If you serve ramen in a restaurant with none of the traditional trappings, can it still be considered a proper ramen experience?

Zutto Japanese American Pub (77 Hudson St., zuttonyc.com) hopes so. No, not the Zutto you’re thinking of, though Tribeca stalwarts may be forgiven. For some 30 years or so, that name was the domain of the first and, for a long time, only sushi restaurant in what was still an amenity-free neighborhood.

While this erstwhile izakaya occupies the same address and bears the same name, it is very clearly Under New Management. In addition to a new real estate developer owner, the restaurant now has a kitchen run by a former wine director for Bouley and other fine dining landmarks in his first solo venture as chef. The resulting establishment shows some affinity with both sides of its heritage, though perhaps not enough in either direction to produce a coherent experience.
In addition to the all-important ramen (more on that in a moment), there is a variety of steamed buns (nikuman), blistered shishito peppers whose occasionally overwhelming bell pepperiness is tempered by a sharp hit of citrus, pork katsu cutlets and edamame, also charred to better effect than the usual boiled blandness. There is a sushi menu that does not completely eradicate Zutto’s baroque past, rather balancing the outlandish items like a foie gras roll and a short rib roll with a manageable list of pristine sushi and sashimi.

Then again, those nikuman are stuffed with, in addition to the standard braised pork belly, portobello mushroom and arugula or a miniature Kobe beef patty with oven-roasted tomatoes, a nightmare for both steamed bun aficionados and hamburger purists. There is a Thai green papaya salad on the menu for no discernible reason. And the large-format dishes number exactly two: a miso-glazed cod straight out of another Tribeca Japanese stalwart’s playbook and … steak frites?
Ultimately, the rest of the menu is window-dressing for what is the real star of Zutto’s universe: the ramen. The moment it arrives, any remaining doubts dissolve quietly in the steam rising from the bowl. Here, the kitchen joins its two worlds seamlessly. As any true ramen-ya knows, the soup is only as good as its broth, and the 48-hour-simmered tonkotsu broth is easily on par with the city’s widely acknowledged traditional best. The chicken-lightened shoyu base reads as pure chicken soup, in a way bubbies could only dream of replicating.

Flavor combinations burst the boundaries of the traditional in a way that feels revelatory, never forced. Wasabi oil on the wasabi shoyu ramen isn’t the full-frontal sinus attack it might be; the bite is barely present, allowing a floral grassiness to shine through instead. Briny clams in the kimchi ramen (not nearly as spicy as the caps-locked menu would have you believe) are an unexpected bright point in the deep, mildly funky soup. The only disappointment is in how sparingly toppings are handled, given how well they feature the kitchen’s trickier maneuvers—the few tiny clams in a recent bowl teased more than they satisfied.

Even for those who don’t remember the dark days of Tribeca, when Zutto was a beacon of civilization, this new incarnation has already become a go-to neighborhood stalwart. Even the menu’s more erratic moves allow it to appeal to a broader audience—cynical, perhaps, but if it keeps that ramen coming, nobody will take offense.

Photo Courtesy of Michael Geffner

Where could you go to find parasols, corsets, a homemade merry-go-round plus bubble machine and a kimchi taco truck this weekend? That would be the second annual NYC Poetry Festival, just a quaint ferry ride away, on Governor’s Island. The festival featured several outdoor, makeshift stages scattered throughout a fenced-off, grassy area, where poets and other artists took to amped microphones and let loose, literarily-speaking. Prosody emanated nonstop from all corners of the space all weekend, while poetry-lovers lounged on blankets and sipped icy beverages. Throw in a ferry ride and you have the makings of a whimsical weekend retreat, which unfortunately happens only once a year.

(by Alissa Fleck)

The festival—or poetry bender, if you will—sponsored by the Poetry Society of New York, featured recent MFA graduates and emerging talent alongside more established poets like Thomas Sayers Ellis, Amber Tamblyn and Jennifer L. Knox. It was a diverse showing of the, particularly local, poetry community. Numerous organizations were represented as well, promoting and selling their literary wares. And yes, there was even a homemade merry-go-round, with multiple ride speeds, its maker offering up free rides to festival-goers. (Future festival attendees take note: sun, tacos, beer and a merry-go-round at “make it faster, make it faster” speed can be a recipe for disaster.)

Stephanie Berger, co-founder of the New York Poetry Society and mastermind behind the festival, said, of similar events: “It’s really fun to conjure up that young, artistic DIY spirit.” And that was the spirit of the weekend indeed, though it was by no means limited to the young…but maybe just the young at heart.

Berger and other Poetry Society members were responsible for bringing 50 reading series on board, to curate over 200 poets in the intimate, sunny setting. The festival also featured a variety of other artists, and even a kids’ space (some poetry is not for the young, faint-hearted or modest).

The spirit of the day—artsy, very chill—was encapsulated by Knox prior to her reading at the end of Saturday: “If you’re still here, like me you’re probably tripping balls,” she said into the mic. “Come on, don’t lie,” she urged, when only a few hands shot into the air in agreement. The mood and setup encouraged a respectful and jovial dialogue between poet and audience.

When Saturday’s events were drawing to a close, spectators could be overheard lamenting the inability to camp out all night on the island in anticipation of the next day’s events, their dismay indicating, of course, the festival was a rousing success for all involved.

Photographer Michael Geffner produces the Inspired Word.