On the final day of eating ourselves silly, we joined up with F&F (friends and family @ Bar Boulud. Here’s a place that puts to shame all the French wannabees and demonstrates just how difficult and wonderful the real thing is when done properly. A bowl of garlic soup followed by a pate, en croute, of morels and foie gras accompanied by a glass of Riesling. Could life be better?
That evening? Michael White’s relatively new place, Osteria Morini. Sifton had given the restaurant a mixed, but respectful reception. I’d cancelled and rebooked several times prior, sort of like scheduling a colonoscopy, sort of not, but this time we actually made it in. A chill room, great service, and delicious fried artichoke hearts, skewers of quail and vegetables, and a brilliant, restrained, smart rendition of house-made spaghetti with a Bolognese sauce. The hearts were pureed artichoke and then fried rather than the whole leaves one finds in Rome. Great idea, great restaurant. OK, so it’s not as much to my liking as Locanda Verde, but it is a notch above Lupa and you know that’s saying a lot!