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“The STRONG BUZZ, July 30th: The News (Dining for Darfur, Wakiya, Flurt, Georgia's Eastside), Events, My Dinner at Patroon”

Hello all and Welcome to the July 30th edition of THE STRONG BUZZ: The News (T Edward Dining for Darfur Wine Benefit tickets on Sale Now, Wakiya, Georgia’s Eastside BBQ), My Dinner at Patroon.

THE NEWS

Strong Buzz/T Edward Dining for Darfur Wine Benefit Tickets on Sale NOW!
I hope some of you remember this event from last year, because it was a lot of fun (there were about 400 wines poured) and we raised $30,000 for the survivors of the genocide in Darfur. This year, I’ve once again teamed up with T Edward Wines to raise money for the people of Darfur in a unique walk-around wine tasting featuring 400 wines from organically driven wine makers like Robert Sinskey, Vineyard 29, Delille, Titus, Tenuta di Trinoro, Tensley, Highfield Estate, Domaine de Montvac, Sybille Kuntz, and Valandraud.

I’m also thrilled to announce we’ve got three of the city’s best restaurants signed on to serve you: Blue Ribbon, Cookshop, and barbecue newcomer Hill Country.

A silent auction will also be held with wine and food packages and we’re looking for donations so if you’ve got something you think we can use (restaurant gift certificates, spa packages, great tickets to games), please shoot me an email at andrea@andreastrong.com.

100% of the funds raised from the event will benefit the International Rescue Committee, a non-profit humanitarian organization working inside Darfur, and in the refugee camps in Chad, which borders Sudan.

Dining for Darfur’s Wine Benefit will take place on Tuesday August 21st from 6pm-9pm at The Puck Building (Lafayette at Houston Street.) Admission is $125, and tickets are available online at www.diningfordarfur.org/tickets.php. Get yours now!

In the meantime, I encourage you to see The Devil Came on Horseback, a film by Ricki Stern and Annie Sundberg about former US Marine Captain Brian Steidle’s horrific observations while stationed as an African Union “peacekeeper” in Darfur. It’s playing at the IFC.

New Chef de Cuisine at Savoy

Ryan Tate, who was most recently the sous chef at Cookshop in Chelsea, is Savoy's New Chef de Cuisine. His summer menu includes an heirloom tomato salad with celery seed granita and basil, blackfin tuna a la plancha with pea and fennel panzanella, and local striped bass with sweet corn "risotto." Peter Hoffman, who co-owns Savoy with his wife Susan Rosenfeld, will open a second restaurant, Back Forty, in the East Village early this Fall, with partner Jerry Winter.

Changes at Cote D’Or
Cote D'Or, which opened last week in the former Brothers’ Barbecue space, has changed its name to Charolais. The name refers to the prized white breed of cow raised in the town of Charolles in southern Burgundy, that’s known for its exceptional beef, marbled without being fatty and extremely tender, flavorful and juicy. The menu remains the same except for the addition of six steaks, French cuts, hangar, cote de boeuf and the like ($15-$25).

Flurt—Yogurt Culture
Pinkberry is delicious, but it’s insanity. If you’ve been you know all too well that the line is just crazy. But you don’t have to wait on it any more because now you have Flurt. This new frozen yogurt shop owed by three cousins, Alex, Kevin and Will Kim, opened last week, and its formula is very similar to the Pinkberry mold. It’s made from a combination of non-fat milk, yogurt and other natural flavors and comes in one flavor only, a plain, tart, yogurty freeze that’s cold and creamy and refreshing (small $2.95, medium, $3.95, large, $6.45). Your Flurt can be blended into a smoothie, or topped with a selection of fresh diced fruit, Cap’n Krunch or Cocoa Pebbles ($0.95 each) to shower over it. The store is a study in white, with brightly colored accents and a wall of banquette seating. See you there. Flurt is located at 284 Third Avenue, between 22nd and 23rd Streets, 212-777-6177.

Wakiya
Wakiya has opened at the Gramercy Park Hotel. The restaurant is an Ian Schrager production, which came about when things didn’t work out so well with Hakkasan’s Alan Yau. It is run by the Nobu Management team—Richie Notar, Meir Tepper, and Robert De Niro (not the Drew Nieporent Myriad team), and features the cooking of chef Yuji Wakiya, of Wakiya, Roppongi, Turandot and Akasaka in Japan, who came highly recommended to Schrager by Nobu Matsuhisa. Wakiya is known for an innovative, delicate style of Chinese fare that combs the country and includes cooking from Shanghai, Szechuan, Canton and Beijing provinces.

The menu is divided between cold dishes like Bang Bang Chicken (cold pulled chicken with spicy red pepper sauce ($16), Endive Tofu Dip ($12) and Chili Soy Celery Sticks ($6), Dim Sum (dumplings $8-$12), and Hot Dishes ranging from Peking Duck ($24) to Double Sautéed Pork and Cabbage ($18), Smoked Lamb with Black Pepper Sauce ($24) and Ma Po Tofu ($21). His signature, The Fiery Pepper Hunt ($16-$36), is your choice of wok-sautéed lobster, scallops, chicken, or vegetables served on a bed of fire breathing chili peppers.

At the moment, the restaurant is still in “preview mode.” This basically means that the restaurant’s publicists—those whose job it is to facilitate press inquiries and to pitch us stories—is to keep press away and be as unhelpful as possible to any press person seeking information about the menu, the designer, the cocktails, the story, anything. As is probably evident, this whole dance between publicist and writer in these cases, quite frankly, drives me crazy. It’s a restaurant. It serves food. Let’s share some information, see the menu, have a look at the chef, and get people to go and eat. I know it’s Ian Schrager, and he’s got his image and the writers he wants to write about him and on and on, but come on. It’s just so New York and so annoying, and I really cannot stand this part of my job. It’s a restaurant. (Potentially a great restaurant.) But it’s not a matter of national intelligence. Get over yourself.

What I also find so irritating about this restaurant is that hospitality is no part of your experience, at least until you get through the guard dogs at the gate who screen you for worthiness to enter. This is how things went the other night at 6pm when Craig and I went in for a drink and a quick bite before seeing our friend’s show, Masked, at the DR2 Theater (a very worthy play about three Palestinian brothers). Okay, here’s the scene:

Tall amazon-like hostess, definitely related to Giselle, standing guard outside restaurant: “Are you having dinner?”

Me (no relation to Giselle): “Hi. Well, we’d like to have a drink and probably a bite at the bar.”

Amazon: “Sorry, unless you’re having dinner you can’t sit at the bar.”

Me: “Well, we’ll probably have something. But I’d like to look at the menu.”

The Amazon then repeated the same “you can’t go in there unless you have dinner,” but eventually relented and told us to speak to the manager about our request.

The hostess inside the restaurant and I had the same exchange, and then she referred me to the manager, who could not have been more rude. “I’m so sorry (condescending tone), but you can’t sit at the bar unless you are having dinner. It is a FOOD bar.” He turned his nose up and returned to his clicking on the computer screen in front of him. “Hey, listen, we live in the neighborhood and it’s empty in here,” I said. “We’d like to take a look at the menu, have a bite and a drink. Okay?” It was not as much a question on my part as a statement of what I was about to do. I wasn’t having any more of his nonsense. Then Craig and I walked past him to take two seats at the bar where a very friendly and hospitable bartender named Ron took care of us with great attention and kindness.

Anyway, last time I checked there was something called hospitality in the restaurant business. (See Drew Nieporent, Danny Meyer, Mario Batali, Danny Abrams, Jimmy Bradley, Vicki Freeman, et al, Mr. Schrager.) Guests come in, you welcome them, you offer them a place to sit and have a drink. Most probably they’ll sit and smell the food and get hungry. This policy of you can’t come in unless you eat is not very forward thinking, and it doesn’t consider the value of good will which increases the possibility of returning customers. There was not one person at the bar and the lounge was empty as well. It’s not like we walked in at 8pm. It would’ve taken nothing for manager Jack Chang to have been cordial and hospitable to us, and he was neither. Turns out, we dropped a hundred dollars that night, mostly because Ron was so nice, and the cocktails were perfect and the food was quite good and inspired us to order more than we had intended. But in terms of returning to Wakiya, I don’t plan on giving more money to people who try so hard to keep me out. There are plenty of other restaurants serving high-priced fancy Chinese in this town for me to choose from where the food’s just as good, and I am welcomed and treated well.

Wakiya is located at 2 Lexington Avenue, between 21st and 22nd Streets, 212-995-1330. Dinner only. Mon.- Sat., 5:45 p.m.-11:15 p.m., Sun., 5:45 p.m.-10:15 p.m.

Georgia's Eastside BBQ
This sweet little (it has only 17 seats) down home BYOB opened comes to us from Alan Natkiel a 32 year-old native of New Hampshire who went to college in Georgia and fell hard for the ‘cue. His by now famous spice-rubbed ribs ($17, with two sides) are made in two steps, first by slow cooking them in the oven above a steam bath of beer, then by grilling them and shamelessly slathering them in a spicy sweet BBQ sauce, a mix of bourbon, beer, ketchup pepper vinegar, chocolate, and burnt onions. It’s possible that you’ll go for lunch and return for dinner. But do give some love to the fried chicken ($13, with two sides), the salt and pepper Sampson style wings ($4), and the chopped bbq chicken sandwich, made from dark and white meat ($6).

As for the sides, you can pile on the collard greens, braised down with molasses, brown sugar, beer and smoked slab bacon ($3), heap on some potato salad, cole slaw, or baked beans, and fries. While he’s not serving dessert yet, he plans on adding specials of the day like fruit pies, cookies, and Strawberry shortcake on a buttermilk biscuit. If you’re free on Sunday night, stop in for the all-you-can-eat crab and rib dinner ($35), which comes with unlimited servings of three sides. Crab alone is $25, ribs alone is $28. Georgia’s Eastside BBQ is located at 92 Orchard Street, (212) 253-6280. Closed Mondays.

EVENTS, compiled and written by Celine Valensi

The Japanese Cure for the Summer Time Blues
If you’ve been feeling run down and exhausted from the summer time heat, head over to the Kitano Hotel’s Hakubai restaurant for the cure—a little eel eating. From July 30 to August 5. Hakubai will launch their special “eel eating days of summer” menu that reflects an age-old Japanese belief that the culinary cure for “natsubate,” (the body’s reaction to heat-related fatigue) is eating eels! (Here I thought the cure was cold beer.) Executive Chef Yukihiro Sato has developed a special lunch menu ($32) featuring broiled eel over rice, a Japanese omelet, and a clear soup with clams, while the four course dinner ($68) will show off plates like homemade corn tofu topped with wasabi, shredded vegetables with jelly fish, assorted sashimi, steamed egg custard with red snapper, and clear soup with shrimp balls, cucumber, scallions and yuzu. Reservations can be made by calling (212) 885-7111. Hakubai is located at 66 Park Avenue (at the corner of 38th street and Park), www.kitano.com.

Crèma Tequila Dinner
Last time I thought about Don Julio, I was swearing him off for good. But a reasonable amount of time has passed and I think I’m ready to rekindle our relationship – especially if there’s a four course meal by Chef Julieta Ballesteros of Crema Restaurante is involved. On Saturday, August 4th from 5-7 pm, she’ll serve a menu to be paired with Don Julio Tequila. A tequila ambassador will be on hand to answer all your questions about the history and features of the liquor. The dinner is $85 per person. Crema Restaurante is located at 111West 17th Street (between 6th and 7th avenues). (212) 691-4477. RSVP is required. For mas info, contact Shaun Smith at Shaun@cremarestaurante.com or visit www.cremarestaurante.com.

August at August
August is celebrating their favorite month by mimicking the European late summer harvest and regional food festivals with a month of weekly specials. There will be European streetfoods and beer the first two weeks, tomatoes in honor of Valencia’s “la tomatina” (where tens of thousands of participants come from “fight” with one hundred metric tons of over-ripe tomatoes) the second two weeks, and a pig feast with roasted suckling pig, continental ham tasting plate, and all things pork modeled on France annual “la pourcailhade” (pig festival) the last weeks. All special items featured during the ‘August at August’ month will be priced a la carte and can be ordered in combination with the regular food and beverage menu. August is located at 359 Bleecker Street, between Charles and West 10th, (212) 929-8727.

Festival De Helados
For the month of August (well, until the 28th) Rosa Mexicano gets into summer with its annual Festival de Helados, featuring wild flavors like Oaxacan chocolate-burnt rum (bittersweet Oaxacan chocolate flavored with burnt dark rum), aguacate con miel (avocado-honey), five spice chocolate sorbet (bittersweet chocolate, cinnamon, anise, coriander seed, clove, vanilla), and Acapulco tamarind (tamarind, lime, and a touch of chile, $8.50 for a choice of three). Desserts starring the ice creams will be available as well, like “pastel helado,” a mile-high pie made with Oaxacan chocolate-burnt rum and almond orange cookie crumb ice creams and a Maria cookie crust, with tropical caramel and cinnamon sauces ($8.50). Rosa Mexicano: 1063 First Avenue at 58th Street 212-753-7407; 61 Columbus Avenue at 62nd Street 212-977-7700; 9 East 18th Street between 5th Avenue & Broadway. (212) 533-3350, www.rosamexicano.com.

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MY DINNER AT PATROON

A waiter approached. He was quite tall and thin, but broad, with gray hair combed sensibly into a side part. He wore a crisp white shirt, a dark tie, and a long waist to ankle apron. He pushed a long silver-wheeled rectangular cart, topped with a smooth white cloth, a wide wooden bowl, and a tray containing a half a lemon, anchovy paste, salt, pepper, olive oil, garlic, and Parmesan cheese. He stopped at our table, put on his reading glasses, and got to work. And as the five of us—Craig and I were having dinner with his brother Adam, their Cousin (well, he’s kinda their cousin) Mike, and Josh—sipped our cocktails in the lean, cool light of Patroon, this silent, focused gentlemen (he barely looked up) proceeded to mash and chop, grate and drizzle, whisk and season, possibly the greatest Caesar salad of my life. It filled the air with the sharp fragrance of garlic and a pungent whiff of cheese and was the perfect beginning of my first meal at Patroon in many years, almost since it opened 10 years ago under the care of Franck Deletrain (who was followed by Geoffrey Zakarian, and John Villa).

Today, the restaurant has evolved, unbeknownst to many, from a heavy, testosterone steakhouse, to a gentler, softer classic New York restaurant serving American fare, a flawless Caesar, and yes, steaks too.

In early 2007, Ken Aretsky bought out his partners, renaming it Aretsky’s Patroon. He renovated the space, spiffing up the dining room, and adding The Gibson Room—a second floor club and lounge decorated with black and white stills of legendary sports figures and starlets of the ‘30s and ‘40s. On the wide open top floor roofdeck, he installed a burger chef who turns out sliders and pressed sandwiches, lobster kabobs, spiced wonton chips with guacamole, and platters of canapés, to a heavily lubricated crowd of suits—lawyers, ad execs, publicists, accountants—assorted mini titans of industry—who gather at the stroke of six to revel (with cigars, beer, wine, and cocktails sweating in the sticky summer heat) under the glow of office buildings and paper lantern lighting.

Downstairs, in the kitchen of the main dining room, he brought in executive chef Bill Peet, a veteran of this city’s finest kitchens who honed his skills for 15 years under Andre Soltner at Lutece, rising to sous chef, and then moved on as executive chef at Café des Artistes, Asia de Cuba and “44” at the Royalton.

I’d been hearing about Peet for sometime from young chefs who’d worked under him and spoke of him with some amount of reverence. And when I learned he has taken to the stoves at Patroon, after a mismanaged fiasco at the now shuttered Pair of 8s, I decided to return and see what was happening.

I was surprised to find that the menu contained quite a bit of seafood, and that in fact, there was only one steak on the menu, a 28-day dry aged sirloin ($49), other than the special of porterhouse for two ($96). Indeed, Peet has changed things quite a bit, adding a solid roster of fish dishes that, for this writer at least, were even more impressive than the steak. To start, the Dover sole was incredible. It was filleted tableside with surgical precision by a young, very tan gentleman in a dark suit, matched with a deep purple shirt and jewel-toned tie, who informed us that he had been to medical school. “This is what you get for a med school dropout.” Yes, nice work. And from the kitchen, you get a glistening slab of silky fish, buttery and rich, moist and creamy, yet still bright with the salty punch of capers, and the tart pinch of lemon. To boot, it is served with a crowd of thin, snappy haricot verts, and shower of sweet as sugar cherry tomatoes ($46).

Fish hit the mark again and again. Meaty Portuguese sardines were filleted and broiled and served in a nice acidic roasted pepper piperade and a parsley salad in a red wine vinaigrette ($15). Fat scallops were seared and caramelized so they left just a slip of sweet burnt sugar on the tongue. They were served on a mound of melted leeks, and drizzled with a bell pepper vinaigrette ($15) that was just a nudge of flavor, nothing jarring or competing with the scallops’ delicate sweetness. The crab cake ($16), too, was terrific. I imagine the recipe might read like this: pull fresh lump crab meat from the claws of the king-sized creatures, pick it through until clean. Season with salt and white pepper, add a bit of egg, and fashion into a thin (almost pancake thin) cake, and dredge in freshly ground and well-seasoned breadcrumbs. Pan fry and serve with lemony mayo (aioli), and a sweet corn salad from roasted kernels scraped from the cob. Voila! Yeah, it’s a simple one, but a darn good one.

But an issue arrived with the oysters. Craig, Adam and I went for a dozen Kumamotos ($46). The lovely little gems from the West Coast were served on a silver tray filled with crushed ice, quite petite but plump and brackish, tucked inside intricately fluted shells. Craig and I quickly slurped down our share—four each—though I know I could’ve easily eaten at least four more. Then, as we passed the tray over to Adam, I realized there were only three left, one short of the required four. “Who ate my oyster?” Adam asked, examining the oysters, clearly bereft over the unexplained loss of his final mollusk. Craig shook his head, “Not me man, I only had four,” and turned to me. (Damn! Sold out by the boyfriend!) “Well, I think I only ate four,” I said, in my sweetest voice. I felt awful. I guess I ate it. Sometimes I do get away from myself. Sorry, Adam.

The only fish dish that didn’t work for me was a plate of grilled smoked prawns served with roasted tomato vinaigrette ($16). The prawns, large and whiskered like cats, were overwhelmed by smoke. When I passed the prawns to Josh, he gave them a taste (“Not for me,” he said), but honestly he could’ve cared less about anything else on the table. He was practically making love to his foie gras, a seared lobe served with juicy briny pickled grapes and a vivid verjus reduction ($24).

Now, let’s talk about that steak. We skipped with sirloin and instead went for the Porterhouse for two, wheeled out with ceremony and displayed like a newborn before a Bris, then carved and sliced into thick ruby red slices, and plated with hunks of bone marrow and a watercress salad. The steak was heavily charred, and perfectly cooked to medium rare, tender with a good amount of chew. It’s not a buttery steak, it’s one with some weight and heft, one that you can sink your teeth into. It was passed around and around until nothing remained on the plate but the stain of meaty juice.

The chicken ($100 for two)—brined, and spit-roasted on the rotisserie with truffles snuggled under the thin buttery skin—was also wheeled in on a cart and carved tableside by the med school drop out. This heritage Poulet Rouge breed of organic chicken was a surprise. It looks like any ordinary chicken, but it was as flavorful as a steak, as moist and as delicate as that Sole. If you want to guild the lily, you can drizzle its accompanying foie gras sauce over the top, but it doesn’t need it. What curiously disappointed was the pan-roasted veal chop ($42), a nice, big, juicy cut, but one that kinda cousin Mike accurately pointed out could’ve been a pork chop. Josh also thought it had identity issues. I’d have to agree. It didn’t have much veal personality, though the brown butter summer spaghetti squash it was served with was so good, it inspired Josh to ask Peet for the recipe.

Speaking of sides ($10 each), there would be no shame in returning for a smorgasbord of the supporting cast if it included the creamed spinach (the right balance between leafy verdant spinach and cream), a plate of jumbo grilled asparagus, and a serving of crunchy breaded onion rings the size of wrist bangles. I’d leave out the lobster mashed potatoes, but it’s more of a personal thing. Peet serves super smooth whipped potatoes studded with generous chunks of lobster meat ($20). I’m not a lover of smooth mashed potatoes (I like ‘em rustic and lumpy) and I also don’t care for lobster in mashed potatoes. I was in the minority though, as a sentence that echoed at the table was “Pass those potatoes.”

It was at dessert that the boys settled into a certain rhythmic groove of conversation (read: time for sports talk). Adam and Craig, Red Sox fans, got into it a bit with their kinda cousin Mike who’s a Yankee man. I let them debate, and happily devoured a bowl filled with sorbets ($8)—mango, guava and lime—tart and refreshing. We had also ordered chocolate fondue ($23), a massive dessert to share that, as it turned out, would reveal a lot to me about the culinary geniuses seated at the table with me.

As Adam took a first go, he wondered out loud why the peaches tasted funny. I looked at the “peaches” and turned to Adam. “Adam, I think they taste funny because they are not peaches,” I said, picking up a firm little oval cake known to most as a Madeline. “Oh, I thought those were little batty shaped peaches,” he said, laughing at himself. “I guess that’s why they tasted off. They’re cakes.” “Batty shaped peaches? I thought. Oh, dear.

As I reached for one of those batty shaped peaches to dip in the molten chocolate bath, another genius piped up. “And this tofu tastes sort of odd, too,” Mike offered. I turned to him. “You’re kidding, right?” I asked, a smile growing on my lips. “No, I mean, taste this,” he said, handing me a marshmallow. “Mike, this is a marshmallow!” I said, now amazed at this group’s culinary IQ. Adam jumped in then, in Mike’s defense. “Hey, everyone knows that if it’s rounded on the edges it’s a marshmallow, that’s how they’re grown!” He was cracking himself up. “This one’s square on the edge, so to me, it’s tofu!” “Of course,” I said, now laughing out loud. “Why wouldn’t you be confused by that? The shape is very tricky.”

At this point, I felt it might be necessary to go through all of the sliced up fruits and cakes served with the fondue just to make sure we were all on the same page—banana, strawberry, brownie, pineapple—but the boys were skewering and dunking, and back to the Yankees and the Sox, and seemed unfazed by the rest of the rare fondue foods.

After dinner, we headed upstairs for some air, and found the roof littered with the drunken remains of happy hour, men in suits hovering over tables and catching the last of the game, and a few newly formed couples minting their interest in each other on the banquettes. Mike was taking a turn on Josh’s new iPhone, and noticed one couple in particular getting to know each other very well. We all followed his gaze to the far corner of the room, and gasped. Whoa, they seemed moments away from something that might require, shall we say, a room? “Hey, you come for the steak, stay for the sizzle,” Mike said, running his fingers over the sleek screen of the iPhone. Well, yes. But as for me, I’ll come for the steak, and the Sole.

Aretsky’s Patroon is located at 160 East 46th Street, between Lex and Third, 212-883-7373, www.patroonrestaurant.com.

 

 

 

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Posted: July 30, 2007

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