Devil in the Details - the Heath at the McKittrick Hotel

You could call it an acquired taste, but those who dare enter the McKittrick Hotel have a hard time staying away. Hidden on an industrial stretch of West 27th Street, the “hotel” is best known as the home of Sleep No More, New York’s most talked-about (and most mysterious) immersive theatre experience. But the critically-acclaimed play is only one of the McKittrick’s many talents.

Avid patrons may already be well acquainted with the venue’s rooftop bar, Gallow Green, and live music sessions at the HotBox. But the hotel’s latest venture, a full-service restaurant called “The Heath,” is sure to surprise even the most seasoned of Sleep No More veterans.

Housed inside the eerie, train-themed “Gallow Green Station,” The Heath is helmed by Chef R.L. King, known for his work at Il Buco and Hundred Acres. Inspired by the upper crust nostalgia of the hotel, King’s menu includes such traditional gems as pork pies, a “Yorkshire fry up” and roast cockles. No dish, however, comes without a twist, as the chef raises everyday British comfort food to a level of subtlety that’s entirely unexpected.

At the suggestion of Liam, our white-suited server, I started the night with a Hull Executive. A back-straightening combination of akvavit, gin, vermouth and cocchi bianco, it was a surprisingly smooth white-on-white cocktail—and probably the stiffest drink I have ever enjoyed. My companion opted for a Night Ferry, which Liam called “an introduction to Mezcal.” As smoky as the vapor-laden air, it was laced with the sweetness of summer apricot and a bright twist of citrus peel.

Accompanying our cocktails were Chef King’s “crispy pig crunchies,” a foursome of feather-light cakes whose crust shattered, offering up a rillettes-like filling. We also crunched on a basket of fall vegetable crisps: a more richly colored, spicy and flavorful version of the (already craveable) grocery store Terra Chips.

On a lighter note, we chose the persimmon salad, a pleasantly sweet mix of fruit, shaved fennel and sunflower granola. But as we dug in, we were interrupted by the waitstaff. Delivered on a silver tray, the note (accompanied by a shot) instructed my fellow diner to excuse herself from the table. She slid it to me, suggesting I follow its instructions instead. It’s no fun to indulge the details, but let’s just say that when the McKittrick delivers a message, it’s specific to the recipient. To learn the darker secrets of this hotel, you have to play by the rules.

Back at the table, we moved to the seafood side of the menu: a grilled porgy special and indulgent fisherman’s pie. The whole porgy was a gorgeous, flaky fish, layered with an eclectic mix of Mediterranean flavors. From crunchy parsley and al dente grains, to creamy yogurt and pickled mushrooms, it was one of the more intriguing dishes I’ve encountered of late.

The fisherman’s pie, however, was a masterpiece. Topped with mashed potatoes that tasted like a crusty buttermilk biscuit, it was chock-full of richly flavored fish. I challenge anyone to eat it without uttering audible praise.

Our last round of savory dishes featured the roast cockles and crab and farmer’s cross pork chop. Served in a spicy tomato broth with shredded crab and nubs of chorizo, the cockles were a refreshing take on the genre of warming winter dishes. But those who appreciate the flavor of char should consider the pork chop, if only for a taste of the blackened seasonal squash.

As a sultry vocalist joined the jazz quintet on stage, we indulged in Liam’s dessert suggestions. First up, chocolate mousse: a creamy, crunchy, grown-up version of “dirt pie” (happily, without the requisite gummy worms). Equally satisfying was the custardy bread pudding, presented like a slice of French toast and topped with an addictive, spicy black pepper caramel.

Swirling the last sips of my buttery pinot gris, I couldn’t help but be in awe of what we had eaten at the Heath. A venue like this doesn’t need award-worthy food. Stiff drinks, eye-catching ambiance and some of the best entertainment in town would be enough to keep any restaurant on its feet. But mediocre isn’t in the McKittrick’s vocabulary. The seduction—and success—is all in the details.

Delicious Detox—Nourish Kitchen + Table

Photos by Lauren DeFilippo

The most fit and happy cooks will tell you their secret is simply to make healthy meals taste as good—or better—than their favorite indulgences. But for those of us who are intimidated by cooking at home, getting off to the right start can be a struggle. Cue Nourish Kitchen + Table in New York City’s West Village.

Weekender Entree Salad

The shop grew out of nutritionist Marissa Lippert’s work with her clients; she saw the need for a healthy takeaway shop that provides the “comfort of a kitchen away from home.” Nourish has expanded that mission to include a few eat-in tables with views into an open kitchen, offering the friendly calm one hopes for (but too seldom finds) in the city’s many coffee shops.

On the subject of caffeine, Nourish offers top-notch Counter Culture coffee and Harney & Sons teas, but serious detoxers will appreciate Lippert’s custom line of juices and smoothies. Among them, a green juice for the vegetable juice-averse, spruced up with a bright splash of grapefruit, pineapple and the mild heat of jalapeno.

Detox Salad and Frittata

But the drinks are only a drop in Nourish’s nutritional bucket. From the savory side of the menu, we sampled a raw kale “detox salad”. With exotic flavors and diverse texture (sesame oil, ginger, garlic, soy sauce, almonds, pear and watermelon radish), this is far from your average health food. A second “weekender entree” salad—chock-full with crispy duck confit, dried cherries, sunflower seeds, sliced radish, tarragon, parsley, scallion and candied orange peel—offered similar complexity, growing more exciting with each bite.

Black Quinoa Salad, Roasted Chicken and Sunchokes

In short, the deprivation most people associate with “detoxing” is the antithesis of Nourish Kitchen’s mission. The menu tends toward Middle Eastern flavors, similar to the style of celebrated Israel-born chef, Yotam Ottolenghi. Though the dishes change with the quality and seasonality of local produce (as well as Marissa’s creativity), each plate consistently includes bright and bold flavors. For example, the shop always offers a roasted chicken recipe (when we visited, lacquered with date syrup and spices). Its sticky, caramelized glaze paired perfectly with roasted sunchokes and a black quinoa salad with walnuts, sundried tomatoes, parsley and edamame. It was a sweet, earthy feast that both top chefs and personal trainers would enjoy.

The menu doesn’t stop at satisfying dinners. For brunch, a rotating cast of veggies fill a fluffy frittata—the ideal way to refuel after an intense morning workout (or a long night out). And for those with a sweet tooth, you can’t miss “Bebe’s coconut macaroons”, snowballs of shaved coconut with a crispy crust and moist, sticky interior (naked or dipped in dark chocolate).

Bebe’s Macaroons and Sweet Potato Bundt Cake

Among the other sweets we sampled: “Persian” wedding cookies and a sweet potato bundt cake. Light and crumbly, the former are inspired by traditional mexican wedding cookies, with the middle eastern twist of pistachio and rosewater. The bundt was dense, moist, laced with chocolate shavings and topped with a subtle orange glaze. It was the kind of cake that literally melts in your mouth, but had a grounded sweetness that wouldn’t prompt a sugar spike.

If dessert doesn’t get your heart racing, the small, expertly curated shelves of aspirational kitchenware will easily seduce you. Stocked with exceptional everyday objects—from cookbooks, to design-driven dishware and even Lior Lev Sercarz’s celebrated spice blends—it’s the ideal place to pick up a special gift for friends.

In short, there’s a lot going on in Nourish’s small space, and the brand’s ambitions continue to grow. Lippert has already launched a catering division and has future plans for an online boutique. Yet no matter the number of moving parts, her end result is wholly coherent: diverse dishes that play extraordinarily well together and an eccentric, but clean design aesthetic.

Of all the shop’s assets, none surpass the rare experience of raving about plates that are as energizing as they are exceptional—digging in, not with guilt, but with good intentions. In that sense, Nourish Kitchen + Table couldn’t be more aptly named. For your eyes, mouth, mind, body—and soul—it is a deeply satisfying experience. So don’t just come for the takeout. Stay a while, and indulge in the rewards of your resolutions.

Surpassing the Seven Fishes—Franny's, Brooklyn

Photos by Lauren DeFilippo

Every Christmas Eve, Italian-American families across the country gather for the "feast of the seven fishes". This elaborate pescatarian meal is my favorite holiday tradition, so when I was invited to attend an upscale interpretation of the feast at Franny's in Brooklyn, I was more than a little intrigued.

The event was a part of Franny's "Cellar Series", launched in the fall of 2013 and hosted in the restaurant's intimate private event space. We tucked into the candle-lit, communal table and exchanged introductions with a charismatic crew of actors, musicians and even relatives of the Franny's clan, clinking glasses with a palate-cleansing cocktail of anisette, lemon and vodka. We were welcomed by our host for the evening, General Manager Luca Pasquinelli, who led us not only through the lavish multi-course menu, but also the exceptional—and unusual—selection of wines.

Served family style, the first course of antipasti was a seafood salad of shrimp, whelks and scallops with giardinera (pickled vegetables). Almost like an Italian ceviche, the mix of crunchy pickles and tender fish was a refreshing entry into the meal. Equally impressive was the presentation, a wreath of seashells surrounding each plate—a subtle reminder to be grateful for our lavish meal's origins. 

From there, the appetizers flowed, raising this often rustic feast to a level of exceptional elegance. Fried eel came not greasy and heavy, but feather-light, flaky and less gamey than one would expect. On the opposite end of the spectrum, the cobia crudo was mild, firm and slightly-sweet—beautifully complemented with a simple dressing of benza extra virgin olive oil and crunchy flakes of salt. Buttery breadcrumbs with parsley and garlic topped meaty razor clams and—richer yet—swordfish meatballs were served in a sauce of their own liquor, lightened with a touch of lemon and white wine.

But surpassing all expectations was the polpettone di tonno, creamy molded cakes of tuna that could convert even the most adamant opponents of the famously canned fish. Like a pescatarian foie gras, this jewel of a dish surpassed celebratory; for a fish lover, it bordered on a spiritual experience.

The meal continued to ascend from there. Following the tuna was a deeply pigmented squid ink pasta, cut into a chittara shape (imagine a denser, square spaghetti), laced with a sea urchin sauce. The texture of the pasta was enviable—al dente, but with a chew that clung to your teeth like the crust of good bread. The urchin brought a complex sweetness and element of umami to the dish, marrying beautifully with the earthy, briny ink. It was a combination of flavors that might cripple all but the most talented sommeliers, but Franny's team expertly chose a pine'y, smokey Fiano di Avellino. Its flavor was as concentrated as that of a dessert wine, but without the sweetness, leaving—after several sips—a satisfying sensation akin to a stinky parmesan cheese.

A rich, red shrimp and tomato stock came next, dressing mussels, shrimp and calamari in its fragrant soup. This was paired with the most unusual and rare of the wines that evening: a Suscaru 5 from Sicily. Its cloudy color reminded me of cold sake, with the tint of a deeply red rosé. Tart and almost vinegary, it brightened the flavors of the soup (as would a squeeze of lemon). As Pasquinelli explained, Suscaru is made in only the smallest quantities, due to winemaker's rustic methods—an exceptional treat for any diner.

For the final savory course, the presentation was more "old country", featuring a polenta and salt fish gratin. More briny than salty, this lighter take on what could easily be overly hearty fare was still rich with flavor. The dish underscored the underlying message of every plate that came before—that quality ingredients are king. Even a simple side of bitter puntarelle (a long, thin chicory with curled fronds), pan-fried with anchovy and oil, was an unexpectedly addictive dish.

Last but not least, a pile of temptation: airy zeppole (squiggles of fried dough) with honey, cinnamon and sugar. Paired with a maple syrup-like Marsala from Sicily, it was a perfectly sweet finish to a truly outstanding meal.

As we reminisced about our favorite dishes, I was as filled with a sense of gratitude as I was impressed with the quality of our meal. There are few restaurants that can so convincingly pull off a communal table supper, asking diners to share course after course of enticing plates. It was a nod to the celebration's humble origins (in the fishing villages of the Southern Italian coast) and to the seemingly endless bounty of Italian hospitality. And yet, each plate was more than a nostalgic reflection of the past. This feast of the—not seven, but twelve—fishes did more than reinterpret traditional dishes; it elevated the satisfying "simplicity" of Italian cuisine, showcasing exceptional sourcing of ingredients and craft.