A Gourmand's Life

There are an awful lot of restaurants in New York City, and occasionally – as a concession to both my schedule and parenthood – I must visit at that most inopportune time, brunch. To me, brunch is too often a meal designed for hung-over borderline alcoholics, dewey-eyed young lovers, and fence sitters who can’t even decide what meal they want to eat. In good weather, you can find them parked at sidewalk tables outside their neighborhood Chinese place, shoveling bacon and eggs into their mouths. Brunch eaters generally don’t care a whit about their food, and neither does the chef cooking it, who is usually the lowest ranking member of his kitchen and hung-over himself.


Brunch is also the curse of the traveler. I can’t remember how many times I have devised a perfectly organized eating itinerary for a new city, only to find that at least one of my designated lunch places will, in fact, be serving brunch instead, so as not to deprive their customers of pancakes at 2:00 in the afternoon.

By the look of things last Sunday DBGB Kitchen & Bar will be a big brunch place. Located two blocks down the newly gentrified Bowery from what was once CBGB, DBGB is third in the line of chef Daniel Boulud’s casual bistros and brasseries. While neither of its predecessors can be said to be outstanding restaurants, they do feature destination dishes worthy of a visit from far away. First came DB Bistro Moderne, which started the upscale burger craze with its amazing foie gras and braised short rib stuffed patty. Next was Bar Boulud, which features a disciple of Gilles Verot turning out some of the city’s best charcuterie and an astounding Boudin Blanc. Unfortunately, it appears that DBGB shares the first trait with its older siblings but not the second.

I sampled a broad section of items from the brunch menu, many of which are also staples at dinner, and while almost everything was good, there was nothing particularly notable in concept or execution. The Spicy Crabcake with Pickled Radish and Vadouvan Curry Sauce, was mostly crab - a good thing - but was barely heated through, and lacked a crust to provide textural contrast – not a good thing.



The Boudin Basque is a tasty little disc and its accompanying scallion-mashed potatoes are lovely, but it doesn’t have the livery kick the best Boudin Noir usually provides.



The Vermont sausage, a smoked pork link filled with pockets of cheddar cheese, was barely heated through, the cheese too cold to perform its intended ooze.

From the sweet section a Belgian Waffle was served with good whipped cream and fresh berries but was otherwise forgettable. The Brioche French Toast is the way to go if you are in a breakfast mood, and could also serve as an excellent dessert. The brioche is almost custard-like and is served with some lovely sautéed apples. DBGB is getting some attention for its ice cream sundaes. The Caramel-Cider version I sampled did share some of those sautéed apples, but its two-tone caramel and cider ice cream was strangely bitter. The advertised oatmeal crumble was barely noticeable, and the marshmallows were tiny, dry and day-glo green, like someone in the kitchen opened a box of Lucky Charms in a desperate moment.

The décor is attractive, with charming details like a wall of food quotes, ingredient fixtures, recessed tables for six and cooking pot hall of fame that warm up what could have been a clinical, industrial design. I intend to revisit DBGB to sample some dishes the brunch menu prevented me from trying. The food may not be hitting on all cylinders yet, but it is promising enough, and the room is enchanting in ways its modern counterparts often are not.

It is hard to imagine that the movers and shakers behind restaurant development at the Time Warner Center ever envisioned an armada of strollers docked outside one of their venues on a Saturday evening. Yet that is actually what I encountered at Landmarc last Saturday. Lest you believe I am about to launch a diatribe against children in restaurants, I was there myself because I needed a place to go with my five-year old, having been too harried and uncertain during the day to make a reservation. Landmarc, with its no reservation policy and seating for 300, fit the bill.

However, even more incongruous than the strollers parked outside the restaurant is the décor inside. Landmarc positions itself as a family-friendly neighborhood restaurant with relatively gentle prices and a wine list that leads with affordable half-bottles. Those attributes are in stark contrast to the design, which features an incredibly dark, lounge-like atmosphere accented with post-industrial chic décor. If supermodels had children, this is where they would take them.

As for the food, chef Marc Murphy tries to please everyone. The menu runs the gamut from bistro classics to pasta to burgers, with very little invention along the way. Mussels with shallots, parsley and white wine are as good as our farmed mussels can get, which isn’t that good. The Filet Mignon may not be prime but it is cooked well and is accompanied by a credible Béarnaise and a nicely dressed mixed green salad. The side dishes we sampled, Sautéed Mushrooms and Green Lentils, were done well. However, the wan and tasteless fries were embarrassing for a bistro.

The best dish of the night, Crispy Sweetbreads with Haricot Verts, suggests that the list of house dishes is the way to go here, as they represent Murphy’s only forays off the beaten, commercial path, towards more authentic bistro cooking. And that is the problem with Landmarc. While all of the food is executed well (no mean feat with 300 seats) the conception of the menu - when combined with the ambience - produces a strangely bloodless result, like a bistro filtered through the executive minds of Cheesecake Factory. Do we really need Fried Calamari with Tomato Sauce, Burgers, Caesar Salad (with or without grilled chicken), daily pasta specials and a kid’s menu (including cold cereal, no less)?

There is no doubt that Murphy and his crew can cook. Perhaps one day they will cook what they like.

Museum Mile is one of my favorite areas of the city, an alluring stretch of Fifth Avenue with some of the world's finest museums standing in the glorious shadow of Central Park.Like Chicago's skyscrapers, it is a marvelous example of civic engineering and a calling card worthy of a great city. It might be easy to lose sight of the Neue Galerie, a tiny spot on the corner of 86th Street, among the heavy hitters in the neighborhood. This riny gem houses a remarkable collection of early twentieth-century art from Austria and Germany as well as Cafe Sabarsky, an absolutely charming recreation of a kaffehause of the era, complete with period pieces and a grand piano.

Better yet, the cafe is in the capable hands of Kurt Gutenbrunner, another Bouley alumnus and chef/proprietor of the Michelin-starred Wallse. There is a large selection of composed salads and cold plates, such as Palatschinken with Smoked Trout and Horseradish as well as Avocado Salad with Crabmeat and Tomatoes, but they tend to be served too cold, as if plated ahead.

Better bets are the dishes the menu borrows from its big brother's menu, such as the Kavalierspitz, a homely but delicious hunk of boiled beef shoulder and humble root vegetables, sort of an Austrian pot-au-feu. There is a selection of wursts from Schaller & Weber, such as a simply boiled Weisswurst with a pungent, mustardy potato salad, and my favorite, Roasted Bratwurst with Riesling Sauerkraut and Roasted Potatoes.

As lovely as the period decor is, the most attention is drawn by the side board displaying an array of Austrian desserts, most of which look better than they taste, with the exception of an excellent, tart Apple Strudel, which you should enjoy with a cup of freshly brewed Meinl coffee or a Viennese Hot Chocolate.

While I believe Guttenbrunner could tighten up the food quality a bit here, Cafe Sabarsky is undeniably charming, a loving recreation that gets all of the details right. It is an oasis of civility and sophistication that fits its surroundings like a glove.