Author: Phil

FEEDING TIME AT LE ZOO

Phil

The famous French Impressionist painter, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, must of had a “thing” for the star can-can dancer of the MOULIN ROUGE, Louise Weber, as she was by far the most prolific subject of his works. Her stage name was Goulue, which roughly translates to “glutton,” apparently because she was known for snatching and guzzling patrons’ drinks as she danced.


One of Joanne’s and my favorite brasseries in Miami was named LA GOLUE. Housed for years in the toniest of Bal Harbor’s shopping centers, it seemed to have everything going for it – the right look, an uncluttered Parisian style, a charming outdoor café. La Goulue checked all the boxes for authentic bistro/brasserie offerings, from Steak Frites to Croque Madame, and the public seemed to love it.

So it came as a complete surprise to us last year when we discovered that they had vacated the space and had been replaced by another French brasserie…. called LE ZOO.

My disappointment over losing a restaurant “friend” didn’t last long, however – because the new owner/operator turned out to be none other than Stephen Starr, a master at creating sensory dining pleasures and spaces. (Check out my March 1, 2018 post about Starr’s Le Cou Cou restaurant, my new favorite dining spot in New York City.)

I just knew Le Zoo would be good….and indeed it was when Joanne and I dined there last month.


First of all, the space is smart and stylish, like your favorite Parisian restaurant, filled with good-looking people having a great-looking time. The interior atmospherics and trappings are a little fancier and more serious than SALUT’S, but the two restaurants share a devotion to the French classics, with very similar quality and prices. Yes, they have Foie Gras at $24 and Stone Crabs at market price (both are money well spent), but that’s about the only signal I got that perhaps Le Zoo is more of a special occasion place. There’s certainly no snootiness to it.

To the contrary, I actually felt that Le Zoo is striving to be rather broad-based in its appeal, with both pizza and pasta sections on the menu. (Coincidently, both SALUT restaurants are debuting pizzas and pastas this February. More on that later.)

The Steak Frites, Bouillabaisse, Black Truffle Tagliolini and Profiteroles were straight from the French canon. What’s not so “textbook,” but nevertheless delicious and witty, was their Kosher Hot Dog Frites – old-fashioned fatso goodness. And YES, the hot dog snapped out loud when I bit into it – just as a good hot dog should.

WTF

PHIL

STUBBORN SEED TAKES ROOT IN MIAMI

Phil

With the wonderful Minnesota winter settling in and all the joy that it brings, it’s time to focus on warmer destinations….namely Miami.


Joanne and I spend a fair amount of time there during the winter as it offers a target-rich restaurant scene – ideal for gaining ideas that can be put to use across the PARASOLE family of restaurants.

Miami is a magnet for rock star chefs – though seasonality makes it a tough market to crack. Some of the best have flamed out. That includes Tom Colicchio at HABITAT, Rick Tramonto of TRU in Chicago, and even Steven Starr with THE CONTINENTAL on Collins Ave.

But for every closed door, another seems to open.

Let me introduce you to the STUBBORN SEED.


If Miami had to lose Tom Colicchio to make room for this cozy, 72-seat urban bistro, I’d say that’s a fair tradeoff, because this newcomer is a gem. Sandwiched between JOE’S STONE CRAB and RED STEAKHOUSE south of 5th on Washington Avenue, Stubborn Seed serves up one of the city’s best dining experiences.

Be warned, this place is pricey. And its small size can make for a tough-to-nab reservation. But Stubborn Seed is worth it.

Here’s what the Miami Herald’s restaurant critic, Victoria Pesce-Elliott, had to say about it: “Telegenic and
tattooed talent Jeremy Ford is turning out some of the most exciting, balanced and delicious flavors that South Beach has ever seen.”


I could not agree more.

Ford trained for three years under super chef Jean Georges Vongerichten at MATADOR in the chic EDITION HOTEL in Miami Beach. It’s one of our favorite Miami Beach restaurants, but with Stubborn Seed Ford may have actually eclipsed his mentor.

Let’s start with a cocktail, shall we? Stubborn Seed’s are DIY. Order a Negroni, for example, and it will come with all the fixins’ elegantly arrayed on a silver tray, complete with eye-droppers of houses-made bitters. It’s the kind of production you’d get at the Connaught Hotel’s legendary bar.


I’m not CERTAIN about the name, Stubborn Seed, but I AM certain about the food, which absolutely nails the yin and yang that define culinary artistry: warm & cool…dark & light…sweet & savory…high & low…cream & crunch…spice & mild.

Setting the tone for what was to come, our evening began with complimentary snacks (if that term even applies to what was laid before us): two delicious potato-encased lobster fritters accompanied by a duo of crispy hollow potato puffs, each crowned with a dollop of caviar. “OMG…not THAT again.”

Next came two Parker House-like rolls – except these were made from soft potato with bee pollen, and were served with an assertive, bright green garbanzo/chili spread.

A signature appetizer is a lavash cracker topped with a creamy chicken liver spread and dots of smoked hot chili jam. They’ll run you $8 each, and are worth every penny.

Another standout appetizer is Warm Celery Root with Crackling Mitake mushrooms, creamy mustard and “herbs and blooms.” And whoever thought that one could get hooked on celery broth? But that was the case with the Jojo Tea-Cured Cobia with Honeycrisp apple, compressed radish and fennel fronds.

In the “not-so-healthy (but-who-cares?)” department were the deep-fried Truffled Gooey Cheese Balls and the Smoked Foie Gras, featuring a fat lobe of pastrami-spiced duck liver with pickled cabbage, grainy mustard and crunchy rye bread crumbs. It cost a whopping $28. After eating it, however, you could easily skip your main course.

It would be the height of foolishness, though, to take a pass on Stubborn Seed’s simply prepared, but decadently delicious Butter Poached Lobster – or its Thai-flavored counterpart, prepared with lemongrass and crispy bitter garlic, and topped with green curry foam.

Another dish not to be missed is Joanne’s favorite: Sourdough Bread-Crusted Halibut with habanero carrot stew and Kombu broth.

(You may ask, “WTF is kombu?” It’s an edible kelp widely eaten in East Asia.)

Among the side dishes we enjoyed: Roasted Heirloom Carrots with fresh herbs, unknown types of seeds, yogurt and carrot puree; and the Charred Red and Yellow Beet “Napoleon,” accented with blackberries and micro flowers.


Desserts are a big deal as well. Joanne and I have two favorites. Hers is the Corn Pavlova, made from roasted sweet corn custard, bay leaf meringue, pickled blackberries and popcorn gelato ($11…not bad).

I don’t think I’ve had Snickerdoodle Cookies since Eisenhower was President, but I had four of them here (at $4 each) – and they were everything you’d expect in a soft, gooey, buttery, cinnamon-spiked dessert oozing with molten French premium Valrhona Chocolate.

A preponderance of my Minnesota readers winter in Naples and not Miami. My advice to you: Take an overnight to Miami Beach to dine at Stubborn Seed. You’ll be richly rewarded.

As I noted before, reservations are difficult (786-322-5211), so plan well in advance. Note that the restaurant is closed Mondays and serves dinner only.


Be prepared, too, to spend some money here. Appetizers hover around either side of $20 and main courses are in the $35 to $55 dollar range, so consider it a splurge night – but one that’ll be well worth it.

W.T.F.

PHIL

A STEAKHOUSE STALWART IN NEW YORK

Phil

So many are gone now……


I can remember a few…LUCHOW’S on 14th street….the WEINERSCHNITZEL EMPORIUM…..MAMA LEONE’S, a temple of Italian wretched excess, with 1250 seats and gigantic platters to match. Mama shuttered the place in 1994, but I’ll never forget the fun and generous spirit of this Theater District landmark. They even gave you food – sometimes bread, sometimes cheese – to take home.

And how about DELMONICO’S – New York’s first steakhouse – in lower Manhattan? It’s long, long gone, and to this day I regret not eating there.

SPARKS STEAKHOUSE survives – and indeed thrives. Which is more than you can say about its most notable patron: mobster Paul (Big Paulie) Castellano, who in 1985 was gunned down by the Gambino family outside Sparks’ front door after downing a 24-ounce Porterhouse (medium rare) dinner.

Still going strong as well: KEEN’S CHOPHOUSE, open since 1885 on 36th Street (see my October 19, 2017 post about this restaurant). Even today, it boasts a stratospheric ZAGAT rating of 4.5. Don’t miss the MUTTON CHOP.

And, of course, there’s still the grandaddy of ‘em all – THE OLD HOMESTEAD STEAKHOUSE, founded in 1868 down in the Meatpacking District. Still robust! Still packed!

But there is one other that I have admired for years, and that’s GALLAGHER’S STEAK HOUSE. In the late 1970s, when I was in New York almost every other week for business, I would find myself wandering over to West 52nd street simply to marvel at the camera-ready meat locker (visible from the street through the front picture window). Staring at haunches of Prime beef on their 30-day dry-aging journey to the table, I can remember thinking, “That’s my kinda place”.

Maybe Gallagher’s is where the seeds for MANNY’S were planted in my mind.

Created in the late 1800s, it was called Club Evelyn until 1927, when Helen Gallagher (a Ziegfeld Girl) took over and rechristened it GALLAGHER’S STEAK HOUSE.


Decades passed, and the restaurant’s look hardly changed at all. But then, in 2015, a fellow by the name of Dean Poll took over and reportedly sunk a badly needed $5,000,000 into the place to bring it into the 21st century. In my view, he was really smart about it, because the menu doesn’t appear to have strayed from the steakhouse classics that proved so durable over the last hundred years or so. It still checks all the boxes of a big and brawny New York-style Power Steakhouse.

Poll did make some updates to the interior – the kitchen, for example, now opens to the dining room – but the beautiful u-shaped bar remains. And most important, the restaurant retains the slightly saloon-y vibe that is so reassuring, non-threatening and comfortable. BRAVO!

Check out the images below….

A stiff drink…Flintstone-sized Porterhouses grilled over hickory charcoal…


swordfish and lobsters…

salads and hash browns…

desserts right out of Steakhouse Central Casting…

and a 10-ounce burger to boot.

No wonder Gallagher’s remains a favorite of movers and shakers, bankers and brokers, mobsters and movie stars – and, of course, athletes.

Now, I did not go to the men’s room when I was there. But I can imagine the walls are emblazoned with pictures of jocks – generation after generation of them. In fact, I think it’s that it’s possible – maybe even probable – that Babe Ruth and Derek Jeter not only share wall space, they might have even shared the same original porcelain fixtures. I don’t know. I was just wondering.

W.T.F.

PHIL

https://www.restaurantji.com/ny/new-york/gallaghers-steakhouse-/

A STARLESS MICHELIN

Phil

In the late 1800’s, Edouard and André Michelin ran a rubber factory in the small town of Clermont-Ferrand, France. Among their first products were bicycle tires, later supplanted by automobile tires. At a certain point they adopted the American system of assembly line production – with one new characteristic: they felt that American tire manufacturers used inferior rubber and other lesser materials. They embarked on a journey to become the premium tire producer in the world. (Based on their later dominance of the tire industry, it seems they succeeded.)


The brothers, in 1894, while attending a trade fair in Lyon are said to have spotted a stack of tires that resembled the form of a man.

Thus their humanoid official mascot was created. And they named him BIBENDUM (Latin for “Now is the time to drink”). How he got that name, I’m not entirely sure. At any rate, the world came to know their masic simply as “The Michelin Man.”

The Bibendum character was refined over the years from a cigar-smoking bicycle rider to a jovial paunchy Michelin cheerleader. In the meantime, around 1911 in London, the Michelin Building was built, with offices upstairs and a one-stop Michelin shop for all your automotive needs on the ground floor.


The iconic building remains intact, sporting a unique blended aesthetic style of Art Nouveau and Art Deco, redolent with stained glass and decorative tile work. It’s located in the heart of Kensington about a dozen walking blocks west of Harrod’s, where Fulham Road and Pelham meet.

However, in late 1980, as the tire and automotive business evolved, the building became obsolete for the retail tire business.

So it was that in 1987, designer and restaurateur Terrance Conran stepped up and converted the building, part of which included his new BIBENDUM RESTAURANT. This smart, two-level restaurant featured British-influenced French cuisine on the upper level and an oyster bar on the ground floor. While receiving lots of press from the London newspapers, the restaurant was viciously expensive, and by 2015 it had faded and was no longer relevant.


Enter Claude Bosi, the cheerful French bruiser of a chef fresh from the world-acclaimed, two Michelin-starred HIBISCUS restaurant in London’s Mayfair neighborhood.

Although Bosi was never one to hew to tradition, he chose to retain some Bibendum classics, including garlicky, butter loaded escargot, langoustines with mayo, gnocchi with wild mushrooms, and smoked salmon roll-ups, alongside palate-stretching dishes such as rabbit with langoustines.

Bosi has also brought the prices back to the real world. Joanne and I noted recently that a Prix Fixe lunch was featured at about $46.

Joanne and I have dined at Bibendum on several occasions, although never in the expensive upstairs dining room. Our preference was – and still is – the more affordable ground floor OYSTER BAR. Maybe it’s because we are continually searching for ideas on behalf of the oyster bars at both SALUT restaurants.

On our visit last June, we noticed that the Oyster Bar had been refitted with a sleek and modern flavor, all in a “very Chelsea way – i.e. laid-back luxury, with Michelin tire-like chairs designed by Eileen Gray and upholstered in supple saddle tan leather.


Maybe it’s age, but I preferred the previous look. It felt more workman-like…less decorated. But no matter. The food is still superb.

On our dining occasions (always for lunch), Joanne typically opts for the spinach salad with fresh figs, goat cheese and toasted slivered almonds, or she’ll choose the Tuna Nicoise salad with the canned Italian tuna (yes, that’s the right way: using high-quality tuna canned in olive oil. We could never get away with that in Minnesota, where the expectation is seared fresh Ahi tuna). We shared Oysters Rockefeller, too, and some just-shucked, pristine and briny oysters.

On both lunches we finished with a wonderful cheese plate of British Cheeses including a pungent and spreadable slab of Stilton – a worthy rival to French Roquefort.

So here’s the irony.

The most prestigious, well-respected, famous restaurant guide book on the face of the Earth is THE MICHELIN GUIDE.

And yet….and yet…..

Despite being named for the brand’s mascot, Bibendum has NEVER, EVER been awarded a Michelin Star.


The best they have done is three knives and forks (in red), which means a delightful and comfortable restaurant. Perhaps Claude Bosi will fix that.

After all, in a recent review in the London Guardian, Jay Rayner said, “The sunlight [in the upper level dining room] feels like a room where only good things happen.” And he ended his commentary with, “Welcome back, BIBENDUM. I’ve missed you.”

W.T.F.

PHIL

NAMASTEY, LONDON!

Phil

Although Indian and Pakastani immigration to England had flourished under British Colonial Rule, it was after World War II and the breakup of the British Empire that the numbers dramatically increased…mainly from the Punjab region.

Today, some 300,000 Indians reside in London alone.

Lucky us. Joanne and I love the variety of cuisines that India has to offer. And while no major markets in the United States – except perhaps New York – have embraced any form of Indian polished dining, London is thriving.

Due to our ongoing research, particularly for CHINO LATINO, Joanne and I have been fortunate over the years to sample and screen the best of the best for you. So if anyone out there is contemplating a trip to London, stay tuned.

These are all good. They’re all different, yet all about the same price. Some have Michelin stars.

Our first experience in London was THE BOMBAY BRASSERIE in Kensington – still going strong since 1982. TAMARIND, near Green Park is as noisy as it is buzzy, so try to get a table on the perimeter. CHUTNEY MARY, also near Green Park, remains excellent – although in this newer space the restaurant seems to have lost some of the ambience from its previous spot in Chelsea. A sensational newcomer is JAMAVAR, on Mount Street, right in the heart of Mayfair. Get table #16….a corner table for two.


ZAIKA on Kensington High Street focuses on the cuisine of Northern India, so you can expect rich and fragrantly spiced fare. THE CINNAMON CLUB offers a vast selection of sharing plates, so dining is a little different here.

But now I’m going to compare two different experiences – not better or worse, simply different. Both are Michelin starred. You decide what’s best for you…… GYMKHANA or AMAYA.

The first stop is GYMKHANA on Albemarle Street, near the Ritz. It’s a tough, tough reservation to snag, so be sure to enlist the help of your hotel concierge well in advance of your trip. Request one of the downstairs leather-upholstered booths with the hammered brass table tops (pictured). Expect powerful, punchy flavors served up in a space that evokes the Old Colonial glamour of India’s Gymkhana, or sports, clubs. Dishes not to be missed include Methi Keema, or kid goat, served in the form of spicy Sloppy Joe-style DIY sliders, meant for sharing (about $16.50 in U.S. currency). We also loved the Tandoori Wild Tiger Prawns with red pepper chutney and the Guinea Fowl Tikka with fig and onion chutney (about $28).

It was October and game played a role in many of the dishes offered at Gymkhana. A favorite, presented table side, was the Wild Muntjac (venison) Biryani baked in a pastry-sealed pot with a cooling counterpoint of pomegranate raita ($36). For a show-stopping fall vegetarian offering, get the Wild Morel Mushroom and Truffle Pilau (rice pilaf) at $28.

I ordered and did not share the Sofiyani Murgh Tikka and Sweet Tomato Chutney…oh hell, why don’t they just say “Tandoori Chicken with Black Cumin and Tomato Chutney”???

And that’s one of the things that troubled me about Gymkhana: their slavery to authenticity in ways that frustrate rather than intrigue or delight. I’m all for un-dumbed-down flavors that remain true to their origins – and as far as I know, each dish fit that bill. Everything we tried was very, very good.

But in a restaurant that caters to a primarily non-Hindi-speaking clientele (based on the mix of our fellow diners), the lengthy menu written almost entirely in Hindi, without translation, has to be as irritating for the servers as it is for the diner. It required several trips on our waiter’s part to come to our table and translate. Why couldn’t we simply choose and order without subjecting him to a never-ending series of questions and translations? The frenzied nature of the dining room didn’t help either.

Don’t’ get me wrong: The food at Gymkhana is really, really good. It deserves a Michelin star. And if you don’t mind noise and frenzy (in the business, we call that “energy”), then book a table at Gymkhana. You’ll love it – especially if you speak Hindi.

Now, on to another Michelin-starred Indian restaurant: AMAYA.


My first experience with Amaya, in the pre-iPhone era, did not end well. While using a regular camera to photograph my food, I was approached by a manager who rather rudely and forcefully told me to stop, and to stop NOW. I questioned him as to who this food actually belonged to now that I was eating it. “Does it belong to you? Or does it now belong to me?”

I answered for him: “I think this plate of food now belongs to me. So as far as I’m concerned, you can go to hell!”

So we left.

Did that make me an ugly American? (Joanne would answer in the affirmative.)

But not being ones to hold a grudge (and being culinary whores for whom food trumps any sense of embarrassment), we’ve returned several times over the past few years. Plus, they appear to have thrown in the towel on food photography.

And the food here is superb – perhaps more refined than Gymkhana, possibly not as purely authentic, maybe with a flavor profile geared more to a western plate. The space, with its sultry lighting, sophistication and open kitchen theater (with plenty of shooting flames) is sleek, chic and current. Request table numbers 17 or 19. They are both “anchored” and are just far enough away from the radiant heat of the grill and the ovens.


The restaurant describes itself as “An Indian Bar & Grill” – and that it is. Yes, they have curries and biryanis, but the grill and tandoor ovens occupy center stage. Grilled Punjab Chicken Lollipops ($18) and the Tandoori Chicken Chops in a Green Curry Marinade proved to be worthy of their cooking methods. You must also try the obligatory Naan Bread from the tandoori ovens. It’s served with a four-compartment spice tray housing Rose Petal Coriander, Peanut Dust, Tomato Chutney and Plum Chutney. The Minced Tandoori Chicken Lettuce Wraps were constructed two ways – one open-faced, the other rolled up. Coconut and Lime Sauce brought them vividly to life ($11.50).

I couldn’t finish without mentioning the Tandoor Lobster. I forget the price. I’m sure it’s expensive as hell. But on what other occasion will you have lobster prepared this way? Share it as an appetizer. DO!!!

Don’t pass up dessert, either. Get the Green Tea Kulfi (ice cream) or the Liquid Chocolate (in a previous post, I quoted Calvin Trillin stating that “all Indian desserts have the texture of face cream.” Has anything changed? HMMMM??)

So there you have it: GYMKHANA and AMAYA. Remember…they both sport a MICHELIN STAR.

You cannot go wrong with either. Maybe even try ‘em both.

W.T.F.

THE CATHOLIC CLERGY’S TASTE FOR FASHION

Phil

Prior to becoming Pope Francis, Jorge Bergoglio was Cardinal and Archbishop of Buenos Aires, where he spent almost his entire career overseeing churches and “shoe leather priests” … those who hear in their heart and do what they hear.


Having been to Argentina, beef is usually the first thing I think about…..either smoky and slow-cooked over an open fire (Asado) or at a Parilla, flash grilled over a white-hot wood fire (I can attest, either way is wonderful).

So it was no surprise when I began to wonder just what the dining preferences of a new Pope from Argentina might be in Rome. Wonderful, thick, fire-grilled Porterhouse steaks (Bistecca Fiorentina) can be found throughout his new home. Would he indulge?

Well, apparently the answer is no. I’ve been unable to find any kind of restaurant trail established by him in Rome. It seems likely that he has maintained his habits from Argentina, where he’s reported to have eaten very simply, usually at home. The Argentine newspaper, La Nacion, wrote that Jorge Bergoglio’s lifestyle was “distinctly austere and frugal…frequently dining on just fruit, salad and skinless chicken breasts.”


When in Rome, however, Cardinal Timothy Dolan of New York has had no trouble whatsoever navigating the indulgent culinary minefield that the Eternal City has to offer – especially at one of his favorite hangouts, Cecilia Metella.

Dolan has noted that cardinals and bishops have the dining run of the town and can still remain somewhat anonymous, while when someone becomes Pope, that all ceases and the Pope takes his meals at the Vatican or at public and charitable events.

This is about the extent of my knowledge of the church hierarchy’s eating habits, but one thing I know is that they have a pronounced taste for fashion. And Ground Zero for clergy-flavored sartorial splendor is GAMMARELLI – THE OFFICIAL TAILOR TO THE POPE. It’s been around since 1798, and appears as influential as it’s ever been. In 2007, Pope Benedict XVI was voted by Esquire magazine as “The accessorizer of the year.” Guess who outfitted him?

I don’t think any important vestments at Gammarelli are off the rack. All are custom made and meticulously fitted by a seasoned group of highly skilled cutters, tailors and seamstresses. The only exception is when the College of Cardinals has gathered together in the Sistine Chapel after the death of a Pope to elect a successor. At that time Gammarelli swings into full action mode. They need to be instantly ready to dress the new Pontiff and since they have no idea what size he’ll be, they fabricate three separate sets of Grand Papal Vestments – small, medium and large – to have at the ready once the white smoke appears from the Sistine Chapel chimney.

I was in their shop recently and I asked how it all worked. They told me that whenever new vestments are needed, “The priests, bishops and cardinals come to Gammarelli to be fitted. When the Pope needs new garments, Gammarelli goes to the Holy Father.”

They also told me that most cardinals have two complete sets of their iconic bright, fully saturated red garments. When I inquired how much money might be involved, they said, “Five to six thousand euros for the pair” – or $6,000 to $7,000.

I have no idea what the Pope’s garments must cost, but I don’t think $50,000 to $60,000 would be far off – maybe more…maybe much, much more. Just check out the bejeweled Pope Benedict parading down the main aisle of St. Peter’s. Or for that matter, check out the “decked-out” Lenny, the chain-smoking American Pontiff from the HBO series, The Young Pope, announcing himself to the cardinals. It looks as if his inspiration was Pope Pius….

Did Gammarelli craft Lenny’s garments? I didn’t ask. It was probably Wardrobe Central in Hollywood.

So now comes the fun part.

Gammarelli is a great place for gifts. The shop is located right behind the Pantheon and right next door to the HOTEL SANTA CHIARA.


You can pick up a Zuchetto – the little skull cap – available in red for a cardinal and purple for a bishop.

The wide-brimmed hat is called a Galero and was worn by cardinals. Now it’s used when a cardinal dies. One month to the day after the death, the Galero is raised to the roof of the cardinal’s home cathedral and stays there till it falls or deteriorates. You probably don’t want to buy one of those…..too creepy.

They sell chalices…but who needs a chalice. Cuff links? Maybe.

Cologne? Sure. (What do they call it? ”Salvation, by Gammarelli”?)

But the best go-to, take-home gift has to be SOCKS. I know, because I’ve been buying them for years. In fact, when I walked into the store this last June – on my first visit in several years – the proprietor pointed at me and said…”Socks!”….YUP!…. Red for the cardinals and purple for the bishops. They run about $20 per pair.

So…when in Rome? Pay them a visit. They are helpful and friendly.

Finally, as I looked at the bright red shiny shoes in the window, I could not help but think, “The Devil may wear Prada, but the Pope wears Gammarelli.”


W.T.F.

PHIL

LOX, STOCK, AND A BARREL OF SCHMALTZ

Phil

On September 22, 2018 the New York Times reported that Anne Russ Federman, age 97, had passed away.


Anne was the oldest surviving daughter of Joel Russ, founder of RUSS & DAUGHTERS, the temple of smoked sturgeon, herring, lox and bagels on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. All three of Joel’s daughters – Hattie, Ida and Anne – worked the counter full-time beginning in their teens, with Anne starting in 1935 at age 14.

It all began with their father, Joel Russ, a Jewish immigrant from what is now Poland coming to New York City in 1907. Penniless, he started out by selling herring and schmaltz (rendered chicken or goose fat) out of a barrel on Hester Street. Soon he was able to buy a pushcart and added mushrooms and a few assorted delicacies to his budding enterprise. And finally, in 1914, he moved to a brick & mortar store that he named RUSS’S CUT RATE APPETIZERS. Six years later, in 1920, he moved the operation to its present location at 179 Houston in Soho.

So why the word “Appetizers?”

I understand that Jewish dietary laws dictate that meat and dairy cannot be eaten or sold together, nor can meat and seafood. As a result, two kinds of stores emerged: those that sold meat (delicatessens); and those that sold seafood and dairy, which came to be called “appetizer stores” – kind of like a seafood deli.

(I don’t know this for sure, but Russ & Daughters may be the last remaining “appetizer store” in New York.)

And so it was that in 1935, having no sons, Joel Russ made his three daughters full partners in the business. Thus began a long line of family generations that run the store to this day. The girls’ husbands all became part of the family business.


Third-generation operators were Mark Russ Federman and his wife, Maria. Mark quit lawyering for good after filling in as a “counter man” one week. In addition to slicing lox into paper-thin slices, Mark went on to write his reflections in a book titled The House That Herring Built. Not stopping there, he wrote and produced a film called The Sturgeon Queens, which was directed by Julie Cohen as an ode to his mother, Anne, and her sisters.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Morley Safer all had cameos in the film.

Today the fourth generation is at the helm, led by Niki Russ Federman and her cousin, Josh Russ Tupper. They’ve add a New Age “wasabi flying fish roe” to the mix – as a topping for the sliced smoked sturgeon inside the bagels – but for the most part the offerings remain as they always have.


In my posting of September 15, 2016, The Best of the Wurst, I cited Russ & Daughters as one of our favorites in NYC. Check it out because it was on that visit one Saturday morning that Joanne and I stood for twenty minutes ass-to-elbow amongst the throngs of hungry Type A Lower Manhattanites just to get a bagel.

As it turned out, we ordered a lot more than just a bagel. While patiently staring at the refrigerated cases loaded with smoked mackerel and sturgeon, lox and pickled herring (some with curried sour cream), along with chopped chicken liver redolent with schmaltz and onions begging to be slathered on an onion bagel, Joanne and I both lost it.

We have a habit of occasionally pigging out and pig out we did. First, I ordered an onion bagel with smoked salmon, sliced fresh tomatoes, capers and loads of scallion cream cheese…. schmear. Then I blurted out “Gimme one of those salmon and cream cheese bagels with the salmon fish eggs on top.” Joanne, being only slightly less out of control than me, went for the sweets – ordering a Babka (a sort of yeast risen brioche-like coffee cake wrapped around a dark chocolate fudge filling); a Raspberry Rugelach, a semi-light and flaky pastry; AND an iconic New York Black & White cookie. I can’t figure it out….she maintains her weight right around a hundred pounds. Damn her.

Well, we got our overstuffed big bag of goodies only to realize that Russ & Daughters has no seating, save for two iron park benches that sit outside in the front. After another 20-minute wait for this coveted spot, we finally sat down and tried our best to ignore the stares from everyone else who wanted that seat. Screw ‘em (Joanne’s words).

You do not stay in business for a hundred years without being smart and crafty. And they were plenty smart to open RUSS & DAUGHTERS CAFÉ two short blocks away on Orchard Street. It’s an attractive, sit-down-and-be-waited-on kind of place where you can get dishes with any of their Houston Street offerings as well as complete meals such as Shakshouka, a Mediterranean dish of eggs poached in a peppery tomato stew.


The Smoked Salmon Eggs Benedict comes atop a toasted brioche. Potato Latkes (think mini hash browns) come with a savory side of sour cream and salmon roe. And there are a number of “Boards,” some with smoked salmon, others with smoked sturgeon, and always with sliced tomatoes and red onion.

Thirsty? Get a classic Chocolate Egg Cream – a drink that has neither eggs nor cream, but is concocted with carbonated water, milk and chocolate syrup.

And if it’s cold outside or if you have a cold…well, there’s always a steaming bowl of Matzo Ball Soup. I can’t recall if they have Chicken Soup. If they don’t, they should.

So there you have it…..take-out or eat-in at Russ & Daughters.

I’ll leave you with this: Mark, the enterprising third-generation operator whose son, Noah, is a physician, was quoted in the New York Times piece as saying, “As far as I know, I am the only Jewish father who was disappointed that his kid became a doctor. I was thinking ‘sturgeon,’ not ‘surgeon.’”


W.T.F.

PHIL

HIGH-STYLE STEAK AT GT PRIME

Phil

Around the time that the Civil War was drawing to a close, the Midwest and West were beginning to raise cattle in what soon became staggering numbers. Local processers soon found themselves overwhelmed by the burgeoning herds, and the ranchers had nowhere else to take their cattle. In response, nine enterprising railroad moguls banded together to form THE UNION STOCKYARDS in Chicago, a facility capable of processing beef from Colorado, Nebraska, Texas, Kansas and Montana.


The Union Stockyards grew and thrived for almost a hundred years and became the world’s largest processor of cattle (as well as pork and lamb).

But the most influential accelerator to the stockyards’ growth was the genius of Gustavus Swift and Philip Armour (famous meat names even today). In 1880, they successfully designed the first REFRIGERATED RAILROAD CAR (not only that, they built a nationwide ice-producing infrastructure to service the rail cars). This meant that the finest beef on the planet – midwestern beef – and lots of it could now reach beef lovers as far east as Philadelphia, New York and Boston. Check out the diagram of the refrigerated boxcar below: very clever, indeed.

Joanne and I have dined at some of the New York Steakhouses that emerged around this time and thrive to this day…the legendary OLD HOMESTEAD in Chelsea (1868); the midtown temple of meat, KEENS CHOP HOUSE (1885); and of course the one-and-only PETER LUGER (1887).

But Chicago became (and still is) STEAKHOUSE GROUND ZERO with the likes of GENE & GEORGETTI’S (1941), the nation’s poster child for traditional steak and chop houses; a place that has never wandered away from big, perfectly cooked, dry-aged prime steaks, accompanied by sides of broccoli and hash browns large enough to feed the Russian Army.

But in today’s Chicago, a number of folks are experimenting with time-tested traditional steakhouse DNA. Chicago magazine sported a cover earlier this year with the headline, ”Red Meat Revival…A new guard of restaurateurs has shaken up our list of the city’s TOP TEN STEAKHOUSES.”

We ate at a one recently: GT PRIME, situated in the River North neighborhood on North Wells between Superior and Huron.

Phil Vettel of the Chicago Tribune said, “GT PRIME is either the steakhouse you will avoid…or….the steakhouse you’ve been waiting for.”

I don’t land in either camp. I love the dependability, comfort and tradition of the Old School joints. But I also think that the “chefy” new spots now and then are relished by the best of men.

So how do you navigate a next-gen steakhouse like GT Prime?

For one thing, adjust your eyes because this place is DARK. And once you do acclimate to the moody, high-design interior, don’t waste time looking for a shrimp cocktail – or, for that matter, a loaded baked potato.

Here you’ll start with Steak Tartare capped with mustard seeds and an egg yolk, and served with house-made malt vinegar potato chips. We also ordered the Tuna Tartare, which was pretty much as we expected. But the Chicken Liver Mousse with onion petals and port gelée ($13) was deep, deliciously gamy, and smooth as silk.


Arancini (Italian deep fried rice balls) were generously laced with mortadella and pistachios…hardly Old School steakhouse fare – but appropriate in a place run by executive chef/partner Giuseppe Tentori.

What followed were two iterations of crab: one featuring sliced tomatoes layered over premium lump crab with buratta; the other a combination of avocado and eye-appealing (but not so premium) Jonah crab ($24).

Our granddaughter’s choice proved to be a big hit: Mac & Cheese, prepared with orecchiette, smoky pork belly and broccoli – perfect for adventuresome kids.

Another pasta dish, this in the snout-to-tail Fergus Henderson tradition, was Gnocchi in a “nut-free” basil pesto with morsels of deep-fried sweetbread “croutons.” I would have liked the nuts to have remained in the pesto.

We tried the GT Burger, too. I think it’s a pretty good idea to have a SIGNIFICANT burger on a steakhouse menu, and this one delivered – with onion marmalade, sundried tomatoes, porcini dust and more port gelée. We do a killer burger at MANNY’S and PITTSBURGH BLUE as a budget-friendly alternative on a night out. I wanted to compare theirs with ours. Both are good.

Shishito Peppers and Sweetcorn with Lime and Parmesan, as well as Charred Broccoli with Fried Prosciutto and Maple Butter proved to be worthy sides in keeping with a new age steakhouse.

This IS Chicago, however, which means you can’t abandon the steakhouse workhorses. One of our diners pronounced the Bone-in Ribeye worthy of any steakhouse. The Venison Steak, though perfectly cooked, didn’t fare as well – too chewy. But that’s venison.

The biggest hit was called THE CARNIVORE. A flight of four different 8-ounce cuts served sliced, it showcased a top-notch Beef Filet, Venison, Bison and American Wagyu. It cost a whopping $230, though it’s meant to be shared and it is, after all, two pounds of boneless meat, so maybe $230 is about right. It comes with a SERIOUS STEAK KNIFE…really SERIOUS.

The dessert Cheese Platter and a little-too-pretty-for-a-steakhouse Crème Brulée rounded out our evening.

So did we enjoy it? Hell, yes. Would I go back? SURE. I was amused and in many respects impressed. As a diner, I gravitate toward the Old School steakhouses, but as an operator, it’s essential to experience the cutting edge, and GT Prime is as sharp as any of the New School joints.

W.T.F.

PHIL