e a t e r y R O W

SCHAPIRO'S

120 Rivington Street

New York, NY 10002

(212) 466-3360

Back in the old days when being a locavore was the norm because everything from afar was considered a luxury. It's funny how these days, we've switched the roles. Local products are the luxury that you pay a premium to get while things from as far away as possible are what's cheap. Well, before there was Schapiro's the gastropub, there was Schapiro's the Manhattan winery, providing libations to New York's lower east side. Contrary to popular belief, Schapiro's was not a deli. Still, while the food has a definite Jewish influence, it's not Kosher... unless shrimp suddenly got rabbinical approval. And that's a good thing because there's nothing quite so disappointing as a bacon cheeseburger without bacon or cheese. Myna and I met each other there, in the East Village, for dinner and drinks after a long day of doing whatever it was I was doing that day.

My appetizer was the Bone Marrow with escargot and rye toast served in the split beef bone. Escargot, done right, can be fantastic and can burst with flavor. Done poorly and it feels like you're eating fat. Although, now that I think about it, some people love eating fat. In any even, it's an acquired taste and an acquired texture and it's not much of a surprise that it hasn't caught on to the same level as the mozzarella stick. Myna didn't much care for it, but I thought that Schapiro's version was good (but not as good as M. Wells') and the escargot didn't add anything. Myna ordered the Warm Artichoke Salad, served with Parmesan over lemon. Having just only the previous night ordered an artichoke appetizer that was like chewing into shoe leather, she was hesitant to jump right back into that particular pool, but she was glad she did. Unlike the tough and stringy appetizer from a restaurant that good taste precludes mentioning, this one was soft and tender, the way that artichoke is supposed to be.

Myna's entree was the weakest dish of the night. She ordered the Sesame Veal Schnitzel with mashed potato and coleslaw, a nice traditional dish. I don't order veal mostly for reasons of not wanting to eat tortured food, but even so, this schnitzel was like kicking the calf while it was down. If veal is all about getting the most tenderness for your buck, the meat here was dry and bland. It might as well have been overcooked chicken. On the upside, they give a lot of it so Myna took the rest to work for lunch the next day. As for the sides, the mashed potato was good but the teeny bit of cole slaw was nothing to write home about. My Grilled Lamb Chops, served over a mixed vegetable assortment of grilled fennel, tomato, and zucchini was better. The lamb was very flavorful, and who doesn't like grilled vegetables? I only wish that it was larger. Unfortunately, lamb chops are more bone than meat and zucchini isn't exactly the most filling thing in creation.

At the end of it all, we liked Schapiro's. We'd return. It's a bit pricey, but no more so than the other restaurants in its vein.  The atmosphere was where it really shined and the cocktails were very good. These days, if you can't mix a cocktail worth a damn, and you want to have a restaurant, you probably stick to running a diner. I'd be first in line to come back with friends, plop down in a booth at the back, order some drinks and snack it up for a couple of hours. Also, I want to try their matzo ball soup.

JEANNE & GASTON

212 West 14th Street

New York, NY 10011

(212) 375-3773

For many people, Italian is their favorite cuisine. Just look at the Food Network; it's literally swimming in celebrity chefs cooking up Italian food. Well, Italian is fine, but I've always preferred French. This might have something to do with its relative rarity. You can drive through just about any town in the country and they'll have a local Italian restaurant. There are countless chain restaurants serving Italian. Whether the random local place or the chains are any good or not is a different story altogether, but the restaurants are there. The chances are, if you've got a hankering for Italian, unless you live in Barrow, Alaska, your town has a place offering it up.  (Side note: Barrow does not have an Italian restaurant. But it does have a sushi spot.) French, on the other hand, is decidedly less common and, therefore, more interesting. Occasionally, I get it. French cuisine is famous for frogs' legs, escargot, sweetbreads, tartare... things that the squeamish milksop namby pamby little old lady coward in you thinks is gross. Well I'd eat any of those before I got within six inches of the larvae-filled Italian delicacy "rotten cheese". Not to mention that I happen to really like escargot and frogs' legs.

Should one find themselves in the Meatpacking District but be disinterested in the pomp of that particular scene, they might do well to head a couple of blocks east. That's where Jean & Gaston is. Half the price, triple as calm. In warmer weather, the rear patio is opened, and I imagine that getting brunch there would be fun. Myna and I met after work on a Monday night when the weather was not quite rear-patio friendly. I was the second patron to arrive that evening when I showed up around seven. "Uh oh. Not a big crowd." I always worry when I see empty restaurants. What do the other 8 million New Yorkers who aren't here right now know that I don't, I wonder. Thankfully, people started showing up and, by the time we left, most tables were taken. So fear not. The interior of Jeanne & Gaston is subdued and calm. French jazz music plays and there's a bohemian atmosphere that other French restaurants like L'express, Nice Matin, and the various Bouluds simply don't have or even try to have. It evoked imagery of absinth drips and wine. So Myna and I ordered wine.

I also immediately ordered the Escargot. Remember how I just said that I like escargot? Well, don't get the escargot here. Jean & Gaston's version went overboard on the pesto. See, I like my snails soaked in garlic butter with a wee bit of pesto for some depth, and then a ton of bread to soak everything up in. Here, no bread and so much pesto that I could barely taste anything. So I'm giving you fair warning. Myna selected the Crispy Goat Cheese, Walnut and Apricot pastry. Her savory dish, served with a little side salad (mostly for color) was very good and far a far better choice than mine. It's admittedly small, but worth it.

I lost once again when I ordered the Monkfish Niciose as my entree. Monkfish served over mixed vegetables. I knew I was making a mistake as soon as the words escaped my lips. Monkfish. What was I thinking? I'll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking "you should eat healthy, Jon. Lose some weight, Jon. Knock off the cheeseburgers and matzo ball soup, Jon." Stupid conscience gets me every time. Ah well. Anyway, the monkfish was flaky, but dense and tough. The chef used far too much vinegar, perhaps to cut the fishy smell that many people find unappetizing, and the vegetables tasted like they were pickled. Nothing about this entree worked and I forced it down because I need more omega-3 in my diet. Myna made no such mistake. Her Le Bourginon, braised short ribs in a pinot noir sauce over mashed potatoes, was exactly what I had been craving. Tender beef, a thick red wine reduction with vegetables and creamy mashed potatoes. God I'm stupid. Shit. It was delicious and she did not want my fish.

Dessert time came, so we ordered a coffee and a Jasmine Tea Creme Brulee. I doubt that I'd have noticed the jasmine tea flavor if they didn't explicitly say that it was there, but after some hunting, I guess it was there in the background somewhere. All the same, it was a good creme brulee as far as creme brulees go. The wafer shaped like a spoon was a cute touch.

THE 2014 MANHATTAN COCKTAIL CLASSIC 

Each year, cocktail enthusiasts, vendors, restaurateurs, and other assorted inebriates gather together to celebrate the drinking of hard liquor. Each year, events are held across the three boroughs over the course of a weekend in which one can learn more about their favorite alcohol... and then drink it. From Campari or Amaro tastings to microbatch bourbon distilling to paring cordials with chocolate to how to make the best julep. And each year, the festivities kick off with the Manhattan Cocktail Classic gala, hosted at the main branch of the New York Public Library at Bryant Park. A couple thousand of us donned our suits and ties, our evening gowns and fascinators and grabbed a dozen or two drinks while listening to live jazz and blues and maybe even danced across three floors of one of NYC's grandest landmarks. 

IVAN RAMEN SLURP SHOP

Gotham West Market

600 Eleventh Avenue

New York, NY 10036

While I realize that I might be beating you readers over the head with all these ramen shop reviews, it must be recognized that ramen is the new black. It's seemingly everywhere now. There's even a tourist map of the city that points out all of the most popular spots. But I promise that this one's a shortie. In fact, this time, I didn't even go to a real restaurant.

Ivan Ramen Slurp Shop is the Ivan Ramen outpost at the Gotham West Market, an upscale indoor food court of sorts on 11th Avenue in Hells Kitchen selling everything from ramen to coffee to cocktails to a store selling pots and pans and cutesy aprons. Ivan Ramen has a space at the rear wall and Myna and I went for a quick meal before walking to Broadway for a show.

Ivan Ramen as a brand, has taken off. Here comes this guy from the Long Island who moves to Japan and, with no experience, sets up a ramen restaurant which becomes wildly popular. Now he's back home with cookbooks and two Manhattan locations. Slurp Shop is one of them.

Having recently been to three or so very good ramen joints, I can safely say that what Myna and I had at Gotham West was fine, but far from the winner. Emphasis on far. Myna ordered the Classic Shoyu Ramen, a dashi and chicken broth with soy sauce, egg, and pork. Most of the other ramens that I've tried have been hearty, but the broth here verged on thin. The soy sauce was overpowering. Frankly I didn't like it and it wasn't made any better by the fact that Ivan Ramen uses rye noodles which have a grainy, gamey texture. My choice was the Spicy Red Chili Ramen. When I asked how spicy "spicy" was, I was told that it was a 9 out of 10. Good. I like hot. And hot it was. If you aren't into spice, you probably won't taste anything but the heat, but I'm used to it and although I initially didn't care for the soup, it grew on me after a few minutes. Still, the rye noodles didn't help and instead of giving you a slice of pork belly and an egg, they mash them up before putting them in. So by the end, there's a stew of pork/egg silt that's accumulated on the bottom of the bowl which doesn't taste like much of anything and is a pain to eat. So I left about an inch of goop at the bottom of the bowl. What's too bad is that this ramen had the potential to be really good, and I think that if I get it again, I'll request that they don't puree the ingredients.

Each bowl costs about $12 and you can pay extra for doubling up on the toppings. The menu at Ivan Ramen Slurp Shop is very small relative to just about any other place you go so you better like what they have and there's the distinct chance that you aren't going to. Mind you, Myna drank everything in her bowl without too much of a complaint (other than wishing that there was less soy sauce) so maybe Slurp Shop will fill your ramen craving perfectly. Personally, I'll stick with Ippudo.