Tatiana--Manhattan

(212) 875-5222

The ol' other wife pretty much follows Pete Wells religiously, both for professional and personal reasons.  So when he gushes over a place, it's pretty much a lock that I'm gonna end up there eventually.

For this particular place it happened on April 4th of 2024, and ol' other wife's man piece somehow bought a reservation from some bot, so when I arrived amidst a tropical depression, I posed as someone else.  Not relevant to the dining experience, as Carla, the pixie like hostess handled it with class and aplomb, but the fact that you have to resort to such measures just demonstrates the influence of Pete Wells.

And how was it?  Meh.  I liken it to an amateur hour.  Where do I begin?  I asked for a Hemmingway daiquiri and when they could not make that specific daiquiri, the bartender recommended a whisky drink when they had two rum based drinks on the menu--both of which were much closer in spirit to my original order.  This is after I asked him for something close.  Certainly not a deal breaker, but for the best restaurant in the city I'd expect a touch more.  This slight over site turned out to be the standard.  The service was disjointed and unpredictable.  Many times the runners would come to our table with something we didn't order.  The serving utensils were smaller than the vessels, causing the oversized spoon to to fall into the vessel to get covered in sticky goo.  The food?  Interesting, but the best in the city?  Hardly.  Aside from the short rib pastrami I would argue it was gimmicky more than delectable, with heavy handed spicing. The bathrooms were a disaster.  The wine mediocre.  And the vibe was sterile and reminiscent of corporate dining.  Not sure what Wells is seeing in this one, but braving a copy right I quote:

"And after quarantines and masks and distancing and sundry social traumas, we needed a party. We needed a reason to get dressed up, to drink rum cocktails with spicy food, to stay out past 9 o’clock, to look around a dining room and see a new, heterogeneous vision of New York and to feel hope for its future."

So that's something.  Though, I feel that this restaurant is lauded more for its' cultural revolution, than for its food.  And I cannot deny the emotion and the gravity of a post pandemic, multicultural dining experience.  However, food is food.  If you're looking for a fine dining experience, I suggest you stick with me beloved eight, I won't steer you wrong.

Il Buco--Manhattan

(212) 837-2622

Surprised I've never been here given it's longevity and proximity to the village.  I mean, back in the day I remember that I was always looking for solid Italian, and Hearth always seemed to be the only game in town.  Maybe three of clubs?  It's been a decade or two, so spare me the judgement. Nonetheless it's great to see the City still has surprises even for old curmudgeons like myself.

The food was great.  Simple ingredients, well prepared, etc....  The veal chop seasoning wasn't spectacular because it has a big ass poblano on top of it that made everything taste like poblano, even the succulent fat off the bone.  The rabbit was tiny given it's price, like a whole rack of tiny little rabbit chops.  So cute!  But aside from those two overall it was a good value and excellent food.  

Given that it was (and still is) dry January the overall experience was quite boring and staid.  There were some lanky attractive girls at the bar, but they were children--maybe 25 or something.  How's that for some flash?