June 24, 2009 |
Short Order
I know I’m in the right place when I see Anna Wintour at the next table
Eight o'clock on a summer Tuesday at The Standard Grill's bar. Photo Steven Richter
What I find so endearing and yet so annoying about New York is how quickly a who’s who of la crème de la yogurt finds its way to the week’s sizzling new entry on evening one if not before. Tonight it’s The Standard Grill in André Balazs’ new Meat Market hotel on stilts Tuesday, open to the public at last. Day 2, the reservationist on the phone offers me 6:30 or 9:45. Perhaps they’re booking light to ease the kitchen’s debut I think. Not wanting to disappoint my neophilic friends, I decide we will present ourselves to the gods of the reception podium at 8 and hope there’s a table. Well, of course there is, maybe not the cushy, leather-tufted booth reserved for Anna but just across the way, but definitely orchestra seating.
Outside sidewalk tables are full of the usual early responders sipping cocktails organized on the drink list under East Side/West Side. Inside: gorgeous room, gleaming white tiled arches just like Gustavino’s at Grand Central, smashing copper hood cutting light from the open kitchen. Snappy dish towel-checked tablecloths can’t possibly absorb the sound of so much self-satisfaction. Noise vibrates but amazingly, we can talk. Attentive service, properly coached: at opening ambitious restaurants seem to be over-staffed. Too soon to decide about the kitchen: smallish portions, moderate prices. Happy to report the burger is first-rate tonight (though not the fries), ditto the lamb chops. Crisped and creamy polenta cake piled alongside is winning too.
“Look,” I say to my seatmate. “Anna is eating green beans.”
“Anna is eating haricots verts,” my friend corrects me.
More soon.
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