Dressler - Heavenly Goodness - 10/25/2007

Rating:




Name: Dressler
Location: 149 Broadway & Bedford, Williamsburg
Price: $146 for two
Server: Jeremy S.
Chef: Polo Dobkin
Style: Heavenly Goodness Cuisine

First things first, props to a restaurant for LISTING CLEARLY their chef's name on the website. Rudimentary right? But a lot of schmancy places don't put it on their websites. Dumb oversight perhaps, but the staff at Williamsburg's Dressler have got it right. Right down to the smallest detail.

The first thing that should be said is this place is absolutely gorgeous. It's not over the top, it's not snooty, it's not designed to show how wealthy and tasteful the owners are, or to cater to a douche-bag clientele. It's simply, elegantly, tastefully done. With a subtle dose of eclectic for good measure. They sat us next to these half walls with carved wood detail. Beautiful, but they'd be even better if they'd occasionally run a rag down the side and clean up the liquor spots and spilled milk spots...

The walls are covered in alternating mirrors and whimsical carved metal that has been backlight by some kind of warm opaque plexiglass. Some of the walls and detailing is in in carved wood, the chandeliers are a complicated sculpted metal that is somehow very soft and beautiful. There are fresh branches instead of flowers, and small tiled floors in a pattern vaguely like an afghan. The music is a mix of electronic and college pop, and is blended in well with the locale, you have the feeling it's been well selected. The staff is understated, cute and decidedly NOT hipster elite. Thank fucking god. Williamsburg has been overrun by the hipsters. Best of all, it's 2 blocks from my house...

The crowd at Dressler is the hot 30+ crowd. Everyone was well behaved, not business dinners with morons, or hook up and fuck me girls and the guys who pay for them.

Myste feels very strongly that we mention the sea-salt dish in the center of the table. A nice touch. The tables are set simply with brown butcher paper, and simple silver set up, a candle, and thankfully - water (unlike Salute!).

The server was professional and inobtrusive. We ordered a decently priced bottle of wine (Les Sorceres du Clos Du Fees, 2005) which I totally slaughtered the pronunciation of. He corrected me gently and professionally as he served the wine (which was delicious).

Let's stop here a moment to talk about the wine list. Kudo's to the staff for designing a modern wine list. Gone is the list by price or by varietal. Instead it's designed by characteristics of the wine's actual TASTE. For example, light bodied, Bold, Spicey. In blends they list the varietals to aid you in choosing something tailored to your taste. Everyone can be a wine genius with a list like this.

We shared the Quail, which was with some heavenly creamy polenta, pickled watermelon rind, pancetta and some other shit - hey we're not chef's. The flavors were perfectly balanced, and even more appropriately - perfectly selected for fall.

We also shared the Diver Scallop appetizer. I wanted to take it to bed with me for the next week, but I had to share...
Fingerling potatoes, mushrooms, leeks perhaps, and some fancy root vegetable all accompanied the scallop. The scallop was cooked perfectly and the dish was the kind of thing bitches like us wish we could eat for breakfast on a daily basis.

Then came the snapper. And this is why this is only a 3 salt shaker restaurant. The snapper had all the makings of WOW, but failed to deliver. The fish was slightly overcooked, the pork was dry, it was too oily and too salty (and clearly we like salt). Maybe it sat too long under a heat lamp, or maybe it was just an off moment in an otherwise awesome kitchen... Of course we ate it anyway. Please, like we'd leave any food on the plate...

For desert was a plum thing with spice cake and some kind of cracked black pepper and vanilla semi-freddo? I had a bite of the plum and was totally happy. Myste, having no tiresome egg allergy ate the whole thing and grinned like a fool the entire time. She liked it so much she bought another one for the handle-bar moustached man's wife a few tables away.

After dinner cocktails, Myste had the Ascot, which was lovingly attended to by the bartender, and was actually perfect. Both of us bartending bitches are snotty and hard to please. My Spanish coffee was also perfect and with a delicous slightly melted whipped cream top lovingly patted into place by said bartender.

When we got up to pee, the waiter folded our napkins for us. That's just neat.

Bottom line? Go and bring people who need to know that you are in the know, ya know? And if you do go, there is a good chance we will be belly up at the bar, because we'd move in right now if they had beds (or pillows even). This is our favorite classy little sassy neighborhood haunt since we left Seattle.

Salute! - Italian Restaurant - 10/25/2007, Lunch

Rating:




Name: Salute!
Location: 270 Madison Ave and 39th
Price: $89.41 for two
Server: Nicholeta H.
Chef: Carlo Apollini

Salute! is located in the hell of all hell's, known affectionately as Midtown to locals and cab drivers everywhere. We hate Midtown, but we were hungry and in Bryant Park - so what are two salty bitches going to do? Go to Salute! evidently.

It's clearly becoming a theme, and if we were deeper we'd find some existential parallel, but once again it was raining and we were in galoshes (this becomes important later). The hostess seated us in the bar area in this small ugly table with ceramic center pieces that vaguely resembled multiple sun's. The table was however equipped with two armchairs, which did not suck.

Whilst sitting in our kings chairs I orders a Kings Estate Pinot Gris, and Myste had a Smoking Loon Vigonier from a girl who was not our server, as our server had disappeared from sight. The glasses smelled like detergent, and could have used another rinse, however, the wine was so oaky (in Myste's glass anyway) that the detergent taste was only partially offensive.

The cocktail waitresses were all sporting teal jersey halter dresses and underwear lines, looking for all the world like reluctant bridesmaids. Aside from muffin tops in teal, they were pretty cute, and we're a sucker for cute girls. The bar is an open California style design with wood interiors and big yellowy (yes thats a word) and big hangy (that's a word too) lights. The decor is upscale but still Mediterranean casual enough to justify the name. The clientele is Midtown business types, of which we were not.

The dining room is a secret society dining room. You either need to be dressed not in galoshes and oscar the grouch t-shirts to sit there, or you have to have a reservation, we're not sure... But we walked around anyhoo so as to describe with utmost care, the whole package to you - dear reader.

The tables and chairs are covered in linen. We think it's vaguely funeral parlor-eque (that's a word). Calla lily's would have completed the look. But the wall art was bright and garish and looks like your 3 year old niece painted it. Suits were happily dining in linen parlor chairs.

In the bar there was no male wait-staff, as cocktailing is clearly a girl's art. Sorry guys. However, bussing and running is a male art, and the bussers and runners were in head to toe white, which seems silly but looks good.

Eventually bread was brought to the table, also not by our server, who was still out of sight.

When she showed back up, we ordered the Salute! salad, which consisted of watercress, endive, pears, walnuts and gorgonzola in a champagne vinaigrette. However the gorgonzola tasted like goat cheese and the whole salad could have used either a true salty gorgonzola, or some salt in the dressing. As we contemplated the gorgonzola dilemna, Michael Jackson sang "you are not alone." We were deeply comforted.

We also had the Fruitti Di Mare salad which consisted of mussels, calamari, scallops, octopus and shrimp cooked perfectly then chilled. It was served lightly dressed in oil, lemon and garlic, atop seasonal greens and endive. It was delicious and had a little pepper and subtle spice. We paired these two salads with some fattening roasted potatoes. The potatoes were the best ever. They came in a small copper serving dish (too cute) and were fingerling potatoes cooked in olive oil, with sea salt and roasted garlic. Yum fucking yum.

In the dining room where we were not allowed, they have some kind of team serving thing going on in there. Captains, front waiters, back waiters, lame waiters. They were all there.

Back in the bar, the woman sitting next to Myste was rocking a glad garbage bag with buttons on it. Clearly she wasn't dressed appropriately for the dining room funeral parlor experience either.

After we licked our plates (because we have class) we ordered an espresso and a cappucino.

Two problems with the cappucino, first, it was really a latte. Second, it came in a ridiculous little glass that had a finger hole so small that there's no way you can hold the cup up at an even level. It slopes to the side. Looky:

Not only that, it says illy in big red font, which frankly, makes us ill.

After we finished our coffee we were waiting for the check. And waiting. And waiting. Finally we asked the manager. He was standing right by the terminial, but in his uber-important-ness (that's a word too) he couldn't stoop to do the dirty work himself, he demanded another cocktail waitress get up from napkin folding and print the check. We think he's an ass.

Bottom line? Don't wear galoshes if you want to sit in the funeral parlor room. Which might be a good idea, because with the whole sports team of servers at your disposal, you're needs will never go unnoticed.

We'd go back, but only if we were trolling for married men.

The House - 10/11/2007

Rating:




Name: The House
Location: 121 E. 17th St. Manhattan
Price: $126.79 for two
Corkage: $25
Server: Filippo
Chef: A great mystery

It was a stormy day (and by stormy we mean pouring down rain, with us sporting galoshes) when we stumbled upon The House. It's a beautifully restored Carriage House located in the Grammercy Park area. They accomodated our soggy ensemble even without reservations, and gave us a beautiful table for two upstairs, with a private window.

The server, Filippo was attentive, gorgeous and knowledgeable. We're a sucker for that combination. The music was eclectic but not obnoxious, and the atmosphere was elegant, clean, simple and warm.

We two soggy bitches brought our own bottle of wine, which they gladly accomodated, but on it's own, their wine list boasts an impressive collection of boutique and more widely known domestic and european wines. Our server knew his wines and his food, and was even talked into tasting our wine. Filippo double checked our allergy requests, suggested pairings of food and genuinely made our dining experience more than wonderful.

We shared the Bibb salad and the Clams in Broth. The salad was great, but paled in comparison to the clams. The clams were in some heavenly sauce that made us imagine we were having some torrid orgy in our mouths. Needless to say we're addicted and we aim to have some more.

I had the Corriander Tuna, which seemed to be in a similar prepartion as a Nicoise Salad, but minus the eggs. Myste had the NY Strip in a Chimichurri sauce. The ingredients in both dishes were perfectly balanced, not oily, fattening, rich or unsatisfying. The bitter, salt, sweet and savory palates all harmonized together well. All the dishes were beautifully plated and the proportions were generous without being ridiculous.

Chef Nameless is truly gifted and he's doing a wonderful job. We'd love to list his name, but after calling, it's become clear that the front of house staff needs some training, as no one there during the day could figure out his name. We got a "Shawn, maybe?"

All in all this is one of our favorite new spots, and aside for some education of the Front of House Staff, we think The House has got its own thang going on.

Juliette - A french brasserie - 9/27/07

Rating:




Name: Juliette
Location: 135 N. 5th St and Bedford Ave in uber hip Williamsburg.
Price: $50.51 for two

At first glance this place is unreal. Rooftop dining and bar, ridiculously cute hipster staff, dialed in loungy music, perfect ambience and decor and a nice simple menu. Too good to be true? Naturally.

The only employee who seemed to know what they were doing was the busser. The server was totally braindead (although cute).

We ordered a dry gin martini and a lemondrop. Myste's martini showed up in the guise of a dirty vodka martini. My lemondrop was made with sour mix off the gun and tasted like crystal light meets Kool-Aid. Not too cool. When we sent back the martini, the bartender came out to discuss why on earth we would send back his creation. I guess to shame us into drinking it anyway. Fortunately we have no shame. Gin was produced.

I asked the hostess (as the server was most likely shooting up in back) for some soda water. This request produced much chaos, but eventually a bottle of sparkling water was delivered to our table. It worked well enough to dilute my Crystal Light Kool-Aid beverage.

Then onto dinner.

We ordered the Moules et Frittes and a Beet Salad. The server never brought us utensils, or share plates, or anything to eat with really. When our food arrived, the busser hastily procured said items so we could avoid using our fingers. He stayed nearby cleaning table debris and checking on our smacked out servers other tables. In fact, our busser was the only person moving fast enough to have us believe he did not shoot up with the rest of the staff pre-shift.

The food, however, was delicious. The Beet Salad was wonderful, but we would have loved to see some greens (you know, like a salad). The mussels were fresh and the french fries were supposedly perfect. I wouldn't know, Myste ate the whole lot. We spooned as much butter onto the bread and into our mouths as was possible, and probably would have licked the bowl if we weren't dressed all fancy. That's the kind of bitches we are...

When the check was presented by the mostly absent server, we were greatly amused to discover a tip guide neatly printed on the bottom of the check, advising how much to tip for the outrageously perfect service.

Bottom line? If you go, wait on your own table, and order wine. And tip your busser appropriately.

hello

We are Myste and Wyoming. This is our food blog. Most food blogs come from qualified foodie sources, snooty chefs, critics and such, and most focus only on the food itself.

We think that sucks. This blog is our self-important view on not only the food, but on the service, ambience, menu, price and anything else we think about at your restaurant (such as what your guests look like).