The Next Momofuku

Ok, not really, but it does seem like Asian small plates with a Korean bent are all the rage. Danji, a minimalist space with 30 something seats in midtown west, fits in just fine. Aside from the wait, which wasn't nearly as long as that over at RedFarm, service was pleasant enough. I started with a beverage of watermelon-infused tequila and a background heat I couldn't identify. On one side of their menu, Danji offers traditional Korean fare; flip the sheet and arrive at a group of selections entitled "modern." Both sides do the country justice.

A riff on steak tartare, complete with a jardinere of daikon radish and perfect cubes of fatty meat, comes with the requisite quail egg yolk. It doesn't disappoint. Neither does a salad of chewy whelks, arugula, and red onion, paired with a tangle of buckwheat noodles, all cold. A trio of kimchis--Napa cabbage, daikon, cucumber--though tasty, left me wanting more. No, really. It just wasn't enough food.

That was the theme as a whole, actually. Bulgogi sliders, so rich they actually dripped fat, came in a tiny duo. I could have crushed five more. Crispy, spicy chicken wings came five to a plate. But bacon paella (a bit of a misfire, actually) with a fried hen egg was enough for two people and then some. Too much fat in the skillet prevented the rice from assuming the caramelization endemic to a good paella.

Still, the food is worth the hunger pains. And anyway, you can always order more.

*

Danji

346 West 52nd Street

New York, NY 10019

212.586.2880

Lyonnaise Birthday

I went to Lyon, initially, to see an old friend from my BLT days who is now the lead chef. But he was out of town on vacation. That was fine. It was a birthday celebration regardless, with plenty of meat to go around. Duck wings--three of them--arrived with a sticky, salty glaze, just as addictive as the smaller, more precious Buffalo variety. A charcuterie platter featured chewy beef salami, lamb pate, country pate, blood sausage, spicy mustard, grain mustard, pickled cauliflower, and cornichons. Onion soup was everything we wanted and more--a crouton thick with cheese and bone marrow, a broth with beef and onions and strings of braised brisket. And a truffle inflected hot dog, served with sauerkraut and mustard on a soft pretzel, was a meal in and of itself.

Entrees were a little less uplifting. A special of mussels and French fries was not only woefully undersalted but also a little too redolent of the ocean. They smelled and tasted a little old, regrettably. Steak tartare was a true winner, salty and creamy and filled with capers that popped in the mouth. But the bechamel on a baked dish of macaroni and cheese wasn't quite the soft and supple creamy I craved.

And even though I found the mission fig tart for dessert a little dry, an ice cream sundae, threaded with toasted coconut clusters and sour cherries, made up the difference. We got a lot for our money and if I happened to live in the West Village, I might find myself stumbling in every few nights for a plate of those wings and a hot dog.

*

Lyon

118 Greenwich Avenue

New York, NY 10011

212.242.5966

Eye-Tal-Yun

On Monday, I went to Locanda Verde, where I've been wanting to eat for a while. Reviews from friends have been mixed. Last week, one friend told me not to order any of the pastas, but that the antipasti and secondi were worth a try. Saturday, a different friend disclosed the opposite. "The pastas are fantastic," she said. Well, whatever.

The dining room is massive and it was incredibly loud, even for someone like me who has worked in far louder environments. We sat at 9:30 and I expected that, for a Monday, the crowds would be dwindling, but that wasn't the case. In fact, our food came so quickly, it was clear they were pushing our table for yet another seating. Rushed would be the polite term for how the evening went.

To start, we ate steak tartare with cornichon, walnut, and a quail egg. The steak lacked salt and the bread was a bit thick and eggy for the meat. The star of the evening came next, blue crab and jalapeno crostini, spicy and salty and briny and perfect. The sausage and pickled ramp crostini were nice, too, though the pickled ramp receded a bit into the background.

Pastas were good but not life-changing. The rigatoni with lamb and ricotta and mint tasted bright and fresh and somewhat reminiscent of the love letters at Babbo. But the "grandmother's ravioli" was a disappointment. It was billed as ravioli filled with pork and beef, but it could have been filled with anything; the prevailing taste was that of the sauce, a fresh tomato and basil that would have made a more appropriate compliment to a less-complicated pasta. In all that tomato, I couldn't taste even a hint of meat.

For dessert, we ordered a lemon tart, the filling of which mostly tasted of lemon meringue pie. Buttermilk ice-cream was nothing to turn one's nose up at, but the real winner was the flaky pie crust. Karen DeMasco uses lard in her crusts, which is probably the secret to foolproof flakiness. Our server offered biscotti as a petit fours, but we waited longer for our check than we had waited for any of our four courses. Perhaps I would feel better about the experience if the "get them in and get them OUT" mentality hadn't been so completely pervasive, but we were finished with our meal in a scant hour, certainly not my idea of a relaxing evening.

*

Locanda Verde

377 Greenwich Street

New York, NY 10013

212.925.3797

Neglect

Oh, blog, how I've neglected you. But, fair readers, you would have had no interest in my mediocre late-night meal at the uptown 'inoteca in the middle of last week. The panini (proscuitto, goat cheese, tapenade) was good, as was the antipasto platter (olives, an overdone and cold fritatta, sopressata, a mild cheese similar to provelone, some kind of squash, pickled fennel/carrots/cippolini onions), but the arugula and pickled onion salad was over acidified, despite calming fresh shaved parmesan. Oh, well.

On Saturday, we went back to Dell'Anima to see the chef and overordered. Bruschetta came with virtually an entire loaf of bread--and we finished it all. Our spreads--rapini with pine nuts, caramelized onions, chick peas--probably would have been enough for dinner. But then came tender grilled octopus (vastly oversalted) with chorizo, and quail served over grains with fresh cucumber and mint. My favorite course was the pasta, toothsome orichette with a lamb ragu and some kind of bean. Complimentary risotto was also oversalted, probably a result of more chorizo.

Striped bass came pan-seared and with the skin on, garnished with a spring garlic puree. I haven't had such a beautiful piece of fish in a long time. Chef also sent out a skirt steak with his own version of chimichurri sauce, but upon its arrival we realized we were much too full and brought it home for happy leftovers.

Last night, finding ourselves in Murray Hill, we went to Artisanal for snacks. I never realized Artisanal was so expensive. A duck and foie gras rillette with apricot marmelade came with an unlikely dose of cornichon. Onion soup was delicious but completely ordinary. Steak tartare had all the usual suspects. The macaroni and cheese (I felt obligated to order something cheesy, given Artisanal's dedication to dairy) came with penne, and I will admit that I just hate macaroni and cheese made with penne. It never seems to hold the cheese the proper way. The bill was a whopping $100 for our snacks and wine tastes (a boring list, for those interested). I won't be going back.

We're planning for Chinese food in Sunset Park today, provided we actually motivate and make it. I'm vowing to be less remiss in my posting in the coming week.

*
Artisanal
2 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10016
212.725.8585