The Standard Grill, Abe & Arthur’s, Gansevoort 69
• The Standard Grill •
Much has improved over the weeks at "the standard," but probably not your chances of getting a dinner table during prime time (especially now that an autumnal chill is descending upon us, and the outdoor cafe/patio is no longer an agreeable availability). However, breakfast, lunch and brunch are now being offered as a gratifying alternative to your usual jaunt to Pastis.
Steak is your best bet, with the roast chicken at a close second. "Ranch burger" is a little dry (even at medium rare), but the fries are excellent (and "a Keith McNally favorite.")
A side of sugar snap peas surprisingly gets the win over appealingly offered but much too salty brussel sprouts. Potato and corn pancakes seem like a good idea but end up falling short.
Stop being such a self-important, pretentious snob and just take those seats at the open kitchen being offered to you. You’ll enjoy the show and have the advantage of being perched above all others for the greatest vantage point of the room. So what if you have to swivel sideways every now and again and occasionally have to shout over the clattering din (and the chef/expeditor).
Who do you think you are, anyway? Russell Crowe?
• Abe & Arthur’s •
Don’t believe the hype; the room is nice and all, but the square footage doesn’t quite live up to these fish-eyed lenses colored pencils. It’s a fair enough rendition, however— much in the same way "the general" isn’t exactly seven inches. And make no mistake; you’ll find no vestiges of the exotic/romantic Lotus here— this baby is "billionaire boy’s club" all day every day.
No wonder the menu is trite and uninspired and doesn’t apologize for it, either. But hey, the french fries are pretty good.
Judging from the caliber of the inaugural clientele, the food isn’t the point anyway, Miss Scarlet. So grab a party bus full of the good ole boys and head on down here with a smattering of strippers gorgeous gal pals to gnaw on some bloody meat. Save some room on that Centurion Card for a bottle or ten at basement nightclub Simyone after dinner. Tell them Lyor Cohen sent you.
• Gansevoort 69 •
Oh, hallowed Florent, where art thou?
Don’t get too nostalgic though; this is a pretty good effort with a decent denouement. Sure, you have more little piggies on your left foot than they have entrees on the menu, but what do you care what you’re eating? You’re in the Meatpacking District for fuck’s sake.
Go with the Fish & Chips; they’re actually pretty good. The french fries are awesome and the deep fried caper berries are a great unexpected touch. The bacon-wrapped meatloaf, on the other hand, is over the top enough to leave you looking for your Lipitor. The payoff doesn’t quite measure up to the risk.
The bartender is an affable chap, as are those two teeeeeny tiny itsy bitsy matching blonde bookend waitresses. Trust me, though— skip the wine list options and go straight for the hard stuff.
Tags: ABE&ARTHUR, MEATPACKING, THE STANDARD
= "personne extraordinaire"
October 9th, 2009 at 3:56 PM
It’s a fair enough rendition, however— much in the same way “the general” isn’t exactly seven inches.
Or the same way that Eugene Remm isn’t exactly 5’2″.
October 19th, 2009 at 9:09 AM
Is it me or did the crowd at Standard Grill take a huge nosedive? I was there last Wed night and it looked like a typical weekend MPD crowd!! Ugh….
Double post, sorry wrong thread….