Fin dining is back!
A wave of new restaurants is dishing up old-school comfort and impeccable service, sending hipsters and their silly hot spots back to the kitchen
T HE White Tablecloths have won — despite proclamations that “fine dining is dead.”
Three big-league places that uphold civilized standards of service and ambience just opened, a fourth is coming soon, and a bunch of newish eateries in the same class are thriving.
Recently launched Le Coucou, Agern and Günter Seeger — all with worldfamous chefs making their New York debuts — are the year’s buzziest openings. Their embrace of old values is also great news for those of us who miss enjoying cutting-edge cuisine in an adult environment.
And — surprise! — except for Agern in Grand Central Terminal, they’re all below 14th Street.
The customer-coddling trio was preceded by at least four booming, grown-up-style Midtown restaurants that launched within the past 18 months: Gabriel Kreuther, Ralph Lauren Polo Bar, La Chine and Indian Accent.
For too long, to enjoy the creations of renowned, pioneering chefs such as David Chang and April Bloomfield meant enduring painful seating, noise like what’s inflicted on POWs to deny them sleep, and an all-around “Animal House” vibe. And at Santina, under the High Line, I’ve had to en- list managers to peel bar patrons off of my banquette.
Oh, and did I mention the no-reservations policies and share plates served “as they’re ready,” rather than when you want them?
But “fine dining” doesn’t have to mean stuffy. It needn’t include a four-hour, 20-course tasting menu. It simply means that customers’ comfort is important, a consideration that’s been lost in an age when “scene” takes priority over cuisine.
“The roast chicken at Barbuto is sublime, but when you arrive on time and the hostess exiles you to the bar like a Soviet apparatchik sending you to Siberia, it sorta ruins the experience,” says Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, resident Jordan Barowitz, the Durst Organization’s director of external affairs.
Le Coucou, helmed by celebrated young chef Daniel Rose, who gained fame at Spring in Paris, is already one of New York’s liveliest dining arenas. It seethes with energy and laughter, but it’s 100 percent “fine.” There are linen tablecloths, candles, chandeliers, and the 86 seats are spaced so that everyone can hear others at their table. The well-trained floor crew patrols the floor like attentive swans. Menus, drinks, dishes and the bill arrive when they’re supposed to.
Just-opened Agern, from a cofounder of Noma in Copenhagen, Denmark, Claus Meyer, is also a clinic in today’s brand of fine dining. Although the restaurant is tablecloth-free, its undulating Scandinavian lines, surprisingly tush-friendly wooden seats and warm-but-polished service perfectly cue the pleasures of chef Gunnar Gísla- son’s modern-Nordic menu.
At Günter Seeger on Hudson Street, Seeger, the German-born chef who cooked his way to glory in Atlanta, offers a $185, 10- to 12-course prix-fixe menu that flows in a measured procession through a warm, chandeliered setting.
There’s more on the way. In August, Tom Colicchio is opening Fowler & Wells in FiDi’s longawaited Beekman hotel. It will serve classic American cuisine done with French technique in a “clubby” atmosphere.
“I think the press and the blogs have really warped the story [about fine dining being over],” says Colicchio. At his new spot, he says, “we will be back to where things used to be,” and it will be “a little more civilized than some joints parading around as restaurants.”
I wish Colicchio’s fellow great chefs, like Chang, would come to their senses. When I asked Chang why he couldn’t have launched his back-breaking new Momofuku Nishi as a bistro with normal seats, he said he couldn’t afford it — a ridiculous excuse from one of the world’s most successful chefs.
Colicchio won’t name the places he regards as uncivilized — but I will. In the past few months, Via Carota, Le Turtle, La Pecora Bianca, Charlie Bird, Pasquale Jones and 00+Co all had me yearning for the peace and quiet of the street.
There will always be some who prefer the pack-’em-in, push-’em- out style of well-reviewed spots, such as Wildair or Estela, where the owners’ goal seems to be to rake in as much dough as possible before the crowd moves on. But for my money, a mob scene only makes it difficult to love food, even when it’s not merely good, but great.
Take the Indian cuisine at Babu Ji on Avenue B, which is as marvelous in its way as at twice-as-pricey Indian Accent uptown.
But its kindergarten-desk-size tables — spaced much more tightly than they look in photos — and rush-’em-out kitchen undercut chef Jessi Singh’s succulent tandoori prawns. It’s a dish you want to linger over and discuss before it’s swept away for whatever item happens to roll out next.
So when I next want the latest take on Indian food, you’ll find me at Indian Accent. And, for any cuisine, I’ll be wherever I can share the pleasure without losing my voice, my patience and my sanity.