Culinaria
Tall, slim windows throw an unexpected golden glow onto 40th St. We blink a few times and stare at the posted paper menu; yes, this is a bona fide Italian restaurant on dingy 40th, just west of 7th Ave. We're chilly and windblown outside, but peering through the windows, we can see that there are people inside at the bar who look very comfy. We want to be one of them.
Twenty- and thirtysomething after-workers fill the barstools; one very pinkly pashmina-ed. A quiet, cozy vibe on a Wednesday night. Pipes of green light line still partially unfilled shelves above the long bar. The front barroom is airy and inviting, with big pictures, bouquets and linened tables.
The dining room in the rear is low-ceilinged, with round-backed chairs, spare banquettes (that could be cushier) and stark decor punctuated by a few stalks of red winterberries. It's stylish and attractive, yet there is a coldness to the room; had I majored in design I might be able to tell you why. (As it is, if you need proof that rational numbers are dense, then I'm your girl. When I was looking at colleges, my mother told me I should go to Cornell because they had an ag school, and I could double major in home ec and communications. She had this idea that, even though it hadn't been done, someone who was attractive and personable and liked crafts and cooking could do a network television show or perhaps a publication dealing with Living. But I was 16, so I knew that was a really stupid idea.) However, the room might exude more warmth when it is filled with more diners; we have one of only two occupied tables tonight. Also detracting is truly awful Christmas music. "Is that Whitney or Mariah?" Who can tell?
We chose from a provisional menu; Culinaria officially opens mid-January, with an updated one. They have three beers, including Rolling Rock and Molson ($6), and will add seven more soon. A glass of garnet Tuscan Toscolo Chianti ($7), woody, mellow and syrupy, proves versatile. A basket holds crusty and light slices of bread to be dipped in the greenest of olive oils. An amuse of creamy imported buffalo mozzarella, set off by droplets of intense sweet-and-thick balsamic over crisp baby greens, shows off and signals high-quality ingredients to come. A footed tray of hors d'oeuvres offers toasts laden with piped white-truffle goat cheese or peppery chicken pate that tastes like Mom's chicken salad pureed.
Our heavily accented (Swiss?) waiter tells us of the special entree. I can make out the word "chanterelle." I make him repeat himself thrice. He thinks I am a bit slow. I finally understand it's a risotto. "Mushrooms and rice," I translate for my date. The soup of the day is tomato ($8); it's enriched with Gruyere and an artful drizzling of more of that fragrant emerald olive oil. The soup is so rich and creamy I must push my spoon into it. It tastes of cherry tomatoes roasted down to their essence. I now realize that the chef who walked by us to get a bottle of water from the bar is a decoy. I'm certain there's an Italian grandma back in the kitchen, intent on fattening us up and getting us to eat our vegetables in the process.
An appetizer called Capesante Ripiene ($12.50) translates to stuffed scallops. Three of them sit over mache and a reduced brown sauce and are composed of dollops of forest-green spinach mousse and tender, buttery mushrooms. Octopus and lobster carpaccios are more challenging appetizer options. A house salad goes for $7. The waiter is concerned that I couldn't make more of a dent in the soup. It seems the spirit of Grandma is present in the front of the house as well.
Pasta portions are first-course-sized. Langostino and goat cheese ravioli ($17) comes with fragrant white wine sauce spooned over at table; its aroma wafts up to your nostrils to greet you and pull you in. "This dish always makes me hungry. It's no good for me," confesses the waiter as he ladles. The sauce tastes as good as it smells, but the seafood filling is dry as spackle in the mouth. The ravioli wrappers are perfect; it seems impossible that a material this pliant, delicate, yet firm could be made from wheat and water. Tender meat in the shell rests atop the pasta bundles. Spaghetti with clams and a spinach ravioli are alternate first courses.
An entree of Mattonella di Salmone ($20) is a big brick of salmon cooked exactly to order. The top is deliciously spiced and saltily blackened. The coral slab is surrounded by a generous colorful melange of aromatic roasted winter vegetables including carrots, okra, pattypan squash and mellowed cloves of elephant garlic. My date tells the waiter it's excellent. The menu's offering of slow-roasted suckling pig with spinach, pine nuts and raisins is perhaps a choice for next time. Diverse entrees of meats and fishes range between $20 and $30.
On my return from the elegant washroom I find my napkin has been refolded. Rich dark coffee ($2) comes. "Is that a cup or a bowl?" I manage to drink all of it. "You and your coffee." The buser is more understanding and brings me the pot. Our dessert of Chestnut Vellutata ($9) is a frothy, cool soup with lush little chunks of marron glace (syrup-preserved chestnuts) hidden beneath. In the center a scoop of dark chocolate gelato rises above the foam. The accompanying buckwheat crepe indicated on the menu is MIA, but no matter. A freebie of mini-panna cotta with mandarin orange sauce is perfectly smooth and firm and not too sweet. Pastry chef Rebecca Massen's other tempters include something called Colante al Cioccolato with pistachio gelato, and Zeppole di Risotto with Sicilian loquat compote and honey semifreddo. There are dessert specials as well.
A treat of a beautifully arranged little dish of petit fours holds sinful cocoa-covered bittersweet truffles, cinnamon sugar shortbread (perfect for the season), unsticky almond brittle and a flaky palmier butterfly. Except for that ravioli filling, the dishes have been startlingly well-executed. Hopefully they can retain the quality if the crowds come. Wisely, this spot is open for lunch, having proximity to both skyscrapers and theaters. On a notecard, Chef Vincenzo Pezzilli offers a third definition of "cu-li-nar-ia": "n. Kitchen away from home." The grub is a lot more high-flying than the stuff that comes out of my kitchen, but Culinaria's hominess is unmistakable.
If you possess "Business Attire," you can see Chef Pezzilli in action on Thurs., Feb. 6, 6:30-8:30 p.m., as he demonstrates Regional Cuisine: Traditional Apulian Cooking (Antipasti Misti, Orecchiette with Broccoli Raab, Stuffed Calamari in Wine Sauce and Ricotta Cheesecake). At the Italian Culinary Center, 230 5th Ave., Ste. 1100 (27th St.), RSVP to Salvatore Rizzo, 725-8764 x25; $75; italiancookingandliving.com.
Culinaria, 202 W. 40th St. (betw. 7th & 8th Aves.), 869-0725.
Hot Chocolate
I played tour guide to friends from the burbs so we could make our annual round of holiday windows. We have no shame?we don't even bring a child along as a front. I got high marks on the chosen sights and lunch spot, but fell down on the job a bit when it came to hot chocolate selection.
Started with Macy's Muppets windows (which were deemed best in show by my New Jersey judges), the Miracle on 34th Street windows and a pass through the Kermit-festooned main floor. Next The Nutcracker at Lord & Taylor, then a gander at the tree and skating rink. We stopped into the uncrowded Rock Center La Maison du Chocolat, but were told they won't be serving hot chocolate until after the holidays, which made as much sense to us as insistence on the return of snowmobiles to national parks.
So on to St. Petersburg and Sleeping Beauty scenes at Saks, and then wasn't it time for a beer? Steak sandwiches, fries and Indiana Pale Ale at Heartland Brewery & Chophouse got a big thumbs up. Refreshed, we took a walk through Times Square and were unable to bypass the Hershey's store. The shop itself seems an afterthought compared to its signage. Within, sales associate Judith explained the popularity of the orange-capped cans of much-requested Special Dark syrup (she says it's partly because it is chocolate-based and many syrups are cocoa-based). She can personalize a giant kiss for you?the white plume may carry any message you wish. There's also a ceiling-high contraption with mixing chutes that spits kisses, mini-Reeses cups or other product to your liking into tubs to take away.
We went north to the park, where a film crew had scattered sheets of fake snow and were wheeling a storm-maker truck around. Then into the Plaza to check out their well-done tree and peruse the Eloise-stocked gift shop. East past FAO Schwarz, where the Red Cross offered me a candy cane. One of my charges stopped to chat, as she's a Red Cross volunteer; she had just completed Mass Casualty training. Then we studied Barneys' tribute to Cher, window-shopped up Madison and, when tuckered, took another stab at chocolate refreshment. At Cafe Sabarsky, my tour group liked the gingerbread house, the Old World ambience and the chocolate, nut and rum Sabarsky torte with whipped cream. But when it came to the hot chocolate, "Not milk chocolate-y enough." I recovered some points by suggesting the M4 to Penn Station, which afforded a glimpse of the tree at night, and it was decided that I shall be permitted to do the job again next year.