The Simplicity of Smith’s
As an early April Fools' Day joke, bring all your lactose intolerant friends to this gorgonzola gridiron.
John Vorwald
December 14, 2007
By Katherine Faw Morris
I do love an animal print. A gold glitter shoe. A hot pink faux fur. All together—even better. But often, ’tis a gift to be simple. Smith’s, a new G. Village upper American with a pronounced Italian accent, has already learned this lesson. Driving a path of maturity straight to the heart of what elegant, unfussy adulthood is all about—cheese.
There’s all sorts of everyone’s favorite dairy to be had at Smith’s, the newest notch under the belt of Danny Abrams, big daddy of the Mermaid Inn-Red Cat-Harrison clan, and Cindy Smith, of Raoul’s-Spartina. From the Gorgonzola slathered steamed egg to the cauliflower and Taleggio gratin. Though my favorite cheese moment came courtesy of the Parmigiano-Reggiano silking up an outstanding artichoke pasta app, a nest of pale green tastefully accessorized with black truffle cuffs and a crisped red pocket square of prosciutto.
Of course, Chef Pablo Romero (nee Bouley) has more up his sleeve than grown-up catnip. There’s also a school of fish—Meyer lemon dorade to butternut squash lobster. And plenty for turf-lovers as well—bone-out pork chop, bone marrow rib-eye. Chatham cod perched atop a bed of herbed tagliolini was a cheese-less delight. A sprinkling of sharp peppercorns adding a touch of soul to what can be the whitest of fish. Wild striped bass, served in a thick filet, was paired with a stew of Flageolet beans and guanciale, a.k.a jowl bacon. Just hearty enough to warm up the summer starved body without comprising that hard-earned 25-waist bracket.
Jumping the Houston stream into the wilds of NYU-infested Macdougal, Smith’s is making the most of its pioneer status. The slivery, Z-shaped space, designed by Mark Zeff, is ingeniously laid out. Banquettes up front, followed by Pullman-style dining car hallway, and then the bar. Freed of the pointy elbow navigation necessary to squeeze past the liquid dinner crowd at most restos, I was able to direct my inner aggro towards more important matters. Like demolishing a side of truffle-drizzled Anson Mills polenta.
Smith’s is the kind of place that can do justice to fancy cheese grits. And chocolate bread pudding, too. Outfitted in black leather, crystal sconces, mirrored ceilings, and red runners, packed with nouveau patricians, the place isn’t exactly au naturel, but it’s not too much either. It’s the difference between Ashlee Simpson’s new nose and Meg Ryan’s whole new face. There’s a line somewhere between confit and smoked foam, and Smith’s has found itself on the tastier side.
QUICK BITES
Cuisine: Nouveau American
Vibe: New patrician. Mini, moneyed, manicured.
Occasion: Play-acting as mature, IRA-contributing, cheese-worshipping adults.
Damage: $140+ for a three-course meal for two with one drink each, including tax and tip
Reservations: Recommended
Not to Be Missed: Artichoke Pasta ($11)
79 Macdougal St. (Bleeker and Houston Sts.) smithsnyc.com 212-260-0100 Greenwich Village
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