There's a lot of hype around The Spotted Pig thanks to its chef (April Bloomfield), owners (Ken Friedman and Ms. Bloomfield), investors (Mario Batali and Joseph Bastianich were early ones), and accolades (one star from The New York Times in 2006 and a seemingly brighter star from Michelin in 2005, the first year the European guide rated restaurants in New York). These names, individually and at times in partnership with one another, are responsible for The Breslin Bar and Dining Room (currently in the Ace Hotel), The Rusty Knot (a bar proximate to The Spotted Pig and adjacent to the Hudson River), John Dory (now closed), Otto, Babbo, Lupa, Casa Mono, Del Posto, and Becco - to name but a few of many. The Spotted Pig even made an appearance on NBC's "The Office" when Jim and Karen went to Manhattan for interviews before returning to Scranton for a little more Jim/Pam will-they-won't-they (spoiler alert: they will). However, these are not the reasons I go to The Spotted Pig. I buy into the hype on account of the food.
The menu is organized into Bar Snacks, Plates, Entrees, and Sides. Some of the Bar Snacks are large enough to qualify as appetizers (hi, chicken liver toast. I love you), some of the Plates are large enough to qualify as main courses (I see you, gnudi, with your ricotta dumpling tastiness and brown butter/sage sauce), and some of the Sides can be cobbled together for a hearty vegetarian meal (roasted onions and spiced lentils? Come a little closer). The food is basically English fare with Italian flare.
You'll find deviled eggs, mixed olives, and roll mops (pickled herring with onions and creme fraiche) in the Bar Snacks. Plates include smoked haddock chowder with homemade crackers, fried duck egg with ramps, and a prosciutto/ricotta tart with marjoram. As for Entrees, there's the grilled beef tongue with duck fat potatoes and pickled beets (potentially for the more adventurous eater) and the burger (for everyone else). It's a thick, chargrilled patty with roquefort cheese on a chargrilled bun. It comes with a side of garlic/rosemary shoestring fries, which are insanely addictive, even after you've promised yourself, "Ok, this is my LAST one."
So what I'm saying is, the food's good. So is the booze selection, as this is a pub after all. There are the usual liquor options, an extensive wine list, some unusual beers, and a couple cask ales. These may be enjoyed at your table or at the two bars - one on the main level and one upstairs. Food may also be enjoyed at the bars or by columns when tables are full.
Speaking of those tables, like at other wildly popular Manhattan restaurants that don't take reservations, they're hard to snag during peak hours. If you don't get there early (dinner starts at 5:30pm) or mind stopping in late (the kitchen closes at 2:00am seven nights a week), you can wait at either bar in the meantime, or you may leave your name and number with the host who will call when a table is available. So says their website, at least. I've never attempted that last bit - opting instead to sip a brewsky and stare longingly at occupied seats.
Speaking of those seats, some are merely cushioned windowsills, some are banquettes, and many are low, backless stools. Diners here come in all shapes, sizes, and ages, but I gotta say, those stools don't seem appropriate for everyone. Of course, by "everyone," I basically mean "my mom." I don't know for sure, but I get the feeling most middle-aged people with back problems wouldn't arm-wrestle each other over the privilege to perch on one of these. I do know for sure the idea of my mom arm-wrestling anyone is hilarious. Disclaimer: the restaurant does not encourage arm-wrestling at all, as far as I know.
The proximity of diners is also noteworthy. When the room is full and the bars are packed, patrons are in close quarters. The noise level increases with the crowd, and one becomes privy to unexpected conversations. I now know about the active sex life of a 34 year old hipster and the bowel habits of an overweight divorcee. I suspect he was lying - I fear she was not.
Somehow, the waitstaff handle the chaos in stride. Sure, there are times when you may have to grab someone's attention as he/she bobs and weaves through the tightly pressed crowd, but you ultimately get the sense everything's under control. The specials are announced calmly with notes as to which are personal favorites, the drinks are delivered promptly, and plates are brought and removed efficiently. Even with the crowd looming inches away, you're offered a dessert menu as if to say, "Enjoy your meal to the fullest, pal. We won't turn the table until you're ready, friend."
While we're on desserts, I'm going to take this moment to make a plea. The banoffee. I need it back in my life. It's a slice of banana/toffee/chocolate/fresh cream fantastic, and I'm sad it has been off the menu for quite some time. I've resorted to making it at home. Pig, I'd rather you just do it for me. There, I said it.
Between the atmosphere (unsurprisingly, pig paraphernalia abounds - there's even a hanging model outside in lieu of a sign), the crowd, and the food, it all adds up to an interesting night out. Take your old college buddy. Take your husband. Take your mom - just sit on the stool yourself.
The Spotted Pig - 314 West 11th Street, at the corner of Greenwich Street
The menu is organized into Bar Snacks, Plates, Entrees, and Sides. Some of the Bar Snacks are large enough to qualify as appetizers (hi, chicken liver toast. I love you), some of the Plates are large enough to qualify as main courses (I see you, gnudi, with your ricotta dumpling tastiness and brown butter/sage sauce), and some of the Sides can be cobbled together for a hearty vegetarian meal (roasted onions and spiced lentils? Come a little closer). The food is basically English fare with Italian flare.
You'll find deviled eggs, mixed olives, and roll mops (pickled herring with onions and creme fraiche) in the Bar Snacks. Plates include smoked haddock chowder with homemade crackers, fried duck egg with ramps, and a prosciutto/ricotta tart with marjoram. As for Entrees, there's the grilled beef tongue with duck fat potatoes and pickled beets (potentially for the more adventurous eater) and the burger (for everyone else). It's a thick, chargrilled patty with roquefort cheese on a chargrilled bun. It comes with a side of garlic/rosemary shoestring fries, which are insanely addictive, even after you've promised yourself, "Ok, this is my LAST one."
So what I'm saying is, the food's good. So is the booze selection, as this is a pub after all. There are the usual liquor options, an extensive wine list, some unusual beers, and a couple cask ales. These may be enjoyed at your table or at the two bars - one on the main level and one upstairs. Food may also be enjoyed at the bars or by columns when tables are full.
Speaking of those tables, like at other wildly popular Manhattan restaurants that don't take reservations, they're hard to snag during peak hours. If you don't get there early (dinner starts at 5:30pm) or mind stopping in late (the kitchen closes at 2:00am seven nights a week), you can wait at either bar in the meantime, or you may leave your name and number with the host who will call when a table is available. So says their website, at least. I've never attempted that last bit - opting instead to sip a brewsky and stare longingly at occupied seats.
Speaking of those seats, some are merely cushioned windowsills, some are banquettes, and many are low, backless stools. Diners here come in all shapes, sizes, and ages, but I gotta say, those stools don't seem appropriate for everyone. Of course, by "everyone," I basically mean "my mom." I don't know for sure, but I get the feeling most middle-aged people with back problems wouldn't arm-wrestle each other over the privilege to perch on one of these. I do know for sure the idea of my mom arm-wrestling anyone is hilarious. Disclaimer: the restaurant does not encourage arm-wrestling at all, as far as I know.
The proximity of diners is also noteworthy. When the room is full and the bars are packed, patrons are in close quarters. The noise level increases with the crowd, and one becomes privy to unexpected conversations. I now know about the active sex life of a 34 year old hipster and the bowel habits of an overweight divorcee. I suspect he was lying - I fear she was not.
Somehow, the waitstaff handle the chaos in stride. Sure, there are times when you may have to grab someone's attention as he/she bobs and weaves through the tightly pressed crowd, but you ultimately get the sense everything's under control. The specials are announced calmly with notes as to which are personal favorites, the drinks are delivered promptly, and plates are brought and removed efficiently. Even with the crowd looming inches away, you're offered a dessert menu as if to say, "Enjoy your meal to the fullest, pal. We won't turn the table until you're ready, friend."
While we're on desserts, I'm going to take this moment to make a plea. The banoffee. I need it back in my life. It's a slice of banana/toffee/chocolate/fresh cream fantastic, and I'm sad it has been off the menu for quite some time. I've resorted to making it at home. Pig, I'd rather you just do it for me. There, I said it.
Between the atmosphere (unsurprisingly, pig paraphernalia abounds - there's even a hanging model outside in lieu of a sign), the crowd, and the food, it all adds up to an interesting night out. Take your old college buddy. Take your husband. Take your mom - just sit on the stool yourself.
The Spotted Pig - 314 West 11th Street, at the corner of Greenwich Street
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