Every now and again all that eating just sort of catches up, you know? It’s why I’d probably never survive as a full-time restaurant reviewer. I have my limits. Yesterday started off just fine…

Let’s just say that Big Daddy’s, 239 Park Avenue South, doesn’t seem to do much in the small portions world. I was waiting for an appointment and stopped in for a fried egg on toast and some coffee. Apparently this is what comes of that order – and it was pretty darned good, especially the tater tots – those rock.

Around about lunchtime I was starting to feel a touch off, but made it to a lunch with a friend at the “South Indian Vegetarian Street Food” palace that is Saravannah Bhavan, 81 Lexington Avenue. I have to admit, not a cuisine I know at all – we started with a dosa, that rolled tube of a paper-thin pancake, served up with a quartet of dipping sauces. Then a thali – rice, papadam and chapathi, with ten different dipping sauces, from mild to spicy, yogurt to tomato to lentil. Some of them I loved, others I wasn’t as enthused with – not sure if it was the way I was feeling or the food, but interesting enough to make a return visit one day. The third photo, a mini-tiffin – another dosa with different sauces. All of it good… I think, but by the time lunch was over I was needing a serious nap.

Unfortunately, it was not to be – first off my annual spice shopping at nearby Kalustyan’s – and then some other quick errands, followed by a visit to the dojo where I only managed about an hour before I just needed to head out. Went back to the apartment, stopped at a diner where I picked up some plain chicken soup, a bottle of orange juice, drank them and then hit the sack until early this morning. Sometimes, enough is enough.

A family visiting break on Sunday, my aunt and uncle in Connecticutt – both a nice visit and some downtime – and definitely a nice break on stuffing myself with multiple plates of the latest trend or largest portion of food coming out of a kitchen. Breakfast was just coffee before heading to the Amtrak, lunch in CT was a simple green salad, and for dinner, my uncle prepared a delicious eggplant and tomato curry and a creamy, tasty lamb biryani (he’s on a kick of experimenting with Indian food right now). Nice, normal portions, and three of us sharing just a part of a bottle of Chamisal Syrah 2009, a nice little discovery from a vineyard that’s owned by friends of one of their sons.

My aunt and I even got in some exercise with a three mile hike through the nearby woods.

Stayed the night, and back on the train next morning and into New York where I’m staying in the apartment of a friend of a friend of a friend who’s away in Seattle for the week. Lovely river view from Hunter’s Point, just a subway stop from Grand Central.

And a late breakfast of iced coffee and a nova, tomato and cream cheese on a toasted salt bagel at Ess-a-Bagel, one of the old time classics. Life is good. By the way, for those who don’t know the difference between lox and nova – the former is salt cured until relatively firm, the latter is very lightly salt cured and then cold-smoked – it’s usually a little softer, and also obviously has the smoky flavor to it.

And met up with a friend for lunch in midtown at Little Thai Kitchen, 231 E. 53rd St., a pretty barebones operation with just kind of average food. Fried tofu with a peanut and tamarind sauce was fine if a bit dry and not all that exciting.

Vegetable dumplings were probably the best thing we had, and had a nice kick to them.

My litmus test of Thai restaurants, a larb – this one sort of overwhelmed by toasted notes and raw red onion – the other flavors barely made it through – it’s probably the first time I’ve left more than half a salad like that. Actually, we left about half our food in total.

And, although my lunch companion seemed to enjoy the tamarind shrimp I found them to be sickly sweet and gloppy. Overall, not a winning lunch food-wise, thankfully a great one company and conversation-wise.

An afternoon running errands and trying to vaguely stay dry, then off to the dojo for a couple of hours, and then back into the streets to meet a restaurant biz friend at the new NoMad, 1170 Broadway, a hotel restaurant under the supervision of the dream team from Eleven Madison. A bit more upscale than I was expecting – a beautiful series of rooms with a touch of stuffiness – but thankfully the staff bring an element of more casual airs to it that makes it feel relaxed. Overall enjoyed the experience – the pricing is a bit steep, no, very steep – if there’s any real criticism it’s the lighting which is a very strange yellow-orange that makes everyone look just a tad under the weather. Forget any photos unless you want to use a flash, which I didn’t.

Couldn’t really tell you what was on the frutos de mer platter – at $24/person with six bites each – but each was really an excellent and intriguing combination of flavors. Lobster, crab with avocado and lime, sea urchin panna cotto with apple gelee, scallop with yuzu and pistachio, oyster, and, I think, prawn with horseradish – really delightful if skimpy, then again, on a per bite basis it probably was no more expensive, yet more elaborate, than the fusion sushi two nights before up in Boston…. Hmmm.

Slow cooked halibut (sous vide?) to the point of an amazing creamy texture, with spring peas, lemon-thyme, and saffron. It really wasn’t glowing with yellow spots, it was just the lighting.

Perfectly seared scallops served with maitake mushrooms, sorrel puree and Meyer lemon. Delicious.

And we split an order of the roasted bone marrow gratineed with breadcrumbs, parsley, shallots and anchovy. Wonderful combination.

I let myself be talked into dessert – the “milk and honey” came highly recommended by my dining companion – I’m afraid he liked it a lot more than I did. Not bad, just to me seemed like a bag of tricks – some dehydrated milk foam as a brittle, honey brittle, and an ice cream of a kind of indistinguishable flavor, apparently supposed to be “milk flavor” – to me the whole thing tasted like reconstructed Captain Crunch cereal.

Much more interesting to my palate the lemon custard with shortbread and ricotta. Then again, I tend to love both lemon and cheese based desserts.

Service, as noted, friendly. Not overly efficient. Pre-dinner cocktails didn’t arrive until after our appetizers were on the table, despite having ordered them a bit before ordering food. And a bottle of wine, Alain Voge’s Terres Boisées St. Peray, 2008 was a fantastic Marsanne based wine that met with the approval of our sommelier, but wasn’t delivered to the table by her until we were midway through our main courses – and then because it was getting late, they didn’t want to delay our desserts so that we’d have time to sit and finish the wine – so we had dessert and then went back to the wine – not our preference, but, hey guys, hospitality and all that?

The food, overall, uniformly fantastic, and while pricey, I’ve had worse for more. It definitely wouldn’t be a place I’d go to regularly unless I had a six-figure job, but, for a night out with one of my best friends and catching up, well worth it.

Having called it an early night I was up bright and early, somewhere around 6 a.m., and decided to break fast in the lobby bar/cafe. More food? Yeah, I was hungry!

Checking out a traditional Boston corned beef hash and eggs sounded like a great way to start the day. This was good, really quite good, but not very traditional, served up with poached eggs and hollandaise sauce (waiter’s tip – “use ketchup, not the hollandaise, seriously” – he was right). But, it mostly started my day off well. The bottled grapefruit juice, pre-packaged butter balls for the toast, and Starbuck’s coffee, that the hotel serves, were less successful at that.

Really? Who is the bridge for then?

Took a walk along the river over to nearby MIT, wandered a bit, then across the Longfellow Bridge (apparently usually called the salt and pepper bridge because of the shape of the towers), along the edge of Beacon Hill and then into the center of town where I’d been the day before, to meet up with friend David and do a bit more wandering. We followed the Freedom Trail again, this time things were open, we poked in to one or two, but, freedom having a price and all that, of course, every building had a charge to enter it and really look around. Plus it was a glorious day out, we decided to spend most of it out of doors. On to North End, where we had plans…

…to line up at 11 a.m. for the 11:30 a.m. opening time of Neptune Oyster, 63 Salem Street, a necessity that David was primed for – we were first in line at 11, but by the time 11:30 rolled around, the line stretched down the block. We grabbed a couple of seats at the counter bar, and proceeded to demolish a dozen different kinds of oysters each.

David had highly touted the “vitello tonnato” sandwich, though hadn’t described in great detail, just asserting it was a sandwich that he dreams about. That’s high praise, and so we both ordered one. And I can understand it – might just be the best fish-based sandwich I’ve ever had. A complete twist on vitello tonnato, the classic Italian dish of thin slices of poached veal with a tuna and caper mayonnaise spooned over it, this is a wickedly spicy tuna tartare (wasabi, horseradish, mustard, all three?) topped with shredded roasted veal and fresh cucumbers. Great garlic dill pickle on the side, good fries (and no blanching over my asking for mayo and then mixing it with my ketchup – salsa golf how I do love thee). And then, back into the streets to explore more of the North End and elsewhere….

Setting aside the mis-spelling of Caesar, apparently this is the place to get your kosher crucifers.

A little glass harmonica, with David helping out turning the crank and someone else holding up the song book – the woman has the music for “every” national anthem in her book, and proceeded to play me the Argentine one – albeit at double to triple speed giving it a slight pop edge versus its usual funeral dirge pace and feel.

Our next stop, the two famed competing pastry shops of the North End, Modern and Mike’s, where it was my task to decide on a winner between the age old cannoli debate. On the left, Modern’s version – thin, delicate crust, very crispy – they fill the tubes to order – but seriously lacking in taste – the ricotta filling being a very light, whipped sort, with too much sugar. The Mike’s version, which may not look pretty, and which admittedly given that they pre-fill the cannoli tubes was a little soft in spots, simply rocked on the tastebuds – the ricotta with some texture to it, just the right amount of sugar, some lemon peel, a touch of vanilla. For me it wasn’t even close. Mike’s won. Later on we heard we should have also grabbed one around the corner at a place called Maria’s – next time.

I understand what they mean, but in a way, the last line reads backwards to me of what it should, especially if you’re trying to build a faithful church membership.

After wandering more and into other neighborhoods, we ended up with a bit of a refreshing beverage (housemade ginger ale for me, and a spiced lemonade for David), at L’Espalier, then off to his home for a brief visit with wife and daughter, the latter of whom I’d never met in her six years of existence. Then into the car and back to Cambridge for a drive around Harvard, and then over to stop in and have a drink with Patricia Yeo, whom I used to work with at AZ and pAZo in New York, many moons ago now. We plopped at the bar at Moksa, 450 Massachusetts Ave, and were treated to a parade of small plates, from spicy fish roti to beef shin noodles to fresh razor clams, roasted shishito peppers, and, my favorites, the skewers of lamb meatballs (hmmm, perhaps a dipping sauce to add in), and the best, grilled chicken skin. A nice chat and catch up with Patricia for an hour or two, and then we walked a chunk of the way back into central Boston, caught a cab, and headed for dinner (we hadn’t planned on the Moksa dish parade).

We had a reservation at O Ya, 9 East Street, just named the best restaurant in the northeast by the James Beard Awards. Easily, I gather, Boston’s hottest Japanese-fusion spot, we had two spots reserved for us at the sushi bar, at the end where we could watch the sushi chefs at work and the whole room. There’s an a la carte menu and two different omakase (chef’s choice) menus, all of it pretty darned pricey. But we were there for a special night out. David opted for the 17-course omakase – the shorter of the two – which consisted of 14 individual pieces of sushi followed by two hot dishes from the kitchen and a dessert. I went a la carte with six sushi (2 pieces each), one sashimi (3-4 pieces each) and one hot dish. Either way that racked up roughly $175 each before beverages – a half bottle of a very delicate, delicious sake called Takasago Ginga Shizuku (Divine Droplets), a junmai daiginjo, and then two complimentary glasses of Dassai junmai daiginjo nigori – a milky, creamy sort of sake that was a nice compliment to the later dishes.

Let’s see, what did I have: kumamoto oysters with watermelon pearls and cucumber mignonette (not part of what we ordered, but one each for us to start the evening); hamachi (yellowtail) with spicy banana pepper mousse (not spicy); tiny lobster eggs with white sturgeon caviar and tomalley aioli (they have a lot of different aiolis on dishes on the menu); ika (calamari) in uni butter, uni powder, micro-sea beans and shiso; Santa Barbara sea urchin with white sturgeon caviar; shima aji (striped jack) with spicy grapeseed sauce and masago (a fish roe); warm eel with Thai basil, kabayaki (eel sauce), and fresh sansho (green ash buds) from Kyoto; diver scallops with sage tempura, olive oil bubbles, meyer lemon; and shrimp tempura with bacon-truffle emulsion, scallion ginger oil.

I would say that I enjoyed all of it, it was all pristinely fresh, beautifully presented – but, I’m just more of a traditionalist with sushi – all the fancy aiolis and oils and emulsions and foams, aren’t high on my list. Though, that said, I think the scallop was probably my favorite dish, even with olive oil foam. There were two dishes I just didn’t care for much – the hamachi just tasted bitter and there was no spice to it; and the tempura at the end was just way too salty, though had nice flavors otherwise. David found things similar – he pretty much loved all the sushi, though had the same thought on the hamachi, but his two hot dishes from the kitchen were not up to the same standard – a tofu, morels and shoyu dish that had flavors that clashed and a braised short rib that was dried out and stringy, though had good flavors in its accompaniments. Overall a nice night out, though a hefty hit to the wallet.

Coming to you from the Amtrak between Boston and New Haven, with really lousy, spotty wi-fi, but, hopefully this will all work, even if it takes three times as long to make edits and posts.

I’d been to Boston twice in my life before this weekend. Once was back in the mid-80s, an invite from my friend David Branscombe, to spend a day or so with him at his family home somewhere, if memory serves, in Back Bay. It was midwinter, we had a nice but chilly walk along the Charles, ate somewhere nondescript for lunch, wandered a little more, had dinner at the family home, and, I think, I headed back to NY the next morning. I don’t even recall the occasion for the visit, if there was one, and, David disappeared from my life shortly thereafter – I’ve heard rumors of everything from that he simply up and disappeared to his passing away, and no one ever seemed able to confirm one story or another. (Hey, if anyone knows him… it’s amazing, over the seven years of this blog, I’ve rediscovered two different friends, both of whom I was under the impression had died years ago).

The second time was, I think, about 8 or 9 years ago, another David, co-wine aficionado, sommelier, friend, all around good guy, who up and decided to move to Boston and get married. I went up for the wedding – which, given the restaurant owner I was working for at the time, required calling off sick for a day, flying up on a shuttle, going to the wedding, the reception dinner (at Union Oyster House), and then flying back for work the next day – I don’t even recall if I stayed the night in town – I do know I saw nothing of the city. So, with limited folk in NY seeming interested in getting together this trip – everyone is SO busy, you know, and it is a holiday weekend (none of them seem to be visiting their mothers, but it’s a good excuse for claiming holiday privilege, right?) – I thought a side trip for a couple of days would be fun. I contacted a few friends, found a place to stay at a nice hotel on the river, and took the Bolt Bus up the other morning (quite comfortable, not quite as cheap as the infamous “Chinatown” bus, the Fung Wah line, but, provides wi-fi and a lovely and exciting stop enroute at a Roy Rogers for those who couldn’t wait another hour to Boston and had to load up on sandwiches, fries and sodas). It left over half an hour late, which set back plans for the day a bit.

Into Boston and met at the station by friend Ed, who often comments on these pages, who had offered to meet up and give me a bit of a tour of the city. He recommended, given the logistics, that we lunch first, at Union Oyster House, 41 Union Street, and then head to my hotel to drop stuff off. Ostensibly a good idea, though I think dragging my bags through the streets the distance from South Station to the waterfront (yes, he offered to help carry, but it’s actually easier to stay balanced with a bag on each shoulder) was a bit further than he was thinking. He started the tour as we walked, though I must say those gears hadn’t quite yet engaged yet. But, about 40 minutes in, we arrived at the place, to find a 20 minute or so wait for a table. Ah well. They kindly took my larger bag and stored it behind the counter while we were there – we popped outside for a look at the holocaust memorial. I have, by the way, decided not to pepper the two posts of Boston that I’m writing with photos of all the typical touristy, historical stuff – all fascinating and all stuff you can find anywhere – I’m going to focus on food, and odd things that caught my eye.

We started off with a heaping platter of piping hot steamers – large clams – with clam broth and drawn butter to dip them in. Simple but luxurious, a perfect start. I’d told Ed I wanted to just sample something innately Bostonian.

A cup of classic clam chowder was rich with cream, packed with potato and clam, but surprisingly devoid of seasoning. Salt and pepper from shakers on the table more or less solved that, but a bit of a disappointment.

A huge lobster roll – had to be at least half a lobster chopped up and packed onto the plate, maybe a whole one. Good, but the style of lobster roll I’m not overly fond of – the glistening, fresh, and perfectly cooked meat left completely undressed – no mayo, no seasoning – a few flakes of unidentifiable herbs, maybe tarragon, maybe parsley, the split buttered bun below bordering on stale. The coleslaw, sweet and forgettable, the fries very nice…. Ed had a salad with grilled scallops which he seemed to enjoy.

…and I had to sample some traditional Boston Baked Beans, right? A little sweeter than I like, but quite good. Overall, the steamers were an absolute winner, the rest of it, fine, but nothing to get excited over.

After lunch a little wander in the area. There’s a nice fruit and vegetable market, which I found out next day is where the suppliers sell the stuff they can’t sell to the stores – it’s all stuff that’s at the peak of ripeness and won’t last more than another day or so, and the stores don’t want it because they want to be able to put things out with some “shelf life”. So the farmers and suppliers sell their wares at reduced prices to the public in the know.

Though I was looking forward, after dropping things off at the hotel, to a walk along the Freedom Trail or touring the historic district(s), after a longish T ride, found ourselves taking a look at the Gardner art museum and Museum of Fine Arts. Interesting to see, though the former was basically closed by this point in the afternoon (going on 5 p.m. already), and I’m glad I saw them, just not quite what I’d envisioned for the afternoon.

Somewhere a bit after 6 we headed back into the city center on the T again and picked up the Freedom Trail, which we wandered a nice portion of over the next hour and a half – unfortunately by that point in the day everything was closed up. I took lots of pictures of the outsides of closed buildings.

We did get to wander the food court at the Quincy Market, which was still open, offering a selection of fast food of all types.

After a “visit” to the Paul Revere House in North End, also sealed up tight, we decided to ditch our idea of returning to the waterfront area for more seafood, and try something from the Little Italy-ish North End.

In a place like this, it’s a good bet that a large number of spots are going to be very basic, non-interesting Italian-American food. And after all, it wasn’t Wednesday, it wasn’t Prince Spaghetti Day, nor were we on the South Side of Boston. But, following the nose, as we wandered about in the area, I smelled garlic and wood smoke – good signs. We ended up in a small place, maybe 20 seats, called Carmen, 33 North Square. As charming as it could possibly be, friendly staff, an interesting looking menu, and a great little wine list. Ordered a bottle of the Montefalco Rosso 2009 from Arnaldo Caprai, a gem at $46. I decided on a trio of small plates, while Ed went with a seared tuna and mashed potatoes – not exactly Italian fare, but what caught his eye. I started off with a roasted golden beet salad with ricotta salata, pickled red onions and mint. Absolutely delicious.

Not quite what I was expecting when I ordered the “flatbread”, but a winning grilled pizza, smoky and charred, topped with robiola cheese, caramelized onions, mushrooms, grapes, walnuts, and just a faint hint of truffle oil. A complete wow!

The dish that actually caught my eye from the menu posted in the window and in addition to the aromas wafting from the inside, convinced me to try this place. Rabbit ravioli topped with fried sage, toasted hazelnuts, and brown butter. There was, perhaps, a touch too much drizzled balsamic on the plate, but not so much as to be a problem, I just would have liked a lighter hand with that. But really good ravioli – interestingly, not available from the pasta selection, but just in this small three-ravioli sized plate as an appetizer. I could have gone for just a large plate of those. Winner, however, was the flatbread – if you’re in the North End, check it out, and also the great wine selection at reasonable prices.

And by this point, though it wasn’t late, I was flagging – I’d been up since 6 to get ready and then head to the bus, plus all the various delays and tangents – so I returned to the hotel via the T, caught up on some reading (and finished posting the previous post), made some phone calls and got a good night’s sleep, ready for an early start to the next day. Coming soon…..

Okay, I woke up still stuffed from the previous day’s series of small plates that seemed to stretch out all day long. I vowed that this would be a lighter day, and also one with some exercise in it – a few miles of walking about the city, and a two hour dojo workout handled the latter. The former, hmmm… let’s see.

Met up with an Argentine friend who’s been living in Madrid for most of the time I’ve known him, and now lives here in NY. He suggested Hide-Chan Ramen, 248 E. 52nd Street, near to his office. Started off with some “snacks” – steamed edamame…

…and some fresh made tofu with green onions and ginger – creamy and smooth, absolutely wonderful!

A couple of bowls of ramen – there’s a nice selection, this the Hakata Karu Ramen – hakata is a style of broth that’s particularly rich and intense, the karu is a roasted garlic base. I really like that you can not only select from different varieties with different “fillings”, but select the type of noodles you want, the richness of the broth, and a wide range of add-ons from spicy to pickled to offbeat sauces.

Great lunch, didn’t feel like I couldn’t move afterwards.

And, dinner, my annual visit to Kanoyama with my friend Ephraim, and, unfortunately, not his wife Efi, who couldn’t join us. But we managed, with a bottle of Tamajiman Yamahai Junmai Genshu sake – beautifully rich and delicious – between us, and…

Ankimo (monkfish liver) with ponzu sauce.

A perfectly cooked soft shell crab.

Round one of sushi – white salmon, yellowtail, arctic char, sweet baby shrimp, sea urchin, and freshwater eel.

Baby conch served with yuzu juice and sea salt.

A little extra from the kitchen, deep-fried prawn heads with green tea salt.

And round two of sushi – red and golden snappers, pressed roe, and scallops.

The food – as good as ever. The service and ambiance, disappointing – the place has been “discovered”, something who knows, I may have even contributed to at some point in my various writeups, not just here but elsewhere. It was jammed with people waiting for tables, they’ve gone to the “we don’t seat you unless your party is complete” routine – along with, my friend arrived about 3 minutes after our reservation and they’d given our table away because we were “late” – though they found us another one quickly. Service just plain sucked – inattentive and abrupt, and completely disinterested on the part of our waiter. Not a good reaction all around to success.

Perhaps it’s a bit of the seven year itch, but even after 24 hours back here in New York, I’m finding this to be the first time I’m seriously thinking about the stuff here that I really miss, beyond the usual off-hand quip about bagels and good sushi. Just walking through the Union Square Greenmarket this morning, in drizzly rain, and seeing the panoply of beautiful spring vegetables and fruits – ramps, rhubarb, a dozen varieties of mushrooms, more types of greens that I’d care to count – and I find myself not only pining for access to it, but wondering just why in the hell a country with the natural resources and farming bounty that Argentina has, can’t put together a farmer’s market in its largest city. It can’t be lack of interest – thousands of people turned out for the organic market put on in San Telmo just a week ago, and that was just a block’s worth of booths offering packaged products and services. Restaurants that are open all day. Free refills on coffee. Come to think of it, coffee, not just espresso. And as I mentioned in my last post, iced coffee. And iced tea. Hell, even iced maté, the tereré of neighbors like Paraguay, Bolivia and Perú, would be a welcome addition to menus in hot summer months. The multicultural mix of the city, living and working side by side. Clean streets, no dog poop, little if any litter, maintained sidewalks.

There is, of course, the flip-side, the constant assault of noise and movement is one of the main reasons I needed to get out of NYC seven years ago, it was just wearing me down. The costs, though, probably, those seem exaggerated given that my income is a quarter of what it was when living in the big apple versus the gran manzana. Henry. Apartment space. A patio with a garden. A bidet. Still, I find myself weighing the pros and cons. Just thinking “out loud”.

I’m not normally much of a breakfast person – coffee is fine, maybe a piece of toast or small bowl of cereal, perhaps some juice. But, I had the urge for something more substantial this morning – that may be the downfall of trying out multiple places – stretching those stomach muscles and they want more, more….

And so, a stop at The Smith, 55 Third Avenue, an “American brasserie” – filling in the space that used to be the much maligned Manhattan branch of Pizzeria Uno (mostly just maligned because it wasn’t New York style pizza). Piping hot coffee, free refills, fresh squeezed grapefruit juice (perhaps a bit small, even for just $3, but really fresh), a delicious cheddar cheese biscuit served in lieu of bread….

A lovely “salmon benedict” with perfectly poached eggs, a flavorful hollandaise, great home fries, and, in place of the tabasco sauce from the bar which is often the only attempt at hot sauce to be found in BA, a cruet of housemade habanero vinegar!

Running around for the rest of the morning, and finally getting around to lunch at close to 3 p.m…., bordering on dangerous timing as I have dinner plans with friends, but so be it. I’m on vacation, right? And I’m blaming it on my dojo instructor who at last minute had to cancel spending a couple of hours together working out this afternoon. If you can’t eliminate calories, add to them, that’s what I always say.

Just a block from the hotel is Casa Mono, at the corner of 17th Street and Irving Place. Part of the ever expanding Lidia & Joe Bastianich and Mario Batali empire, for which I used to work, it was always one of my favorites of the group. Stopped in planning on something quick and simple, but chef Andy Nusser’s food is generally, just too good to do that and I knew it going in. It’s all small plate food – a little bigger than tapas style plates, but similar. Another thing BA is lacking in – really creative tapas…. Here, fluke crudo, the sashimi of Italian tradition, flavored with a fresh, lightly acidic strawberry and rhubarb compote and perfect crispy slices of pink potatoes.

Two beautifully cooked scallops, golden seared top and bottom and just barely cooked through to the center. The description says it was served with rainbow carrots and lardo ibérico – the carrots just seemed orange to me – both the puree and the ribbons, I didn’t see any other colors there, other than perhaps the thin shreds of deep fried carrot… the lardo just melting over the top of the scallops, and also, unmentioned in the description, slivers of cured ham as well, probably jamón ibérico.

In all the times I ever went to Casa Mono, I don’t think I’d ever had a dish I didn’t like. I mean, it’s even the only place that I ever liked stewed tripe – it was just overwhelmingly good. But I suppose even the best of places has to fail occasionally, and in this case, I think it was more in execution than in concept. The deep fried baby squid barely maintained their coating, which was just falling off, dripping with oil, and so over-salted as to rival Burger King’s fries on a bad day. The “local corn grits” were likewise oily, and so intensely flavored with what I assume was some form of paprika that it hurt to eat, and I just couldn’t. The “farmer’s egg” (farmer’s are laying eggs now? it wasn’t a chicken’s egg?) was overcooked, the yolk solid on the inside, and bits of chorizo scattered about did nothing for the dish other than provide some texture. Just an all around fail.

If I’ve gone out to somewhere new and I have a dish as truly awful as the one above, I’d likely decide enough is enough. But, the first two dishes, and all past experiences, spoke to it being a one-off problem, and I’ve been dying for a good softshell crab. Here, just crispy on the outside, still juicy on the inside, and deftly coated with espelette pepper, a delicious version that restored my faith in the restaurant and chef (not hard to do, really), served with fresh spring ramps and an onion puree. One strange note, and I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but there were also a couple of slices of leek scattered into the dish that were refrigerator cold – hot they might have added to the dish, cold, not so much. But, the rest of the dish was a winner, and two slices of leek didn’t kill the plate.

Accompanied all of the above with a cuartino (quarter liter) of Ameztoi Rosado, an obscure Spanish wine from the area around San Sebastién made from a just as obscure blend of two different Hondarribi grapes (I leave you to do the research). I’ve never been a big fan of the cuartino – it was something Joe Bastianich instituted in place of wine by the glass years ago. It has its pluses and minuses, but particularly as someone who likes to dine out solo, it generally means I only try one wine, because it’s the equivalent of close to two glasses – whereas I’d often like to have, say, a white early on and a red later – it’s just more wine than I usually like to drink, so I pass on the second one. It’s great if you’re dining with someone else and both want to try a couple of wines over the course of dinner. Wine aside, love the casual ambiance as always, service seemed a bit lackadaisical, unusual for the place. One additional service note – they go for this fancy pouring style where they pour from bottle into carafe holding them as far apart as possible, about 3-4′, which may aerate the wine and look pretty, but there was wine splashing all over the floor, and then the waiter did the same from carafe into my glass, leaving droplets of water all over the table which he didn’t bother to wipe up.

Pricing borders on the expensive for the size plates – each running in the mid to high teens – so a meal can add up quickly.

The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering around, and then back to the hotel for a bit of reading. Dinner plans with my fabulous eye doctor, whom I’ve become friends with over the years, and who visited us a couple of years ago in BA. We decided on Floyd Cardoz’ new North End Grill, 104 North End Ave (I didn’t even know there was a North End Ave in Tribeca) – located just a block north of the World Financial Center. Nice looking place, in the Conrad Hotel, unexpectedly white tablecloth setting, but still a casual feel to it. Big. And the coolest, they have a counter setup around the open kitchen so you can eat and watch the cooking if you like. We decided on a series of small plates – shades of lunch…. As it turned out, he ordered three dishes that were all piping hot, and I ordered three that were served cold/room temp (and surprisingly so, given their descriptions – I mean, “grilled” usually, if not necessarily, implies “hot”). If there was any disappointment in the meal it was that our waitress didn’t let me know that – but then, it turned out she was in training, and she apologized for it after I mentioned it towards the end of the meal.

Spring Pea – Crab Soup. Delicious, spicy pea soup, vibrantly fresh, tender, juicy crab. I think Chris was ready to lick the bowl clean at the end.

Charcoal Grilled Artichokes and Cippolini Onions with Wild Watercress and Peanuts. The name doesn’t do it justice, and it was my favorite dish of the evening. Just amazing flavors from the grilled artichokes and onions, and the spiciness of the cress along with touches of vinegar, soy, and spices. Just beautiful. And, given the name, I expected a hot dish, not a cold salad, I must admit – and it was still my favorite!

Grilled Mangalitsa Pork Bacon with Crispy Fried Oyster and Apples. A nice sort of surf and turf mixup, and I kind of got the impression it was Chris’ favorite of the dishes he ordered. The name pretty much says it all. Really nice apple slaw under the oyster, with a touch of spicy mustard.

Grilled Octopus with Lentil Salad and Taggiashe Olives. Again, surprised at the temp – the grilled octopus tender as could be, perfectly cooked, but served room temp over a cold lentil salad spiked with the olives, anchovies, a housemade mustard, and watercress. Really good, would have preferred it warm.

Coddled Egg with Peekytoe Crab, Bacon, Ramps, Spring Onions and Grits. I have to admit, after the disastrous lunch grits dish I had, I was curious to see a different one, so was happy when Chris ordered it – otherwise I probably would have. Perfectly cooked, seasoned, and balanced. Another winner.

Grilled Lamb Liver with Green Chickpeas and Mint Vinaigrette. Come on, really, another cold dish? Lamb liver? I mean, that’s the kind of thing that chefs order when they see it on the menu. And it was grilled to a medium rare, sliced, served over a delicious mix of the green chickpeas (never had those before), with a vibrant, beautiful herb vinaigrette. But chilled? Another one that I liked a lot but just know I’d have liked it a whole lot more warm.

We ordered a couple of side plates of vegetables – amazingly crisp and intensely flavored ramps, and spicy, pepper coated asparagus – both off the grill, and delicious. I was just happy to have some hot food.

I wasn’t going to have dessert. Chris went for the butterscotch pot au creme with “maltmallows” – housemade marshmallows flavored with single malt scotch. Neither of us like scotch. But the butterscotch, once we discovered its oozy richness below the surface of the vanilla pudding, was fantastic.

Our waitress overheard me musing about the Birch Beer Ice Cream, and even though I didn’t order anything, brought me a complimentary bowl of their three flavors – chocolate malt, peanut butter, and birch beer. I grew up on the last of those, love the stuff, it’s like really, really, intense root beer. The ice cream uses Boylan’s Birch Beer from New Jersey of all places, who knew? The other two flavors, also good, but didn’t hold a candle to it.

Overall, great place, great service, love the kitchen bar. Excellent food, I’d go back again without hesitation, though I might be more careful of making sure I ordered at least one hot dish in the mix….