Moira Hodgson

After a mediocre dinner at Bobo last fall, I decided not to go back. Let them sink without my help, I thought.

I was sorry because the restaurant, which is on two floors of a Village brownstone, has a quirky charm. I liked the cozy subterranean bar, with its low beamed ceiling and bare brick walls, and the candle-lit dining room upstairs, hung with crystal chandeliers and filled with knickknacks, books and old family photographs. I felt as though I were eating in a private house.

So when I learned recently that Bobo had replaced its chef, I returned for another look.  read more »

Here’s a novelty item to toss on the grill this summer: tuna ribs. At Bar Q, they’re coated with a paste of yuzu and green chili before they’re grilled.

“Don’t worry, dear,” said our waiter, sounding like a hospital orderly as he set a plateful down in front of me. “The cucumber salad will cool them off nicely.”

I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d given me a pat on the back.  read more »

The waiter set a martini glass on the table. Instead of gin, it contained a thick mushroom soup. Two slices of pancetta had been inserted on top, like slices of lemon for a cocktail. When I dug in my spoon, a poached egg melted into the soup and onto a bed of spinach underneath. A rustic, down-home soup in a martini glass: a fitting dish for a restaurant that describes itself as an “urban tavern.”

South Gate, in Jumeirah Essex House on Central Park South, has replaced Ducasse as the hotel’s signature restaurant.  read more »

If this restaurant were in France, you would be driving across the country to find it, your dog-eared Guide Michelin on the dashboard. The journey I made from downtown to Eighty One was also long, but rather different. I took the subway, where I sat opposite some French tourists who were reading the Guide Michelin to New York. But at 81st Street, they headed for the Hayden Planetarium, and I strolled on past the gardens of the Museum of Natural History to the Excelsior Hotel, where Eighty One opened in February.

It’s an odd space.  read more »

Back in the ’60s, when it was the 8th Wonder club, Jimi Hendrix played here. Now, there’s an open kitchen where the stage used to be, all bright lights, green tile and polished chrome, manned by cooks in white jackets and black baseball caps.

At the white bar in front, which has a picture window giving onto the corner of Macdougal Street, a glamorous young crowd knocks back cocktails named in honor of the rock star who died long before they were born. Electric Ladyland is a heady mix of pisco, rose jam and Champagne; 8th Wonder blends bourbon with sweet vermouth and cardamom chai. Hendrix, who was prone to wrecking his hotel rooms after a hard night out, would probably have gone for the Zombie Punch: three rums, with a jolt of absinthe to steady your hand.

In addition to the mixed drinks, Elettaria has an interesting and unusual wine list, which was created by co-owner Noel Cruz. Many bottles are under or around $40, and they’re not the predictable ones that appear on so many lists. A fine bottle of Potel Aviron julienas costs $43, and a Mezzolombardo turoldo, a light red from northern Italy, is $36. The wines by the glass are reasonably priced, too, such as a Jean Rosen pinot blanc at $7, and Marc Aurel, a saint laurent from Austria, for $10.  read more »

What would Frederic Edwin Church make of the landscapes that dominate Olana’s main dining room?

In the late 1800s, the painter built the restaurant’s namesake, a landmark mansion upstate with famously spectacular views overlooking the Hudson. Olana, the restaurant, sits on a less than spectacular stretch of lower Madison Avenue. The landscapes, on huge illuminated light boxes, are done in harsh computer-generated colors that cast a flat, eerie glow: Church on acid. But like many things in this restaurant, they have a quirky charm.  read more »

A waiter placed a shallow white bowl before me. On the bottom, making the corners of a square, lay four pastel-colored florets: yellow, ivory, pink and green. He poured in cauliflower soup and set down a bagel. “The topping on the bagel is ‘Dubarry’: chopped cauliflower and Comté cheese,” he explained. “In Escoffier, dishes made with cauliflower are called Dubarry, after Louis XV’s mistress.”

Bagel “Dubarry”? Alain Ducasse may have a sly sense of humor, but up until now New York hasn’t given him much to smile about. Mr. Ducasse has more Michelin stars than any chef in the world, but his first restaurant here, which opened eight years ago in the Essex House, was not particularly well received. The price (a $235 prix fixe) was met by outrage, as were such excesses as the selection of scary knives for carving your squab, the embroidered footstools provided for the ladies’ handbags and the choice of Mont Blanc fountain pens proffered for signing the bill. The Michelin Guide awarded Ducasse three stars, but nevertheless, it closed a year ago.  read more »

Commerce Street, a secret, twisting couple of blocks in the West Village, is so quiet you can hear your footsteps echo on the pavement. But the white building that has stood at the corner of Commerce and Barrow Streets for nearly a century has had anything but a quiet past. During Prohibition, it was a speakeasy. For 50 years it was the Blue Mill Tavern, and then for over a decade, Grange Hall, a much-beloved Village hangout serving blue-plate specials such as succotash and broiled steak.  read more »

Before I sat down to dinner at the refurbished One if by Land, Two if by Sea, I had a drink by the fireplace in front of the bar. A pianist was tinkling away at Chopin, and two couples, ensconced in leather armchairs, sipped glasses of Champagne. A handsome young Japanese man, dressed in a dark suit and blue striped tie, strode through the front door and sat down on a bar stool. He declined the bartender’s offer of a drink; instead he consulted his watch and pulled out a book.  read more »

“Your amuse bouches,” the waiter said, setting down a plate of white plastic spoons whose filling glistened like a display of jewels. “Vodka gelée with sour cream, salmon roe, fried capers and chives.”

So much going on in one tiny mouthful! Our minds were racing. Yet each element of this fleeting palate teaser was precise and distinct.

The spoons were served along with confit shrimp pinned to the end of long wooden skewers, and a crusty, moist corn bread made with white cheddar. We hadn’t even looked at the menu yet.  read more »

“Sheep Dip is a blend,” said the waiter at Belcourt. “Pig’s Nose is single malt.”

He was talking about the unusual whiskies on offer at this new East Village bistro. Whatever they were called, my companion badly needed a glass, and not just because of the bitter cold outside.  read more »

I was barely 7 when my family moved to Beirut, but I still remember the food: the fried kibbeh (meatballs with bulghur), the kefte (meatballs again, cooked on skewers over charcoal in our kitchen) and the vine leaves that I was allowed to help stuff with rice, wrapping them into small, untidy packages.

We spent two years there, before the city was torn apart by war, back when it was known as the Paris of the Middle East and one of the loveliest cities in the world. So why, then, in New York City, where you can trip and fall into, say, a Uighur joint, are there so few full-blown Lebanese restaurants?

Al Bustan, near the United Nations, has until now been the standard-bearer of the cuisine, which is similar in many ways to the cooking of Greece, Turkey, Syria and Egypt. Ilili, which opened two months ago in a former carpet warehouse on a desolate part of lower Fifth Avenue, aims to fill the gap and largely succeeds.  read more »

“Bring me a cup of Ovaltine,” Jackie Gleason once told a waiter. “I want to be asleep when the bill comes.”

Tell me about it. The cost of eating out rose dramatically in 2007. Food prices went up faster than at any point in the past 15 years, according to Food Arts magazine, partly due to the high demand for ethanol, which raised the price of corn used to feed livestock and poultry.  read more »

“Are you still working on those?”

The waiter surveyed our table, which was littered with small dishes of Greenmarket vegetables.

Yep. Still workin’.  read more »

Is Irving Mill another Gramercy Tavern manqué, or is John Schaefer onto something?  read more »

A veteran of Gordon Ramsay’s kitchen hints at the Lower East Side’s past while embracing its present—but sorry, no egg creams!  read more »

Salty and sweet do a tango on your tongue at pastry chef Sam Mason’s new SoHo joint. That eel is swimmin’ in chocolate!  read more »

The Umbrian Giant, fan club in tow, settles into a cozy storefront on the Upper East Side.  read more »

Alex Ureña’s second attempt is both less expensive and more welcoming than last year’s foray into cutting-edge Spanish cuisine.  read more »

Clang, clang, clang: An Iron Chef alum tries out ‘creative-authentic’ Italian in a loud but friendly spot on Barrow Street.  read more »

Rayuela attracts pretty women and hungry hombres to a bleak stretch of the Lower East Side.  read more »

Seasonal cuisine goes one step further, courtesy of the Quality Meats crew.  read more »

A Southern sushi specialist dazzles with creative combinations—just don’t try to order a Diet Coke.  read more »

Vongerichten’s erstwhile exec chef also does fusion food.  read more »

Marc Murphy’s bistro is just what the Upper West Side has been waiting for.  read more »

Classic Italian, modern interpretations and an an eccentrically annotated wine list at Paul Grieco’s restaurant.  read more »

New owners bring charm and local seasonal fare to a neighborhood fixture.  read more »

Despite a cold and windy spring, the taste of summer in Maine shows up in Soho.  read more »

Greek food and haute cuisine are not phrases you often see in the same sentence. But at Anthos, a sleek new restaurant across from the “21” Club, chef Michael Psilakis is serving dishes such as hamachi with ouzo-marinated cherries, rabbit hilopita with snails and black truffles, and a “deconstructed” baklava.  read more »