A Voce just received a Michelin Star which, in case you were wondering, is a huge deal in the restaurant world. A friend recently said to me, “one day, you will need to explain to me the connection between tires and good food.” I can do no such thing. What I can do is tell you that A Voce turns out some incredible Italian. It’s definitely fine dining, it will definitely hit you hard in the wallet, and it’s definitely full of suits from the New York Life building next door, but no matter – the food coming out of that kitchen is amazing. The vibe is upscale modern, and while we were blown away by the service and the food, the music is atrocious. Smooth jazz permeates the room and makes you suddenly feel like you’re eating ravioli in John Tesh’s living room. Someone needs to sort that out ASAP. We would be happy to make suggestions. Otherwise, A Voce is firing on all cylinders. Our waiter made excellent recommendations and from appetizer to entree, most everything on the menu is phenomenal. We recommend any and all of the homemade pastas, and the roasted trumpet mushroom appetizer is straight-up unbelievable. This is another one of those spots best saved for special occasions, or any time you feel the need to drop some chang on a serious meal.
There are a lot of haters out there these days who claim Nobu sold out by opening a 57th St. Midtown outpost. They say Nobu is old news, that it’s not as good as it once was, that the service isn’t amazing, and that it’s way overpriced. Don’t be fooled people. I say the naysayers are just pissed because they lost their jobs and are poorly channeling their life’s frustrations. Hands down, Nobu is the best upscale Japanese restaurant in New York City, and Immaculate Infatuation will back that statement until another restaurant as ridiculous as Nobu proves otherwise.
Infatuation’s recent trip to the royal fish house reaffirms our belief that Nobu is still the cream of the crop. Now, unless you’re with someone who really understands the menu and can place a proper fish order, the different priced tiers of the omakase (chef’s choice) tasting menu are the way to go. As I’m sure you know, Nobu isn’t cheap, so unless you’re rolling in dough, it’s a place saved for special occasions. Just promise us that when those occasions arise, you make the most of your trip. So, don’t go on the cheap and only order a couple dishes. Rather, go big or go home! Do yourself a favor and experience the full spectrum of what Nobu is all about, because you’re probably not going to be back for a while.
In the music biz, we believe that good music will eventually prevail. If you keep putting out great records, your time in the spotlight will come. Take long time Infatuation favorite Phoenix for example. They spent the better part of the last decade flying under the mainstream radar, releasing perfect indie-pop albums that anyone who actually paid attention to, fell in love with. They finally got what’s been coming to them this past year in the form of a breakout single, “1901” and the Grammy for “Best Alternative Album.” The same philosophy can be applied in the kitchen. When you’re consistently cookin’ up the chronic, you can’t hide for long. Hell, even if you’re illegally preparing the perfect lobster roll and selling them through your mail slot in Brooklyn, someone in this town will get wind of it.
We’ve long considered Yerba Buena home to one of the more criminally underrated menus around. It was one of the first rave reviews we ever posted on this site, and for good reason. The food is tremendous. Famous for their cocktails, YB doesn’t receive the kind of culinary critical love it damn well deserves. Possibly because the original East Village location is slightly out of place – a more upscale, expensive restaurant in an area that caters to the exact opposite. While Yerba Buena EV will remain their less well known flagship, it’s their new West Village spot, Yerba Buena Perry, that’s set to catch fire like Bluth’s Frozen Banana Stand and blow their cover. … read more
Many of us tri-state area Jews have fond memories of summer camp. We’re shipped off into the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania to learn how to fend for ourselves. Being peer pressured into pulling pranks, lighting firecrackers, smoking weed and of course, going on bunk raids to steal all the girls bras and proudly display for the world to see. Indian Head Camp provided me with plenty of firsts, most of which involved an education in the female anatomy. In between over the shirt boobie grabs and quick, awkward saliva exchanges, there was one particular first I’ll never forget. My first exposure to Peter Luger’s steak sauce. That’s right. Luger’s sauce.
One summer, I was assigned a little brother to mentor for what was called “Dream Week”. Turned out, this kid was completely and utterly obsessed with Peter Luger’s and their steak sauce. Most kids roll to camp with a sleeping bag and a couple of fresh packs of Hanes, this fat little 8-year-old came with steak sauce. Tons of it. He had special permission to keep a huge bin under his bed and bring it to the dining hall to dump on whatever was in front of him. Cheerios and Luger’s sauce? Let’s rock. I owe this little dude much gratitude. It’s because of him I came home that summer asking about Peter Luger’s. From that summer on, Peter Luger became a fixture in the Steinthal family rotation.
I have to admit, when I walked up to Scarpetta (which sits on the 14th Street border of the Meatpacking District) late on a Saturday evening, part of me expected to see an H2 limo pull up and let out a gaggle of women having “like the best night ever on Stacey’s 34th birthday!” Luckily, that was not the case. For now, the tasteful and dim lit room is calm and relatively untouched by Meatpacking District sprawl. I say “for now” because rave reviews, proximity to the Gansevoort, and the chill out lounge beats pumping through the speakers will soon draw in Stacey and her wobbly heeled friends. Regardless, Scarpetta fully lives up to all the recent hype. The food is absolutely incredible, and I was blown away by how simple and well executed everything was. Truffles and foie gras make appearances, yet don’t come off the slightest bit heavy handed. I was never a fan of sweetbreads, but Scarpetta might have changed my opinion after having them in the excellent farfalle dish. The spaghetti is just that, spaghetti in tomato sauce with basil – incredibly simple and somehow the star of the menu. I will deduct points for the electronic elevator music, but otherwise Scarpetta is about as good as it gets.
