Estiatorios Milas--Manhattan

 646.907.1970

The ol' wifey wife and other wifey wife and her man piece and I meet up every once in a while, say about every eight months.  Other wifey wife loves to eat at new high-profile places as a sort of treat and to commemorate the length and depth of our collective relationship.  All that aside, we ended up here for that occasion, which to be honest is a huge departure from other haunts in the past (see Frenchette) as this place isn't that new nor that esteemed.  This place is NOT to be confused with the Estario Milos, the restaurant that is up town nearby Carnegie Hall.  Same ownership, seemingly, and I'm sure there's a huge back story that you can google yourself. We visited take two--bourgeois boogiloo.

I can say there aren't a ton of a la carte places in the city like this (see Gaonnuri), as most restaurants are street level, so out of the gate this restaurant offers something that is uniquely New York: a stunning high-rise view of the city, albeit mostly of the Hudson river.  It's also at the top of some outlandish luxury mall, so give yourself a minute or two to navigate the unnecessary homogeny that ha become luxury shopping in this day and age.  I mean, how many Hermes stores really need to exist in the city?

The food, traditionally greek, is heavily seafood based and solid but not remarkable. I'm not a Greek guy myself, but the ol' wifey wife is and she lapped it up.  So it's possible my ham-fisted incipient Wonderbread palate might have missed something.  They have a kitschy fish market right in the restaurant, and given it's not-so recent opening the place still has a newness to it that sort of elevates the game.  In normal fashion we ordered a ton of shit and shared it, nothing jumped out as to die for, though none of it was offensive.  It was sufficient fare that accented the stunning environment.  This is a good place to take out of town guests but I can't say I've got a hankering for anything I ate.

The Grille--Manhattan

 212.254.3000

It is a post Covid world, and the city is struggling.  This was clearly evident in the disappointing night at The Grille.  This isn't a Peter Lugar type disappointment, all of the ingredients were there but over all these guys were simply out of synch.  It's as though they expected everything will be okay, as they had the panache and confidence to deliver, but at the end of the day they simply didn't.

So let's start with the fact that we had a very, very early reservation.  530.  Not the end of the world, but clearly we were aware there was a table behind us.  Unfortunately, the staff didn't seem to realize that until well after the fact and sat us 30 minutes late.  It also took forever and a day to get my drink at the bar, but that didn't seem important at the time.

So we're now down 30 minutes, and clearly they didn't anticipate for us to order such a robust dinner--three appetizers and prime rib for all.  A bottle of white and red.  The first course came out okay but then they fucked up the wine, and served our wine about halfway through our entrée.  How was the food? Solid. But the timing fucked it all up.  We were eating prime rib with an Alcase.  And I don't think the poor timing was reserved for just us. The high rolling finance guys who rolled in a touch after us, had to sit and wait while they made Caesar salad table side.  Instead of serving that first, they served that last, forcing the other guests to be polite while one d-bag watched his salad tossed.

Anywho, they rushed us off the table and we had to eat dessert in the bar.  The cocktail waitress knew about as much as wine as I do, which is to say nothing but at least it's not my profession.   The GM eventually came over and apologized, he wanted to comp stuff but we refused. We spent at least $400 a head on this dinner.  Can't say I'd do the same again.

Ruffian--Manhattan

No phone number I could find.

Went here to celebrate a birthday on a lovely summer afternoon.  We sat outside as is the trend these days, which was nice given it's in the East Village nearby one of my first apartments in the city so nostalgia was in the air.  I also must say that they should keep the open air market thing going after the pandemic subsides.  It's much more enjoyable watching the madness of the city truck on by, especially in this neighborhood.  The Village isn't what it used to be, but it's still got the grit and vibe that brings a lot of us derelicts from around the world.

I know, I know the food.  Whelp, this place is much more about the wine.  And it's Georgian, though that's not specifically advertised.  If you're into esoteric Georgian wine look no further.  It's great, but not outstanding at least for my more populist tastes, but the ol' other wifey wife who likes weird orange wines made without sulfites was creaming herself.

They also had a great carrot dumpling.  The rest of the menu wasn't for me, but these dumplings were lights out.  I'd go back just for them.  All in all I'd say it's worth the Michelin star, but perhaps that's because I felt twenty years younger for a few hours.

Crown Shy--Manhattan

212.517.1932

It's in the lobby of this crazy art Deco building somewhere in the canyons of lower Manhattan.  When we walked in I must say that I felt it was right out of a Bond film.  Both host and hostess cad in black, stunning, and ready to roll.  I felt like I had to say some password just to be let in.   The waiter was also air-tight, professional but not cold, affable but not goofy.  We waited for our better halves as I drank Sancerre and the ol' wifey wife hit the white lightning.

It's a Michelin star restaurant, so assume the food was good.   The wine list, however, was ridiculous.  Simply overwhelmingly huge.  So much so the little digital scan reading on your iPhone protocol was not practical at all.  Nonetheless, we figured it out and drank too much wine. The food was interesting and well prepared.  Due to the wine consumption my notes were abbreviated.  I'll quote them directly:

Date cake:  Bam

Like the octopus

Pork chop is so good it's my little bitch and doesn't stand a chance

Long ass walk to the bathroom

Sleek nipples

This place is definitely deserving of a Michelin star, and given it's location there is something particularly NY about it; walking out, four bottles of wine later, onto a narrow street with skyscrapers all around gave a vibe I haven't experienced in years.  Of course, the same could be said for just dining out with old friends.

Stirling Hotel--Stirling NJ

(908) 647-6919

The best Mozzarella sticks on the planet.  No joking here.  Having eaten mozzarella sticks my ENTIRE LIFE, I've never come across better deep fried cheese than the ones served up at Stirling Hotel, and it's not even close.

How was everything else?  Who cares?  When you come across a staple like Mozz sticks, at a bar, in the middle of nowhere, that are better than anything you've had you give zero fucks about what was going on.  My life has been changed.  I cannot think about other mozzarella sticks ever again.  It's as though I've flown first class, or watch professional sports in a suite, or had a threesome with two gifted sex-workers, you simply cannot go back to the status quo after eating these delectable little suckers.

They're so good in fact, that I cannot stop thinking about them.  In the shower, on the train, when I'm walking the dog.  The delectable sticks pop into my head just to torment me.  So perhaps this should serve as a warning.  Do not eat these mozzarella sticks unless you're prepared to have your life turned upside down.