Eel Bar--Manhattan

646.850.0140

It's been a while beloved seven.  Had an old school bang up job with the second wifey wife, in this new space that is pretty swanky and evidently hard to get into.  I got there right when it opened, and they were very firm that I was not to be seated until my other party arrived.  Fifty seconds later we were inside a completely empty restaurant.  I don't understand these tactics, as I was thirsty and would have gladly imbibed a cocktail while waiting.  Further more, at the tail end of our dinner, three very pretty ladies were just hanging out waiting for their table at the bar!  WTF!  Firstly, I'm not that unattractive.  Secondly, nor were they that attractive. Lastly, if you have a policy stick with it you they/them Sasquatch.

How was the food, you ask?  It was good.  Basque style so a lot of good fried stuff.  We didn't go full entrée crazy as normal, but I think we sampled all of the small plates and I think they all did the trick.  Nothing is really jumping out at me, because we left and walked up to Lucy's reopening to relive twenty years ago drinking Budweiser and playing pool with real life prostitutes.  

Anywho, I think Eel bar is very much in the too cool for school camp, which is fine my be since I'm neither in school or that cool. It's worth it, if you can handle the pretentious foodiness of it all.

Fouberg--Montclair NJ

 (973) 542-7700

Holy Moly beloved Seven,

This place is massive!  I mean, super duper massive.  After seeing the tiny little kitchen line it makes you wonder.  I'm getting ahead of myself.  Dinner with a bunch of parent friends.  Sort of a first for us in spite of being a full-fledged suburbanites. This place is in Montclair, which is the equivalent of the Upper West Side, rich pretty people, but not a ton of cutting edge.  People with money, and Botox, and tans, and seemingly all Jewish though they could be Italian; so it was a little bougie for my taste but what can I do, when in Rome.  

Any who we were sat promptly at eight per our rezzie and dove right into dinner.  The entire I time I was trying to figure out how many people were there as there were rooms, and levels and fountains galore.  As we muddled through a typical menu (there was nothing incredibly eye popping) the six of us were able to canvass just about the entire thing.  The waiters were attentive, the cocktails sufficient, and the night was well spent. As much as I'd like to gush about the food, it wasn't earth shattering, but well prepared and as advertised on the menu--with the exception of a shrimp cocktail that didn't actually come with cocktails sauce.  As the gents ordered red meat we decided to order a bottle of red.  When the wine was delivered I was trying to scratch my restaurant itch, and thinking I was speaking to the Som asked some pretty basic questions (Covers 300, turns at least twice, family owned, etc...).  Turns out he was a floor manager.

After dinner said floor manager gave me a whirlwind tour,  kitchen line, garbage room, eventually ending at the bar where the owner was holding court.  Comped us desserts, though the the chagrin of my entourage that were stuck waiting as I circle-jerked the manager.  A very impressive and well run operation, these dudes know what's up.  That said, worth a trip, but only if you're already in Montclair NJ for whatever reason.

Gem Wine Bar--Manhattan

 Oh Boy,

So we can begin with the first trip, Other Wife, and friend surprised me and we had a lovely time.  This was months and months ago, and they had a robust by the glass wine list, replete with a nice selection of old world wines.  Right up my alley.  The food was well crafted and it we all left satisfied and impressed which is high praise from Other Wife.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago.  Either the wine by the glass was limited or perhaps my memory is incorrect, but it was much less impressive in terms of the selection. I'm not sure why it changed, I know wine by the glass can really compound on the waste side of things, but two varietals a piece was a bummer.  For the record, our first waiter actually misidentified a Loire for a Burgundy, which is a massive problem if you only offer two white wines.  So what they lost a little spit shine?  Then the food came.  The bread was still delectable, and we got a smattering of small plates and then caved and ended up sharing a Wagyu beef.  I had to bounce to catch the choo choo, and then it hit me.  I had to cork my asshole less I experience explosive diarrhea on the subway; eventually finding a NJ Transit bathroom akin to Trainspotting to relieve the toxins.  Our friend?   He was laid out for days.  

 We all suspect it was the Wagyu, though who knows with food born illness?  I believe other wife sent something through the reservation service.  Regrettably, I believe this place has now become a hard pass.

Radio Star--Brooklyn

347.799.1190

Beloved eight.  Radio star.  What can I say?  It's a long tale but Radio Star is the kid sister of Glasserie.  It's not a particularly big place, perched right next to Transmitter park.  And I believe the radio themed menu has a lot to do with said transmitter park, it being the birth place of public radio and all.  But there's something sneaky about this place.  It's not its very unique cuisine (pig cheeks anyone?) or its esoteric wine list.  It's the gigantic room in the back that sits calling, beckoning.  This place is a round the clock bar with an orgy space built in!

Okay, kidding aside.  The back room, called the Neptune Room, is run by Glasserie Events so this space is for private dining only.  I've not eaten the banquet food for Glasserie, so cannot enlighten you dear reader, but I can say that it's reputable as I run in those circles.  Radio Star the open-to-the-public space, on the other hand, I believe I've eaten the entire menu.  And I would say that, similar to Glasserie, I never know what to expect but am surprised at how delicious it is.  

My lack of expectation is due to my ignorance with food.  However, I'm quite adept at getting drunk, and they deliver in both departments.  Nonetheless, if you're in the neighborhood I'd say this place is a must see.

90 acres--New Jersey

908.901.4710

Ol' wifey wife and I agreed to a double date with some friends from the burbs.  They were married recently, and this place was their first choice but they didn't have the date.  There's a abundance of these places all about the tristate area.  Fine dining on some beautiful crop of Hudson Valley land that's essentially a prop to remind people of how everything used to be pristine, but now it only is this little parcel of 90 acres humanity has yet to spoil.  To add to the irony, the restaurant will serve you a ton of food that isn't locally sourced and isn't even remotely seasonal so that you can enjoy the splendor of our surrounding while eating food dripping in fossil fuels.  I get it.  It was beautiful.  The service was as good as you can ask from untrained NJ residents. At the end of the day, though, it was one massive fabrication.

The food?  In spite of my opening, arguably the fine dining we've had in Jersey.  Everything was done well, seasoned well, prepared well, but after eating at the real deal (French Laundry) this place is a reasonably priced nod to the real deal.  We ate most of the menu and nothing really stood out to me, but I must say that my ol' wifey wife said that the scallops were the best she's ever had.  And that's saying something as she eats scallops occasionally.

Perhaps I came on too strong, beloved seven (RIP Vapid Blond), but the idea that we're somehow preserving our planet with this window dressing gets my goat.  Nonetheless, if you happen to be in the neighborhood this is as good as it will get unless you head into NYC.

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?

French Laundry--Napa Valley

707.944.2380

Holy shit.  Where do I begin?

So went with the ol' wifey wife, her sister and husband participating in said husbands' scratching off a bucket list item.  I was a tagalong.  And to be honest, I had no idea what to expect.  I've been to Frenchette, and 11 Madison, and as well as other gastronomically credentialed places all over NYC (see restaurant list), so part of me had my NY snob-o-meter dialed up.  However, another part of me was actually a bit curious and trepidatious of being simply too over my skis on this one.

How was the food you inevitably ask me after my longwinded intro? Spectacular.  However, this was only a mere component of arguably one of the best, if not the best dining experience of my life. Here's the dinner menu in its entirety as they hand it to you when you leave:

• Oysters and Pearls
• Bitter Garden Chicory Salad
• Sweet Butter Poached Nova Scotia Lobster
• Bread and Butter
• Applewod Smoked Wolfe Ranch White Quail
• Carnaroli Risotto Biologico
• Prime Rib of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb
• Gougere
• Caramelized K & J Orchards Sour Apple
• Hojicha Tea Ice Cream
• K & M Rogher
• Mignardises

There were some truffle and Wagyu beef options that other people tried, but not for me.  So aside from the abundance, the care and craft of the food, the wine pairing and service were equally unparalleled.  And perhaps that is why I'm still rock hard about this place weeks later. Alex, our front waiter and de facto sommelier was exemplary (he confessed he started working there after learning all he could at Charlie Trotter's!  Ha!) both in terms of breadth of knowledge but also affability.  The back waiters were personable not pushy.  Tod the maitre d'hotel took us on a personal tour.  Chris talked about fish forks.  There was wine poured when we arrived, even before water, and we drank the entire night.

Perhaps most amazing, however, is that I saw Alex keeping his distance from the romantic couple, and dumbing down his delivery to the status seekers that were their simply for cache. He knew that Husband wanted to talk shop, he recognized that my wine selections for the pairing (they paired wines not to the food but to our tastes first and then the food) were too expensive for our budget, so got close with what we could afford, and saw that my wife basically wanted to be left alone to dine so laid off the flirtatiousness.

Lights out.  Nothing more I could add to make it better.

Atoboy--Manhattan

646.476.7217

The 2nd wife's other husband loves this place.  It's gourmet, interesting (Korean if I had to guess) and rather hard to get into.  I don't see what the hubbub is about, but interesting is definitely the case.  

Before I go on about the $40 chicken boneless chicken wings, I will say that they took the whole service ninja thing to the umpteenth level.  And for no good reason as they didn't quite execute.  I understand the whole back-waiter, front-waiter system can be elegant and allow for a coverage that a single server can't.  But when each server that walks up doesn't know what we are drinking (and we're clearly empty), and doesn't know who ordered what (as we ordered the entire menu), and solicits us for jobs because they overheard us talking and deduced we were "in the industry,"  the whole cover gets blown.

Run on sentences aside, how was the food?  Solid according to my spouses that eat Korean food.  Not that it isn't for me, but when you have absolutely no idea what it is you're being served, it's less about meeting an expectation and more about creating one.  According to them it was delectable.  According to me it was weird.  The fried chicken was fine, but incredibly expensive. I mean, they have to carry that service overhead somehow. 

Balthazar--Manhattan

212.965.141

I know, how the hell have I lived in the city for so long and not gone here? Schiller's?  Check. Pastilles? Check.  Both closed (though one was brought back to life).  So for my 28th birthday I decided to take the team here, hoping to capture the experience in hopes of not being Peter Luggered.

Did they deliver? You bet.  However, I need to provide some context here.  In spite of their excellent service and food, this place in July is a huge-ass sprawling tourist restaurant.  Tourist that are "in the know," but still fanny packing around with their walking sneakers and bored children in tow.  When we made the rezzie we were given a firm two hour time so they could turn the table.  This is clearly not enough time for us, as we booze and generally the other wife orders like sixty things from the menu.

So to get around this I opted for outside dining. In 100 degree heat. It was hot, too hot. Since I was coming from work there was a suit involved.  A summer suit, but who fucking cares.  Nonetheless, we did our best and ate and drank and the staff was lovely and we spent way too much but the heat, the underlying pervasiveness of the heat greatly impacted the experience.  We hit the major stuff, the raw bar tower, some Sancerre, tar tar, fish and mussels, and of course some bread.  I must say this was not a Peter Luger experience, so those dorky Northern Europeans (who needs walking sticks, really?) were on to something.  

Morris Motel--Manhattan

646.480.4810

Went here for the ol' wifey wife's birthday.  It's a quaint cute little kitzch place in Chelsey, gay but not too gay, cute but not too cute, with an angle that it's like a 50's era motel.  They pull off the decor, and though the food wasn't an epiphany, it was an interesting mix of American continental.  All the staff were Irish and they had some pretty cool tee-shirts that my wifey wife decided to buy, then not buy, then buy again.

Not a lot of fan fair on this one.  The lasagna chips were interesting, but my mind wasn't blown, but conversely if you're in the neighborhood this is a safe bet to leave relatively satisfied for the value.

Rezdora--Manhattan

646-692-9090

Went here for the other wife's birthday.  She had always wanted to go and is buddies with a former chef.  This is on concert with her habit of dragging me to Michelin star rated restaurants, and once again, I thought we were in for a treat.  To be honest it fell a little flat, as though they were resting on their laurels.  The place is tiny, and has some sort of off-the-books residential dining area as both guests and staff come marching down the huge brownstone stairs.  Not really my business, but interesting due to its total illegality.

We sat outside and since we had no rezzie (they're impossible to get) we watched the little railroad restaurant fill up.  A few interesting points: 1) I was the first to arrive, and they tray passed chilled Lambrusco before they opened which I thought was a very nice touch.  2) The waiter was very intent on pronouncing every Italian word perfectly, which made her sound like a news caster in SoCal, effortlessly switching from dumb American accent to perfect Italian accent--it was unnecessary and kind of lame.  3) There was a woman who kept changing into skin-tight yoga pants and putting her fanny on parade coming out of said brownstone.  She kept walking her dog, and though it has nothing to do with the restaurant, I feel it was definitely noteworthy.  I mean, she really flashed her beaver.

The food?  Honestly, hit or miss.  You better like cheese and ham, or you're not going to try half the menu.  The portions were small except for the big ass breaded, pounded, prosciutto Milanese thing that we devoured.  Additionally, after we paid we decided to have another drink and Miss Italian language couldn't be found for like ten minutes.  Finish the cover bitch!  Not sure how this garnered a Michelin star, but what the fuck do I know?

Indian Accent--Manhattan

 

212.842.8070

Not a big fan of Indian food, but if you're gonna try it, this place is a safe bet.  It's super upscale compared to Indian row in the East Village, so it's quite a different experience.  The service is impeccable, and even though it's smack in the middle of Midtown it is sort of off the beaten path.  We met some old friends that were warming up their palate for a trip to India and the Himalaya.  It turns out this place's original sibling is in New Delhi--which was part of the master plan of said friends.

The Food?  Decidedly Indian.  A swirl of unique flavors with heavy vegetarian and seafood influence.  We endeavored the tasting menu and probably covered just about everything.  The ol' wifey wife doesn't like lamb, so that eliminated quite a few dishes. The Phuka was phenomenal, as was the Salmon and Scallops.  But the chocolate tart, by and far was the winner of this dinner.  I mean, it was absolutely perfect.

Otherwise, it was Indian food.  I'm no expert, so I cannot differentiate between good Indian and bad Indian save food poisoning.  The flavor profile is so foreign to my bland, white bread way of life that I'm happy I left full and satsified.

Gramercy Tavern--Manhattan (again)

212.477.0777

Don't be fooled by the $165 prefix.  They kill you on the booze.  Super simple ploy, really, but one look at their incredibly expansive and expensive wine by the bottle will tell you you're not escaping dinner for less than $300 a head unless you stick to water.

This was our second go around here.  Food and service was as good as ever, though the service ninjas were in full effect.  You get two choices per course, and the portions are just so you don't leave hungry, though you're hungry for more--if that makes any sense.

But if you wanna have a bottle or two of wine with this, you may want to open a Heloc.  Not to mention starting with a Boulevardier and finishing with a Sauternes.  Yeesh.

House of Mac--Miami

786.636.6967

Bailed on a family adventure to take a lazy few days in Miami with the whole fam.  Let me tell you, a great move.  Miami is like if Venice and Summer in Williamsburg had a gay baby.  Loved it.

I know, I know, but House of Mac is in this neighborhood Wynwood, which is a bunch of low cement buildings with graffiti and design stores everywhere.  It really brought me back.  It also had a Mac and cheese joint that would put Dumont to shame (RIP Collin).  

Seriously, the Mac and Cheese offered something for everyone, was super tasty--delivered in cast iron pans-- and was pretty inexpensive.  Oddly, the whole shebang was app based, so we sort of ordered a la Shakeshack by a QR code, and then they ran the food out.  As we were there for lunch on a Thursday in the dead of February, the dude behind the counter was great answering questions so it could have been a disaster if I was six beers in.  But since I was with the wee ones and the ol' wifey wife--no big deal.

Definitely try the traditional, and the jerk.  

Word

Francie Williamsburg

 

718.218.7572

Holy Shit!

This place rules.  Where did it come from?  WTF? Went here with Glasserie Events as a thank you.  Man oh man, did they deliver.  I cannot gush about this place enough.

Food?  Exceptional.  Some odd ball stuff (sweet potato in puff pastry?) but we ordered the huge as steak and it came out with baby's breath and I nearly shit myself.  Fantastic wine, fantastic food, all of the staff was young and hip and beautiful, I mean, just top notch.

As an odd post script we then scuttled over to Diner and it was sad and dark and empty.  I remember a day when that place was the center of the universe, and now it seemed so ordinary and lifeless compared to where we'd just come.

Monkey Bar--Manhattan

212-404-0365

So in the same spirit as the Minetta Tavern, we went bougy pub grub..  Couples.  Boozy.  Pricey.   Holy bananas.  I have much more to say on this one.

The food was exceptional, however the portion sizes are enormous.  You can easily split an entree between two people.  The apetizers are also enormous. The cesary salad was an entree size, and the tar tar is too.  All of the food was great, there wasn't anything (save a single dessert) that disappointed.  

The drink service, however, was abysmal. There's nothing worse than piss poor drink service.  The explanation was even dumber.  Our incredibly chatty, gregarious waiter was all too eager to share that there's only a single bartender for the entire restaurant.  They have two seatings, 5 and 9 and all of the 5pm drink orders come in at the same time.  Given a stringent seating time, you think they would account fror that. Idiots!  Our solition was to order a cocktail the second our cocktail was delivered.  It seemed to work out after the first twenty minute wait. 

Nonetheless, eventually a fine time was had by all.  If coming here, order a cocktail and bottle of wine immediately, that should stay you over.

Minetta Tavern--Manhattan

(212) 475-3850

I'd surprisingly never heard of or been to this place before.  I went with the ol' wifey wife and the 2nd wife and her machismo companion for what has turned into an expensive and boozy routine.  This place was no different, in both its expense and booziness.  

The food?  Fantastic if a touch pricey.  We generally order most of the menu, and though my memory is a bit hazy I can tell you that I had a burger (world renowned--though I say Donahue's has it beat) and the Mrs had the mussels.  

A quick aside, I had exactly one dip of one french fry in the moules frites buttery goodness at the very tail end of our meal.  And it dripped right on my mother-fucking-Hermes tie!  Tie killer.  

Yakitori ToriShin--Manhattan

212-757-0108

Traditional Japanese restaurants all have a similar vibe.  I'm not sure why, but they all insist on the quaintness of Japan, the geisha-esque hospitality, Omotenashi.   It's humble, you know?   This place lived up to the billing in that department, provided it's the most notable Yakitori restaurant in the city.  Then they turn it all on their head with their wine list.  Mosel riesling, Opus One, Jack Daniels, a Westerner's liver's greatest hits.  Sort of blows the cover fore me.  For whatever that's worth we ended up with beer and saki, opting for a more traditional Japanese buzz.

The food?  No idea what I ate.  I mean I know the basic ingredients, pork, chicken, beef, etc...but it all came on little Japanese tapas plates and skewers.  It was like a dinner of Japanese canapés.  It was all tasty, if a touch expensive.   We got the 14 course tasting menu--so probably tried 50% of the menu and I think we ate everything and left satisfied.

For what its worth the restaurant spit us out on 9th avenue, which was awesome.  we ended up in an Irish bar that was a railroad apartment, it was maybe 15' wide, and drank Guinness and shot the shit. It felt like we were 20 again.  The beverage list of this place, made sense.

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.