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IN THIS ISSUE
DINING OUT IN LONDON, Part One

NEW YORK CORNER
IL PUNTO and NONNA
By John Mariani and Mort Hochstein

NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR



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DINING OUT IN LONDON, Part One
By John Mariani


Madeleine Carroll and Tyrone Power in "Lloyd's of London" (1936)

    If you wish to hear the King’s English spoken, quite possibly the last place you can now do so is in London, where, owing to the vast number of tourists and immigrants, it is more likely the person you pass on the street is speaking Russian, Gujarati, Hindi, Turkish, Arabic, Bengali, Chinese or Hebrew.
    The same is pretty much the case in New York (which draws more than 50 million tourists annually), but in London one still hopes to hear the kind of accents that Prof. Henry Higgins could “place within two streets”--Hoxton, Lisson Grove, Hawkestone, Anwell, Selsey.
    London is--far more than Paris, Rome or Berlin--the epitome of the international city, as much a melting pot of cultures now as the United States.  Perhaps, though, it is better to call London a stew pot, for you find there that multinationalism has created a vast array of ethnic restaurants and eateries, starting with the old curry houses of the last century now including places with names like Pizarro, Wahaca, Bopshiu’s, Umu, and Gymkhana, an Indian restaurant that just won top spot on Restaurant magazine’s National Restaurant Awards.
    Thus, on a recent trip to London, I ran the gamut between British and ethnic restaurants, beginning by checking into the magnificently restored (after a two-year closure) Savoy Hotel, set right on the banks of the Thames and in a cul de sac off the Strand.  The last time I stayed at the Savoy, now 125 years old, the old dowager was showing more than a patina of age, so I was delighted to return, driving into the broad corridor that flanks the gleaming new façade with the hotel’s backlighted name pronouncing that you truly have arrived.
    The foyer and concierge desk  (below) have been refitted to the highest gloss of mahogany and marble, leading down to the hotel’s two dining rooms, Kaspar’s Seafood Grill and Wine Bar and Gordon Ramsay’s Savoy Grill.  Attached to the hotel is the famous Simpson’s-in-the-Strand, of which more in a moment. If you want a good look at the Edwardian and art déco appointments, see the (not very good) re-make of “Gambit” with Colin Firth and Cameron Diaz. The movie camera loves the Savoy.
    There are a dozen levels of rooms, 193 of them, with 73 suites, from a Superior Queen to the Royal Suite, all done with state-of-the-art tech along with Murano glass, silk wall coverings, leather desks and Mascioni bed linens. A Business Center is open round the clock.  By the way, from now until Sept. 28, guests can enjoy a complimentary Luxury Thames Cruise on a river yacht.
    During my stay, I only had time for breakfast downstairs, and it was a  splendid array of options that include everything from a continental breakfast (£26) and Savoy Breakfast  (£32) to grilled kippers (£17.50), a toasted bagel with smoked  salmon (£17.50), a Chinese breakfast with congee and dim sum (£36), and a “stack of American banana pancakes” (£17.50).
    But I did have time to return--after decades--to Simpson’s-in-the-Strand   (never closed during the Savoy’s restoration), which has been here since 1828, originally as a chess club and coffee house, then, in 1848, under caterer John Simpson, as a full-fledged restaurant whose specialty was fine British beef brought out on a silver trolley and carved at the table to guests’ liking.  Noted clients of the restaurant have included Charles Dickens, George Bernard Shaw, Benjamin Disraeli, the fictitious Sherlock Holmes and, surprisingly, Vincent Van Gogh.
    Even under rationing during World War I, Simpson’s carried on, impressing P.G. Wodehouse as “unique,” writing in 1915, “Here, if he wishes, the Briton may, for the small sum of half a dollar, stupefy himself with food. The God of Fatted Plenty has the place under his protection. Its keynote is solid comfort. It is a pleasant, soothing, hearty place--a restful temple of food. No strident orchestra forces the diner to bolt beef in ragtime. No long central aisle distracts his attention with its stream of new arrivals. There he sits, alone with his food, while white-robed priests, wheeling their smoking trucks, move to and fro, ever ready with fresh supplies.”
    By the 1970s, Simpson’s had even earned a rare Michelin star, one of only nine awarded in London.  It was not until 1984 that “ladies” were allowed in the main, downstairs dining room. Though not the original 19th century décor, Simpson’s architecture hearkens back to a British posh and formality that makes it a requisite tourist attraction, so that today it is flocked with foreigners who love the swallow-tail frocked captains and waiters and the rolling of the trolley to each table, its silver cloche pulled back to reveal the steaming beef and lamb joints. (You may even take a carvery class at Simpson’s.)  By the way, jackets, I’m sad to say, are no longer required at the restaurant.
    Regulars may go for the steak and kidney pie or the beef Wellington, but most, including myself, stay the course towards the roasts.  I enjoyed the signature potted shrimp (£15.50), a ruddy, flavorful lobster bisque, (£10.50), and wood pigeon breast with green beans, new potatoes and bacon (€10.50). We also shared a plate of roast lamb rump (£24), with roasted tomato and zucchini in an olive-rosemary sauce.
    Then came the Scottish beef, aged 28 days (£31), traditionally sliced quite thin, so ask for your preference in slab size; sauced with the pan juices,  the beef is served with roasted potatoes, Savoy cabbage and Yorkshire pudding. I was thoroughly enjoying myself until the famous Yorkshire pudding arrived, more resembling a large American popover.  Surprisingly, the puffy muffin fin lacked the crisp but pliant exterior and lovely yellow soft interior I expected; instead, the crust was as unyielding as an eggshell and just as dry.  I asked for another and it was just as disappointing. A dessert sampler for two, including Devon burnt cream, runs £14.50.   
    Before 7 p.m., there is a two-course (£27.75) or three-course (£31) fixed-price dinner that includes the beef.  But the prices at Simpson’s are not as high as so many high-end restaurants in London, and, surrounded by an ambiance and service that hasn’t changed for ages, you get to partake of something truly unique.   

     At the other end of the gastronomic spectrum is Coya in Mayfair, a thoroughly 21st century restaurant, with all the attendant music--much of it live--and high decibel levels and a much younger crowd than Simpson’s. Opened by Arjun Waney,  who also runs the successful Zuma, La Petite Maison and The Arts Club, Coya is loosely Peruvian, done up in a décor they call “luxurious dilapidated,” meaning a juxtaposition of Incan colors and rough metallic finishes, with antique, colonial-style Peruvian furniture.

        After two years in business, it is clearly still one of the red hot spits in London, and it was packed on a Sunday evening.
      You push your way through the large door off Piccadilly, and pass through--or stick around for a cocktail in--the small, well-stocked Pisco Bar and Lounge.  Then you descend to the main dining area (right), whose colors--black ceiling, bare light bulbs, bare tables--give it a dark moody cast.  Downstairs is a  ceviche bar (£8-12), offering some of the best items on Head Chef Sanjay Dwivedi’s long menu, which also includes an array of anticuchos (£9-13) of grilled skewered meats like ox heart with parsley and ají rocoto, and parrillada dishes (£17-27) like pechuga de pato--duck breast with lúcuma, soya sauce and coriander shoots.  Another section features meats and fish cooked in the traditional Josper oven-grill.
    My friends and I trusted the manager to guide our choice of  items from every category. Given the menu’s length, it promised highs and lows. But I must say that among plenty of highs the lows were minimal.  Most dishes retained the right textures and seasonings for the ingredients and the style of cooking involved.  So, atún chifa, yellowfin tuna with soy and sesame seeds and a crispy shrimp cracker made for a fine opening ceviche; of the tiraditos, I loved the pez limón, more yellowtail, this time spicier, with green chili and crunchy radish.
    Peru is the motherland of potatoes, and Coya’s gold spud with fresh crab and Josper-grilled peppers lived up to reputation. Tiger prawns received a tempura treatment, though the aji rocoto sauce was bland. Even at a time when cooks everywhere seem to have mastered octopus prep, the pulpo al olivo at Coya was amazingly tender, with a creamy interior texture. An iron pot dish of Chilean sea bass with rice, lime and chili was simple but good, while the costillas de cerdo of pork back ribs with tamarind juice and cashews went fast at our table, despite being quite sweet.
    I really didn’t expect desserts (£8) to be as wonderful as they were within the Peruvian theme: a chocolate fundido with white chocolate ice cream; salted caramel with chocolate and Pisco; and best of all, an extraordinary sundae of sweet corn ice cream and popcorn that was a perfect way to end a meal of such diversity.
    Coya’s wine list is extensive, but very pricey, as is the spirits screed and the requisite New World cocktails.
    Make no mistake: Coya is not a place for a quiet and romantic meal, although the strolling mariachi musicians have a quaint charm about them.  This is a  place you go with your friends in their casually chic clothes and just hope you're not the oldest person in the room.  You can’t help but have fun, and the bar is open till 1:30.
    (Coya also has a private club with its own dining area. They’ve also just launched Sunday brunch; for £55 guests can enjoy a menu of Coya’s signature dishes along with unlimited champagne. Kids under 10 eat brunch for free.)

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    The words  "Casa Nonna: Official Pizza of Madison Square Garden" were splashed across  the  van in midtown Manhattan.
    That is a good recommendation, but there are many other good reasons to dine at this understated restaurant.   Nestled away on a quiet street  close to  Madison Square Garden,  Casa  Nonna  blushes almost unseen for much of the time. It is busy during normal working hours,    bustling when there's  an event at the big arena, but rather quiet otherwise in relation to the quality of the experience it offers. 
   In choosing where I dine, I look for a venue where I can  enjoy a meal in peaceful surroundings.  I  avoid restaurants where  normal conversation is close to impossible and you have to shout to make yourself heard.  Coupled with the quality of its food,  the pleasant ambiance at Casa Nonna puts it up front as  my go-to restaurant, particularly when I want good Italian food.   Confession: I have never sampled the Official Madison Square Garden pizza. It is just one of many  pizzas on  the Casa Nonna menu, including  one masterpiece I  order too frequently. Chef Julio Genao has a way with truffles and his Pizza al Tartuffo,  with a brittle thin crust   hidden under fresh buffalo mozzarella, a smattering of truffle oil and  a  generous helping  of shaved black truffles is worth a detour from the bright lights of Broadway.

   Genao cooks what he describes as  elegant rustic. Raised in the Dominican Republic, he has blended the cooking techniques he learned from the meals served by his grandmother and mother with the  best of Roman and Tuscan cuisine.   And as he did years ago in his mother's kitchen, his Italian cooking starts with the humble meatball.  Meatballs can be a test of an Italian  restaurant kitchen and his  melding of beef and veal and his own blend of spices  elevates routine fare to star billing.  Using freshly ground veal and beef, no stuffing, he assembles fresh meatballs each morning. Like that truffle pizza ($44), his meatballs are not to be overlooked.
   We started off a recent meal with an amuse bouche, giant langouste dressed with truffle oil in salsa verde.  The crustacean's blending a  scent of the sea  with the silkiness of the truffle oil could easily have been a main dish, particularly if  I had dunked my bread in the green sauce. But I resisted temptation, knowing more good plates would follow.
     I've  had two types of bruschetta ($9) in my visits to Casa Nonna. On the first occasion, Tuscan chicken liver drizzled with golden raisins rode atop crisp, crunchy Italian  bread, accompanied by eggplant caponata,  and a generous serving   of roasted cauliflower and herbed ricotta.  Typical of the restaurant,  it was almost enough for a main course. On a second visit,  the bruschetta featured  baccala whipped with  creamy mashed potatoes and tinged with olive oil.    The antipasto was  a generous portion of  fresh off-the-plane imported polpo, octopus  not rigid as so often happens, flanked by thin onion strips, semi-dried tomato, bits of roasted red pepper dressed by a sherry vinaigrette.
   We followed with a zuppa di cozze, giant mussels, a huge crostada, and  couscous with a smattering of fennel.  Simple, yet  elegant. The final appetizer was equally simple, basically  spaghettini con vongole ($16), Manila  clams (right), home made bigoli spaghetti,  fresh cherry tomatoes, quite enough garlic and white wine in the dressing.   We shared perfectly seared scallops ($29), caramelized  but still extruding  the sweet briny flavor I look for in scallops, flanked by crisp sweet  swiss chard.  We also shared  salmon , sort of sweet and sour treatment, fresh sweet fish,   dotted sour  by  capers.  Too often salmon comes out soft and squishy, This was perfectly moist,   as tasty as good salmon can be.
    Dessert was cannoli, flavored by pimento and basil, putting an edge on what  is often  simply too sweet.
    The wine list is small,  about 40 wines, limited to good basic regional Italian wines, lowest being a Serradenari Prosecco at $40, topping out with an Tenuta dell' Ornellaia Le Volte   at  $76. Many by the glass  $10 to $14.
     Although there is a rustic theme throughout, the space  is sleek with dark wood, copper veneer, tables separated by plenty of space, and terra cotta floors.  For takeaway, there are shelves  carrying Italian foodstuffs and a a variety of pastas. And, oh yes, those who want that pizza can sit at Casa Nonna's  pizza bar , a marble counter looking into the open kitchen and the wood-fired oven.  Casa Nonna is part of a group of upscale restaurants that includes BLT Steak, LBT Market, BLT Fish, Juni, and Horchata de Nueva York.

Casa Nonna is open for lunch Mon.-Fri., for dinner nightly.

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 NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR   

THE GRAND GUIGAL
By Brian Freedman

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FIRST MOMENTOUS SIGHTING OF A
RELIGIOUS FIGURE IN AN EGGPLANT FOR 2014

Line cook Jermarcus Brady of Gino's restaurant in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, sliced into an eggplant and says he found Line che word "GOD" spelled out in seeds inside, calling it "miraculous image" in an interview with WAFB.  He told local ABC affiliate WBRZ that he's "scared to slice another eggplant." Gino Marino, one of the restaurant's owners, said, "I went back there and he was overwhelmed. I looked at it, we were just drawn back." 





HEY, GREAT BRITAIN, GET OVER IT: YOU LOST THAT WAR!

"America's Fourth of July celebrations always provide fodder for uncomfortable conversations. Sure, there's that sophomore back from college running a Baby's First Howard Zinn rap to remind you that America owes its entire existence to the French military, a gay Prussian inspector general of the Continental Army, two giant oceans and a genocide. But those aren't big-picture issues. I'm talking about whether a hot dog is a sandwich."—Jeb Lun, The Guardian (July 3, 2014)