Eat Here Now

When I started working at a new office in Midtown East a while back (riiiiiiight around the time posts became few and far between 'round these here blog parts), I was pumped to explore lunch options and immediately bummed by the search results.  I could either dine at restaurants requiring more time and money than I had to spare, or I could hustle through proportionately over-priced grab-and-go eateries.  But, refrigerated pre-made sandwiches?  Greasy soups that all somehow taste like chicken tinged with indeterminate seafood?  Non, merci.  Dejected, I one day ambled on side streets and avenues until I saw an awning with the words "Eat Here Now."  With no better prospect on the horizon, I figured, "Ok, awning.  If you say so."

Best awning advice I ever followed, because Eat Here Now turned out to be a reasonably priced coffee shop that gets you in and out quickly and with a smile.  Now, you might be thinking, "Fo'real?  We're talking about a tiny diner?  Lataaa," but pal, you need to kick off your shoes and relax - unless you are reading this in public, in which case, relax, but keep your shoes on.  You're not an animal.

The room is a no-frills coffee shop, and the menu is pages upon pages of straightforward (satisfying) American, Italian, and Mediterranean fare.  The real draw, however, is the people who work here.  

My first visit, I was welcomed warmly and directed to a seat.  I ordered an egg and cheese on a toasted plain bagel with decaf coffee.  The order arrived quickly, and I ate it along with the pickles that also arrived on the plate.  My second visit, I was welcomed warmly and directed to a seat.  I ordered an egg and cheese on a toasted plain bagel with decaf coffee - turns out, I am a creature of habit.  The order arrived quickly, and I ate it along with the pickles that also arrived on the plate.  My third visit, I was welcomed warmly, directed to a seat and asked, "The usual?"  In a city of so many people, in a bustling restaurant that sees crowds of locals and tourists alike, I was remembered, and I was impressed.  The order arrived quickly - this time with extra pickles.  

I have been back countless times, often alone, sometimes with friends, and a handful of lunches with my dad.  We have all been treated with kindness and consideration.  Following my dad's first visit, several people asked me to send him their regards; upon learning what I do for work, the owner put me in contact with another customer in the same field; the whole room sang "Happy Birthday" last May when a waitress noticed me putting a card in my bag.

The best part, however, is that they are this friendly to everyone.  A gentleman took a seat at the counter one day and was greeted with a flurry of "Hello, doctor" and "Good to see you, doctor."  An elderly man once asked to sit in a particular section, and the owner playfully teased that he had a crush on the much younger waitress who in turn played along by flirting.  These are small moments, but they make a big impact.

So head to Eat Here Now after a draining shopping excursion at nearby Bloomingdale's, to kick off your morning before a brisk walk through Central Park, or to escape the elements on a rainy day.  You will likely be given a plastic bag for your wet umbrella and quickly asked if you would like a hot beverage.  They're good like that.

Eat Here Now - 839 Lexington Avenue, at East 64th Street

Elias Corner

Remember when I told you about Estiatorio Milos? The upscale Greek seafood restaurant in Manhattan that serves quality fish in a beautiful space at redonk prices? Well, swap "upscale" for "casual," "Manhattan" for "Astoria," "beautiful" for "basic," and "redonk" for "not all that redonk," and now you have Elias Corner. Ta da!

Located at the corner of 31st Street and 24th Avenue, the restaurant's address might sound familiar to anyone who has been to Astoria's Bohemian Hall & Beer Garden across the street - a great spot for entirely different, boozey, sloppy reasons. What makes Elias Corner worth the trip is the fantastic food, sure, but also the experience.

For starters, the restaurant is only open for dinner, and it does not accept reservations. Diners therefore start lining up early (the restaurant opens at 3:30pm on Sunday and 4:00pm Monday through Saturday), and they check out the fresh selections of the day in the glass display case up front. This is a most crucial step, because once seated at the table, there are no menus to peruse. The gruff waitstaff will rattle off options if you're completely clueless, but dishes to know before you go include the green salad (chopped romaine, feta, dill, scallions, and olive oil), Greek salad (large segments of tomato, feta, and cucumber), char grilled octopus, lobster, grilled zucchini, fried potatoes, and fish fish fish from red snapper to sea bass to St Peter's, served simply grilled with olive oil, herbs, and a squeeze of lemon if desired. Wine and beer are available, though hard liquor is not, and it is questionable as to whether or not they even serve dessert, as I have always been too full to care.

Chattering families and small groups treating dinner as the night's main event enjoy their meals either indoors or on the back deck when the weather is warm. An additional side room is also on the premises, but it is often closed and most likely used for private events. The tables in use are therefore turned rather quickly, but this thankfully means your meal is served without delay once you've finally been rewarded a seat for your patience. The energy of the space is frenetic, what with harried waitresses running platters to closely situated tables and the staff's tendency to bang through the door separating the indoor section from the back, but that's all part of the charm. If, however, this reads like a headache to you, it is best you stay home, Sir Grouch of Curmudgeon Estates.

One last noteworthy point: Elias Corner is a cash-only establishment. I know, I know, but are you really surprised? No menus and no credit cards but a lively and delicious meal. Doesn't sound like a bad trade off to me...and everyone else clamoring for a table.

Elias Corner - 24-02 31st Street at the corner of 24th Avenue in Astoria, Queens

il Buco

Il Buco is an Italian/Mediterranean restaurant in NoHo, and it is the epitome of the adjectives so often used to describe places to which people want to return - cozy, rustic, and charming. Illuminated by candlelight and inventive chandeliers, chock full of worn wood, and decorated with hanging copper pots and stacked bottles of wine, the restaurant is a warm haven on a bitterly cold night and an equally enticing establishment on a sweltering summer's evening. You should feel free to swing by on more temperate spring and autumn days too, as it doesn't take extreme weather to enjoy the restaurant's ambiance and more-than-decent food. I promise.

Initially opened as an antique shop in 1994, the space evolved into an enoteca and then a full-fledged restaurant garnering attention from noted food critics and publications. What's important, however, is not the praise of the public and self-proclaimed "foodies" (um, does that word make anyone else cringe?) but that you like it. I mean, I do, so you should too. Right? Sure!

The appetizers (including imported olives in wild fennel flowers and fresh rosemary, a selection of cured meats, and a fried duck egg with salted cod, capers, and truffles) are tapas-style and intended to be shared. Of course, you don't have to go halfsies on your cauliflower and gorgonzola croquettes, but how will you finagle a taste of your friend's Hawaiian king prawns in Trapanese coarse sea salt if you don't give up at least one bite?

Pasta and risotto dishes are hearty and may include pappardelle with chanterelles, fava beans, hyssop, and parmesan or gnocchi with peas, housemade pancetta, mint, and ricotta salata. Entrees cover fish (poached halibut with baby carrots, artichokes, garlic scapes, turnips, and meyer lemon aioli), chicken (Milanese style with a twist), pork (slow-roasted), and beef (grilled ribeye with pan-fried potatoes, spicy marmalade, and cayuga blue cheese).

However, il Buco's menu changes from time to time on account of market availability and freshness. The restaurant's website indicates the chef and owners take pride in acquiring their meat and poultry from local farms, using produce grown from sustainable farming practices, and purifying their water via a Dual-Flow water carbon filtration system. So if the bison carpaccio isn't an option on the day you stop by, rest assured something environmentally conscious and satisfying should show up in its stead.

Il Buco is open for lunch and dinner and accepts walk-ins, though you'll want to make a reservation when you can. They also accommodate private events thanks to a 20-seat wine cellar, a 20-seat chef's table facing the open kitchen, and the willingness to make the entire 70-seat main dining area available to your guests. Please note, parties of 14 or more may be asked to partake in a price-fixed menu.

As for that wine cellar, it features recessed alcoves, is lined with approximately 200 wine bottles from floor to ceiling, and is lit by sconces on its brick walls. Additionally, like every interesting New York establishment, it is equipped with its very own legend; it was apparently the inspiration for Edgar Allen Poe's story, "The Cask of Amontillado." Now, the eerie tale imbued me with a sense of claustrophobia when I first read it many moons ago, but I would still attend a dinner party in the room that served as inspiration - as long as I make sure to stay soberly alert and to keep bricks and mortar away from my nemesis.

Head over to il Buco with your immediate family for your brother's birthday, with that girl who's way too young for you yet seems so mature on account of her European upbringing, or with an extended group of friends for that one buddy's going-away party. There's a good chance you'll leave thinking, "I liked that place. It was cozy, rustic, and charming."

il Buco - 47 Bond Street, between Bowery & Lafayette Streets

Alta

To call Alta a tapas restaurant is somewhat of a misnomer. The food portions are small, but the selection is not Spanish. However, if someone were to ask what type of restaurant it is, "tapas" would be a more succinct answer than "an establishment offering small plates of Mediterranean dishes, which are unconventional in their composition, yet which encompass a flavor profile particular to that part of the world." Not only is the truth unwieldy, it sounds obnoxious.

Even the decor is and is not Spanish. Whereas the color scheme (saffron yellow and terracotta red) screams Espana, the stone fireplace in the main dining room and solid wood beams bordering the mezzanine whisper Swiss ski chalet. Wait. Mezzanine? Say what? Ok, let's back up.

Alta is located in a townhouse in the West Village. The entrance is steps down from the sidewalk, making wheelchair access a tricky business. Just inside, extending quite a ways back to the host/hostess station, is the wood bar lined with many leather-cushioned stools. Beyond this is the beginnings of the main dining room, the rest of which is up three stairs illuminated by lanterns resting on each. Up many more stairs to the left is that mezzanine. It is U-shaped, shares the same floor as the kitchen, and overlooks both the dining area on the main level and the metal chandelier hanging from a chain from the ceiling. Rumor has it a private table is accessible via the kitchen. In all my visits, however, I have never been seated here. Word on the street (or more accurately, Alta's website) is that private parties may be held in two adjoining rooms overlooking West 10th Street. These rooms are a mystery to me as well. I trust they are as warmly lit as the rest of the restaurant and outfitted with the same sturdy wood tables.

So the menu. It is extensive. It waivers between ordinary (marcona almonds) and unexpectedly delicious (brussel sprouts with apple, creme fraiche, and pistachio pesto). Whereas tuna tartare is available at plenty of restaurants (ordinary), Alta's incorporates hearts of palm and macadamia nuts (unexpectedly delicious). Many of the dishes contain Mediterranean elements (lamb meatballs) without being traditional (said meatballs are paired with a butternut squash foam). With approximately forty five dishes covering poultry, four-legged beasts, seafood, vegetables, pasta, cheese, and grains, there should be something for everyone. For $420, your table can even order "the whole shebang," which, as you may have guessed, clever reader, is the entire menu. This bold move is for the truly indecisive and exceptionally hungry.

My recommendations for Alta include:

1. Making reservations - It is a busy place, and you'll want to guarantee a table.
2. Bringing cash or American Express - That is all they accept.
3. Ordering the Philadelphia Truffle Surprise - It sounds like an unappetizing concoction involving phyllo dough, cream cheese, and truffle oil, but it has been a crowd pleaser every time.

So go with that guy who doesn't like to venture above 14th Street, that girl who tends to graze off your plate anyway, or that one friend who keeps saying, "We should dress up next time we go out!" Jeans certainly fly at Alta, as the dress code is casual, but that buddy shouldn't feel out of place by sprucing it up a bit either - just like at any other establishment offering small plates of Mediterranean dishes, which are unconventional in their composition, yet which encompass a flavor profile particular to that part of the world.

Alta - 64 West 10th Street, between 5th and 6th Avenues

Estiatorio Milos

I only go to Estiatorio Milos when someone else is picking up the check. The room is lovely, the food is fresh, but the prices are outrageous. Truly truly truly outrageous, in the words of eighties cartoon Jem.

Milos (Restaurant, you don't mind if I call you that, right?) is an upscale Mediterranean/Greek establishment in Midtown, specializing in seafood. Meat and vegetables make appearances on the menu as well, but at least one person at the table should try the fish...or the scallops...or the lobster...even if it costs a bazillion dollars. Most is prepared simply - charcoal grilled with olive oil and a squeeze of lemon - but that's the beauty of Milos. In a clean, white room evocative of the Mediterranean seaside, you want to taste the clean, fresh fish. Covering it in a sauce (though potentially tasty) would obscure the flavors of the sea, and it seems that's not what Milos is aiming to do.

Most of the seafood is priced and offered by the pound. If I remember correctly, some have a poundage minimum, so it helps if someone else at the table is eying the same variety to share. If you would rather your dish be cooked in sea salt with olive oil and a lemon sauce (rather than charcoal grilled), there is a 3 pound whole fish minimum and a $15 supplement per order.

One non-fish dish I must mention is the "Milos Special." It's an appetizer of thinly sliced zucchini, eggplant, and saganaki cheese that have been ever-so-lightly fried so that they almost take on the consistency of chips. In this most swanky version of chips and dip, the dip is a yogurty/tzatziki situation, and it. is. delightful. At $28.75 an order, it better be.

So where are we eating all of this? In a lovely space on West 55th Street proximate to Carnegie Hall (two blocks north) and the MoMA (two blocks south). It is a large room divided into two main sections by back to back banquettes and a sheer white curtain draping down from the ceiling. To the left of the entrance and the divider is the stone bar, some tables, a kiosk of sorts with busy chefs preparing that which requires preparation, and a lofted private dining room up a flight of stairs. This private room is comprised of two walls dedicated to wine racks and two glass walls through which you can see the rest of the restaurant, and the rest of the restaurant can see you.

To the right of the divider is the main dining room. Here you'll find the majority of the tables, the open kitchen, the bountiful display of whole fish on ice (from which you may choose and indicate to your waiter the exact one you care to have for your meal), and another private dining room up another flight of stairs. This private room, like the one on the other side of the restaurant, is partially glass enclosed, but translucent curtains may be drawn. Whereas this private room can accommodate several small tables, the other may only house one.

The restaurant is decorated in muted tones - mainly white, beige, and gray. The floors are both hardwood and stone, and dramatic elements include large open umbrellas over a select few tables, over-sized stone jugs, and columns reminiscent of ruins.

Estiatorio Milos is a great choice for an upscale seafood restaurant if you know what you're getting into regarding the prices. They do what they do well, but if you're not prepared for the wallet whomping, the shock may make you regurgitate your meal all over yourself. That would be quite the expensive mishap. and disgusting.

Estiatorio Milos - 125 West 55th Street, between 6th & 7th Avenues