LANDMARC

It is hard to imagine that the movers and shakers behind restaurant development at the Time Warner Center ever envisioned an armada of strollers docked outside one of their venues on a Saturday evening. Yet that is actually what I encountered at Landmarc last Saturday. Lest you believe I am about to launch a diatribe against children in restaurants, I was there myself because I needed a place to go with my five-year old, having been too harried and uncertain during the day to make a reservation. Landmarc, with its no reservation policy and seating for 300, fit the bill.

However, even more incongruous than the strollers parked outside the restaurant is the décor inside. Landmarc positions itself as a family-friendly neighborhood restaurant with relatively gentle prices and a wine list that leads with affordable half-bottles. Those attributes are in stark contrast to the design, which features an incredibly dark, lounge-like atmosphere accented with post-industrial chic décor. If supermodels had children, this is where they would take them.

As for the food, chef Marc Murphy tries to please everyone. The menu runs the gamut from bistro classics to pasta to burgers, with very little invention along the way. Mussels with shallots, parsley and white wine are as good as our farmed mussels can get, which isn’t that good. The Filet Mignon may not be prime but it is cooked well and is accompanied by a credible Béarnaise and a nicely dressed mixed green salad. The side dishes we sampled, Sautéed Mushrooms and Green Lentils, were done well. However, the wan and tasteless fries were embarrassing for a bistro.

The best dish of the night, Crispy Sweetbreads with Haricot Verts, suggests that the list of house dishes is the way to go here, as they represent Murphy’s only forays off the beaten, commercial path, towards more authentic bistro cooking. And that is the problem with Landmarc. While all of the food is executed well (no mean feat with 300 seats) the conception of the menu - when combined with the ambience - produces a strangely bloodless result, like a bistro filtered through the executive minds of Cheesecake Factory. Do we really need Fried Calamari with Tomato Sauce, Burgers, Caesar Salad (with or without grilled chicken), daily pasta specials and a kid’s menu (including cold cereal, no less)?

There is no doubt that Murphy and his crew can cook. Perhaps one day they will cook what they like.

CAFE SABARSKY

Museum Mile is one of my favorite areas of the city, an alluring stretch of Fifth Avenue with some of the world's finest museums standing in the glorious shadow of Central Park.Like Chicago's skyscrapers, it is a marvelous example of civic engineering and a calling card worthy of a great city. It might be easy to lose sight of the Neue Galerie, a tiny spot on the corner of 86th Street, among the heavy hitters in the neighborhood. This riny gem houses a remarkable collection of early twentieth-century art from Austria and Germany as well as Cafe Sabarsky, an absolutely charming recreation of a kaffehause of the era, complete with period pieces and a grand piano.

Better yet, the cafe is in the capable hands of Kurt Gutenbrunner, another Bouley alumnus and chef/proprietor of the Michelin-starred Wallse. There is a large selection of composed salads and cold plates, such as Palatschinken with Smoked Trout and Horseradish as well as Avocado Salad with Crabmeat and Tomatoes, but they tend to be served too cold, as if plated ahead.

Better bets are the dishes the menu borrows from its big brother's menu, such as the Kavalierspitz, a homely but delicious hunk of boiled beef shoulder and humble root vegetables, sort of an Austrian pot-au-feu. There is a selection of wursts from Schaller & Weber, such as a simply boiled Weisswurst with a pungent, mustardy potato salad, and my favorite, Roasted Bratwurst with Riesling Sauerkraut and Roasted Potatoes.

As lovely as the period decor is, the most attention is drawn by the side board displaying an array of Austrian desserts, most of which look better than they taste, with the exception of an excellent, tart Apple Strudel, which you should enjoy with a cup of freshly brewed Meinl coffee or a Viennese Hot Chocolate.

While I believe Guttenbrunner could tighten up the food quality a bit here, Cafe Sabarsky is undeniably charming, a loving recreation that gets all of the details right. It is an oasis of civility and sophistication that fits its surroundings like a glove.

FIVE REASONS TO LIVE IN NEW YORK - OCTOBER 2009

1. Sheng Jian Bao, He Cheng Restaurant, Golden Mall, Flushing

2. Moist Brisket, Pork Ribs, Hill Country

3. Hot Dog Completo, San Antonio Bakery # 2, Astoria

4. Peking Duck, Peking Duck House

5. Creme Brulee Bon Bon, Kee's Chocolates

EL BULLI 2007 - REVISITED

I have been giving a great deal of thought lately to my meal at El Bulli two years ago. I have been mesmerized by the photos, admiring the conception of the dishes and the artful plating. Like all of us, I find that certain meals resonate for long periods of time, and they are often not the ones that provide the most immediate enjoyment. While I stand by my comments below, written soon after my visit, I may have understated the sheer technical brilliance on display, and the exceptional quality of the last nine savory dishes, which, on their own, would have amounted to one of the best tasting menus I have ever had. In any event, here is the post with some updated photos.

Our taxi lurched up the hill, its driver oblivious to the switchbacks that were percolating the contents of my stomach up into my throat. As it was only late April, this region of the Costa Brava was hardly ready to welcome the thousands of Europeans that would descend upon it a few months later. Roadblocks and construction were everywhere, and our driver was thwarted more than once on his way out of the little town of Roses.

So, having snagged the most difficult restaurant reservation in the world, and after traveling across the Atlantic, I ended up at El Bulli - carsick.

Fortunately, we were thirty minutes early, and the wooziness gradually wore off, allowing for a timely entrance. After a brief tour of the kitchen, populated on any given night by a minimum of forty chefs, we were introduced to a visibly tired Chef Ferran Adria, who was very gracious despite having just returned from London, where he accepted the S. Pellegrino award for El Bulli, once again voted the best restaurant in the world.

At this point I must apologize on the behalf of my wife for not taking photos of the first several snacks to arrive, as excitement got the better of her momentarily. I will say that the first one, the famous Spherical Olive, a single burst of intense, pure olive licquid suspended in sodium alginate, is pure perfection.

Here are the dishes:

Pistachio with Yuzu Spongecake

Raspberry Fondant with Vinegar

Sesame Spongecake

Tiger Nut Milk Flowers

Tangerine Bonbon, Peanut and Curry

Oyster Yogurt

Steamed Brioche with Mozzarella and Rose Perfume

Icy Truffle of Meringue

Fever Tree Tonic Meringue with Agrumes and Watermelon

Gorgonzola Shell, Celery and Apple

Raisins of PX with Anchovy and Cardamom Brioche

Liquid Wonton of Mushrooms

Gnocchi of Polenta

Razor Clams "Escabeche"

Asparagus in Different Cooking Times

Clam/Octopus

Red Mullet with Gelatina Stuffing

Lamb Brains in Their Own Juice

Pita of Iberian Ham Fat and Veal Bone Marrow

Sweet Frost Fruit

The Wool 2007

Tangerine

Morphings...

Where to begin? Based on the menu I was served, and from what others have told me, the "snacks" segment

of the menu has grown significantly, and in terms of the number of dishes as well as time, consumes about two-thirds of the meal. Having enjoyed Alinea prior to my visit to El Bulli, I believed I was going in with an open mind. However, about half way through the snacks I began to feel a bit of agitation. These small dishes were manipulated to such an extent that they were barely recognizable as food. Served in rapid fire fashion, it was difficult to take in the concept of each dish - to understand what Adria was attempting - before the next one arrived.

Equally disconcerting was the manner in which Adria plays with temperatures and sweetness. The Gorgonzola Shell, Celery and Apple consists of a frozen white bowl which turns out to be made from Gorgonzola, holding apple, celery, and walnuts - a classic salad combination. But why would anyone want to eat a frozen salad? Likewise, the Tangerine Bonbons with Peanut and Curry and the Tiger Nut Milk Flowers would have been much better served closer to the sweet course.

Just at the point when I began to lose hope, the "tapas" section of the meal began, and over the next seven or eight courses I was lifted out of my doldrums by some truly stunning food. You can see how the "tapas" dishes incorporate many of the techniques and concepts that Adria is famous for, as in the Raisins of PX that accompany the anchovy. These are gels, each one made from different fortified wines. They shine like jewels on the plate and their sweetness is a perfect balance for the fish.

Unfortunately, Albert Adria's desserts brought forth more consternation on my part. "The Wool -2007" is basically cotton candy served over caramel sauce. I await the day when pastry chefs grow up and realize cotton candy is not a dessert, at least for an adult. "Tangerine", consisting of a butterfly artfully carved from a beet, sits on what appears to be a pile of dirt. I also await the day when pastry chefs stop serving crumbs for dessert.

The problem with the desserts, and many of the snacks, is not that they have been manipulated using scientific techniques previously known only to the industrial food business, but that - after all the thought and careful execution that went into them - they just don't taste particularly good.

This meal was a special one, however, not just for all of the obvious reasons - the mystique of the place, the reservation process, the location, the warm greeting and service - but ultimately because when Adria puts all of his concepts and techniques into actual "food" , there is genius at work.

HAKATA TONTON

“Japanese Soul Food” is how Hakata Tonton refers to its cuisine, and I can’t think of a more fitting description. Dining in this small storefront in the heart of the West Village will remind you of one of the most enjoyable dinner parties you ever attended. When the wait staff falls behind, chef Hima Okajima may come out of the kitchen and serve you, making sure all is well in the process. And all is well. The food here may not be particularly fancy but it is prepared with care and feeling.

Two of us began by sharing a cool dish of Motsu, better known in this country as chitterlings, in a bright, sharp dressing. Gyozas have never been my dumplings of choice, but the homemade version here may have converted me to the cause. Thin and very crisp, they begin the onslaught of Tonsoku dishes featuring Okajima’s protein of choice, pig’s trotters, by displaying a toenail in each.

We moved on to Grilled Tonsoku with Scallions, Spicy Yuzu Paste and Ponzu sauce, in which our trotter has had its fat rendered out, leaving the three of us to greedily pick at the crunchy exterior. My favorite dish of the evening followed. The Hakata Tonton Hot Pot includes tofu, dumplings, vegetables, and Berkshire pork belly in a collagen broth made with more of those trotters, that your server brings to a raging boil at your table. My friends and I questioned the wisdom of leaving a cauldron of bubbling napalm on a small table occupied by three men working on their third bottle of sake, but we quickly filed away our apprehension when we dug in. The broth has a mouth-coating quality from the collagen, and stays just on the good side of salt and spice as it bubbles away.

Unfortunately we were unable to enjoy part two of the dish, whereby rice is added to the hot pot until it cooks and develops a crust, because we had overstayed our allotted two hour time limit, which we were notified of when we made our same day reservation. The staff were apologetic, and our waitress came outside to present us with a parting gift of Pez from her dispenser. Not the greatest of Mignardise, but a welcome gesture befitting a happy place.

YAKITORI TOTTO

No less than the likes of Thomas Keller and Eric Ripert have sung the praises of Yakitori Totto, the Japanese spot devoted to the art of grilled chicken. The restaurant is up a flight of stairs in a nondescript Midtown West building, and offers diners seating at the food bar facing the chefs, or at a group of small tables. You may get a lecture if making a last-minute reservation here even if you get in, so I advise planning ahead, especially for a spot at the bar.

Once you are seated the staff is friendly and will help with any questions you may have. Recently a friend and I ate our way through a good deal of the menu here, which is easy to do given the small portions and equivalent prices.

While we mixed in a few vegetable options, such as Tsukemono Mori Awase (pickled Japanese vegetables) and Yaki Nasu Miso Dengaku (eggplant with miso paste), our focus was chicken, and we did not blink. About two hours later we had eaten our way through an entire bird, albeit in little bits and pieces. There were highlights on both the safe and adventurous sides of the menu; the former featuring Negima (thigh with scallion), Mune (breast with wasabi), and one of may favorite dishes of the night, Shishito Tsukune Tsume (meatballs stuffed into shishito peppers).

Totto is well known for featuring the “odd” bits of the bird, and on the adventurous side we enjoyed Hatsu (heart), Reba (liver), Seseri (neck) and another favorite, Hiza Nankotsu (soft knee bone). If, like me, you were unsure if chickens actually had knees, rest assured that they do, and they are surprisingly tasty and easy to eat, with just a hint of cartilage and bone.

The chicken at Yakitori Totto is impeccably sourced and can be eaten less cooked than Americans are used to, and even raw, as sashimi. While it is flavorful in the way modern chickens are not, it is handled delicately, in the tradition of the finest Japanese cuisine. The dishes are light, with subtle, clean and refined flavors, and I found them to be uniformly well executed. Go with an open mind, and you will be amply rewarded.

KESTE PIZZA E VINO

Already blessed with world class old school pizza palaces like Totonno’s, Grimaldi’s and Nick’s, New York City has welcomed a new generation of pizza men, beginning with Anthony Malgieri, proprietor of the recently departed and already dearly missed Una Pizza Napoletana. Malgieri brought a single-minded intensity to his art, installing a wood burning oven from Italy himself and cooking every pie that went in it.

Luckily we did not have a long mourning period. Not only did we find out that Mathieu Palombino’s second branch of Motorino will take over Malgieri’s ovens, but we discovered that another great Neapolitan pizza place was already open in our midst. Keste Pizza e Vino is the child of Roberto Caporusio, President of the Amercan chapter of the Associazone Pizzaiouli Napoletana, and true to his calling, he is turning out some authentic Neapolitan pies with some intriguing twists.

Keste has quickly divided pizza lovers into two camps, one that appreciates the Neapolitan style and one that does not. The crusts at Keste are far puffier and soft than their thin crust New York style counterparts, and the centers can be downright runny and difficult to eat with your hands. But here is another case where it does not pay to be dogmatic in your approach to food. Once you get over the stylistic differences you will notice that the crusts are perfectly blistered in just the right number of spots, and have a nicely fermented, developed flavor.

More importantly, the toppings feature very high quality ingredients that intermingle in interesting ways. The Keste pizza, featuring tomato, Gran Cru Pecorino Sardo, Proscuitto de Parma, arugula and extra-virgin olive oil, is one of the more standard flavor profiles, but very successfully done..

The Pizza de Papa is more creative, combining butternut squash cream, smoked mozzarella, shaved fresh artichokes and roasted peppers. The smokiness of the cheese is a great combination with the slightly sweet squash cream. The artichokes and roasted peppers provide a Mediterrean acid boost but they seem somewhat out of place on a more Northern Italian pie.

My unexpected favorite of the three pies I sampled was the Quattro Formaggi, combining fresh buffalo mozzarella, Gran Cru Pecorino Sardo, Caciocavallo, Parmigiano Reggiano, fresh basil and extra-virgin olive oil. Four cheese pies tend to be one-note messes, impossibly rich and loaded with inferior cheeses. Not so at Keste, where this pie really sings, due in great part to the judicious use of the buffalo mozzarella and the sharp tang provided by the famous sheep’s milk Gran Cru Pecorino from Sardinia.

While the one salad we tried was overwhelmed by lemon juice, and the wine list is ridiculous for a restaurant with Vino in its name, Keste is a very welcome addition to the crowd of new artisanal pizzerias in the city.