 What to eat in the
city that never sleeps? S.M. King looks
for the answer.
In New York City,
everyone is a foodie.
Your best laid dining plans, meticulously Googled before
departure, will be dashed with a phrase you’ll hear almost daily: “You don’t
want to go there.”
Ask a local about that particular BBQ joint that garnered
rave reviews, and for all purposes seems the
place to go, and you’ll be felled.
“It’s okay,” says the unsmiling native. Then the gushing
begins.
“If you really want good BBQ, you have to go to Hill
Country. You probably won’t get a reservation, but really, it’s not worth going
anywhere else. Ashton took Demi and the kids there after he hosted Saturday Night Live. He ordered the baby
back ribs. And, you know, nobody
blinked. Try the ribs. Ashton ordered them. But you won’t get in. It’s great.”
New Yorkers are not shy with superlatives when it comes to
food. Nor are they coy when calculating your slim chances of actually getting
to taste it. They echo the boast of the city itself: I’m hot, and you can’t
have me.
Currently, the city’s biggest flirt is Ye Waverley Inn.
NYC fixture and Vanity
Fair editor-in-chief Graydon Carter ‘manages’ this West Village
supernova. Which is to say, he ambles about oozing charm and asking his patrons
(Anne Hathaway, Kanye West, Augusten Burroughs) if they’re enjoying their $55
macaroni and cheese. (It comes with truffles, darling.)
But it’s not only those A-List alcoves that inspire high
passions. The best burger, the best soul food, the best Jewish deli are all a matter of intense personal and
subjective debate.
The pinnacle of such dispute is pizza. Everyone you ask has
a favourite, and you’ll rarely get the same answer twice.
Gael Greene, eminent New York
magazine restaurant reviewer for almost forty years, steers me toward Fiore in Brooklyn. A local musician frowns at the suggestion and
states that Lombardi’s on Spring Street in Soho
never fails. I try both and would, quite honestly, happily live next door to
either.
There are institutions about which most New Yorkers approve.
21 Club in midtown is such a place.
It’s not what it used to be, the native will tell you, but
you should go for the experience.
This former prohibition-era speakeasy is legendary for its
celebrity endorsement. It’s said that every US
President since Roosevelt has dined here, and
luminaries such as Grace Kelly, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Mae West and Judy Garland had
their favourite tables at the ready.
The menu is divided into ‘21’ Classics and more contemporary
items. Partner and I decided to dispense with the modern and dive straight into
fare that could be reasonably described as Über Country Club. Partner swallowed
whole a jumbo shrimp cocktail with classic spicy tomato and horseradish sauce. Partner
follows this with steak tartare and makes predictable crack about this being
the Best Hit of Protein North of Fourteenth Street, wink wink. I pretend not to
hear and tuck into steak Diane served with the smoothest potato mash I’ve ever
encountered.
A bottle of Prado Enea Gran Reserva 1998 Muga Rioja
complements both dishes nicely. No local would frown upon this dining
experience. Surely.
Of course, I’ve 48 hours left in this great city. Someone is sure to trample on my fancy.
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