Casa Mono for dinner: Taste the thought process, even if sometimes they think too much

Let me just say that I am a huge fan of Tía Pol.  Hits all the right notes, I think about their beef tongue and squid ink once every 11 days (or so), and my friend's friend's relative owns the place.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with Tía Pol, so why compare?

There might be the slightest possibility of even considering the faintest idea that they could, by a hair's-breadth margin, lose, that's why.

Oh, tapas.  How you've opened my world.

Let me introduce you to Casa Mono.  I've passed by the place literally almost a thousand times, and never thought to check it out - the more fool me.  Let's explore this tangent a little bit: I think the reasons why are that 1.) this little square corner of a restaurant has an entire open wall - y'know, floor-to-ceiling windows that open to street-level - which is lovely...until a Ford pickup is stuck at the light just 4 feet away from you, blatantly exacerbating global warming in your face and 2.) their branding sucks.  Google Casa Mono, and I think you'll agree with me that their logo is kinda touristy.  Like the Spainish joint in Pleasantville that serves dem burritos.  Yeah.

But anyway, ignore all that, and you'll be enjoying unconventional tapas that have received Michelin's stamp of approval.  Take a look at the Pumpkin and Goat Cheese Croquetas.

I've heard great things about these but, to be honest, I thought that they were the least memorable part of the meal because pumpkin and goat cheese yield a taste that is echoed in pumpkin pie, pumpkin cheesecake, and whatever else punkin that is consumed by us Americans in the fall.  Just imagine it fried.  Yes, the execution is excellent.  Perfectly fried, smooth consistency, subtle spices, but it's just not creative.  And plus, these came out first, which made me feel like I was eating dessert before dinner.  Where is my salt?

Oh, there it is.

And they were definitely worth their salt.  Let's take a look at the plate that's in your face, the Foie Gras with Cinco Cebollas, or fatty goose liver with five onions.

This one was pure delight.  Just look at those grill marks setting off the contrast between the darkly sweet balsamic glaze against the creamy richness of juicy foie gras.  The five onions cippolini, green, leek, pickled red, and white are cooked down just enough to make the sweetness a little more pronounced, as well as balance out the yielding foie gras with some nice slightly acidic crunch.  Crostini, which you can barely make out in the photo, add some heartiness to this dish.

The one on the left is the Atlantic Calamares with Harissa and Squid Ink.  The taste and resistance of fresh, grilled squid dashed with some lemon juice and olive oil is elevated with the mouthwatering spiciness brought on by the slightly bruised peppers.  The squirt of squid ink at the bottom of the plate is aesthetically interesting, but does not add much to the flavor.  However, if you respect the ingredients of fresh squid and peppers, this dish will shine nonetheless.  And respect Casa Mono did.

As for the one on the right...I should be dragged out onto the street and shot, but my memory of this seasonal dish is vague at best.  This is because I am actually reviewing Casa Mono retrospectively (half a year after occurrence?) - for shame! - and because the flavors in this dish were not bold.  I do remember that the crab claw was delicately fresh, as were the heirloom tomatoes and carrots, but beyond that...nary a mind's tongue.  The plating is very attractive though, right?  Banana leaves riffling open to bright colors heaped on top of each other.

Here's one of their most popular tapas, Fideos with Chorizo and Clams.  Fideos are the thin inch-long noodles, orange in color, cooked to a light crisp and that you see tumbling all over the large clams, topped with a dollop of creaminess similar to hollandaise.  

I loved the perfectly al dente and interestingly crispy fideos, the large (and, ok, just slightly dry) clams, and the rich velvet of the sauce, but there's something to be said when each of the three could have been served on its own separate plate and it would not have added to or subtracted from my overall enjoyment.  The flavors did not coalesce, although the textures were all stand-outs.  Have pasta/noodles and seafood, and the combination of the two, ever been executed poorly when Mario Batali's name is mentioned?  Unfortunately, the parts just do not make up the whole.  Keep in mind, however, that my expectations were pretty damn high for this one.

I know that I'm not making an excellent case for Casa Mono's being better than Tía Pol (actually, ha, I never said that), so let's start building the argument.

Here's the Pulpo with Fennel and Grapefruit.  Don't you feel almost...thirsty, looking at this?

Now that's a rare feat for a tapa.  Layer upon layer of fresh, robust flavors.  Heady olive oil streaks the plate, muddled with earthy olive tapenade.  A slice or two of juicy, citrusy grapefruit lays the foundation for a loose heap of julienned fennel tossed with olive oil and its own leaves topped with grilled octopus, garnished with a fennel frond.

As wonderful as the octopus was, the one below is what almost single-handedly trumped certain competition.  The Razor Clams a la Plancha.

So brilliantly simple.  You have large, fresh razor clams.  The meat of razor clams is naturally taut and sleek, texturally resistant.  So throw 'em on a hot plate, shells cracking open to immerge brininess with generous olive oil, garlic, green bits, and let that unique texture shine.  Incredible.

I had already fallen in love at this point, but didn't have so much smoke in my eyes that I couldn't see that table service planned for our tapas to increase in heaviness as dinner went on.  You don't want to overpower the palatable succulence of the surf with the indulgent gaminess of the turf (with the exception of one, but more on that in a second).

Here is the Bone Marrow with Chermoula and Radishes, in all its glory.  You get a long silver spoon to dig out the luscious bone marrow, cooked in the bone, to then spread onto the toasted bread and top with radish.  Or, you can do what I did, which is 1.) eat a spoonful of the marrow by itself just to experience a slick mouthful of unabashedly fatty beefiness, 2.) slather another spoonful onto the toasted bread and have a bite of the homespun delight of oiled - and what oil! - bread,  and 3.) speckle a few slivers of radish onto your oiled bread to taste the bone marrow anew against the sharp crunchiness of radish.  Just delicious.

If one were to be critical, one could suggest that the addition of chermoula, a bright sauce that is almost citrusy due to cilantro, was unnecessary.  It is more traditionally used with fish for a reason; the flavorful richness of the bone marrow completely masked the chermoula.  It was seen but not tasted.

At this point, looking at Casa Mono's beef tongue, you can definitely hazard a guess about Chef Andy Nusser's food philosophy.  Ingredient-centric.  Thoughtfully balanced.  Pretty.

Like all previous tapas, the star of the show shines well as it is ushered adeptly to center stage.  The thick cut of beef tongue itself is flavorful, and has retained its own juices well, but bathed in a deep broth with barley and accompanied by the acidity of pickled carrots and onion is what makes this a good performance.

Here's the exception I spoke of, Cod Cheeks Pil Pil with Pickled Chillies.  What cheek!  For those of you familiar with cheek, you know it to be one of the densest and tenderest parts of an animal.  The muscles enabling masticatory action are themselves ironically quite yielding, and their fine composition and clean fish flavor are heightened when doused with the bold flavors of olive oil and chillies which all serve to make this tapa strong enough to make an impression in the midst of all the red meat.  Each collagenous morsel just slides down your throat in one slightly tingling, olive-infused motion.

Laaast but not least, a fairly standard tapa, the Oxtail Stuffed Piquillo Peppers.  Juicy peppers, albeit cooked down, unfussily stuffed with straightforwardly flavorful oxtail.  Great way to bring it all back.

I think back on that lazy, humid early summer evening on the cusp of fall with pangs of hunger.  Casa Mono walked that fine line between rustic and refined, and of course they wobbled a few times.

But they made it across, so they're a winner in my book.

Experience...4.5 outta 5.
Enjoy nostalgic flavors, well-dressed to foray into something new and exciting, with those you don't mind rubbing elbows and knees with over wine.

Casa Mono
52 Irving Place
New York, NY 10003
(212) 253-2773
Chef Andy Nusser

Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles: stick-in-your-ribs goodness

Oh, New York City.  This time of year, the weather outside is frightful, the fire - if you've got space for one - is so delightful, but there are always places to go.  I'm gonna miss glitzy, festive 5th Avenue full of weaving tourists, the small and large storefronts hiding some of the best hot chocolates to be had anywhere, and having to wear every and any article of clothing in your possession to stave off sub-zero temperatures...only to have to frantically peel off your layers after running for the subway train.

Perspective.  Let's take a look at what's cookin' up in the Golden State, where Christmases are never white.

At Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles, we're having none of that nicely-plated, microscopic stuff but yes, please, to a big helping of butter-embracing comfort food.   You know, this makes me think of that time in Florence when I went to a local bar for aperitivi (aperitivoes?) with two pals, where we were served the best prosecco of our lives.  I stupidly never asked to see the bottle, but my guess is that the taste had something to do with sitting outside around an elbow-grazing table on the stone-paved sidewalk, watching a ferocious storm kicking up in the clouds in the far distance.

The proprietor came out to ask us where we were from (I was shocked and insulted to know that my Italian sounded funny after a good...year of study), and although I mostly grew up in California, something compelled me to tell him New York, where I had resided for some time.

"Oh, good!  Finally, some people with soul.  Good you are not from California.  Those people have no souls."

I didn't know that I had been lacking a soul for a good part of my life.  But if we are what we eat, then may I hazard at least a slight contradiction?

Chicken and grits!  The chicken is moist and crisp, and the grits hit the spot.  I scooped the butter off so the grits were a little mealy and blander than usual, but I liked them fine. Nothing complicated here.  Is there better fried chicken elsewhere?  Are there better grits elsewhere?  Yeah.  But then you'd be missing the point.  And may I offer that you get to choose between white and dark meat for your chicken?

But what you should really be ordering is the above: chicken and waffles.  There's magic when you combine crispy fried chicken, fluffy waffles, and maple syrup.  And I think that here is Roscoe's charm.  They don't overplay any of these three elements, but simply allow the three elements to coalesce perfectly into that stick-in-your-ribs goodness.

Here's a picture of the chicken giblets, those of you who are more adventurous.  For those who do not know, giblets are the edible insides,  Gizzards, hearts, livers, etc.

Experience...3.5 outta 5.
When you want chicken and waffles this side of the U.S., you know where to get it.  President Obama knew where to replenish his soul too.

Roscoe's House of Chicken & Waffles
830 North Lake Avenue (other locations available)
Pasadena, CA 91104
(626) 791-4890

Saxon + Parole for brunch: Surprisingly detailed food in a - classy - horse stable

I have resolved never to go to Clinton Street Baking Co. again.  Why?  Because what is the point in waiting 2.5 hours to eat pancakes that are nowhere as good as Saxon + Parole's (amongst others) and then pay in cash?  Maybe I haven't eaten enough pancakes in my life to appreciate flaccid sponginess (paid in cash), but then so be it.  Why wait 2.5 hours to eat something you don't like (and then pay in cash)?
Sorry, sorry, this is not meant to be a tirade about Clinton Street Baking Co.  Let's move onto the far more pleasant topic of Saxon + Parole.  Check out the decor.


 Okay, maybe you can't truly see what I mean about a classy horse stable - but the horse pictures above the mantle!  and the light and dark wood!  and the woven chairs! - but rest assured that Saxon + Parole is definitely designed to resemble the inside of a horse stable.  You'll get it once you get up to use their restroom.  Think stalls and water trough, but beautiful and made for humans.

Let's take a look at the tableau.  You're not only looking at Smithfield Mangalista ham on toasted potato Parmesan cakes, poached eggs, and yuzu hollandais, but also a really great glass of juice made of beets, celery, lemon, and other good things.  One of my favorite things about breakfast and brunch in the city is the interesting fresh juices offered.  This one was right up there in terms of what works.  Great color, really concentrated clean taste, and not diluted with a bunch of ice.  The coffee was strong, and the latte was no Stumptown but pretty good.

I can never resist a brunch entrée with poached eggs, especially eggs benedict.  There's just something about nudging open that delicate mound to liberate the rich emulsion of runny egg yolk and warm hollandais onto the texturally more resistant meat and bread (or, in this case, lightly crisped potato cakes) underneath that makes it one of my favorite brunch dishes.  Everyone does it a little different, and Saxon+Parole's meat-centric dinners definitely made a morning entrance here.  The Smithfield Mangalista ham had a bold flavor reminiscent of jamón but the pull of thin, delicate jerky.  It made cutting into the stack a bit of a mess, but messes are not an issue if it's yummy.  I have to say, though, that the potatoes were a tad unsalted, but their smooth freshness made up for it.











Now, let's talk about the pancakes.











They aren't the best in New York City, and some may like 'em thicker, thinner, heavier, lighter, more flaccid and spongier (but seriously, why?), but there's no doubt that these are damn good pancakes.  Moist, slightly sweet from the buttermilk, with a delicately crispy glaze.  The two pancakes come topped with crème fraîche, red wine poached pears, and a sprig of mint.  Delicious.

But there's always room for dessert.











Although this chocolate soufflé was a challenge, because I have a savory tooth, and because this sizable chocolate soufflé was a mound of very sweet dark chocolate decadence.  Your spoon dives swiftly into the slight crunch in the top before sinking into the fluffy softness of intensely sweet and rich chocolate.  The whiskey ice cream was refreshingly cold and creamy, but a little more of it would have been appreciated.  As for the jam on the side...again, I have a savory tooth, but I can't imagine why anyone would want this dessert to be sweeter.

We left happy and satisfied, and just stuffed enough to have that post-lazy-Sunday-brunch contentment with life.

Experience...4 outta 5.
Gorgeous space, brunch fare that takes it just a little further, and a horse stable concept.  Basically hits all the NYC restaurant criteria of feasting your eyes as well as your mouth.

Saxon + Parole
316 Bowery, at Bleecker Street
New York, NY 10012
(212) 254 - 0350
Chef Brad Farmerie

A Voce at Columbus Circle: a deliciously hot spot

Disclaimer: My experience was perhaps - okay, maybe definitely - enhanced by the fact that I went with a friend who used to host there, but nevertheless...

A Voce was pretty sexy.  You've gotta appreciate the thousand little details that coalesce to make this restaurant such a hot spot: the impressive floor-to-ceiling glass display of leveled wine bottles, the sexy red-hued ambience elevated by the sky-high stilettoes very dressed-up women were sashaying on, the plush and jarringly white swivel chairs around almost-black tables, and - of course - the flair with which familiar Italian dishes are brought to luxuriance.

Let's take a look at our pre-entrées table.

Flutes of perfectly-chilled prosecco, on the house (see disclaimer), and three antipasti of - starting from the left - cassoncini, funghi al forno, and burratina.  The cassoncini arrived as piping hot, slightly flakey half moons of fried dough bursting open with buttery crescenza cheese and slivers of Swiss chard.  The subtle lingering taste of delicately-sliced prosciutto from a cut farther away from the bone pairs well with the cassoncini.  The only complaint that I have is that there should've been more prosciutto to balance the substantial flavor of the cassoncini, but a restaurant's gotta make money.

Let's move onto the funghi al forno.  This may be a very bizarre reference but, thinking back, the first clear thought that I had tasting this dish was that this must be what the creatures of Brian Jacques' Redwall books bite into after foraging in the woodland territory for nutty, leafy tidbits of earthy, wholesome goodness. 

And oh, burratina.  There are very few ways to get burrata from Puglia wrong as long as you let the flavorfully unique and texturally interesting cheese shine through, which is what they did with the additions of young spring onions, fava bean pesto, and almonds for accentuation.  I always prefer extremely fresh and slightly tart cherry tomatoes with burrata, but personal preference.

Sorry, correction.  You see 3.5 antipasti on this table as opposed to just 3.  And here I will let you in on a little-known secret.  The A Voce on Madison Avenue serves the below as an order while the A Voce at Columbus Circle serves the below as part of the table service.

You're looking at lightly herbed focaccia bread with cow's milk ricotta drizzled with olive oil and sprigs of mint and thyme.  The light, chewy bread comes fresh out of the oven already fragrant with olive oil and rosemary.  Served alongside the ambrosial ricotta ("ambrosia" and "ambrosial" came out of our mouths at least 6 -7 times during the course of this course), it was was a recipe for hearty indulgence.  Choose A Voce Columbus, or A Voce Columbus?

Throughout our entire time at A Voce Columbus, the service was impeccable (again, see disclaimer).  Neither stuffy nor negligent, but warm, welcoming, and very much like eating at a friend's table.  Yeah, yeah, we were eating at a friend's table.

However, I noticed that everyone was very professional.  Even though none of the servers could resist coming up to our table to crack jokes and catch up a little with my restauranting friend extraordinaire, they still kept an eye out for other tables' needs and would float away as naturally as they came.

Then our entrées came.

I gotta say, at this point we were all quite satisfied on the appetizers and were moving a bit more slowly through the entrées.  The one above was definitely the star of the show.  Chicken-liver-stuffed ravioli with porcini mushrooms.  This dish was every bit as bold and distinctive as it sounds, with the pungent porcini mushrooms perfectly on par with the chicken liver.  The pasta itself is thick and characteristically al dente, putting up a nice resistance to the teeth.

May I note that all the pastas were definitely fresh and very well-executed?  Chef Robbins sticks to the fundamentals of treating pasta as a hearty, wholesome dish that can stand as a meal on its own.  Not like Michael White's pasta appetizer at Ai Fiori, which really pissed me off.  Sorry, but 6 stands of pasta?  Really?

This one was one of those "SUMMER IS COMING!" dishes, light and citrusy wih big, fat peas.  To be honest, the physical texture and heft of the pasta totally outweighed the taste.  They were so much fun to eat (each one was an actual mouthful of delightful al dente pasta) but I can't really remember the flavor...

In the way back, you can see our - free! - bread again and our third plate of pasta, the spaghetti alla chittarra with clams, meyer lemon, fennel seed, sea beans, and young garlic.  You definitely couldn't doubt the freshness and execution of the pasta itself, but I do have to say - as someone who comes from a culture that loves and prepares excellent seafood - that the clams were overwhelmed by the powerful Mediterranean seasoning.  Part of the reason is that the clams were not in their shells and had been chopped into small pieces.

The gripe about shucked clams is that 1) they are probably not as fresh cause the idea is that you shuck 'em and forget about 'em and 2) you are foregoing the valuable - yes, VALUABLE - taste of the sea that comes with the moisture found inside a clam shell.

Anyway, second that with generous additions of fennel seeds and lemons (and not enough garlic!), and you have a plate of pasta that could probably do with some other form of protein that would stand up better to the forces at work, and would not be as expensive as clams.

Dessert!  And here, our server shared with us that when he first started working here, each day would be a hunt for as many of these as he could get his hands on.  But like licking the peanut butter jar clean as a kid, you get sick of it and kinda ruin it for yourself.  Or some of us, anyway.

You just really can't go wrong.  Come on, hot "Tuscan doughnuts," large and dense, sprinkled with sugar and served alongside bittersweet chocolate?  O, bomboloni!

The walk to the 4,5,6 train on Central Park South was long and slow, as we dragged out our conversation.  I couldn't help crying out "O, bomboloni!" at least 4 more times as my brain began to register how completely full I was.

Yeah, I would go back again.

Experience...4.5 outta 5.

Impress and be impressed here at this luxury-without-snobbery hot spot.  And come hungry.

A Voce: Columbus

10 Columbus Circle, 3rd floor

New York, NY 10019

(212)823-2523

Chef Missy Robbins 

Tía Pol for dinner: cosmopolitan YET rustic...just delicious tapas

I've just been loving Chelsea lately.  The club scene is upscale and vibrant, Chelsea Market and the High Line go together like peanut butter and jelly, and the most interesting restaurants have been expanding the New York food scene. 

If you're into real estate, this is prime time.  Just sayin'.

In an area known for converting abandoned warehouses into art galleries, it comes as no surprise that you would find one of the best Spanish tapas places in the city along a quiet, broad avenue just a few steps from the High Line.  It's a small but uncramped space featuring high tables and bar stools on which you perch to sip sangria and sample tapas in the glow of candlelight.  Romantic?  Intimate?  Warm?

You bet.  Tables are just far enough apart from each other for you and whoever you came with to hear each other talk, and you feel inclined to lean in closer every time you're on a bar stool.  I'm a huge fan.

Let's get right down to food and service, yeah?

My friend and I had the pleasure of being waited on by a waitress and a trainee.  No, that is not sarcasm.  It actually was a pleasure, because the trainee's downplayed discomfited exuberance of courtesy combined with the waitress's solid knowledge of menu choices made for very careful and informational service.  Good luck, trainee, although I'm sure you won't need it.

Well, with any tapas place, sangria is a most - if not the - important factor to making it or breaking it.  The sangria, in this case, foreshadowed what the rest of the meal would be like.  Strong but not lethal, and flavored by the obvious time and thought that went into its preparation.  The beginning was bright and fruity, and the finish was dry.  Good stuff.

We started with the "ensalada de alcachofa," or artichoke salad.  Fresh, slightly bitter mixed greens with fried, almost deep-fried, artichoke hearts and white asparagus.  Wonderful contrast between the fresh and the fried, with the clean sweetness of white asparagus tying it all together.  They may have been a little heavy with the sherry vinaigrette, but personal preference.

A plate of jamón serrano with tomato purée is staple, and in Spain they are served free with tapas.  But of course, this is New York and you have to pay $15 for it.  We didn't mind, because the jamón was thick and flavorful, a cut closer to the bone than usual, and when you lay it on top of fresh, toasted baguette (nice crust and good elasticity) drizzled with just slightly sweet tomato purée and heady olive oil, you can feel your body and mind relaxing as you - gently - slip into that timeless European tradition of the slow enjoyment of food and company.

Our food came out quite fast considering that we weren't eating fried junk.  Perhaps just a little too fast, because every time I have a glass of sangria in front of me I'm already in the mindset of having a three-hour-long dinner.  Keep in mind that the place is, of course, popular with the locals and waiting space is limited.

Then our much-anticipated squid in ink with rice came.

Don't you just love those shallow clay bowls on wooden coasters for tapas?  It came piping hot with crusty white bread for dipping and, oh yeah, you want to dip.  I can say with absolute honesty that this is the first time that I have ever had squid ink in New York that wasn't tragically deemphasized (okay, Da Andrea wasn't tragic, but still).  You go through the trial of wondering whether or not you should order squid ink - since the possibility is high that you will end up looking like one of the Japanese geisha of old (they blackened their teeth because they considered teeth to be unattractive) - so when you DO order, you want squid ink in all its squid-y glory.

A tip: Make sure everyone at your table eats it too so that you're not the only one following an old Japanese standard of aesthetics.  A tribulation.

In this case, you don't have to worry, because the ink absolutely does not adhere to your teeth (so it was still tweaked with a bit), but I'm happy to say that the taste was not compromised too much.  You can subtly taste that oceanic flavor of seafood before your mouth is coated with a light creaminess, and the squid legs are soft and tender.  The moist little cap of large-grained rice mixed with delicate greens made this dish such a comfort food.  Our globs of bread came back again and again to the little bowl until we had wiped it clean.

Next came our "lengua a la plancha," or grilled veal tongue.  I apologize for not having taken a picture of it before scarfing it down, but that's testament to the fact that I literally couldn't resist the temptation of the taste of buttery, slightly gamey grilled veal tongue against the sharp, pungent acidity of pickled red onion atop thinly-sliced toasted baguette.  I was afraid when reading the menu that the incredible flavors of veal tongue would be disrespected by an overabundance of pickled red onions, but the kitchen at Tía Pol knows what it's doing.  They allowed the veal tongue to shine by minimalizing and refining the pickled red onions and baguette.  Simply wonderful.

Finally, our dessert came.  And really, just by looking at it, can anything really go wrong?

What they calle the "leche frita" is something of a cross between A Voce's bomboloni and Colonie's doughnuts.  In other words, a cross between substance and delicacy.  They are described as "basque style fried custard with drunken cherries."  Can you really go wrong with cool custard enveloped by slightly crunchy fried batter sprinkled with powdered sugar, all nestled atop a light syrup of brandied cherries?

Nope.  I agree that there are different levels of goodness associated with this dish, however.  I would've preferred for the dish to be lighter in the sense that the batter and custard could've been airier, and the amount of syrup was insufficient for every bite to have a good combination of crunch, cream, and kicky fruitiness.  But can you really go wrong?

We left happy, and more than ready to go back and try their brunch menu.

Experience...4.25 outta 5.

If you're in the mood to nibble and sip with someone whose company you truly enjoy, then Tía Pol is one of your safest bets.

Tía Pol

205 10th Avenue

New York, NY 10011

(212)675-8805

Between 22nd and 23rd Streets



Da Andrea for dinner: enjoy the taste of fresh ingredients and no shortcuts

There is something to be said for a place that entices you to come back when you're only on the bread basket.

Not that the bread basket was mind-blowing, although it was a well-chosen variety of savory breads encompassing herbed focaccia and white and wheat Italian dipped into olive oil - from winter olives, judging by its deep flavor - with pitted olives (you can spy it in the pictures as you go along).  Not that the decor was incomparably gorgeous, although the space is homey, intimate, and warmly-hued.  As you can see, our round table was covered with butcher paper.  Not that the service was exceptional, which you'll notice by the the polite but harried waiters and the slightly terse host.  Nice, but could've smiled a bit more.

It had more to do with the fact that Andrea's place is pretty and clean, no dish is above $20, and everything coming out of the kitchen is well-portioned and looks and smells like it would be closer to $30 if you were at Del Posto or Babbo. 

I love when you can tell that food has been prepared with care.  Take a look at "le tigelle."

Flat hot buns pressed with a flower design (SOLD) over "Parma" prosciutto and parmesan.  The flat hot buns are the star of the show: definitely toasty hot with good elasticity.  The "Parma" prosciutto was a bit drier and saltier from what the Parma prosciutto I had in Parma, but small potatoes.  Still a great appetizer.

The second appetizer was the warm octopus salad with olives and capers.

Coming from a culture that often eats octopus simply steamed and dabbled with soy sauce and sesame oil so as to appreciate the oceanic flavor and resistance of fresh octopus, having octopus European-style always presents a nice contrast.  Where there was resistance, there is now flaccidity.  Where there was discretion, there is now boldness.

The octopus was mouthfuls of tender juiciness.  A tad oversalted, but the Gaeta olives and capers they use are of good quality and the dish just explodes with fresh flavors all generously steeped in fragrant olive oil.

Our pastas arrived, and the tagliolini al nero was one of my favorites.

Squid ink pasta with cherry tomatoes and clams.  Again, Da Andrea does not fail to adhere well to the one of the defining tenets of Italian cuisine: freshness of ingredients.  Fresh al dente pasta (dare I say that the taste of squid ink was noticeable?), fresh sweet cherry tomatoes, and fresh clams.

The veal and spinach ravioli swam in a cream mushroom and prosciutto sauce that was just creamy enough to be indulgent but not overbearingly rich.  The veal was lean but still tender inside the ravioli.

This pasta dish is perhaps the most popular at Da Andrea, given how many plates of it were coming out of the kitchen.  Cavatelli with shrimp and salmon in pesto.  You mix pesto, one of America's favorite Italian pasta sauces, with salmon and shrimp, two of America's most widely-eaten fish and seafood types, and you know why there are two orders on our table.  Plus, the cavatelli had that pleasant sticky and springy quality signature of fresh handmade pastas, and the pesto evenly seasoned the large shrimp and - smaller - chunks of salmon.

Now that I've finished this post, I've worked up an appetite for La Follia tonight.

Experience...4.25/5
There's a reason why you'll espy smooching couples as well as large families at Da Andrea.  Great food with a warm atmosphere is always in demand.

Da Andrea
Chef: Andrea from Emilia-Romagna (:P)
35 West 13th Street
New York, NY 10011
(212) 367-1979
Between 5th and 6th Avenues

The Cellar at Beecher's Handmade Cheese for happy hour: a STEAL (imperfect, but who cares?)

I love the idea of Beecher's.  Kurt Beecher Dammeier is your good ol' cheese-lovin', family-oriented food entrepreneur who was able to build a business without sacrificing his values of nutritious, clean food.  I love the idea of Beecher's.

The retail shop and bistro located in Flatiron is an interesting place.  Once the heavy door thuds behind you, you find yourself in an expansive, well-lit space with dark wood floor and high ceilings.  The impressive cheese display is almost Trader Joe's-esque, striking a good balance between modernized efficiency and simple American charm.

And then it gets even more interesting, because the hostess will take note of the fact that you're apprehensively checking out the rigid iron staircase to go into the cellar, and immediately ask if you would like to check your coat and - oh - your ID please.

Quick comment.  Obviously, one should always strive to 1) do business legally and 2) avoid having cheese-shoppin' teenagers *cough* puking all over your 21+ patrons but the idea of having to have your ID checked before you enter an establishment just screams SHADY (and you're descending into a dark cellar down a rigid iron staircase, by the way).  Really unnecessary for a place like Beecher's where you've got families shopping for cheeses upstairs and salarymen and -women enjoying an after-work drink downstairs, and IDs can be checked discreetly at the well-spaced tables.  But to each their own.

So you clunk your way down, and "interesting" starts to get a little weird.  Towards the back you've got a sexy lounge with suede couches and impractically small and low tables for couples who want to cuddle and whisper secrets in each others' ears over a cocktail, towards the center you've got a communal long table (think Le Pain Quotidien) that I'm guessing is trying to capture that old-world flair of hearty cheeseboards and tankards of beer, and towards the front you've got your regular dark wood chairs and tables for chowing down with a glass of wine.  What was consistent: medium-loud rock music and dim lighting.

Say what?

But anyway, I snagged a table towards the front and waited for my friend.  And we both loved the happy hour prices.  Wines are $5, cocktails are $6, and food is $7.  Nothing is over half of what you would usually pay for!  Keep that in mind as you taste and sample, and you'll make an enthusiastic mental note to come to Beecher's again especially since service is quite friendly yet perfunctory.

You're looking at the cheese plate with Beecher's own cheeses paired with raisins, hazelnuts, pecans, and crackers.  Let's start with the special cocktail of the day, white sangria, to the right.

This one confused me.  Sangria is premixed and set aside to infuse the flavors of bright, citrusy fruits and acidic alcohol, but why leave the ice in there especially at a temperature where they've mostly melted into the drink?  The finished product is watery, very acidic, with no fruitiness whatsoever other than an unpleasant candy taste towards the beginning.

I'd like to make the concession that sangria probably isn't the best choice at a place like Beecher's, but I was really hankering for it that day.  Don't make the same mistake!

The cheese plate was, eh, okay.  I - blasphemy! - forgot which these two were, but I do remember that they were Beecher's cheeses made in house.  Creamy, somewhere between hard and soft, and delicate in taste.  The white cheese was not very memorable and the pairing was more raisins 'n cheese than cheese 'n raisins, but it was nice.  The darker cheese had more personality, and was basically a creamy parmesan without the bite (maybe it was parmesan...).  I didn't feel that the nuts went particularly well with it, because both lacked assertiveness.

As for the crackers, they were dry and tasteless but supplied crunch.  A hunk of wholesome rye would've done a world of good for this lackluster cheese plate, not to mention add to the style of American heartiness I believe they are shooting for.  I believe.  I mean, they're known for their mac 'n cheese, right? 

The mac 'n cheese ended the meal on a good note.  Before, everything tasted "okay" and "nice" (perhaps bumped up by the cheap price tag), but the mac 'n cheese was what made The Cellar at Beecher's Handmade Cheese's happy hour specials a steal.  For $7, you get a good portion of childhood indulgence.  Springy penne pasta is immersed in a light cheesiness, all baked together to bring out that delectable toasted-cheese taste.  Could you complain that you need macaroni, damn it, for mac 'n cheese, and it could be cheesier, creamier, and baked awhile longer (as you can see, the sauce is a little runny)?

Sure.  But it's a great bowl of mac 'n cheese at $7.  Simple without sacrificing warm savoriness.

Next time, I'm getting me a glass of wine, scallops and tartar.  And I'm choosing my own cheeses.

Experience...3/5
Solid happy hour specials if you go with a good friend who can supply your ambience for you (thank you, NN :D) since they supply a slightly weird one.  Don't pass up the chance to order outside of their happy hour menu!

The Cellar at Beecher's Handmade Cheese
900 Broadway, on the corner of 20th Street
New York, NY 10003
(212)466-3340