are two salty bitches going to do? Go to Salute! evidently.

It's clearly becoming a theme, and if we were deeper we'd find some existential parallel, but once again it was raining and we were in galoshes (this becomes important later). The hostess seated us in the bar area in this small ugly table with ceramic center pieces that vaguely resembled multiple sun's. The table was however equipped with two armchairs, which did not suck.

Whilst sitting in our kings chairs I orders a Kings Estate Pinot Gris, and Myste had a Smoking Loon Vigonier from a girl who was not our server, as our server had disappeared from sight. The glasses smelled like detergent, and could have used another rinse, however, the wine was so oaky (in Myste's glass anyway) that the detergent taste was only partially offensive.

The cocktail waitresses were all sporting teal jersey halter dresses and underwear lines, looking for all the world like reluctant bridesmaids. Aside from muffin tops in teal, they were pretty cute, and we're a sucker for cute girls. The bar is an open California style design with wood interiors and big yellowy (yes thats a word) and big hangy (that's a word too) lights. The decor is upscale but still Mediterranean casual enough to justify the name. The clientele is Midtown business types, of which we were not.

The dining room is a secret society dining room. You either need to be dressed not in galoshes and oscar the grouch t-shirts to sit there, or you have to have a reservation, we're not sure... But we walked around anyhoo so as to describe with utmost care, the whole package to you - dear reader.

The tables and chairs are covered in linen. We think it's vaguely funeral parlor-eque (that's a word). Calla lily's would have completed the look. But the wall art was bright and garish and looks like your 3 year old niece painted it. Suits were happily dining in linen parlor chairs.

In the bar there was no male wait-staff, as cocktailing is clearly a girl's art. Sorry guys. However, bussing and running is a male art, and the bussers and runners were in head to toe white, which seems silly but looks good.

Eventually bread was brought to the table, also not by our server, who was still out of sight.

When she showed back up, we ordered the Salute! salad, which consisted of watercress, endive, pears, walnuts and gorgonzola in a champagne vinaigrette. However the gorgonzola tasted like goat cheese and the whole salad could have used either a true salty gorgonzola, or some salt in the dressing. As we contemplated the gorgonzola dilemna, Michael Jackson sang "you are not alone." We were deeply comforted.

We also had the Fruitti Di Mare salad which consisted of mussels, calamari, scallops, octopus and shrimp cooked perfectly then chilled. It was served lightly dressed in oil, lemon and garlic, atop seasonal greens and endive. It was delicious and had a little pepper and subtle spice. We paired these two salads with some fattening roasted potatoes. The potatoes were the best ever. They came in a small copper serving dish (too cute) and were fingerling potatoes cooked in olive oil, with sea salt and roasted garlic. Yum fucking yum.

In the dining room where we were not allowed, they have some kind of team serving thing going on in there. Captains, front waiters, back waiters, lame waiters. They were all there.

Back in the bar, the woman sitting next to Myste was rocking a glad garbage bag with buttons on it. Clearly she wasn't dressed appropriately for the dining room funeral parlor experience either.

After we licked our plates (because we have class) we ordered an espresso and a cappucino.

Two problems with the cappucino, first, it was really a latte. Second, it came in a ridiculous little glass that had a finger hole so small that there's no way you can hold the cup up at an even level. It slopes to the side. Looky:

Not only that, it says illy in big red font, which frankly, makes us ill.

After we finished our coffee we were waiting for the check. And waiting. And waiting. Finally we asked the manager. He was standing right by the terminial, but in his uber-important-ness (that's a word too) he couldn't stoop to do the dirty work himself, he demanded another cocktail waitress get up from napkin folding and print the check. We think he's an ass.

Bottom line? Don't wear galoshes if you want to sit in the funeral parlor room. Which might be a good idea, because with the whole sports team of servers at your disposal, you're needs will never go unnoticed.

We'd go back, but only if we were trolling for married men.

The House - 10/11/2007

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Sat, 20 Oct 2007 18:49:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: The House
Location: 121 E. 17th St. Manhattan
Price: $126.79 for two
Corkage: $25
Server: Filippo
Chef: A great mystery

It was a stormy day (and by stormy we mean pouring down rain, with us sporting galoshes) when we stumbled upon The House. It's a beautifully restored Carriage House located in the Grammercy Park area. They accomodated our soggy ensemble even without reservations, and gave us a beautiful table for two upstairs, with a private window.

The server, Filippo was attentive, gorgeous and knowledgeable. We're a sucker for that combination. The music was eclectic but not obnoxious, and the atmosphere was elegant, clean, simple and warm.

We two soggy bitches brought our own bottle of wine, which they gladly accomodated, but on it's own, their wine list boasts an impressive collection of boutique and more widely known domestic and european wines. Our server knew his wines and his food, and was even talked into tasting our wine. Filippo double checked our allergy requests, suggested pairings of food and genuinely made our dining experience more than wonderful.

We shared the Bibb salad and the Clams in Broth. The salad was great, but paled in comparison to the clams. The clams were in some heavenly sauce that made us imagine we were having some torrid orgy in our mouths. Needless to say we're addicted and we aim to have some more.

I had the Corriander Tuna, which seemed to be in a similar prepartion as a Nicoise Salad, but minus the eggs. Myste had the NY Strip in a Chimichurri sauce. The ingredients in both dishes were perfectly balanced, not oily, fattening, rich or unsatisfying. The bitter, salt, sweet and savory palates all harmonized together well. All the dishes were beautifully plated and the proportions were generous without being ridiculous.

Chef Nameless is truly gifted and he's doing a wonderful job. We'd love to list his name, but after calling, it's become clear that the front of house staff needs some training, as no one there during the day could figure out his name. We got a "Shawn, maybe?"

All in all this is one of our favorite new spots, and aside for some education of the Front of House Staff, we think The House has got its own thang going on.

Juliette - A french brasserie - 9/27/07

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Sat, 20 Oct 2007 18:14:00 +0000

Rating:

Name: Juliette
Location: 135 N. 5th St and Bedford Ave in uber hip Williamsburg.
Price: $50.51 for two

At first glance this place is unreal. Rooftop dining and bar, ridiculously cute hipster staff, dialed in loungy music, perfect ambience and decor and a nice simple menu. Too good to be true? Naturally.

The only employee who seemed to know what they were doing was the busser. The server was totally braindead (although cute).

We ordered a dry gin martini and a lemondrop. Myste's martini showed up in the guise of a dirty vodka martini. My lemondrop was made with sour mix off the gun and tasted like crystal light meets Kool-Aid. Not too cool. When we sent back the martini, the bartender came out to discuss why on earth we would send back his creation. I guess to shame us into drinking it anyway. Fortunately we have no shame. Gin was produced.

I asked the hostess (as the server was most likely shooting up in back) for some soda water. This request produced much chaos, but eventually a bottle of sparkling water was delivered to our table. It worked well enough to dilute my Crystal Light Kool-Aid beverage.

Then onto dinner.

We ordered the Moules et Frittes and a Beet Salad. The server never brought us utensils, or share plates, or anything to eat with really. When our food arrived, the busser hastily procured said items so we could avoid using our fingers. He stayed nearby cleaning table debris and checking on our smacked out servers other tables. In fact, our busser was the only person moving fast enough to have us believe he did not shoot up with the rest of the staff pre-shift.

The food, however, was delicious. The Beet Salad was wonderful, but we would have loved to see some greens (you know, like a salad). The mussels were fresh and the french fries were supposedly perfect. I wouldn't know, Myste ate the whole lot. We spooned as much butter onto the bread and into our mouths as was possible, and probably would have licked the bowl if we weren't dressed all fancy. That's the kind of bitches we are...

When the check was presented by the mostly absent server, we were greatly amused to discover a tip guide neatly printed on the bottom of the check, advising how much to tip for the outrageously perfect service.

Bottom line? If you go, wait on your own table, and order wine. And tip your busser appropriately.

hello

noreply@blogger.com (Slightly Salty Sisters) — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 19:26:00 +0000

We are Myste and Wyoming. This is our food blog. Most food blogs come from qualified foodie sources, snooty chefs, critics and such, and most focus only on the food itself.

We think that sucks. This blog is our self-important view on not only the food, but on the service, ambience, menu, price and anything else we think about at your restaurant (such as what your guests look like).