By Tom Steele

Before I visited Spain for the first time, my friends warned me that I’d be disappointed by the cuisine there. On the contrary, I was not only completely beguiled, but the trip changed the way I cooked in several important ways. For example, as soon as I returned to New York, the first thing I did was get myself a good Spanish paella pan. Ever since, paella has almost always been my go-to dish for company—it’s so incredibly versatile, and you don’t have to spend hours in the kitchen; after a certain point, it just cooks itself.

El Porron offers a romantic, relaxed dining area.

Oddly, especially given how sensible, relatively economical and mostly salubrious the cuisine is, it’s surprising that there aren’t dozens upon dozens of good Spanish restaurants in Manhattan. But what we have is mostly very good. My favorite downtown Spaniards are Las Ramblas and the indefatigable El Faro (b. 1927); my favorite uptown is now El Porron.

The restaurant was named for an eccentric glass-drinking pitcher with a long spout that pours the wine directly into your mouth (well, with a little practice). It was opened one year ago by executive chef Gonzalo “Mr. G” Bermeo, his brother Mario, and his son, Diego, who also serves as a most charming and focused front-of-house director.

The jaunty restaurant sports a spacious bar area, agreeable even lighting, partially clothed high dark wood tables, glowing brick walls and currently a large sign saluting the restaurant’s first birthday, with “Happy Anniversary, El Porron” written entirely with rows of wine corks.

A pitcher of sangria—made with the traditional red, white or sparkling wines—is the way to begin. The red mixture is unusually bracing and just fruity enough to buoy the rioja and keep your interest to the last drop.

There are hot and cold tapas galore. From the cold roster, we sampled satiny slender slices of Serrano ham (only recently allowed to be sold or served in the United States), with flavors that really undulate on the palate. Toasted garlic bread and a juicy fresh tomato are along for the ride, but I was happy to devour just that incomparable ham.

If I had to pick one favorite cheese, it would probably be Manchego cheese, a sheep’s cheese that is absolutely ubiquitous in Spain, and is really coming into its own here, as well it should. El Porron offers the cheese with a nice raisin-pecan bread and honeyed quince paste.

Having been marinated in sherry vinegar, white anchovy fillets—none better—are draped across toasted slices of artisanal bread. Alongside, an endive spear is filled with a lush pico de gallo.

From among the hot tapas, octopus is lightly boiled and dribbled with Spanish olive oil, red wine vinegar and Spanish (smoked) Pimenton paprika, one of Spain’s most significant contributions to world cuisine. After my sojourn to Spain, I’ve never used Hungarian paprika again.

Fresh tiger shrimp are gently sautéed in garlicky olive oil, then sauced with a thoughtful Galician Albariño white wine sauce, and served in a ruddy ceramic cazuela. Go ahead and eat the still-attached brittle tail shell, as they do in Spain. It practically doubles the shrimp flavor.

On to the entrées (though many a Spaniard makes an entire evening meal from tapas): Tender veal scallops are watchfully sautéed with shiitake mushrooms, and the pan is deglazed with Oloroso sherry. The veal is plated with a spear of fresh rosemary, veal’s best friend.

Paella is proudly made “from scratch,” and takes 30-40 minutes, but if you order it when you order your tapas, everything will work out just right. Paella Marinera is the generous seafood route, and it’s extremely flavorful. The clams, mussels, squid, bay scallops and chunks of monkfish are brought together beautifully in the mound of short-grained rice stewed with red bell peppers and green peas.

We had just enough room for an evenly toasted egg flan, served in a volcano shape with coffee syrup dribbling out of the crater, all finished with slices of piquant and refreshing kiwi.

With dishes by turns authentic and creative served in a romantic and relaxing dining room, it’s certainly no wonder that El Porron has attracted a steady and devoted following—and not just denizens from the neighborhood. Clearly, people are coming to El Porron from all over the city.
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El Porron
1123 1st Ave. (at 61st Street)
212-207-8349
Entrées: $18-$30

By Shani R. Friedman

A few years ago, I was at this exact same spot when it was Jeffrey Chodorow’s Wild Salmon, the last of his multiple attempts to make the location successful. I had a great meal in a beautiful space, but it folded.

Now it’s chef Richard Sandoval’s turn. Perhaps the impresario behind 14 other restaurants around the world will have the Midas touch with his Asian and Latin fusion cuisine. Partner Placido Domingo, a friend of Sandoval’s, opened Zengo weeks after surgery, so things may already be looking up.

Zengo is invading midtown with scrumptious Asian Fusion cuisine and three levels of seating, a basement tequila bar and sake lounge.

When we arrived on a recent August night, my friend noted how enormous the restaurant is. There are 170 seats and three levels (the main floor, with the dark mood lighting, suspended wood beams, and wrought-iron screens, plus a basement tequila bar and sake lounge upstairs). The staff was accommodating as we tried out a table and two different booths before we found one that was just right. The two of us perused our menus at length since we had decided to forego large plates for some of the tantalizing smaller plates that showcase the different culinary cultures.

I finally decided on the ceviche tasting ($16) and the Peking duck-daikon tacos ($12). The two ceviches were the rainbow (with tuna, salmon and fluke) and the corvina, a fish I was unfamiliar with. Much to my surprise, the medley was not my favourite. The corvina, on the other hand, a simple preparation of onions, cucumbers and apples and shiso (Japanese basil), had the perfect balance of flavors between the fish, the citrus and the rest of the ingredients. My other dish was a fun, play-with-your-food experience because you have to put the mini tacos together yourself. The tartness and crispness of the curried apples was a good contrast to the duck confit.

My friend had a United Nations-style dinner and sampled the steamed buns al pastor ($12), the Thai chicken empanadas ($10), the vegetarian rolls ($10) and the yucca fries ($5). He didn’t love the buns, which lacked the expected release of steam and were more like stuffed pancakes, but the combination of Oaxaca cheese, mango-curry salsa and chile poblano in the empanadas really grabbed him. We both dug into the fries, which were thick, a little sweet—but less so than a plantain—and a bit salty.

Since there’s always room for dessert, I ordered the Mexican chocolate tart ($8) and he picked the lemon yuzu cake ($8), both of which looked like petite works of art. The cake was accompanied by ginger ice cream and Chinese five spice custard sauce. My tablemate said he could definitely taste the myriad spices in the sauce. My tart was adorned with cocoa nibs, cinnamon whip and chili ancho anglaise. It may be the best thing I’ve eaten all summer! I spooned it in tiny bites so that I could savour it for as long as possible.

I could have lingered in the comfortable booth for hours and let the very solicitous waitress keep refilling my water glass, but it was past my friend’s bedtime. Although it was a sleepy Sunday evening with just a few diners, people continued to come in as the hours passed. That’s a good sign for the restaurant having legs, which means I will get to go back and hopefully find the tequila snow cones still on the menu. To the staff I say, buenas suerte!

By Tom Steele

I can’t remember ever visiting a two-week-old restaurant that had its act so completely together. Credit must be bestowed on Tiella’s co-owner Mario Coppola, whose hands-on management style results in a tightly run ship. And Peppe Castellano’s Neapolitan cookery is as authentic as it is intensely delicious.

Tiella is as authentic as it as intensely delicious.

The restaurant is set in a fairly narrow bricky space. Golden Italianate lighting emanates from rows of lovely lamps suspended from a black pressed-tin ceiling. The dining room seats about 30, and from the look of the crowd, the neighborhood is perfectly delighted to have Tiella in its midst.

The succession of Castellano’s sunny flavors begins with especially soft and flavorful slices of fresh focaccia that arrive in a basket, with a cunning little pitcher of verdant first-pressed Novella olive oil and a little dipping ramekin.

Creamy rich stracchino, a cow’s milk cheese from Italy’s hilly Lombardy region, can be enjoyed either with speck (cold-smoked and dry-aged sliced pork) or black truffle shavings.

Castellano has the smallest wood-burning oven in the city, fitted to his diminutive kitchen. The oven can reach 900 degrees, which explains why so many of his meats and fish have every drop of their juices seared inside.

Roasted sea scallops are tender and moist, and given a wonderful pecorino di Fossa crusting.

A friend told me that her favorite dish at Tiella is risotto with lobster and pink grapefruit, a combination I certainly have never encountered. The dish is indeed triumphant, featuring perfectly cooked Arborio rice. The confluence of pungent fruit and shellfish flavors is ameliorated by a showering of fresh dill.

A generous fillet of orata, a fine-fleshed sea bream found in the Mediterranean, is roasted in a potato crust, then given a light lemon sauce and stabbed with a spear of fresh thyme.

Tiella’s veal scallops are the juiciest I’ve ever had, served under a melting of smoked mozzarella and partnered by an inverted ramekin of unusually tasty spinach.

Lemony cheesecake is quite creamy, thanks to its Roman sheep’s milk base, but also quite light and studded with welcome fresh strawberries. And an airy lemon spongecake is tipsy with limoncello.

Rarely—if ever—has a two-week-old been so ready for its close-up. I highly recommend that you make yourself among the first to discover Tiella’s many pleasures.

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Tiella
1109 First Avenue,
Between East 60th and 61st Streets
212-588-0100
Entrées: $22-28

By Linnea Covington

The first thing we learned at Harlem’s newest haut restaurant 5 & Diamond is that you need a reservation, even if no one is in the small, 40-seat dining room. On a recent rainy Wednesday evening at 6:30, we were shocked to find that no seating was available on the floor, and wouldn’t be all evening, despite the open tables.

We managed to squeeze four people into the tiny bar in the back, which proved a decent choice given the friendly

Flukin’ Fantastic: The fish at 5 & Diamond. Photo by Linnea Covington

bartender and ability to look over the crowd of diners as they sipped their fancy cocktails and gorged on the restaurant’s American-Mediterranean delicacies. After the trek from Brooklyn to Harlem, our mouths were watering as each plate whisked away from the kitchen to their assigned tables. While we longed to sample the fare, a mix of chef David Santos’ creations and those of the original man behind the stove, Ryan Skeen, our thoughts were distracted by the gossip surrounding the ex-chef de cuisine. Skeen’s mysterious departure from the head chef position at 5 & Diamond right when it began to produce a lot of buzz, his past work at Irving Mill and his infamous email termination from Allen & Delancey had our curiosity whetted as we eagerly looked for him to whizz out of the kitchen like one of the plates. We never did see him, and instead ordered glasses of the mildly spicy Danjean Pinot Noir ($9) and some small plates to cure
our hunger.

The first thing to arrive was a basket of bacon-spiked rolls, which worked well with our primer dish, the farms hen egg ($10). Like the rolls, the soupy egg dish came laced with yet more bacon (both in the froth and in chunks), which didn’t actually yield much flavor, and brightly colored bits of fresh carrots and English peas. With hunks of toasted bread to sop up the dish, it compared easily to a simple country breakfast, not too rich or abrasive in taste, and easy going down. Next, we sampled the seared scallops ($13). Cooked to golden perfection, the sweetness of these three mollusks was cut back by the sharp, pickled onions and a mild apricot gazpacho that pooled along the bottom. Good, yes; amazing, not so much.

The fluke ($16) was another story. Prepared sashimi style, the raw fish came in a row of about 15 strips of pale white flesh resting on spurts of spicy chili oil. Whichever chef decided to sprinkle the top of the fish with tiny chunks of pickled rhubarb and a speckling of crisp sea beans had pure genius inspiration as each bite produced a burst of crunchy, soft and chewy textures mixed with a saline heat.

The cocktail list also provided good flavor combos not usually seen. The fresh raspberry margarita ($12) was enhanced by crushed tarragon, and a refreshing drink called Replenish ($12) purred with soothing notes of chamomile in the gin and had a satisfying ginger-lemon kick.

By the time we got to the main course, it had become fairly obvious that pickled things were the favored ingredient, so when we saw “pickled blueberries” with the Iowa Farms pork loin entrée ($25), we had to sample it. The pork, cooked medium, had a piggy pink center, which let the sweetness (and is what makes it one of my favorite meats) shine through. Covering the tender medallions were hearty chunks of crisp ramps and salty puréed white asparagus. The blueberries added a burst of color and a tartness to the dish, though they didn’t taste particularly pickled.

Our final entrée was probably the most normal of the options: the tasting of lamb ($23). It came with lamb tenderloin (rare and rich), leg (fine but not special) and belly, which doesn’t deviate much from pork belly (meaning it’s a delicious, melty square of meaty fat). The meat was cooked perfectly but otherwise it was just a lamb dish strewn with cooked Swiss chard and a minty green sauce.

Skeen, obviously a very good chef, made 5 & Diamond a destination restaurant based on his own heady reputation; the gaggle of bloggers in the corner snapping pictures of the dishes proved this theory. But, for normal folks looking for a bite to eat in their hood, the food is too expensive for casual dining and with Skeen’s departure as chef de cuisine, the restaurant is not exceptional enough for special occasions. It doesn’t fit in the neighborhood, and, once the hype dies down and Skeen isn’t seen, I wonder what will be left.

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5 & Diamond
2072 Frederick Douglass Blvd. (betw. W. 112th & 113th Sts.), 646-684-4662.

By James Greene, Jr.

According to the back of its menu, The Sunburnt Calf got its name from owner Heathe St. Clair’s beloved heifer Bessie, who filled his childhood with laughter and wonder until the day she was accidentally left outside too long in the Australian heat. Cows can’t really recover from sunburns, so Bessie had to be put down. I have to admit, reading the tale of a euthanized cow wasn’t exactly how I wanted to start my Upper West Side dinner, but how can you argue with a restaurant that offers tableside keg service and shark meat?

Alas, the Calf—an uptown offshoot of Alphabet City Australian eatery the Sunburnt Cow—does not offer what I feel is a full Australian dining experience. By that I mean there is no koala on the menu. Also absent are wallaby, Vegemite, deep-fried Paul Hogan and Kangaroo Shepherd’s Pie. The only surface tipoff this cantina has any direct link with the country that gave us Silverchair are the accents of the friendly staff. I’d like to believe these people are truly from Down Under, but they could just be desperate NYU drama students.

OK, there is Shrimp on the Barbie, I’ll give them that. It’s served with a spicy avocado dipping sauce, and it’s good enough to make you hum any given Men At Work hit. Have I thrown enough generic Aussie references at you in this review yet? Just wait until we get to my Bindi Irwin joke.

Aesthetically, The Sunburnt Calf seems to have been airlifted from Park Slope and crammed into the UWS where it could fit—on West 79th Street near Broadway.

Generally, The Sunburnt Calf offers up much of the expected steakhouse fare, but with twists just quirky enough to be endearing. The Burger With The Lot ($10) comes topped with egg, bacon, beets, fried onion, pineapple, lettuce, cheese and tomato; it challenges you to keep everything under the bun on its way to your drooling maw. Spicing up the Pesto Rigatoni ($10) are hunks of fresh shark mixed with bacon. The hearty Aldo’s Steak Diane ($15) isn’t cooked at the table, but it’s a treat nonetheless that’s accompanied by “chips” and “greens” (fries and garlic parmesan broccoli, respectively).

The Sunburnt Calf also offers numerous combination deals, including an Australian Counter Meal ($22) that gets you an appetizer, entrée and a dessert. There’s also an Endless Brunch ($18) on the weekends that includes an entrée (such as the aforementioned burger or eggs prepared “Bush Benedict” style) and all-you-can-drink cocktails. That keg service is pretty handy, too, if you feel like getting drunk with a bunch of your rowdy friends without all the hassle of ordering another round. More non-assuming parties will probably prefer to just slap down 10 bucks for The Calf’s all-you-can-drink-for-two-hours deal, which is apparently in effect at all times.

Speaking of booze, The Calf carried over many of the beloved “Moo Juices” ($7) from The Sunburnt Cow, including The Dirty Mother (Kahlua, tequila and milk) and, my personal favorite, The Illusion (Mango-infused vodka, pineapple, Midori and juice). It should be mentioned that The Sunburnt Calf’s drinks often come in bottles and topped with nipples. You know, as if you’re sucking from a bovine teat.

As far as dessert goes, The Sunburnt Calf boasts a tasty Aussie tart concoction known as Lamingtons. These tiny snack cakes are the perfect way to top off your dining experience in The Calf’s faux-flophouse dining area behind the bar (there’s more seating on a second floor, which was not open during a recent visit).

By the time I was enjoying dessert, I had forgotten entirely about the fatally scorched farm animal honored in the eatery’s name. Instead, my mind was drifting to thoughts of escaping to Angus Young’s homeland, or at least the next possible time I could swing by this perfectly cozy and fulfilling grub spot.

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The Sunburnt Calf
226 W. 79th St.
(betw. Broadway & Amsterdam Ave.)
646-823-9255

By Shani R. Friedman

Many fried chicken devotees believe that you have to travel south of the Mason-Dixon Line or north to Harlem to have your bird cooked as God intended. Chef Charles Gabriel, of Charles’ Country Pan Fried Chicken fame, brings a little of that Southern flair to Midtown’s Aretsky’s Patroon with his latest creation. On Friday nights for a fixed $25, diners feast on three pieces of chicken, two sides and dessert, with live jazz accompaniment.

Get your soul food fix at Patroon Friday nights, with live jazz accompaniment.

I’d postponed eating there until my friend was able to come, so by the time we finally met up, I was practically drooling. She, with a Southern family, considers herself a soul food connoisseur with strong opinions on how it should be cooked. Fortunately for us, judging by the unobtrusiveness of the restaurant’s Gibson Room, the emphasis is clearly on the food. Even the musical interludes from the piano player and bassist receded into the background.

I deliberated over the sides because, really, how can you choose between macaroni and cheese, candied yams, black-eyed peas and collard greens? I went healthy with the peas but then killed the whole notion by ordering the macaroni and cheese. My friend opted for the greens and yams.

The chicken was moist, juicy and meaty, and the pieces were well sized. But onto the true test: the skin. Instead of being heavily breaded, it was thin and crispy with a little spice. Following my tablemate’s lead, I tried the chicken with hot sauce, which was a novel way for me to eat it. I liked it that way, but the bird had more than enough seasoning for my tastes without the extra kick. Though a tough critic, my friend gave the signature dish strong marks. She was less won over by the sides, saying the kitchen should use more butter for the yams and add cinnamon and nutmeg. She also wanted more heat in the greens. The macaroni was light on cheese, which worked for me because we were eating such heavy foods. I stuffed myself on that and the peas so that I could have some leftover chicken and cornbread to savor at home.

Dessert was banana pudding. It was small and light after a big meal, which was definitely a good idea. But for me, a Southern dinner ends with peach cobbler, so hopefully the menu will have at least two items featured for summer.

Now that I have tasted the legendary Charles Gabriel chicken, I must head uptown to Harlem. Life is too short for just a one-night-a-week indulgence.

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Aretsky’s Patroon
160 E. 46th St.
Between Lexington and Third avenues
212-883-7373
Fried chicken dinner: $25

By Shani R. Friedman

When you think Yorkville, the words “dining destination” don’t generally come to mind. In fact, it’s often difficult at all to find any interesting place to eat that far to the east. Coming to the rescue on an otherwise barren stretch of the avenue is Palacio Azteca, where you can kick back with cerveza and tuck in for a bountiful, inexpensive Mexican meal.

We arrived close to starving on a balmy Tuesday night when the place was nearly empty. Unlike many other Mexican restaurants that look like a piñata exploded inside, decorations are limited to a chandelier and native wall art. We took a seat at one of the eight tables and dug into the crispy chips and salsa the waitress

Unlike many other Mexican restaurants that look like a piñata exploded inside, Palacio Azteca’s decorations are limited to a chandelier and native wall art. Photo by Andrew Schwartz

quickly set down. You can’t have chips without drinks, and I chose sangria ($6), which didn’t overwhelm me with booze, while my dining companion picked a non-alcoholic mango horchata ($2), which is made with milk and rice. When my friend said her “amazing” horchata “tasted like summer,” I did wonder if I had picked unwisely.

The two of us are guacamole junkies, so of course we ordered a plate to share ($6.95). At first I worried that they had been skimpy with the portions, but I realized that if they had given us any more, we would have just stuffed ourselves with an excess of chips. The guacamole was smooth and very fresh, but we fanatics wouldn’t have minded a little fire mixed in.

Since we had already gorged ourselves, we decided to scale back a bit, rather than go for massive entrées like burritos or enchiladas. My friend found the appetizer version of the chorizo and potato flautas ($6.95) to be more than enough food. I had a hankering for hard tacos, which weren’t on the menu, so I subbed in a pair of soft tacos with tilapia, which came with rice and beans and more guacamole ($11.50). I had a bit of a back-and-forth with the waitress trying to find out if the refried beans were made with lard or were vegetarian. After consulting with the cooks, she reported that they’re made with vegetable oil and onions, which satisfied this non-pork eater. Again, we concluded that the food was tasty, but a bit bland. The dessert menu (flan and tres leches cake) didn’t tantalize us enough to risk exploding stomachs, and we were already close to uncomfortably full.

Perhaps it’s the neighborhood, where diners are perceived as not very adventurous. But given that the crowd picked up later in the evening, the kitchen clearly has a following. Palacio Azteca should reward both old and new devotees by showing a little more imagination in the kitchen, and putting some olé on the menu.
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Palacio Azteca
1374 York Ave. Between East 73rd and 74th streets
212-249-7313
Entrées: $9.50 and $19.50

Whether you sit at the long, sparse bar near the entrance, the cozy basement dining area or at a white linen-covered table in the airy skylight terrace space, what makes this experience most comfortable are Petiteau’s delicate, yet bold dishes. On an earlier visit, we happily slathered the silky duck liver pâté ($9) on slices of fresh bread before sampling the

Sit in the airy skylight terrace space and gaze at Queensboro Bridge while enjoying Pascal Petiteau’s cuisine. Photo by Linnea Covington

sizzling, herb butter-soaked escargots ($10 to $15). These perfectly cooked snails were worth ordering again, so when we went back, we were happy to see nothing had changed. Once they cooled enough to eat, we popped them in our mouths and marveled again at how the commonly rubbery balls of snail managed to melt in a garlicky burst on our tongue.

Escargot aside, the real specialty of the house is the moules-frites ($13 to $15), for which Petiteau is known. Bistro Vendôme serves this dish five different ways, but hands down, the creamy, mushroom broth-drenched Normande was our favorite. The basil and garlic basilic mollusks were surprisingly bland compared with the simple parsley and garlic Provençal. We made sure to soak up the extra juices with a side of salty, crisp fries ($5), which yielded to the liquid just enough to give these potatoes a kick.

Another French favorite Petiteau and his wife, Virginie, offer is an extensive wine list. With a cool, crisp glass of Domaine de la Pinardière muscadet ($7) in hand, we contemplated the dozens of bottles of dominantly French wines. We ended up just getting glasses of robust, berry-tinged tempranillo ($8) to go with the meal.

Off the regular menu, we suggest skipping the chewy, dull tripes à la mode de caen ($22) in favor of the savory parmentier ($25). This shepherd’s pie-like dish offers up juicy morsels of beef cheek, with a light black truffle jus, all in a neat square. We also loved the gently roasted, slightly sweet Maine sea scallops ($25). They came on a bed of tender orzo and porcini risotto, with a light, porky specking of lardo. Another winner was the rosemary-doused rack of lamb ($32), prepared rare with a simple potato gratin. The mustardy steak tartar ($24) is delicious and, since it is made to order, you can get it as spicy or mild as you like. The portion is huge and comes with a side salad and fries that can easily be shared by two, leaving room for dessert.

Try the excellent rich chocolate fondant ($9), which comes with a scoop of meaty coconut ice cream. We also enjoyed the creamy, slightly citrus crème brûlée ($8), made with Grand Marnier and topped with a perfect caramel crust.

All together, Bistro Vendôme is a fine dining experience without the ridiculous prices or over-the-top food. Petiteau keeps his dishes pure and simple, and executes them with class.

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Bistro Vendôme
405 E. 58th St.
Between First Avenue and Sutton Place
212-935-9100
Entrées: $22 to $32

Al Bustan’s new digs are indeed handsome and quite masculine, utterly devoid of frippery. Beautiful wood beams run the length of the ceiling at the entryway, which is festooned with a pair of enormous glimmering chandeliers. An ivory leather banquette runs the length of the east wall, while quite spaciously placed tables are arranged around the west side of the dining room. Downstairs is a peaceful, clubby lounge that features signature cocktails and canapés.

Al Bustan’s new dining room features beautiful wood beams and a pair of enormous glimmering chandeliers.

In general, most Middle-Eastern cuisines have many similarities, but Lebanese cooking really epitomizes the way Mediterraneans eat. Blessed with abundant natural resources, from fruits and vegetables to all kinds of seafood, the Lebanese also tend to eat poultry more often than red meat and, as in Greece, when red meat is on the table it’s most often lamb. Herbs and earthy spices abound in this lusty, lubricious cuisine.

Ghafary attended the Culinary School of Beirut, a city known as the Paris of the Middle East. He shot to the top of his class, and after four years of training, he moved to France, eventually ending up at one of the most popular Lebanese restaurants in Paris. He started his own restaurant, Alamir, and in 1988, he moved to New York and started a satellite Alamir up on Second Avenue and East 74th Street. After a few years, he opened the original Al Bustan, and now he’s at the top of his game in his striking new restaurant.

The menu is large and rife with temptations. There are more than two-dozen hot and cold appetizers. Grilled haloumi cheese is hale and salty and it squeaks agreeably as it is chewed. Spicy sun-dried beef, called Bastermah, is thinly sliced and arranged on cooling shredded romaine. An abundance of chicken livers are sautéed with bracing pomegranate molasses and not a little garlic.

Baba Ghannouj is very citric, bouncy and slightly chunky—not the usual laid-back eggplant spread.

A heap of sautéed lamb sausages the size of your pinky are firm, meaty and very lemony; clearly, Ghafary favors strong and sometimes even strenuous flavors.

Grilled quail make an unusually generous entrée: Three nearly boneless quail are perfectly grilled to get crispy skin and rich juicy flesh. I can’t remember ever being served more than two.

A hefty, fresh and sassy red snapper fillet is grilled to order, and again the flesh is lemony, obviously a fruit and flavor that the chef and presumably the Lebanese cherish.

There are three tartares on the menu: two lamb and one tuna. The ruby chopped raw lamb I tried, Habra Nayeh, was wound through with marjoram, minced jalapeno, cumin, dried basil and minced onion. The result was sheer lushness on a plate.

Desserts are hardly an afterthought, as they often are in Mediterranean restaurants. Katayef are hearty Lebanese pancakes filled with cream and pistachios and drizzled with fine honey. Halawat el Jiben are lightly sweet cheese rolls also filled with cream. Fresh pistachio cookies are plated with a thick arrowroot meringue.

With its relatively friendly prices, dignified but very comfortable atmosphere, and unusual and luscious fare, it’s quite easy to see why the new edition of Al Bustan has been enthusiastically embraced by the neighborhood and far beyond.
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Al Bustan
319 E. 53rd St.
Between First and Second avenues
212-759-5933
Entrées: $19 to $30

tom@hugeflavors.com

Something about Henry’s wide space, not-too-high ceilings and warm atmosphere make it an ideal place to listen to cabaret-style music. Photo by Linnea Covington

Now, Henry’s menu features American bistro food with an Italian flair. For the past year, Barrett has worked hard to perfect dishes that are now restaurant staples. The best and most innovative—yet simplest—item on the menu is what the chef refers to as the “girl salad,” a shredded kale salad ($10). Sound too green? Not at all. Barrett soaks the kale so it loses a bit of its stiffness, then he lightly coats it with a maple-tinged vinaigrette and tosses it with endive, fruit (grapes in this case), a hard cheese like parmesan and nuts. The resulting salad was far from boring, and had enough richness thanks to the nuts and cheese to make it feel like more then just basic greens.

Of course, we didn’t go to Henry’s on a recent Monday night just for the salad. In honor of the restaurant’s 10th anniversary, Rinehart started a new, weekly special: spaghetti with buoyant and savory baked ricotta meatballs; a gently dressed, salty Caesar salad; and warm, gooey chocolate cake—all for $19. And the first Monday of the month features a bevy of young, talented singers who perform at 10 p.m. in “Sing For Your Supper.”

“It’s an opportunity to give a great room and warm welcome to the musicians in our community,” Rinehart said, “to see the talent we have living on the Upper West Side.”

Hosted by regular Steven Blier, who plays piano, the young singers ranged from students to New York City Opera performers. They did a fun combination of saucy songs by the likes of Cole Porter and Gershwin. As opera singer Liza Forrester’s clear voice busted out a ditty in French, the packed restaurant, and most of the staff, were transfixed. Something about Henry’s wide space, not-too-high ceilings and warm atmosphere made it an ideal place to listen to cabaret style music.

But even when you are not there for
dinner and music, the space feels comforting and inviting. The tables are covered with checkered cloths, waiters proved friendly and reliable, and the large, bright posters of Herman Miller’s “Summer Picnic” series bring a whimsical feel to the upscale dining room. As we ate, the owner made his rounds to the tables, hugging one regular and shaking the hand of another. Rinehart’s warmth is only part of why Henry’s is such a popular neighborhood staple. The owners have also committed themselves to catering to the community, starting with hosting the first “Green Market Chef Tasting and Tour” at the Columbia farmer’s market. At the last tour, Rinehart and Barrett took a group of people to the vendors and showed them how they, as professionals, shopped. Then they went back to the restaurant and cooked a feast with the ingredients.

From staples like the melty duck confit spring roll ($9) with a thick, savory hoisin sauce, the basket of freshly prepared, lightly fried calamari ($10), or the classic sirloin burger ($10), it’s not difficult to have a good meal here.

In addition to the kale salad, another dish that really stood out was the red wine braised lamb shank ($25). We ignored the small pile of spinach under the meat and concentrated on each forkful of juicy, molassesy chunks of tender lamb. The dish comes with a side of wild mushroom risotto that felt a little too sticky and had large, barely cooked slices of fungi mashed in, so we skipped the rest of that and finished the delicious meat.

Of course, the night couldn’t be complete without dessert. The warm chocolate cake ($8) that came with Monday’s special was perfectly good, though nothing made it stand out from other molten cakes we have had. The lemon tart ($8), however, tasted divine. The top came caramelized like a crème brûlée, but with a bright yellow, smooth, sweet and sour curd teasing our tongue. By the end of our meal we felt culturally stimulated, full and happy. As we took our coats from the convenient hooks that line the walls by the tables, we left with a sense that Henry’s will always be a place where you can hang your hat. 

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Henry’s
2745 Broadway
(at 105th Street)
212-866-0600
Entrées: $14 to $27