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So my one experience
with Mr. Baloud prior to going to this joint is dining in his flagship
restaurant, Daniel. That meal might as well
not even exist in the same universe as this one. In fact, the two
places differ in just about every way other than the fact they serve
food. First off, DBGB is on the Bowery. All you used to be able to
find here were junkies and the needles they left behind. And, of course,
the former punk mecca, CBGB, from which this joint steals its rather
silly name. But instead of Blondie
and the Ramones,
you get yuppies and people like me (whatever I am) slumming it for
an evening. If you consider walking into what looks like a fancified,
dark-wooded West Elm showroom with its shelves lined with copper cookware
and various glasses and foodstuffs in jars and whatnot slumming it.
I suppose this design style is some sort of nod to the multitude of
restaurant supply places that line The Bowery, but I'm kind of a dumb
ass when it comes to homages, so it may just be some Baloud thing
of which I'm unaware. Despite the open shelving and the cement floor,
little touches like the hand written chalkboards (apparently this
is a requirement any time French food is going to be served) and warm
candlelight make the space comfortable and not quite as deafening
as it seems like it should be. The menu, upon first inspection, seemed
overwhelmingly delicious sounding, but my choices in retrospect could
have been different and possibly more conducive to a kickass meal.
My first choice out of the gate, matzoh ball soup, fell flat. I just
couldn't resist, but soon remembered that I'm not a clear soup kind
of guy (I do love my bisques and chowders) and have had my grandmother's
matzoh ball soup and will probably never have better. The three others
at my table ordered a bunch of sausage stuff, which I wouldn't touch
with a ten foot schnitzel, and all I needed to hear to know I was
glad I avoided that shit is Ms. Hipster's review of the blood sausage:
"it tastes like a scab." For my entree, I ordered the skate. There
are two reasons I went for this: I pretty much always order the skate
if it's on the menu and it's my first time at a restaurant, and there
was risotto that accompanied it. Risotto, when done right, is fucking
awesome. Like most soft white fishes, skate depends greatly on the
sauce in which it's cooked or is poured over it, but is a solid fish
that when cooked just right wholly satisfies my love of texture. This
skate was cooked nicely, but lacked anything interesting to flavor
the otherwise mild, tasteless fish. The risotto was relatively fine,
but wasn’t really the marquee thing on the plate, and as such wasn't
really concentrated on in terms of flavor concepting (to coin an awful
phrase) and preparation. Again, looking back, I should have ordered
something more daring. The desert, an incredible sounding combo sundae
of ice cream, chocolate chip cookies, cocoa nib crunchies, caramel
sauce and whipped cream, was remarkably blah for something that sounded
like I should have been drowning in chocolaty goodness. Very disappointing.
This aside, I did have a couple nice beers (a Jaipur
English Ale and a River
Horse Lager) and the atmosphere of the joint was lively and fun
and our service was friendly, quick and helpful. I'll admit when I
order incorrectly incorrectly at times, and am willing to cop to the
fact that sometimes my culinary reviews may be marred by poor decision
making on my part. Granted, everything at every establishment I attend
should rock my world, so until next time I'm going to lay this one
directly at the feet of Mr. Baloud. [MF]
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