Avec
At first, sitting on a bench between strangers in this cedar-lined, saunalike room makes me feel a little apprehensive, like I’m wrapped in naught but a sweaty towel. But as the wine flows and the evening grows long, everyone’s gabbing like pals, offering around bits of robust cheese or chorizo-stuffed dates and dredging juices off empty plates with warm rustic bread. Chef Koren Grieveson’s Mediterranean “peasant” food is paired with an ever intriguing and ever changing selection of uncommon wines and cheeses, many of which are as unforgettable as the Spanish sheep’s-milk torta del casar, a powerful molten gob of delicious funk that may forever remain my benchmark for strong queso (if only because I couldn’t seem to wash the smell from my fingers). The chefs make excellent and varied use of the wood-burning oven, firing up everything from focaccia to roast chicken, hanger steak, and skate wing. And it never ceases to amaze me how combining just two or three seasonal ingredients can be, in the right hands, a kind of alchemy. Avec is currently closed after a fire but is shooting for a mid-September reopening. —Mike Sula
This sterile white-and-steel space would make a lab rat feel at home. But for fine dining with a rotation of top-notch seasonal ingredients, served by a crack cadre of skilled food-service ninjas who would die for your smallest whim, Blackbird’s still at the top of its game. Don’t do what I did last time, succumbing to my basest instincts and ordering course after course featuring a cured pork product. By the time I’d finished my endive salad with poached egg and pancetta, seared diver scallops with guanciale, and braised pork belly, my alimentary canal felt like the Bonneville Salt Flats, and my plan to finish with the bacon ice cream was foiled. You owe it to yourself—and to executive chef Mike Sheerin—to try, say, sauteed skatewing with peach molasses, eggplant confit, and chamomile or stuffed bobwhite quail with black cumin sausage, charred avocado, and house-made giardiniera. Challenges in the area of wine selection are sometimes met by the guidance of your Joseph Abboud-clad waiter, sometimes not. —Mike Sula
When, early one weekend evening, we arrived at this theatrical offering from Jerry Kleiner (Marché, Red Light), we were led across the nearly empty dining room to a small, cold catacomb near the rear service bar. “Are you familiar with mojitos?” our server asked. “Are you familiar with horchata?” Pardon me, but we’re familiar with a number of things, overweening waiters among them. We started with the ceviche tasting, small portions of five marinated fish options; our favorites were the scallop, flavored with coconut curry and basil oil, and the crab, glazed in habanero jelly and served in a tomato, mango, and horseradish sauce. The main courses we tried were homey: rum-glazed pork shoulder served with smoky Puerto Rican rice and beans, a ginormous slab of filet mignon served with Peruvian potatoes and a roasted garlic mojo, an extracreamy four-cheese mac ‘n’ cheese offered as a side dish, but hearty enough to serve as an entree. By the time we finished, three hours after arriving, the main dining room was packed to the rafters, festive Latin music blaring above the din. There’s live salsa on Wednesdays. —Kathie Bergquist
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De Cero means means “from scratch,” and the food here—fresh coastal Mexican cuisine—is made with attention to detail. Plates of soft-shell tacos with fillings like ahi tuna and mango-habanero salsa and shredded chicken fly from the exposed kitchen at a dizzying pace. They’re unsauced, but the trio of homemade salsas—verde, picante, and a chunky mix of pickled jalapeños and vegetables ($6.25)—complement them well. Entrees include grilled chicken mole, shrimp fajitas, grilled ahi tuna, carne asada, and a 12-ounce pork chop. The margaritas and daiquiris blended with herbs (combinations include strawberry and mint, raspberry and basil, and peach and chamomile) are refreshing and not too sweet, but they don’t come close to the superlative house margarita with fresh-squeezed lime juice and homemade sour mix. —Laura Levy Shatkin
A Chinese restaurant cum nightclub, Dragonfly plays high-decibel techno music and has an upstairs bar, the Fly Bar, devoted to hip-hop and house after 10 PM. Under chef Qing Lin, the menu offers an extensive array of traditional Chinese fare with a touch of Japanese influence. The ponzu crab—lightly fried bite-size pieces of soft-shell crab—is simply seasoned with salt and pepper, and the teriyaki-glazed calamari comes on a bed of greens with a light coating of ginger dressing. Koo-teigh are similar to gyoza: panfried dumplings stuffed with ground chicken and vegetables. A dish called Treasures of the Sea is just as straightforward: tender sea scallops and prawns wok-seared in a garlic-and-ginger sauce. —Laura Levy Shatkin
