NYC Dining: La Petite Auberge

First published 4/24/01

La Petite Auberge: A Neighborhood Gem by Steve Levine

116 Lexington Ave
New York, NY 10016View Map
(212) 689-5003
Directions: 6 at 28th St.

In the midst of Curry Hill is a small French restaurant with a local following named La Petite Auberge. My friend Dave and his girlfriend Lena had come here once before with my fiancé and I, and so when we wanted to go out again we decided to pay a repeat visit, especially because it was two blocks from his apartment.

We called ahead for a table a little before 9, but had to wait in the crowded front room by the coat check for about ten minutes. There wasn,t any more room for us at the tiny bar. The restaurant is a step-down space, with kind of a basement feel. The décor is timeless, though a bit dusty. The clientele is largely middle-aged and "senior," and except for one couple, the four of us were by far the youngest there while we were eating.

The service was attentive. We were seated for perhaps five seconds when the maitre ïd inquired after beverages and brought us a wine list. We selected a Chablis first, and a nice red Cotes du Rhone of some sort for after. A busboy came by immediately after with bread and a bowl of cold pieces of butter. He dropped two on each of our bread plates with a fork quickly and departed to fetch water. None of the staff looked down on us for our age, and our waiter actually remembered us from the prior visit. Water glasses were kept full, and standard serving conventions were observed wherever the close quarters allowed.

The menu is classically French. For appetizers Dave had asparagus with Hollandaise, Lena had oysters, Marci got standard escargots, and I had a lovely Shrimp Provençal. This part of the menu also featured basics like onion soup, shrimp cocktail, artichokes vinaigrette, and smoked salmon, all in the $4.50-$8.75 range.

For entrees, Marci had filet mignon with sauce Bordelaise, Lena had a special, veal tenderloin with Béarnaise, Dave ate a sirloin au poivre, and I went with a house specialty, Coq au Vin. These were all extremely well prepared, and the meat was cooked as requested. I normally never order chicken in a restaurant, but this preparation was stupendous. It was moist, flavorful, and was accompanied by some garlic mashed potatoes and blanched vegetables. Our waiter apparently agreed with me, because when I ordered he stated that he never orders chicken out, but loves this dish here. The entrees are priced reasonably, most between $12-19, with steak dishes priced at $23.

For dessert, we ordered the house specialty, souffle for two, ordered with our entrees, of course. Dave and Lena shared a Grand Marnier souffle while Marci and I had a chocolate one. These were textbook souffles, probably identical to the first one ever baked.

All in all, for a quiet neighborhood place La Petite Auberge is exceptional. Its food and service are on a par with far pricier restaurants.

NYC Dining: Oceana

May 29th, 1999

Oceana by Steve Levine

Oceana
55 East 54th Street
New York, New York
(212) 759-5941

Oceana was the restaurant in which our gastronomic odyssey began, in early December. Alex and I had wanted to try it for lunch for several months, but were unable to pull it together. Finally, in frustration, I made a reservation for 4 for 6:30 on a weeknight and got Alex, Josh, and Spencer to show up. We enjoyed the experience so much that we took up going to more of the finest restaurants as often as we could afford to.

The four of us enjoyed the $90 six-course tasting menu, with 2 dozen extra oysters at the start and a couple of bottles of good wine. The total bill was about $160 each with tip. The pricing was consistent, as my bill from Saturday night was comparable. Since we didn't decide to start keeping notes until the trip to Café Boulud later on, we had very little material to base a review on. Therefore, devoted diner that I am, I resolved to return with my girlfriend and show her what started this mad craze of mine.

Marci and I had a 9:00 reservation, which was honored promptly. We had pink gin-and-tonics and a choice of three breads with Taramosalata -- a pinkish Greek fish roe and garlic spread -- rather than butter, which I'd had out in Astoria before. The teaser course was smoked trout over orange-onion marmalade, but I didn't quite believe them at first. Expecting a little piece of fish, I saw a white blob the color and consistency of marshmallow fluff. It did taste right, though, and I realized that it was a mousse, which absorbed some of the sweet marmalade to offset its own saltiness.

Once we'd eaten this, service was immediately cleared, and we were given a few minutes to chat and drink our cocktails before looking at the menus. The main upstairs dining room was kind of small and busy, but comfortable. The décor was wood paneling in a light shade, some brass fittings, and a skylight, with cruise line posters on the walls. There were a few other younger couples and groups in the room, which added energy, but at least half were middle-aged or older. The captains were younger than I had remembered, but attentive, and knowledgeable about the menu and wines. One gaffe that annoyed me slightly was not to have received the wine list when they did present me with a menu. I asked for it, and received it quickly, but it struck me as amateurish.

The menu choices were easy for Marci, but I had a tough time with entrees, as I remembered what had stood out the first time. The menu influences were a split between Asian and Mediterranean. There was no meat or fowl whatsoever, but there was enough variety to warrant the inclusion of fair number of reds on the wine list. This list was mid-sized, and fairly reasonable in price. After I finally declined the roasted monkfish "Rossini Style," with foie gras, red onion confit, Fondant potatoes, and sauce Perigeaux, in favor of the miso bass (described later) I selected an old friend, a 1996 Domaine Weinbach Tokay Pinot Gris. This was $92 here, and I believe we'd paid like $110-115 at Boulud or Le Cirque 2000. It was sweet, but not overly so, with good complexity and a lingering flavor that matched well with all of our food. As for food, we decided to stick with the standard $65 prixe fixe 3-course menu.

As appetizers, Marci got lobster ravioli in a tomato basil broth, and I had "Kung Pao" style calamari and rock shrimp stir-fry, with Moroccan spiced glaze and cashews. The lobster ravioli were plump and sweet, with a mild broth. This was one of the finest preparations of this common dish I've encountered to date. My squid was cut in the traditional Chinatown manner, and tender in the thick, spicy-sweet Kung Pao sauce. This sauce was very close to that which I'd had with chicken over pork-fried rice dozens of times before, but with nicer vegetables and goodly spice.

Following a reasonable interval, we got our entrees. Marci, on my recommendation, had ordered the "Everything" crusted yellowfin tuna steak, with warm mixed grain salad, sugar snap peas, Caponata, and roasted red pepper sauce, served medium. "Everything" means all of the different seeds and toppings normally found upon the outside of an everything bagel: sesame seeds, poppy seeds, garlic, onion, salt, etc. The hearty grains and strongly flavored pepper sauce complemented the tuna.

I got the dish that stood out most in my mind from the first visit, revisited as one of the two best things at Nobu when we went there. This was miso-glazed Chilean sea bass, served with crisp root vegetable streamers, ripe mango & scallion, and Yuzu vinaigrette. The miso marinade gave the bass a wonderful sweetness, an incomparable moistness through and through. The vegetables were crunchy with a salty sauce, and offset the bass. These two were Oceana's signature dishes, and most of those around us were eating them as well.

For dessert, Marci got the chocolate praline tart, which consisted of praline parfait, cocoa nibb crisp, and chocolate gratin. This tremendous confection was crispy and creamy, and rich enough to fill the bill. I had her drink a glass of a 1995 Finger Lakes Icewine, rich, complex and sweet.

I had a Bananas Foster Napoleon with hot chocolate banana sauce and vanilla ice cream. I was at Breakfast at Brennan's, in New Orleans, and had the original Bananas Foster about a month ago, and was a little disappointed by this variation. That said, it was delicious, composed of sliced banana and ice cream, with a brown-sugar-butter-bannana-liquer topping. Fairly simple, but elegant. I selected a Fonseca Port with it, which was exactly what it was supposed to be.

Oceana was a fine restaurant, but not the same caliber of a Lespinasse, Daniel, or Bouley. Perhaps I caught it on a bad night, as the first visit was quite grand. If I were to base my opinion solely on this visit, it would be in the 7-7.5 range, but since the first time was great, I'd say more like an 8. Still, it's well worth a trip.

NYC Dining: New Orleans

April 27th, 2001

New Orleans Special Edition: Our Second Favorite Eating City

by Steve Levine

We don't confine our extreme dining to our hometown. Road trips are an excellent time to explore and overindulge in cuisine based upon different ingredients and techniques than are available here in New York City. One of our favorite road trips is the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. I went once, with Alex and a whole bunch of the crew. Alex has gone many times, and will likely write his own account of his experiences there. I went back to New Orleans last summer with my wife (then fiancée) for a long weekend to celebrate her birthday, and feel compelled to ruminate about our food adventures.

We arrived late on Thursday night, checking into the Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street, after 11. We immediately went out for a light dinner, running into the Acme Oyster House for crawfish etouffe and po' boy. The Acme isn't my favorite spot, as their food isn't great and it's kind of grubby, but they were close and open. We had a quick bite and a few drinks to celebrate the coming of Friday, Marci's birthday, and then crashed.

Friday, we were determined to go to Uglesich's, a legendary diner open only for lunch in a shady section of town. We went right after getting up, so we could beat the lunch crowd, but had a tough time finding it, and finally discovered that it was closed. Starving and heartbroken, I determined that we would go to a place that my friend Darryl, a N'awlins native, had taken a bunch of us during Jazz Fest the previous year.

Unfortunately, I couldn't remember what it was called; I just had a vague notion that it had a two-part name and that it was sort of uptown. We stopped into a drug store on St Charles Avenue to try and figure out where it was. After asking about 10 people, (everyone was very nice) someone figured out that I was talking about Frankie & Johnnie's, and gave me directions. After taking a wrong turn through a depressed neighborhood, we wound up in the warehouse district uptown, maybe a block from Tipitina's, a legendary club where I'd seen the Radiators the year before. I recognized the place on sight, and warned Marci about the large roaches we'd seen then.

It was perfection. We had cold Abita beers, a Louisiana original, and feasted like we hadn't eaten in a week. The appetizers consisted of rich, yummy gumbo, and a crawfish pie. Their gumbo was thick with meat and dark roux, with just the right bite. The 4" pie was filled with meat and vegetables, and topped with breadcrumbs. Next, we had po'boys, the local version of the hero (or hoagie, sub, torpedo, or grinder as you please). Marci had fried oysters on hers, while I went for a very large one with no less than four soft-shell crabs on it, with what the fine folks here call "dressing": lettuce, tomato, mayo, and pickle slices. The lightly-seasoned cornmeal breading was just right for the fresh seafood, and the light French-style long roll made these portions just right to hold us until our 9 PM dinner.

After a day of sightseeing, a tea interval, and a nap, we went to our birthday dinner reservation at Commander's Palace, generally considered the finest restaurant in New Orleans and the place where great chefs such as Paul Prudhomme and Emeril Lagasse made their names. Located in a huge and spectacular mansion in the beautiful garden district, this restaurant is a feast for the senses. We had a drink at the gorgeous bar, where Marci developed a new love for the Absolut Mandarin Cosmopolitan. To get to the bar and the large dining areas towards the back of the mansion, one must pass through the kitchen. Being from New York, I was more than a little impressed by its size. Chefs back home tend to do more with less, but these guys had room to spare. There is even a large booth on one side, where parties can be seated by special reservation and be fed by the chef directly.

After something of a long wait, we were led across an outdoor patio studded with flowering trees and into a large greenhouse-like structure, with high ceilings that attached to another wing of the mansion. It was mostly empty, and we were led to a table in the center of the room and at least two tables from anyone else. Service was black-tie and impeccable. They were friendly, helpful, and knowledgeable. The menu was a Creole dream, and very difficult to choose from. The wine list was somewhat brief for the caliber of restaurant, but had some quality stuff. We wound up ordering a Stag's Leap Chardonnay to go with the fish we both wound up ordering.

Marci started with a long-time house and state specialty, turtle soup. This recipe has been used and refined over generations by the Brennan family, who own Commander's Palace and several of the other great restaurants in town, such as Mr. B's Bistro, Brennan's, and more. It was meaty and rich, with fresh herbs and a drop of sherry. For my appetizer, I got a special of the day, which absolutely blew my mind. It was four very large gulf oysters, with a fragrant bread, parsley, and fennel stuffing. These oysters were placed on a bed of rock salt studded with cloves, peppercorns, and herbs, and baked until golden brown. The aroma alone was enough to drop my jaw three inches, and infused the breadcrumbs and even the underlying oyster. I would have to rate this among the three best appetizers I've ever had. It hurt to give one to Marci, but a couple of spoonfuls of her wonderful soup eased my pain.

For entrees, we had dishes that were superficially similar in composition, but really quite different in flavor. Marci had the Barbecue Stew, which was kind of like a bouillabaisse, but with all of the ingredients grilled beforehand. The centerpiece of the dish was blackened redfish, surrounded by local shellfish taken off the grill and simmered in a delicious broth. Being a glutton, I was able to sample it thoroughly. My entrée was a "Napoleon," of layered grouper, shrimp, crawfish, scallop, and a potato thing, covered in a creamy wild mushroom sauce. It tasted as good as it sounds. Excepting the local ingredients, this dish could have walked right off of the menu from Le Bernardin.

Unfortunately, by the time we hit dessert my memory got a little hazy. I'm pretty sure we had port, and I know there was really good coffee with chicory. I know that Marci had their signature dessert: bread pudding soufflé. Imagine the best aspects of a vanilla bread pudding, poofed up with egg whites: Oh my gosh! I think I had something chocolate, possibly with banana, but this is largely a guess. We'd told them it was Marci's Birthday, so they brought out a chef's hat and a bouquet of balloons for her with dessert. This place is definitely special, and will be revisited. The only bad thing was that as a Manhattanite, I am unaccustomed to having to drive us home from celebratory dinners.

The following day, I took Marci to Brennan's for breakfast. This is something of a New Orleans institution, and was one of the high points of my earlier visit to the city. Located in the French Quarter, two blocks from our hotel, Brennan's has the special local charm of the neighborhood, combined with white-glove-quality service and a menu heavy on Creole standards. We had cocktails at the bar while waiting for our table, and Marci loved the treat of a pickled green bean in her Bloody Mary.

Breakfast was two courses plus dessert for $35, I believe. Marci started with perfect berries and cream, while I had oyster chowder, a variation on the turtle soup at Commander's. We enjoyed a bottle of Louis Jadot Pouille-Fuisse alongside. For an entrée Marci had a ham and cheddar omelet, and I had Eggs Shannon, which was two poached eggs atop two fried trout fillets and creamed spinach, topped with Hollandaise. This was a heart-stopper in every sense of the word.

At dessert, we each selected Bananas Foster, a Brennan's invention. For those of you who've never seen it, Bananas Foster is made tableside, starting with a big frying pan on a hot plate on a cart. The waiter melts a stick of butter and cup or more of brown sugar together, and then sautés sliced banana in it. After a few minutes, he dumps in a generous splash of banana liqueur, and flambés it. When the flames die down, the resulting mixture is spooned over vanilla ice cream. This is probably one of my five favorite desserts. After one of these and some more of that chicory coffee, it was pretty tough to stumble around the French Quarter in the summer heat, but we managed.

We had a late reservation for dinner again, and were able to take our time enjoying the French Quarter. In our hotel was the Desire Oyster bar, where we enjoyed a few huge gulf beauties on the half-shell with cocktail sauce - we each made to our own taste - when we needed a light bite. There were many drinks, and a nap and shower before dinner.

All the way at the end of St. Charles Avenue, and a little to the right, is Brightsen's, set in a decent-sized house in a residential neighborhood. The chef-owner is Frank Brightsen, who can be seen occasionally on various cable cooking shows and spins his own version of Creole cuisine. The restaurant is bright and welcoming, and the staff extremely professional. One waitress I'd talked to the previous year had been the first female captain at Commander's Palace.

By this time, Marci was feeling an extreme need for a salad, so she had one with the two amazing appetizers that I insisted we get anyway. One of them was a loin of rabbit in sesame batter, served on top of a cornmeal cake and greens in a pool of warm mustard remoulade. The bitter greens married the sauce to the rabbit, while the corn cake and sesame seeds in the batter made sweet music in the background. The other, equally delicious appetizer was the largest soft-shell crab I've ever seen, deep fried in a light batter and sitting in a pool of red wine sauce. A soft-shell crab fanatic, I was in heaven.

For entrées, I have to admit my memory is weak, but I'm pretty sure I had a piece of fish with some crab meat and an oyster cream sauce. Marci had some kind of veal dish, but she was getting stuffed, and I wound up eating most of it. Feeling guilty, I finished her dinner and the bottle of wine and we went home without dessert.

Our flight home was early the following afternoon (or so we thought). We got up somewhat early and went across the street behind our hotel for some beignets and coffee. A beignet is the local version of the doughnut, only it's got an irregular shape, depending upon where you get them, and the only flavor is "lots of powdered sugar." They are heavenly, but heavy, and one and a half of the large ones at this place was enough. We were going from there to check out of the hotel and go to the airport, so we got a muffaletta to go. A muffaletta is another New Orleans specialty, invented many years ago at the Central Grocery. It is a sandwich of Italian salami, ham, bologna, mortadella, and provolone cheese stacked on a 12" round Tuscan loaf and topped with an olive and pepper salad that they now sell all over town. It is a mountainous meal, which we shared in the airport waiting area. The only other thing we ate on this journey was McDonald's, when we were stranded in O'Hare for several hours.

I would have to say that this hit-and-run commando raid represents the perfect way to sample the culinary charms of the Big Easy. If we'd stayed any longer we might have hurt ourselves, but we were still sorry to leave and vowed to return. The next time we might check out Antoine's, Uglesitch's, and there would likely have to be a return to Commander's Palace, though there are many, many more. Another good way to understand the local cuisine would be to come to the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, usually held the last two weeks of April. It's held on an enormous fair ground, and the food courts have amazing stuff, like crawfish in all its forms, fried turkey po' boys, and more kinds of jambalaya than you can dream up. The music isn't bad either.

NYC Dining: Jean-Georges

(First published June 3, 1999)

Jean-Georges, By Spencer Sloe

Jean Georges
1 Central Park West
Trump International Hotel
New York
(212) 299-3900

Over the past 8 months the members of Eat Me NYC have indulged, or, I should say, overindulged, at some of the most distinguished eating establishment's Gotham has to offer. Having tasted culinary masterpieces, I was finally ready to embrace my role of the dining knight and challenge the crown jewel of Jean Georges Vongerichten's empire to a duel. Little did I know that I would soon be humbled, only to realize I was not a knight at all, but a pawn in Jean-Georges' wicked feasting game.

THE SET-UP:

I rolled to the front of the magnificent Trump Tower in my golden chariot and was awestruck at the magnificence of the exterior. As I walked up the granite stoop my smile widened with each fateful step, for I now knew in my stomach that this would be a night to remember. Upon being greeted at the front gates, I was escorted inside. At 6 in the early evening, the interior looked simply wonderful. Though minimalist in décor, it was well lit by a warm sunshine, which poured through the windows. With a splendid view overlooking Central Park, Jean-Georges and his Chef De Cuisine, Dider Virot, made me feel welcome. Large purple rhododendron bushes, some eight feet tall, adorned the walls in large glass vases. An open kitchen housed a brigade of some of the most seasoned chefs who looked larger than life in their tall white hats as they bustled to and fro. Only the finest culinary weapons could find homes in this marvelous kitchen overlooking the courtyard, copper pans hung from steel hooks along the wall.

I proceed to make my way to the bar and sit next to my good friend Alex, who was sipping a vodka gimlet and, curiously, looking over the wine list. The rest of our party arrived within the next couple of minutes. We shared a smoke, a drink and a laugh or two but became impatient by the tardiness of one of our guests. With all the commotion in the kitchen, it was difficult to wait a moment longer. We were seated.

THE REVIEW:

Our headwaiter, and Alexander, the sommelier-extraordinaire, soon greeted us. Alexander is the jester in King Jean-Georges' court but is by no means the fool. Brimming with recommendations, he will play with your palette and juggle your senses. After we decided on ordering the Chef Tasting Menu ($90), Alexander made some fine suggestions. We started with a Sancerre Villes Vignes Reverdy '97 ($110), a light but stiff white wine with strong citrus, peaches and apples - a very nice recommendation. Soon our final guest arrived and we began.

We first started the meal with a Salmon Carpacchio in a lemon-coriander virgin olive oil, with a dash of salt and pepper over shaved baby fennel and chervil. The salmon was sliced so thin that it seemed to melt away in my mouth. The flavored olive oil provided a hint of variety but was not overly complex.

Next we were served Almond Tuile (this was a terrine slice, with layers of foie gras and almond pastry,) with a side of vin de paille consumé, made with delicious bullion and a rare, sweet wine based on the Pinot Beurot grape, made on a commercial but minute scale in Jura, France. Now, I am a big fan of sauces, but this had a consistency and flavor I had never experienced before. Better yet, it wasn't really a dipping sauce at all but a sipping sauce that glazed the palate after each wonderful bite. Marvelous.

It was time for our second bottle of wine. Something a bit more robust and flavorful perhaps? With our next course we were served an old friend, a Pinot Gris Grand Cru Clos St. Urbian, Zind Humbrecht '95 ($125). The Pinot Gris has become a favorite among the members of Eat Me NYC -- especially ones bottled in 1995. If you are willing to spend a few bucks on potent potables I highly recommend you try this one. You won't be disappointed.

Sautéed Frogs Legs with parsley and young garlic soup over chive blossoms then made its way to our plate. The aroma from soup made my mouth water and was too hard too resist. Young cloves of garlic swam in a pond of creamy garlic broth and chive blossoms that looked like lilies. Frogs legs sautéed to perfection, so delicious, the meat simply drifted off the bone.

THE INTERMISSION:

A time out was necessary. How long could I hold out? Alex and I would proceed to step outside and sit on the porch overlooking Central Park to smoke a cigarette and talk a little bit about the dining experience occasionally. Alexander, the sommelier, noticed us sitting outside and decided to engage us in conversation about fine dining and fine wines. But, after about five minutes, he was whisked away by some anxious diners. Little wonder that Alex and I decided it was time for more.

THE REVIEW, PART DEUX:

Another bottle of Pinot Gris was poured and a mysterious bottle of red was decanted. [The decanter was lovely. --.ed]

The feast continued: Chilean Sea Bass over four different types of cherry tomatoes and country potatoes in vegetable vinaigrette. Then, Grilled Maine Sea Scallops with port and cherry emulsion, baby beet tops, Buckwheat crepe and sour cherry. Next, a bowl of Lobster Tartin with pea shoots in creamy pumpkin seed and fenugreek broth. I thought to myself: how much longer could this go on? Dish after wonderful dish, all extraordinary.

However, nothing could prepare me for the main course or the magnificent wine I was about to taste.

Broiled Country Squab with onion compote, corn pancake, sliced foie gras and fresh almonds became my final conquest. Now, I have sampled Jean-Georges' take on squab before at Vong, his Asian-French amalgam, but I assure you, this was far superior. With flavorful 4-spice skin coating tender meat, this dish was stunning. The corn pancake was a nice accompaniment and the slice of foie gras on top lent a deserved richness. I was so surprised by the flavor of the fresh almonds that I didn't even know what they were until I asked the steward. He informed me that they had been Fed Ex'ed to the restaurant the night before. Very grand indeed.

The mystery bottle of red was a Pauillac Pinchon-Longueville-Lalande '88 ($295). It was deep, rich and a bit dry. It is so hard to accurately describe the actual flavor of this vintage because it seemed to alter with every passing moment, unlike anything I had tasted before. The Pauillac was simply awesome. Wine Spectator gives it a high rating.

The meal was finally finished. Dessert was next. Dessert arrived on a British Navy style square plate, white. I was presented with a chilled mint rhubarb soup and coconut pate, kiwi lemon crème tart with lime sorbet, sour raspberries with vanilla ice cream, and a warm chocolate soufflé with hazelnut ice cream. The steward brought us a complimentary Muscato D'asti Cascianetta Piemonte '98, desert wine which was smart, brave and sweet.

An incredible cheese plate.

A bold cup of coffee.

A final sampling of tasty treats.

An enormous bill.

A much deserved thank you.

A retreat.

FINAL THOUGHTS

While Jean-Georges teased my palette with exquisite dishes, while the sommelier poured his knowledge into my glass, and while the steward presided with respect and grace, I no longer felt like I was a pawn, but a king, who is now all the wiser.