bowery bummed
Star ch f’s Fr nch istr t f plac n ining- stinati n str t
L A Gamelle raises an urgent question. Can a new restaurant be “hot” when empirical evidence tells us the opposite?
The new French bistro from Motorino pizza god Mathieu Palombino has enjoyed fat blurbs in newspapers and magazines and it’s ranked No. 4 on eater.com’s list of the 20 “Hottest Restaurants in Manhattan Right Now.”
But on my four visits, La Gamelle was, to put it gently, quiet. Blame the location: An archaic, quasiParisian bistro — whoops, “brasserie” — might be at home on a cozy residential block, but it’s lost amid the Bowery’s destination-dining murderers’ row of Rebelle, Pearl & Ash, Cherche Midi and DBGB.
Palombino’s famed for his excellent Neapolitanstyle-pizza joint Motorino, which, in modern globe-girdling style, he’s expanded from New York to Hong Kong, Manila and Singapore. Before La Gamelle, he ran the space as quick-flop Bowery Diner (it was briefly a pop-up called Chez Jef in between).
La Gamelle shows every sign of an owner stuck with a lease he doesn’t know what to do with. Bowery Diner’s retro-proletarian pastiche of pressed aluminum and Formica yielded to a retro-Gallic one of tile floor, globe lights and ceiling fans. An imported zinc bar at least will outlast the Baccarat Hotel’s coyote chairs, which are getting booted back to Paris after I wrote about them last week.
Nobody would mind a warhorse-laden menu if it were hyped as, say, “Culinary snore opens on Bowery! Check it out!” There’s nothing wrong with “classical regional French specialties” as long as they measure up to the ideal.
But “think small” seems the strategy, starting with cheap, but even cheapertasting, wines served in thimble-size glasses.
Say this for La Gamelle: There are no whelks — the giant, slimy snails that were Bowery Diner’s inedible claim to infamy. Now, normal escargots are properly drenched in butter and garlic, the only reason why anyone eats escargots.
Smoked salmon strode a fine line “between Whole Foods and Costco,” as my perceptive friend put it. Crusty, Gruyere cheeseoozing croque-monsieur made a fine lunch.
A strong charcuterie selection can be sampled in half portions for $34. House-made patés such as rabbit, prunes and pistachio en croute rival DBGB’s a few blocks north.
But sit out the Gallic revelry. Grilled branzino was indistinguishable from oodles of others. A parched quality defined duck confit. Roasted chicken, shy on seasoning and without a drop of jus, faded after a few bites. Steak frites, ordered medium-rare-plus, arrived rare, although the sliced flat-iron cut was deeply flavorful. Palombino told the Village Voice, “This is a French restaurant you will find in France.” Judging by my recent trip to Paris, this isn’t necessarily a good thing. Why doesn’t he open Motorino there?