There’s much debate about who serves the best lobster roll in NYC. At Pearl, huge hunks of delicate lobster are tossed with tangy mayonnaise and served on a sweet roll that holds together despite the heft of its load. The sandwich is of such grand proportions that it is near impossible to eat without the occasional help from a fork. With the accompanying pile of shoestring fries this single plate is a filling dinner on its own (which makes the staggering price tag more palatable). That’s not, however, how I roll.

In addition to our entrees (two lobster rolls and a soft shell crab special), our table of three also chowed on fried oysters, sandy steamers, and a bountiful side of grilled vegetables. There were also two desserts – a sundae and a parfait – that made their way to our table. But now I’m just embarrassing myself.

Rebecca Charles, the chef and proprietor of Pearl, is the mother of Manhattan’s lobster roll. And for now, she is also the queen.

For as long as I can remember, my Dad has swooned over El Faro. More specifically, he has had a thirty-five year love affair with El Faro’s Chicken Villarroy.

To appease his hankerings, during their forty-year marriage my Mom has agreed to eat there. On occasion. For a woman who rarely strays from the fish section of a menu (ordered with no extra salt), her ingestion of anything from El Faro’s menu could only have been driven by love.

According to my father, she would order the Mixed Seafood with Egg Sauce. While she picked out all the seafood, he would dollop the Egg Sauce onto his rice by the spoonful. Love, indeed.

When the rare opportunity arose for my Dad and I to eat alone a couple weeks ago, there was little question as to where we would be dining. After three decades, I would finally get to eat at El Faro. Despite its place in my father’s heart, I had never been.

El Faro has been in the far West Village, on Greenwich Street, since 1927. Yep, that’s 81 years. The wooden tables, rickety chairs, and fading wall mural are likely unchanged.

The Sangria is light on the fruit, and leans more acidic than sweet. At $21 a carafe, it’s hard to pass up. The wine glasses are tiny, and for the two of us, the carafe felt bottomless.

We shared some of the chewiest fried calamari I’ve ever had; pulling and tearing were required.

In contrast, the silky smooth Croquetas melted in our mouths. The secret ingredient? Béchamel. There were three types of Croquetas – cod, ham, and spinach – each individually mixed with béchamel before being breaded and fried. The result are two-bite treasures.

Béchamel is an El Faro staple. It permeates more dishes on the menu than your arteries care to know. The classic sauce of scalded milk, flour, and butter can transform any dish into decadence.

It’s no surprise that the Chicken Villarroy, my Father’s culinary love, relies heavily on this creamy magnificence. Chicken cutlets are battered in béchamel and then deep-fried. The chicken remains moist and juicy. Its golden crust is rich and crispy.

Though I can’t be sure, I’m confident that béchamel is also incorporated into Shrimp in Green Sauce. There is some spinach, to give it a luscious green color, and to fool you into thinking the thick and creamy sauce might have some nutritional value. The shrimp were plump and tender. It’s easy to hide mediocre proteins in rich sauces. El Faro pulls no such punches.

After eating at El Faro it was easy to understand my Father’s love affair and perhaps, to even start one of my own.

El Faro

www.elfaronyc.com

823 Greenwich Street

New York, NY 10014

(212) 929-8210

For the last few months I have been anxiously awaiting the much-delayed opening of 10 Downing. Like many others, I was eager for Jason Neroni’s food, but I was also excited for sentimental reasons.

My great aunt used to live in the 10 Downing apartment building and I remember countless Sunday visits to her studio apartment. Back then, parking spots on Sixth Avenue were readily available and Da Silvano was a low-key Italian restaurant across the street.

She’d be ninety now, and if she had dined with us at 10 Downing last week, conversation would have been sparse; raised voices and good hearing were requirements for any exchange of dialogue. It was louder than Babbo when the rock music blares; it was louder than the bar I was at on Friday night. The difference at 10 Downing is that the obscene decibel level wasn’t intentional; they have sound engineers addressing the issue.

The menu offers jazzed up comfort dishes as well as inventive spins on classic preparations, like Ocean Trout Tartar and Bison Hangar Steak. The prices are reasonable; or at least reasonable by New York standards. Spice, bright color, and strong flavors were present in every dish. They’re the verve that will set the dishes at 10 Downing apart from the Cods, Arctic Chars, Beets, and Brussels Sprouts that these days, are as prevalent in NYC as taxis.

To start, vibrant red pepper relish added zest to a crock of Baked Sheep Cheese.

Braised Beets were dressed-up with tangy grapefruit and pungent blue cheese. The outfit looked great, but the flavors proved overpowering for the delicate and demure vegetable. Nevertheless, I welcomed a rendition that didn’t include sweetly glazed nuts or goat cheese.

For the Duck Meatball Cassoulet, four plump and moist spheres of ground duck rest atop spiced flageolet beans. Harold Dieterle better watch out, there’s a new duck meatball in the West Village.

A fan of this website recently accused me of ordering a lot of Arctic Char. Guilty as charged; 10 Downing was no exception. In Neroni’s version, hunks of smokey bacon hang on the sweet and pink fish like anchors. I loved the idea, but I liked the Arctic Char at Park Avenue Autumn better.

A scoop of red pepper romesco accompanied the salsa verde drizzled Bison Hanger Steak. The meat was earthier than its more common brethren and the romesco, a piquant treat.

The Colorado Lamp Chops, with herbs and marinated feta, was the tamest dish at our table. There wasn’t a ton of spice or color, but it did come with a fatty, melt-in-your-mouth piece of lamb belly.

We were impressed that the Chocolate Souffle to-order would only require 10-15 minutes to bake. What type of ovens did they have back there? Apparently the same one I have at home – the dessert was more chocolate liquid than soufflé. We still licked the ramekin clean.

I have a feeling that even if they can’t fix the noise problem, 10 Downing is going to be a popular addition to the already restaurant-crowded West Village. As for my great aunt, she wouldn’t recognize the place.

10 Downing

http://www.10downingnyc.com

10 Downing Street

New York, NY 10014

212.255.0300

Experimental flavors excite my taste buds.

Exquisitely plated dishes dazzle my eyes.

Scoring an almost-impossible reservation gets my blood pumping.

But it’s the solid neighborhood restaurants that capture my heart and I might just be in love with Jane.

All the right ingredients make Jane a neighborhood go-to. The food is consistent and well prepared. Portions are generous and prices are reasonable. The atmosphere is casual and attractive. The service is congenial and efficient.

One of Jane’s most impressive feats is that every meal they serve – lunch, dinner, and weekend brunch – is executed with equal aplomb. Jane achieves mass appeal without over-extending its menu boundaries. While there are enough choices to keep a wide array of diners happy, just as its name implies, at Jane, things are kept simple.

At lunchtime, the salads and sandwiches reign. The Chopped Market Salad with chicken is my personal favorite, but the Grilled Chicken Salad and Steak Salad are not far behind.

Hefty sandwiches either come with salad or a mound of Jane’s signature rosemary fries. The Jane burger, another Jane classic, is available at both lunch and dinner. While it’s a solid burger, the zesty sauce that graces the burger at The Smith (one of Jane’s sister restaurants) gives the patty a lot more flavor. There are also a few omelet selections that nicely complement the rest of the lunch menu.

If you’re in the mood for something a little fancier, a handful of dishes – Chatham Cod, Hanger Steak, and Risotto – are also available.

You can indulge in a starter either at lunch or dinner, though the list of small plates doubles at night. You can’t go wrong with either the Goat Cheese Flat Bread or the Gnocchi.

For dinner, I have a hard time passing up the Big Pot of Mussels and the rosemary fries that so perfectly soak up their tarragon, Riesling, and mustard broth. You’ll be hard-pressed not to find something that appeals to whatever your whim might be – the Chatham Cod and Steak Frites have expeditiously satiated my own cravings.

For Saturday and Sunday brunch, over a dozen breakfast options are added to Jane’s lunch menu of salads and sandwiches. While there’s Vanilla Bean French Toast and a handful of egg scrambles, the Benedict Johnny is particularly tasty. Poached eggs sit atop maple apple chicken sausage and corn cakes.

Oh, and the best part about brunch (other than the amazing cranberry and nut bread?) . . . if you eat after noon, your meal comes with a complimentary brunch cocktail.

This Jane might be simple, but she’s far from plain.

Jane

www.ctrnyc.com/JANE

100 West Houston Street

New York, NY 10012

212.254.7000

Sometimes, after a restaurant receives the highest of accolades, year after year after year, the food and service slip ever so slightly. At Babbo, even a hint of complacency is undetectable. After ten years, Mario Batali’s Italian is as bold and mouth-watering as ever.

Before last week, I hadn’t been to Babbo in over a year. During this hiatus I had built up the food to such neck-breaking heights, it seemed impossible for the experience to live up to expectations. But Batali and his crew managed to one-up me; the meal was better.

Babbo’s modern Italian menu can be overwhelming. Four sections – antipasti, primi, secondi, and contorni – are filled with tantalizing options. There will likely be a handful of unfamiliar items, some of which you’ll want to try, some of which you won’t. There is tripe. There is testa. There is lamb’s brain.

Informed and friendly servers graciously answer diners’ questions. They’re patient and helpful when you shyly ask, “What is Garganelli?” The answer, small, rolled tube pasta with ridges, is delivered as though you’re the first person to ask such a good question. I’m quite sure you’re not.

There has been much discussion about the rock music that blares from Batali’s iPod. It certainly affects the atmosphere. During my last dinner at Babbo, head-banging AC/DC boomed too loudly as I tried immerse myself in Mint Love Letters with Lamb Sausage. It was hard to be completely wooed.

On this recent visit we were seated in the brightly lit, upstairs dining room where the music was less conspicuous and the atmosphere more relaxed. It felt distant from the pounding music and crowded bar I remember all too well from last time.

Babbo is a lifetime away from red sauce Italian and I often hesitate to recommend it to those who might not appreciate Batali’s culinary greatness. Less exotic pasta preparations, or perhaps a fish, fowl, or meat option from the secondi section of the menu will blamelessly appeal to any diner. At Babbo, even the simplest of dishes are wonderful and the pasta, regardless of filling or sauce, is flawless. But to me, Batali’s heart and true ingenious lies outside the boundaries.

Fennel Dusted Sweetbreads sit in a pool of Sweet and Sour Onions. Sugar and acid render the crispy and savory meat into an almost dessert-like dish. It’s candy and thyroid meeting for the first time. There are fireworks.

While Grilled Octopus graces many a menu these days, Batali’s version, soaked for days in Limoncello before being charred, trumps all in flavor and tenderness.

Babbo’s homemade pasta dishes are also triumphant. The ravioli casing, so thin and translucent, becomes a window into the dark and succulent filling. This time, we chose Beef Cheek with Crushed Squab Liver and Black Truffles. Last time, it was the Goose Liver. Both times, it was decadent and delicious.

A seemingly tame choice, Prosciutto San Daniele, was cured so delicately, the dried slices of meat were elevated to another level.

Whole Grilled Branzino, perhaps the most benign dish on the evening’s menu was seasoned, grilled and filleted to perfection. Sure you’ve had this fish before, but just not this good.

Scrumptiously roasted Funghi were served room temperature and then drizzled with peas and caramelized onions while a traditional preparation of Veal Medallions were pounded thin and served with preserved lemon, capers, and rapini. Both were robust in flavor and expert in preparation.

Grilled Guinea Hen was not as mind-blowing as the version at Batali’s long, left behind Po, but the moist fowl did not disappoint.

The desserts were also successful, holding court on their own without being too showy.

The wild strawberries that topped the Crostata were the juiciest and sweetest I’ve had all season and it took great restraint not to lick the plate on which the creamy Cheesecake drizzled with Maple Syrup arrived.

Savory to sweet, simple to complex, Babbo is one of the best start to finish meals you’ll have in New York.

Now all you have to do is get a reservation.

Babbo

http://www.babbonyc.com

110 Waverly Place

New York, NY 10011

212.777.0303

At Mas, the charming West Village restaurant named after the French word for farmhouse, the French countryside is nestled into the arms of urban New York. They make a wonderful couple.

You could walk by the doorway a dozen times before realizing a restaurant lives behind the wooden plaque where the word Mas is elegantly scripted into its grain.

From the moment you enter, it’s as though you’re dining at the home of dear friends. The staff smiles so genuinely and serves you so hospitably, you wonder if they think you might be someone else; someone they know.

Their friendly demeanor does not impact their consummate professionalism. Dishes were delivered and plates were cleared impeccably, and without stiff grandeur or unnecessary flourish. If you’re not paying attention, you’ll miss how the amuse bouche plate is placed on top of the charger plate just-so, perfectly aligning the leaf design that decorates both. Only after the meal is over will you realize the water glasses were never less than half full.

Natural materials, like stone and wood, are used stylishly to create a contemporary atmosphere. Warm touches, like quilted pillows on the banquet seats, provide homey accents.

At Mas, organic vegetables and proteins are the backbone of French-inspired cuisine that highlights fresh ingredients rather than sauce work and cream. And though there are a few mainstays, Chef Galen Zamarra’s daily menu reflects the best the Green Market has to offer.

The menu looked as intuitive as the design and the service felt, but the execution was not always as successful.

While the meat in the Pork Pate was of the highest quality and its foil of cherries delicious, it tasted like a low fat version. I want my pate to be creamy and decadent. Mas’ was taut and unspreadable.

The ricotta that filled the Baked Cannelloni was luscious, but the pasta that encased it, too thick and al dente. The dish strived for delicacy, but only achieved mediocrity.

Braised Pork Belly was either poorly executed or poorly conceived. The belly’s scrumptious fat was gelatinous rather than crispy and caramelized, reducing the dish to a somewhat bland rendition.

But rest assured, Mas achieved some culinary feats significant enough to bring me back to dine in the future.

Perhaps the night’s biggest triumph was the Yellowfin Tuna appetizer. Hot butter is poured ingeniously over melt-in-your-mouth fish. Without ever touching a pan, the tuna boasted a seared and buttery top. A sprinkling of crispy shallots finished the dish superbly.

Goat cheese sat between sliced Roasted Beets and was showered with crushed pistachios. It was like a beet and goat cheese Chipwich. Easily the most creative presentation I’ve seen of these delicious, but prolific ingredients.

Roasted Sea Scallops had their tops scored before cooking, maximizing their brown and crispy surface area. The scallops were cooked flawlessly and the corn and onion compote they sat atop was sweet, summery, and sublime.

Only one of our desserts shined. Blueberry Cheesecake with a Toasted Buckwheat cake was out of this world while a Rhubarb Crumble and Valrhona Chocolate Torte were good, but far from great.

At Mas, you’re encouraged to create your own tasting menu, make appetizers entrée size, and vice versa. It’s just another way that Mas invites you in and includes you in the atmosphere.

There isn’t a scene to be found at Mas. There is an experience.

Mas (farmhouse)

http://www.masfarmhouse.com

39 Downing Street

New York, NY 10014

212.255.1790

This week I dined at Bar Q, yet another new NYC restaurant with the word “bar” in its name. Chef Anita Lo’s Bar Q however, manages to take the semantics game to a whole new level. There’s a small bar used to shake and stir shmancy cocktails. There’s also a raw bar of sashimi and shellfish. And then, lo-and-behold, there is Q. Q, you ask? Yes, as in BBQ; contemporary Asian style.

The vibe: uber-cool. The décor: uber-modern. All-white furnishings and glowing light orbs make you feel like you’re in a Jetson’s episode. With no sound-absorbing materials and ceilings that are lower than a post-war apartment’s, the noise level: uber-loud. Though seated in a booth, a white leather enclave that was a wee bit cozy for a foursome, we had to raise our voices to be heard over the din.

Lo could teach some of her fellow NY restaurateurs about service; it was impeccable. From the greeters at the host’s stand, to the unfailing water service, to one of the more professional and friendly servers I’ve had in recent memory.

The menu will get your heart pounding. Tea smoked fish and meat, numerous types of ribs, miso, and kimchee abound. The menu is not large, but four of us still had trouble narrowing down our order.

The Kumomoto Oysters, accompanied by four “dipping” sauces, were first to arrive. How to make a Kumomoto even better? Spoon on some of Lo’s yuzu.

Then came the food, a parade of beautifully plated dishes on stark white (what else?) dishware. Our taste buds tingled in anticipation. But as the four of us dug in, an awkward silence fell over the table. We wanted so much to love it. We assumed that we would.

A starter of Tea Smoked Salmon, caught in a nova-or-sashimi identity crisis was left to flounder somewhere between lackluster and delicate. It got an extra boost when dipped into the accompanying shot of leek and artichoke soup, but the soup’s funky flavor wasn’t enjoyable on its own.

Lo’s answer to hush puppies? Unagi and Scallion Fritters. They certainly had potential, but with too much fritter and not enough unagi, most bites were nothing more than fried batter dipped in soy.

Baby Back Ribs had a healthy dousing of a deep and earthy sauce. The meat itself was tough; pulling and tearing with teeth were required.

Over-salting was our biggest entrée grievance; it permeated through most of the proteins and their accompaniments. Lucky for us, top-notch water service meant that the long gulps required to calm our over-brined taste buds were readily available.

The Stuffed Spareribs were so tender they were easily cut by the edge of a fork, but too much salt over-powered the flavor of the meat as well as the peanut and Thai basil stuffing.

The Tea Smoked Chicken was moist, tender, and flavorful. It was the best entrée at the table and evidence perhaps, that some small tweaks could correct the seasoning of the other dishes.

The Tea Smoked Duck Breast, in contrast, was rubbery and infused with the taste of brine. After doling out bites to the rest of the table, I didn’t even finish the small piece that remained. Considering the name of this blog . . . .

Grilled Australian Loin of Lamb was cut into un-natural looking triangles. Though the meat was rubbed with a nice blend of spices and aromas, the small pieces were over-cooked and dry.

The menu also offers a handful of sides, but be aware, most of them have already been designated to an entrée as an accompaniment. The duck breast, for example, comes with a healthy portion of sesame noodles; the lamb, with two hefty squares of the Garlic Fried Milk. Our server let us know, enabling us to switch our order to a half portion of Grilled Eggplant, a beautiful and tasty stack of miso-glazed slices.

Regardless of how you do it, make sure you try the inventive and delicious Garlic Fried Milk. Silky, tofu-textured cubes are lightly battered and fried. It showcases Lo’s capabilities.

A couple years ago I had a blissful meal at Anita Lo’s first restaurant, Annisa, where I was impressed by her unique flavors, balanced dishes, and elegant presentations. Bar Q just might have the potential to reach a similar level.

Bar Q

www.barqrestaurant.com

308 Bleecker Street

New York, NY 10014

212.206.7817

If someone read you a sampling from Bar Blanc’s menu and asked you to guess its origin, you’d likely offer a list of West Village dining favorites. At first listen, the food sounds familiar. There’s a Boston Baby Lettuce Salad as well as Organic Greens in the handful of appetizers. A Striped Bass and an Organic Chicken Breast are part of the dozen-long list of entrees. And there are of course, the requisite side dishes. But if you look closer and take the time to examine the details, Bar Blanc starts to look, feel, and taste a little different.

Much has been written about the semantic trend of including the word “bar” in a restaurant’s name and enough of them have popped up in recent months to warrant some pause (Bar Q, Bar Milano, Bar Boulud just to name a few). It is hard to believe the claims of those who find the word misleading. Does anyone really stumble into any of these highly anticipated NYC up-and-comers thinking they’re in for a night of drinking and greasy finger food? To me, the word implies a more relaxed, cooler atmosphere, but not a place where the food has excuses.

The long and narrow, West Village space bustles with a hip clientele who match the modern-meets-retro interior design. White leather banquettes and a gleaming white marble bar top are the highlights and the focus of the namesake. The tables are packed in and it can get a bit loud, but you’re at a bar, what else were you expecting?

The co-owners and Chef Cesar Ramirez all met while working at Bouley where Ramirez was clearly paying attention. His dishes demonstrate great thought and attention to detail. There wasn’t a dish we didn’t enjoy.

My misconceptions of our server’s youthful inexperience were proven wrong. He was both helpful and attentive. My husband, who deemed the moderately sized wine list to be “fun,” spent a great deal of time chatting with the well-informed and patient sommelier.

Word play carries over to the menu where many of the dishes are named with too much fanfare and their descriptions include the tiniest of details. Beware: if you order a dish because it promises Baby Leek Broth or Squid Ink, you will likely be disappointed at their minimal contribution.

Our appetizers were elegant and tasty. A silky sauce of pickled onions and mustard seeds complemented the delicate Hawaiian Kampachi Sashimi beautifully. The Pan Seared Jumbo Scallop was jazzed up with pork belly and broccoli puree.

An entrée of pig prepared three ways graces the menu as Roast Milk Fed Porcelet. If you can look past the emasculating description and order this pork trio, you’ll be pleased. The glazed pork belly portion is phenomenal, though the Morel Puree too finicky for the hearty dish.

A generous filet of Seared Black Cod in a Saffron Mussel Sauce had intense flavor and good texture. The fish, draped over spinach, made for the loveliest presentation on the table.

The last item listed on the menu screamed for locavore approval: Whole Roasted Free Range Organic Squab. Thankfully the taste of the well-prepared bird and its accompanying sugar snap peas and carrots erased its mouthful of a name, which ironically in trying to explain too much, explained very little. These days, phrases like organic and free range are thrown about so frequently and irresponsibly, they’ve come to mean nothing. But that’s just semantics.

Lucky for Bar Blanc, flavor and taste triumph over words.

Bar Blanc

www.barblanc.com

142 West 10th Street

New York, NY 10014

212.255.2330

Head chef Kurt Gutenbrunner was born in Wallse, Austria. When he opened this New York City restaurant with his hometown’s namesake, he hoped to explore new gastronomic territory and local ingredients while revering Austrian culinary traditions. He has masterfully achieved these goals.

Wallse’s extensive menu is comprised of traditional Austrian dishes with modern updates, sophisticated European fare, and “Market” dishes that are based on seasonal ingredients. A welcomed departure from French and Italian cooking, Wallse’s food feels sufficiently adventuresome without being overly daring. There are no great risks taken, but there are also no failures. Everything we sampled was well conceived and expertly prepared. Dishes were visually appealing and complex, but never finicky.

The intimate two-room space is contemporary, but accessible enough to be a neighborhood restaurant. The noise level easily accommodates romantic diners and larger parties. Huge wall murals in blacks, grays and reds (including one of Gutenbrunner himself) decorate the walls while white tablecloths and votives adorn the tables. Service started out a bit sluggish, but improved significantly. Our wine bottles were stowed out of our reach and often neglected by our server, leaving us to ask for refills multiple times throughout the night. In contrast, the timing between courses was impeccably spaced.

Velvety and rich Chestnut Soup was bejeweled with prunes. The brilliant sprinkling of corn kernels added sweet crunch to the buttery and soft Spaetzle with Braised Rabbit. The Lightly Smoked Trout, salty and snugly rolled into a savory Palatschinken was chilled, giving it a pre-prepared-straight-from-the-refrigerator taste. Dense gnocchi and tangy glossed calamari made for an odd combination.

Entrees were generous in size and abundant in flavor. The Roasted Cod’s crispy skin was topped with chanterelle mushrooms. Its bath of ginger carrot sauce provided the ideal consistency for the light and flaky fish. Even better was the Steamed Halibut which arrived in an emerald pool of cucumber and dill sauce. The stark filet surrounded by vibrant, green sauce was stunning and refreshing. Rack of Lamb was divinely accompanied by sweet red cabbage and salty forest mushrooms. As it was not listed on the menu, we were surprised when the lamb also arrived with a side of smooth and creamy potato puree. The Classic Weiner Schnitzel’s traditional bread crumb encasement was puffed and golden brown; a liberal dollop of lingonberry jam, sweet and sumptuous.

When perusing the desserts, we did not know what Salzburger Nockerl was, but thankfully we asked! The meringue-meets-vanilla soufflé confection was one of the most memorable desserts our table had tasted in years. For the Tart, large pieces of juicy pear were slightly glazed and perched atop a light round of simple dough.

Wallse is not one of the trendiest restaurants in town, and that’s exactly how all of its loyal patrons want it. 

Wallse

www.wallserestaurant.com

344 W 11th Street

New York, NY 10014

(212) 252-2300

As we checked in with Lupa’s hostess for our 8pm reservation, a man ambled from the bar and inquired about the status of his table. “It has been about 20 minutes already and you said it would be 10 to 15,” he told the hostess. She, in a kind voice filled with pity replied, “I am so sorry, sir. I said it would be 10pm to 10:15pm before we will have a table. Not 10 to 15 minutes.” Welcome to Lupa my friend, welcome to Lupa.

Reserving a table at Lupa, Mario Batali’s West Village, Roman Trattoria, is almost as difficult as securing a table at Babbo. Plan ahead (very far ahead) or plan to settle in at the busy bar for a couple of drinks.  Our table was nestled in the back room, definitely the more quiet romantic area of the restaurant. The front room, which also holds the bar, is much livelier. Though our server was friendly and efficient, I’m fairly certain he never smiled.

Lupa’s menu is comprised of Antipasti, Primi, and Secondi. While there are less than ten items in each of the Primi and Secondi sections, one could create a feast from the Antipasti selection of cured meats (Salumi), Vegetables (Verdura), Fish (Pesce), and salads. A unique menu feature is the Glossary that fills the entire back cover. Even if your Italian is top notch, reading definitions and explanations of dozens of ingredients is quite fun. If your Italian is less than stellar, I imagine this handy guide saves your server from an inevitable barrage of questions. In addition to the printed menu, there are at least a handful of specials each night. After much discussion, we opted for three Antipasti dishes: Octopus, Eggplant, and Croquettes of pecorino, escarole, and prosciutto (a special that evening). These would be followed by the Ricotta Gnocchi and another evening special, Stuffed Quail as well as a side of roasted Cauliflower.

Batali is know for his Octopus, which he sequesters for mulitple days in a limoncello viniagrette before further preparation. The Octopus at Lupa was no exception. It was so tender, making its dense and meaty consistency especially impressive. A paste of chickpeas and sorrel coat the legs, imparting flavor and texture. The Marinated Eggplant was laden with olive oil and heavily spiced with red pepper flakes. The spice might be too much for the heat averse to overcome, but we found the oil-soaked, purple slices to be utterly divine. The twelve, marble-sized croquettes have an amazingly soft and delicate inside compared to their incredibly crunchy exterior. While good, these fried balls lacked gusto, and despite their impressive list of flavorful ingredients, they didn’t taste very different than falafel.

The Ricotta Gnocchi, non-uniform in shape and size, are fantastically airy. They come only slightly coated in a red paste of sausage and fennel, the goal presumably being not to overpower their light taste and texture. Unfortunately, someone in the kitchen gave this dish too many turns of the pepper mill, transforming almost every bite from palatable to piquant. The Stuffed Quail special, two quails swollen with prosciutto, pecorino, and bread stuffing, were laid atop polenta and hand leafed brussel sprouts. Skillfully seasoned and cooked, the meat was succulent and not gamey. The Cauliflower suffered from an abundance of salt and red pepper flake.

Genuine Tartufo can be difficult to find, and we were excited to spot it on the dessert menu. If someone was going to produce a solid Tartufo, it was going to be Mario. Flavors of hazelnut and chocolate are augmented with cherry and crushed biscotti. This dish is a winner. We also had an order of the Ricotta with Honey, a terrific combination of ingredients.

Our evening at Lupa was undeniably enjoyable, but though I’m not sure the food is worth a two hour wait. Lucky for us we had a reservation, but the next time I’m craving Italian thirty days in advance, it will be Babbo’s reservation line I’ll have on redial.

Lupa

www.luparestaurant.com

170 Thompson Street

New York, NY 10012

(212) 982-5089