Crave on 42nd

So we rounded out the dining fest over Alisa's birthday weekend with a trip to Crave on 42nd, the recently-opened place by Dave Martin, the finalist from Season One of Top Chef known for his bold flavors and frequent bouts of sobbing. He made a black truffle mac n cheese with cognac in one episode that I recall craving myself, so when we saw it was on the menu here, we had to go. Sunday night we hopped a C train down to 42nd and quickly discovered that the $100,000 he lost to Harold, the Season One winner, might have helped Dave score a better location. After squeezing through the crowds at the Port Authority at 8th Avenue, we headed west, greeted in our travels by a rat the size of a kitten who crossed our paths near a construction site. We passed a FedEx facility, a bus depot and a crumbling economy hotel until -- just past 11th Ave., practically to the Circle Line terminal on the Hudson River -- we spotted a modern day high-rise apartment complex (more suited to suburban Virginia than Manhattan) with a few attached storefronts. Therein, we found Crave. The space was so big, the setting so mellow and far from the mobs I've grown accustomed to in NYC, I almost felt like I had left the city, the river almost visible from certain spots in the restaurant. It was Sunday, so only a few other tables were filled. We started with the mac n cheese ($15), which came out in a ramekin hot from the oven, with chopped tomato and green onion on top a beautiful bake of pasta, fontina, truffles and brandy. We both agreed it was the best we'd had, not greasy, not too gooey, but perfectly balanced. It alone was worth the trip. For entrees I got the $20 Hangar steak and fries and Alisa ordered a goat cheese, mushroom and white truffle pizza ($15). My steak was fine, unexciting but well cooked and I can't fault Crave for that, since I passed up a menu filled with interesting options (lamb marinated in cider and hoisin sauce, for example). Alisa's pizza, on the other hand, was great. She could only eat half, but I finished off the rest later after we got home. I had mentioned to the maitre'd that it was Alisa's birthday and for dessert, they appeared with a candle resting inside of a complimentary sour cream panna cotta with blood orange coulis, that was fantastic. It's nothing either of us ever would have thought to order, but it was delish. The waitstaff was as attentive as any I'd ever seen and overall, a great experience. Not highbrow or super-fancy, but satisfying, interesting and, with a $54 total check, a great value. We'll definitely be back.

24 Prince, revisited

What a difference a week made, and not in a good way. A week ago Saturday, cluing into the "24 Prince" beneath Nikki's name every time it popped on the screen during "Top Chef," we decided to pull up the webpage for her Nolita restaurant and check out the menu. Nikki, if you watch Season 4, is the one who made the sausage, pepper and onion sandwiches for the Bears game tailgate challenge, then ran out of peppers and onions before the judges showed up. Anyway, we went last weekend and had a great experience, start to finish. We got a reservation around 4 that afternoon for 8:30 and walked right in, even though we were 15 minutes late, and sat right down. Before long we realized Nikki herself was right there, mingling with guests between stints in the kitchen. It was a bit puzzling to see her in person just a few episodes into TC, but we quickly realized the show must tape far in advance of air dates. Staff said she's also bound to some contract with Bravo that calls for her to be disembowled if she reveals any spoilers before a show airs. We didn't bother to ask, but I did compliment her on the meatloaf wrapped in puff pastry and drizzled with a coffee-infused BBQ sauce ($17), which was among the best variations I've had on one of my favoriate comfort foods (except, perhaps, for Paul Prudhomme's Cajun version). Alisa had a salmon with pumpkin seeds ($18) and was equally pleased. For starters, we shared some mac and cheese eggroll-like things ($7) that, although pedestrian, were sufficiently yummy and a chopped salad ($14) that was fresh and satisfying. We were wowed by a rosemary pear tart ($7) dessert that finished things off. On our way out we made a reservation for the following Saturday, I noting to the maitre'd that we'd loved it and that next week the rez would be for Alisa's birthday. Fast forward one week. We arrive at 9 with our friend Kelly, check in, get a seat at the bar and aren't seated till 9:45. The maitre'd came over to assure us he was working on it once or twice, so we didn't get overheated. Food was more or less equally good: I did meatloaf again, Alisa got a tuna with cannellini beans and truffle oil ($24) and Kelly opted for a flatbread pizza with comte and mushrooms ($11), but interminable waits between courses/waiting to get our table cleared/waiting to order grated on all of us. We ended up at our table for two hours, often ready to order when our server arrived and quick to pay our bill when it appeared. We sat right near the front and often while staring blankly at our empty plates, as our waiter was AWOL, the maitre'd hovered just feet away looking utterly bored. But what really ticked me off was the complete lack of acknowledgement of Alisa's birthday. I mentioned it to the maitre'd when making the reservation, saw him write it in the book, and again reminded them when I called back to confirm the reservation. So when the pear tart arrived, equally yummy, but without a candle, it was just annoying. Sure, it's petty to get ticked over a little candle, but even TGI Friday's remembers things like that. And when you're marking another year on this planet, is it so much to ask for someone you love? Nikki, if you wanna be Top Chef, better school your staff a bit more. Till then, this town's got too many options to come back to 24 Prince any time soon.

Palm Court at The Plaza

For Alisa's birthday we did tea at the Plaza ($100 a pop -- a $60 version was available, but we lived large). On the first plate, you receive (clockwise from the yellow circular thing on top): caviar atop scrambled eggs on rye, lobster salad with asparagus, smoked salmon and horseradish cream on pumpernickel, roasted lamb with butternut squash, eggplant goat cheese and nicoise olive tartlet, black truffle and olive oil, prosciutto finger sandwich and in the middle, cucumber and mint on white bread. Along with it comes a pot of loose leaf tea. We each chose green, which was great. Then came scones with devonshire cream, madeleines, and a mini desert three-level tray with everything from eclairs with candied rose petals to mini chocolate cakes with edible gold on top. Well worth the price of admission, if you factor in being able to sit in a lovely room at the nicest hotel in the world (arguably). I can't complain about the gaggle of fannypack toting tourists who stood just beyond the hostess table snapping digital pictures of the dining room where we sat. Those around us who do this sort of thing commonly and can easily afford it seemed disgusted. I just thought it was nice to be on the other side for a change. Alisa called it one of her best experiences in NYC and I, as I often naturally do, have to agree.

Bar Americain

Had our second Bobby Flay meal, after doing Mesa about a year ago, at his W. 52nd St. spot. We declined wine, but I opted for a Belgian-style wheat beer (can't remember the name) from the tap. We shared the grilled oysters with a black pepper tarragon butter and hot chile BBQ sauce ($17), anticipating something like Drago's back in Metairie. That was our fault, perhaps. Upon arriving, five oysters in their shell were warm, but for some reason the shells were set on top of crushed ice. The oysters were plump, as if they had not actually been cooked, not the shriveled bits of garlic-butter deliciousness we loved back in Louisiana. Each was finished with a squirt of the dark brown BBQ sauce. Disappointing, but certainly nothing special. For entrees, I got a hanger steak ($31), which was tender ant tasty, although a bit small, judging by the guy next to me who got the much heftier rib eye, a whole chop, compared to about twelve bite-size slices that appeared on my plate. The BBQ sauce on the side (thankfully left on the side) was overpowering and best untouched. Alisa got the red Snapper Florida style ($32). She enjoyed it, resting on top a banana leaf with black beans underneath and a mango guacamole on top. She enjoyed it, but said it was cleared an also-ran to the monkfish we had at Le Cirque earlier in the day. As sides, we got the hot potato chips with blue cheese sauce and the Fries Americain with a smoked red pepper mayo ($9 each). The chips were long, apparently from a potato cut lengthwise and nicely crispy. The fries were even better, holding in some of the grease from the fryer (bad, I know, but hey...) and wonderfully salty. I preferred the mayo with both (the red pepper flavor made it a fine substitute for ketchup), Alisa was torn between the two sauces. We had to ask for a second tiny cup of the mayo, since the first was barely enough. For dessert, we shared the chocolate praline layer cake with caramel rice krispi crunch ($10). They brought it out with a happy birthday message written on the plate in chocolate, always an appreciated touch with a candle resting in a strawberry on the side. The cake was nice, with a warm chocolate fondant on top and many layers inside. The rice crispi (why the final 'i' I don't know) pieces resting on top and wading in a vanilla-ish sauce in the plate were delish...I just wish there were more of them. I certainly didn't expect the banana pieces on top and could have done without them, but we peacefully coexisted. The cake itself had little if any praline flavor, with the rich chocolatiness overwhelming any that actually existed. In all, it was fine. We both agreed it was a decent enough meal, but not a place we'll need to return to with any sense of urgency.

Le Cirque

Went to the cafe in Bloomberg's giant glass skyscraper for the $28 fixed price lunch. Sat near the bar and spied owner Siro Maccioni, who we recognized from a Top Chef episode, unmistakable in his tinted glasses and mismatched sportscoat. We each got the Australian shrimp with Coconut milk-lemongrass broth (more like a foam, really). Alisa liked it more than I did, but it was nice -- definitely funky flavors. Next we got the monkfish, which was perhaps the best piece of fish either of us had ever had. The consistency mimicked lobster and the flavors, in a yellow curry coconut broth, were sublime. If it were socially acceptable, I'm pretty certain we both would have licked the plates. After the entree, we hit a lull while somewhat forgotten about by waitstaff at the bar. But no matter. It gave us time to polish off the glass of Sancerre ($14) we each ordered with lunch, and which paired perfectly with the seafood. Upon being rediscovered, Alisa chose the Floating Island (creme fraiche, caramel, mixed berries and meringue in a martini glass) and I got the maple syrup rice pudding with a blackberry compote. We each got a scoop of pistachio ice cream. The Island was amazing -- sweet, creamy and balanced beautifully by the tart fresh berries bobbing on top. The rice pudding was also nice, but lacked the maple flavor promised in its name and any there was got immediately overpowered by the berries, served alongside in a shallow glass goblet. The pistachio ice cream we each got with it was fantastic, truly tasting like pistachios and resembling their pale green color, unlike so many of its artificially-flavored relatives. All this cost us $85 before tip. We'll definitely be back!