The Ambitions of Cucina & Co.
Serious fans of osso buco may be shocked to learn that one of the greats is waiting to be discovered. Yes, tender and juicy, confetti’d with the classic garlic-lemon-peel-parsley gremolata, on a truly complex sauce. Virtually unloved as the hungry stream by. Not that the teeming 200,000 who pass through the Pan Am building daily have failed to stumble upon Restaurant Associates’ elegant new carryout-cum-café -- Cucina & Co.
A line trails out into the lobby from eleven-thirty on most every day to pick up towering wedges of sandwiches, good-looking salads, and pastas baked in giant metal sheet pans. Youthful clerks in the old-fashioned butcher’s aprons and caps hawk the stew of the day (today it’s chicken tajine, moist and fragrant, with cous-cous), cheerfully restock the half-a-sandwich-and-a-salad-to-go, already in their plastic bubbles, the pastries in ribbon-tied cellophane, explaining, directing traffic past the old-time flour bin where morning’s muffins wait.
All the sandwiches are good if not spectacular, most of them smeared with a paste of basil, olive, cilantro, and garlic for extra kick: the aristocratic club -- smoked turkey, avocado, tomato, and thick, sweet, crisp bacon on serious seven-grain bread. Plump muffaletta of meats, cheese, and marinated vegetables on a sesame bun. Tuna niçoise stuffed into a small peasant loaf. Fragrant grilled vegetables and goat cheese on onion baguette. Focaccia split and stuffed with ratatouille or prosciutto, arugula, and fontina. Only the burger is weak, not as rare as ordered and a bit compressed, but the shoestring fries are first-rate.
But the glorious osso bucco is available only at night.
There are just 50 tables, and a small and perky hostess flies and seating folks. Everything -- tiles hind-painted with grapes and vines, handmade bricks, the antique stove that forms a counter -- was shipped from Florence, and it looks as if someone raided a country flea market for the nostalgic antique kitchen- and tableware you must resist cramming into your briefcase.
What ambition and sophisticated airs. Eli’s bread. The custom-baked focaccia. The superior zarzuela, a savory fish soup with perfectly cooked scallops, amazing mussels, good enough clams, slightly too cooked fish, and a pair of croutons painted with aïoli. This is not exactly the neighborhood vinylette.
It’s hard to believe the deft hand that fashioned the lemony chicken salad and the carefully cooked fritto misto could have created such a pedestrian toss of greens, or the imposter posing as Caesar salad (cucumber? Please). The calamari could be crisper and seasoned more creatively, too. Pastas baked ahead tend to be rich, even gluey, oozing cheese and -- once -- wildly salty. But there is the crème brulée. Sirio would be impressed. Lemon tart and rich chocolate-truffle torte are lovely, too.
Sip wine by the glass ($2.95 to $3.50) or carafe ($11.50 and $14.50), or intense espresso. One or two of the serving crew in green pin-striped Italian tunics seem freshly hatched, spacey, or innocent (ours describes a special as “veal of sausage”), but sweetness is the theme.
With lowered lights, votive candles, and giant platters -- including dessert, just $16.95 to $1995 to feed two -- Cucina hopes to entice the daytime population to linger for dinner. That’s when the extraordinary osso bucco hits the fire. R.A. powers long to make you think of Cuncina as a pretheater stop. It’s just a brisk walk across town to Times Square, perfect to wake you up before the show. But in winter? Perhaps they should hire a jitney.
In the lobby of the PanAm Building (now the MetLife Building), Park Avenue at 45th Street.
There is also a Cucina & Co at 30 Rockefeller Center on the concourse.