The Guru Visits New York

A journey to New York is an opportunity – and a challenge – for one who writes about restaurants. It's sometimes difficult to grasp just how many restaurants crowd the streets, and just how many people crowd the restaurants. Strolling in Manhattan is like walking through the world's largest buffet, an experience made more excruciatingly painful by the fact that almost all New York restaurants post their menus outside, allowing them to attack the hungry through even more senses. And if one does not want to go inside to eat, the food is brought to you via hundreds of pushcarts, offering everything from basic hot dogs to fancy ones, from lamb chops to knishes to falafel to soy-based vegetarian burgers and everything imaginable in between. Like St. Louis, at least on a certain level, New York is going through a restaurant explosion, except that in the Big Apple, this particular group of dining spots is all on the very high end and boasting chefs like Jean-George Vongerichten, Charlie Palmer and Thomas Keller, to name just a few. They're lumped in the new Time-Warner Tower, on the west side of Columbus Circle, but when the Guru visited they were either just open and fully booked, or not quite open. Next time… The building’s ground floor is home to the four new jazz concert halls for Lincoln Center, about five blocks to the north, and the basement has New York's largest grocery store, a Whole Foods that dwarfs anything I've ever seen. It has six or eight large food bars, each dedicated to a different ethnicity. I saw Chinese, Indian, vegetarian, Latin and others, each with at least two dozen different offerings, from fresh fruit to fully prepared appetizers and entrees. Everything is quite expensive, and beautifully laid out and explained, to the point where it becomes an education in foodstuffs to just wander through the store. As usual, we visited a few old favorites and made first journeys to a number of others, some of which made the let's-go-back list for future journeys. Interestingly, and coincidentally, we ate in more Italian restaurants than we usually do in New York. Making the trip in alphabetical order, things go something like this: Babbo, 110 Waverly Place, 212-777-0303: We'd been trying for several years to get to Mario Batali’s almost-legendary restaurant, but on previous visits, either we had another commitment for the available time, or the restaurant had nothing when we wanted to go. This time the stars must have been in alignment and the Greenwich Village establishment, in the building that was once home to the famed Coach House, came through with flying colors. It's a two-level restaurant, so the first thing we noticed was that the waiters or maitre d's did not go up the stairs backwards, the way they did at the old Tony's. But the service was outstanding and the meal magnificent. An interesting sight was the large selection of organ meat on the appetizer menu. Tripe, several forms of liver, beef cheeks, pigs' feet (not true organ meats, but. . . .) and other interesting dishes all are available. Even the Guru will admit that not all these are to his taste, but the menu also included grilled fresh sardines, little fish about the size of smelts, that were outstanding, along with delicious grilled octopus, blackened here and there, and chewy and flavorful. Tripe, braised with plenty of garlic, was another winner. Main dishes were a skirt steak, a cut seen a lot in New York, less often in St. Louis. It's cut from behind the flank, and is extremely flavorful. The other main course was house-made ravioli stuffed with foie gras; it was glorious, the skin light and tender, steamed to perfect texture and flavor, and the goose liver was just an incredible combination of flavors. A bottle of Montepulciano, a hearty Italian red, was a perfect accompaniment and set the stage for dessert, a harvest season specialty of tender bread dough stuffed with rich, ripe Concord grapes and served with honey-vanilla ice cream. If you've ever been involved in a search for a winning ice cream flavor, stop right there. An elegant meal. Café Fiorello, 1900 Broadway (64th Street), 212-595-5330: We'd often walked past this contemporary Italian spot, located directly across Broadway from Lincoln Center, but on this trip, strolling back to the hotel one night, we thought of a drink and continued conversation about the day, and after about 10 minutes, we were cross-checking calendars to see when we could squeeze in a second visit. It was late, and we weren't very hungry, but an Italian grapefruit granita, rather like a coarse sorbet, or even a snow cone, served with lots of fresh fruit, whipped cream and toasted almonds, was delicious. The dish, good as it was, neared greatness when the remains of a glass of prosecco was poured on top. Sautéed chicken livers, with onions and green peppers, took care of all late-night hungers. But while we sat and talked, we discovered two important facts – that Café Fiorello is related to the Trattoria dell' Arte, the wonderful Italian restaurant on 900 Seventh Avenue, around the corner from Carnegie Hall, and that it serves breakfast daily, big brunch on weekends. It wasn't easy, but we found time for breakfast, which featured a huge buffet of fruits and pastries, plus a menu that put Italian twists on many dishes and had a number of frittatas, the open-faced breakfast omelet. French toast was made with panettone, the fruit bread that is a popular Italian Christmas treat, topped with raspberries and blueberries, and a special was uova della nonna, or eggs in grandma's style. The eggs were placed in a baking dish with Italian sausage and tomato sauce, then baked into something simple and excitingly flavorful. Gabriel's, 11 West 60th St., 212-956-4600: A few blocks south of Lincoln Center, between Broadway and Columbus avenues, Gabriel's has been a favorite for many years, and the Guru has recommended it to a number of people with apparent success, or at least without complaints. The dining room, large and bright, draws many pre- and post-opera and theater fans, and service is speedy. The fare is American with a New York-Italian flair that means overtones of Italian pasta, French sauces, seafood, steaks and food that shows influences of almost any place. A special on the night we were there was braised baby goat, or cabrito, which used to be a post-football game mainstay for barbecues at many fraternity and sorority houses at Mizzou in the 1950s. The goat at Mizzou was good. This was spectacular. The meat, a brisket, had the texture of pulled pork from Tennessee barbecue, and it was tender and delicious. The sauce had a just-right expression of pepper. Pasta with a wild mushroom sauce also was splendid, and salads were fresh, crisp and lightly dressed, emphasizing the ingredients and not the dressing. Grand Central Oyster Bar, Grand Central Station (42nd St. at Vanderbilt Avenue), 212-490-6650: The menu is as large as a newspaper page; there are more than 100 different white wines and more oysters and clams than one can believe. And that's just a beginning. On a lower level of the famed railroad station, now a giant food court and grocery store, too, the Oyster Bar is a place to see, and to hear tricks of acoustics when you stand outside the main entrance. A whisper up one of the curved columns can be heard at the base of its mate. The dining room is adequate, and the counter is fine for a quick lunch, but the best spot is the shellfish bar, where orders of raw bivalves, along with stews and pan roasts, come off the shucking line with great rapidity. Oysters from the Atlantic and Pacific oceans are there, and one orders by the piece, as many as one can eat – or afford. They're served on ice-covered platters, the shellfish inserted like jewels in a setting. Red sauce and mignonette sauces are served, and there are crackers and coarse sea salt and horseradish on the counter. I love the briny tang of oysters and clams. I prefer clams – cherrystones, if you please – because I think they have more flavor and texture than oysters, and I like that flavor. I don't drown oysters in cocktail sauce either. A squirt of lemon or a couple of drops of Tabasco are all I need. Some Fanny Bay oysters, a bunch of cherrystone clams, and then a few more oysters – Belons and Peekytoes from Maine, Chesepeakes from Maryland and maybe a few small, delicate entries from the Oregon coast. Perfect. Pearl Oyster Bar, 18 Cornelia St (Bleecker and West 4th streets), 212-691-8211: And speaking of seafood, this funky little spot in Greenwich Village offers the finest lobster roll outside of Maine. It's expensive, but it is wonderful, with large chunks of freshly steamed lobster, a hint of celery and some rich mayonnaise (perhaps enhanced by a little sour cream). Only sandwich I've ever seen that is worth $20. Chef-owner Rebecca Charles also does glorious chowder, fried clams and steamed clams that are perfect. It's a tiny place, but worth the journey to the Village, and there's wonderful walking to work up an appetite or walk off the meal. Pietro's, 232 East 43rd St. (2nd and 3rd avenues), 212-682-9760: A real throwback to the Midtown Italian steakhouses of my youth, Pietro's is plush and dark, and if I had to make a St. Louis comparison, it's probably closest to Al's. In other words, the kitchen will make just about anything you want, as long as it comes from the meat-potatoes-vegetables-salad days of restaurant dining. The meals are outstanding, and so are the prices; the atmosphere has the feel of a private men's club and the waiters are in on the secrets. The cuts of meat are large, tender and perfectly prepared, and it had been a while since I saw old-school clams Casino, a piece of bacon on top of the clam and the whole thing piping hot from the oven. A rib eye steak was almost tender enough to cut with a fork and was simply glowing with the hearty flavor of fresh red meat cooked to the desired done-ness. Liver and bacon was rich and delicious, and cottage fries, with onions, were an excellent addition. Caesar salad was an ideal complement to the steaks. Stage Delicatessen, 834 Seventh Ave (53rd and 54th Streets), 212-245-7850: When the curtain comes down, this is the place for a snack – sandwiches as big as your head and smart-alec waiters and waitresses. Jewish standards like matzoh ball soup, corned beef, pastrami, tongue and chopped liver are kings, but the menu is huge, with dairy dishes, vegetables, lots of sweets. I like it better than the Carnegie, a couple of blocks farther uptown, but that's strictly a personal preference. Open late and busy all the time, it attracts tourists from everywhere, and on the most recent visit, a large group of Japanese tourists were learning the joys of pastrami on rye and were about to get into cheesecake. Smoked meats are the specialties, and while I enjoy corned beef at Protzel's in St. Louis and some other sites in Chicago, Los Angeles and San Francisco, the very best still comes from New York.