Scott Bryan is among that small cadre whom serious young chefs regard as an inspiration, someone who came up at a time when you earned your scars and scorchings in tough, unsparing kitchens  where the pecking order was based on showing what you knew, not on showing off.
    Bryan, a graduate of demanding restaurants like Bouley, Le Bernardin, Lespinasse and Gotham Bar and Grill, worked his way up doing Asian fusion cuisine before becoming chef of the wine-centric restaurant Veritas, then at Mediterranean-inflected Apiary.  Early this year he manned the stoves in a tiny kitchen at Bacchanal on the Bowery, but left after four months.  Now, along with Luis and Victor Gonzalez, Bryan co-owns The Milling Room, near the Museum of Natural History, and he’s cooking at the top of his form, using everything he knows to produce intensely savory food that tastes very American while incorporating global influences.
    The restaurant is a huge space (formerly the short-lived Corvo Bianco), with a chalkboard mural and a marvelous tavern area carved out of brick and beams, overseen by creative bartender Jess Kanter-Kowal.  Beyond is the vast, domed dining room, whose skylight during the day offers a true look at the homey rustic use of wood, wrought iron, and red brick, old wagon wheels, and overhead lighting throughout.  I’m told they are working on brightening the place at night—black is not a great choice for a ceiling and ductwork—but it’s got great bones, and the votive candles are a nice touch.
    The menu is just the right size for a place of this size-- although the wine list could use expansion—with eight starters, three or four pastas, and six entrees (none over $30), with specials each night.  Subtly, but critical to Bryan’s cooking, is the acidic undertone in every dish, so that everything has a brightness, a tang, an edge some might call umami; I call it canny cooking.
    Our party of four began with a terrific Tuscan white bean soup ($10)—too often bland, here with cabbage, tomato and Parmigiano, a rich, satisfying autumn starter.  Hamachi tartare ($16) with avocado, cucumber, chives and yuzu shows Bryan hasn’t lost his Asian touch, and grilled octopus ($16) had a good sear on it, accompanied by charred eggplant, arugula, and delectable paprika oil, echoing his Mediterranean bias. 
    His pastas just skirt being too much of a good thing: generous in portion (as a main dish), they exhibit the difficult-to-achieve textures you find so effortlessly done in Italy.  Pappardelle pasta ribbons with rabbit meat, porcini mushrooms, aromatic vegetables and the delightful addition of orange ($23) should be a signature dish, but there was everything to like about the perfectly cooked wild mushroom risotto with peas, reggiano cheese and black truffle ($20).
    Atlantic cod, not always the most flavorful fish, took on the rich, aromatic flavors of a bouillabaisse broth with white bean puree and assertive aïoli ($26), while very good skate came with couscous, capers, tomato and verjus ($23)—an ideal example of what I meant by adding acids to a dish.
    In my line of work, I try not to use many superlatives, but for the moment at least I can say that Bryan’s roast chicken (right) was the best I’ve had in a long time—and I count many very good ones along the way.  I don’t know how he gets the skin so crisp, but it almost shattered to the bite. Adding celery root, black trumpet mushrooms, tarragon and splash of Madeira made it all the more wonderful ($23). 
    I liked two of the desserts tried very much—a flourless chocolate cake and a terrific blackberry financier. Vanilla panna cotta seemed like a throwaway decision, and there are better tarte Tatins in New York.
    The Milling Room, with a little tweaking, should be a very popular draw in its Upper West Side neighborhood, and with Bryan in as a partner, it should soon be a destination for those who know he is one of the city’s chefs who will always deliver big flavors at reasonable prices.  I'd go back just for that roast chicken.

The Milling Room is open for dinner nightly.

BOOKS

The Pizza Bible by Tony Gemignani ($29.99)--Worn out by pronouncements of know-it-all food mavens who have turned pizza into an overheated debate as to what is and what is not pizza, which pizzeria is the best and which is not, and on and on ad nauseam, I was so happy to find that Tony Gimignani, "11-Time World Pizza Champ," sets the record straight and shows how you can make first-rate pizza without access to a professional pizza oven. That's good enough, but then he follows with examples of pizzas that never stray from the essential simplicity of a dish that has been destroyed by novelty. O.K., I'm not in love with his Chicago-style pizza or with one named after an Italian gangster, but he's doing things the right way, and he appends plenty of other recipes for global variations, all well illustrated and well described. This is the only pizza book any sane home cook will ever need.

The New England Kitchen by Jeremy Sewall and Erin Byers Murray ($29.95)--The regional focus of this splendidly photographed, impeccably written volume is the best of its kind in years, and Sewall is one of New England's finest advocates of his local bounty, from cranberries to lobster.  So, even if so many of the recipes included haven't much to do with New England culinary tradition and are only to be found in restaurants in Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Maine, it's a moot point when Sewall makes so many sound so good--the kind that make you stick Post-Its on every page: grilled razor clams with bacon and green garlic; poached halibut with crisp  artichoke hearts; broccoli soup with cheddar toast; lentil and lobster bisque; salt cod beignets with black pepper aïoli, and lemon tart with lavender cream.

New Orleans Classic Creole Recipes by Kit Wohl ($13.85)--Every year or so Kit Wohl returns to prove wrong everyone who thinks Creole cookery is stuck in its ways, too heavy, too spicy, and too much of everything; the truth is, the cuisine has evolved like all others in this country over the last 30 years. Thus, while you'll find no better examples--most from New Orleans restaurants--of dishes like shrimp and ham jambalaya, file gumbo, crabmeat maison, pain perdu, and pralines, you also find that things have lightened up, become more complex in their use of spices and based on far better ingredients than Creole cooks had in the past.  Just page through this book and I guarantee you'll stop and read the whole recipe after looking at the photos of contemporary renderings like beef daube with fettuccine, jalapeño cheese grits, crab cakes with ravigote sauce, and Creole cream cheese Evangeline.  No one in the Crescent City knows the whole story of New Orleans food better than Kit, and she's determined to set it down with respect and authority.

Eating Delancey by Aaron Rezny and Jordan Schaps  ($23.62)--There are a lot of jokes about bad Jewish food--many of them included in this book--but Rezny and Schaps, two photographers, show old-fashioned Jewish cookery in such delectable context, that anyone would be tempted to try kasha varnishkes, stuffed cabbage, and matzo brei. Just as important are the contributions by noted Jewish feinschmeckers like Joan Nathan, Arthur Schwartz, even Franz Kafka, and remembrances of great Jewish delis and food emporiums. Perhaps the quintessential Jewish pronouncement in the book is the life-affirming "They tried to kills us.  We survived. Let's eat."

The Vietnamese Market Cookbook by Van Tran and Anh Vu ($30)--There haven't really been that many cookbooks about Vietnamese cuisine, which, as this volume indicates, can be as varied as papaya salad with crispy anchovies and sea bass carpaccio--though I suspect "carpaccio" is not a word you'll hear much in Saigon kitchens.
With its marvel of seasonings--but not as much chile as Thai food--Vietnamese cuisine is subtle, has a French influence and is based on simplicity and family meals, occasionally rising to the festive. The authors show all of these ideas in profusion along with delicate, engaging text to explain the cultural underpinnings of this beautiful country.

No-Fuss Diabetes Desserts by Linda Gassenheimer ($9.95)--I am not one to promote "health foods" but I am all in favor of alerting people with specific maladies to foods that will be tailored for them and delicious.  The recipes in Linda Gassenheimer's new book, with the American Diabetes Association seal of approval, shows how delectably easy it is to follow a diabetic diet and feast on sweet dishes like fennel apple saute, baked stuffed pears, floating island, even chocolate walnut balls.  No recipe is more than a page long, and her culinary hints are invaluable. And since Linda Gasenheimer is one of Amertica's finest cookbook authors, diabetics should applaud her tackling this subject.

 Two friends turned out two different books this year on a food course most people don't undertake as often as they might because soup is considered a time-consumer, especially when there's a can of Campbell's Tomato Soup somewhere back in the cupboard. But as Soup of the Day by Ellen Brown ($20) and Soup for Two by Joanna Pruess ($24.95) prove, soups are a knack not a bother, and it just takes the right seasonal ingredients to add  soup as a savory course to a meal or, in many cases, be a meal in themselves.  For her compendium, Brown, food editor of the Providence Journal, has called on chefs all over the country who best define their region for recipes--Stephan Pyles's Texas poblano asiago soup with golden tomato foam and John Fraser's creamy clam chowder with smoked potatoes and chorizo; Pruess wants more people to savor more soups by showing it's not that difficult to make soup for just two people who will be delighted with her curried pumpkin-coconut soup and shrimp posole.  And with winter in the offing, soup and a glass of wine may be all you need.

 
CRAVINGS

VENEZUELAN-STYLE CHOCOLATES
As happy as I am to gorge on all my old favorite chocolates—from Lindt to Toblerone, from See’s to Hershey’s—it’s always good to see a newcomer to the market that is doing something novel. Chuao Chocolatier out of San Diego, begun by brothers Michael and Richard Antonorsi, is named after a famous cacao-producing region of Chuao (pronounced chew-WOW) located in central Venezuela.  Their signature flavor was Spicy Maya, made with pasilla chile and cayenne pepper. Now there is a whole array of unusual flavors, from delicious a salted crunch bar and pretzel toffee twirl to oddities like maple bacon bar and potato chip bar (not so wonderful). There are gift boxes available with an array of selections (left).

A MORE AFFORDABLE WAGYU-STYLE STEAK

    Called by whichever misnomer you like—wagyu or kobe—you know it went you see the real McCoy, meaning the richly marbled Japanese beef from a small number of Prefectures that sell 90 percent of their product in Japan.  The rest that does go abroad is very expensive for the top cuts like sirloin, ribeye and filet mignon.  American-raised wagyu-style beef, produced from the same breed of cattle, is a less pricey alternative.  Manhattan butcher Lobel’s is now selling American wagyu cuts, especially a terrifically flavorful flank steak at a price that makes it well worthwhile cooking up for a special occasion, which in my case was a party the day before my older son got married.   Since it’s from a wagyu breed, Lobel’s is remarkably fat-rich and exceptionally juicy, so that you can serve it as you would any steak and tastes a whole lot better than filet mignon. A two to two-and-half pound flank steak is available on line at $79.99.   (Call 1-877-783-4512)