LA PALA, Bistro, Pizza

Sharpening our knives, making the cut.

 Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and many other writers honed their skills by leaving their home land, in order to enjoy a better perspective. Visiting family on Long Island, provided me an opportunity to focus on perspective and what I really valued in a restaurant experience.

 Bob and Anne Marie told us about this very fine restaurant they had discovered recently in Glen Cove.

 Glen Cove, a very small city on New York’s Long Island’s North Store, was established to house the many servants and staff needed on the great estates of the roaring twenties, F. Scott’s Fitzgerald’s “gold coast.” It is, even now, surrounded by villages of great wealth, some even with a minimum zoning of five acres.  

 My challenge, what were the odds of finding a fair comparison so close to New York, comparable in intent and comparable in price.

Then I met La Pala, a newly opened restaurant that by ordinary predictors would seem doomed to a very short life span: very small, only 50 seats inside; not on a main street -- not even on a street; limited parking; tucked below ground under a many storied office building; and begun by two men in the construction business, neither of whom could cook.

The evening we visited was dreadfully cold, especially to our southern sensibilities. We drove down a dark snow sided alley emerging under a many storied building’s backside. How could such an out-of-the-way place succeed?

 However.

When we opened the door, our cheery host met us with a warm smile; Rick became both our waiter and bartender.  The glowing coals from the open brick pizza oven warmed our souls and eventually even our hands.  Rick seated us, and then professionally assessed whether we wanted an in-the-shadows waiter, or an active player in the fun of our dinner.  We, of course, invited him to participate – and what a joy, great recommendations, great attention to detail, and great fun.

At the table, I noticed that the china was thin, the glasses resembled fine thin crystal. Could “thinness” be an indicator of quality? It sure made the dining experience more worthwhile.  Clunky plates remind me of college dining.  Not bad, but not great either.

Our Long Island family had been there before, Rick knew from experience that Bob would be bringing wine from his own collection. For me, far less interested in fruit of the vine, the ambiance sung martini.  My problem: could I trust our waiter/bartender. When I tentatively wondered out loud about whether to order a martini, Rick replied, “Good choice, I also drink martinis.  In fact when I go out, I always ask the bartender what he drinks, unless he says martini, I keep to scotch.” He and I were martini brothers; we discussed the virtues of the seven different gins stocked in his bar. He even had me pre-taste his specially ordered olives. The martini glass itself was light and delicate, no clunkers here, with a 4.5” diameter, filled to the rim; New York does not suffer under the post-prohibition laws of North Carolina that allow only a few ounces to each pour. Later he brought out a few cocktail onions for me to try, delicious.  Here was a craftsman.  Later he brought me a sample of his Sable and Rosenfeld Tipsy Onions, I may even have a Gibson next time.

Deduction:

Standard one: attention to detail, evidenced here by La Pala’s special onions and olives, thin glasses, and delicate china.  Thinness.

Standard Two: the ambiance, rich but not fussy. Welcome without out homey.

Standard three: highly professional staff. Rick served us well, his recommendations were on target, his observations were fun, and he knew when to proceed, and, even more importantly, when to recede.

Standard Four: a well-stocked bar overseen by a knowledgeable tender.

The delicious bread was homemade. Even on a Thursday night, the tables were filled, mostly with older groups, but also a few young couples seemingly on dates.

Standard Five: the clientele, those who appreciate quality over quantity.

Standard Six: fun breads, homemade, different and tasty.

The owners hired very exceptional people and let them do their jobs. They kept the standard of quality high, and the price as low as possible.

 Standard Seven: a desire to deliver quality. Not limiting the service to the level of the clumsiest dishwasher.

Standard Eight: reasonably priced.

I was impressed with the range of offerings, all Mediterranean in origin, mostly Italian. The food pairings were unusual, and unusually good.  How many restaurants in Raleigh offer this range in quantity or types of food?

16 appetizers ($9 -- $14) e.g. calamari, octopus, sliders, lamb chops and ceviche.

   6 salads ($7 -- $9) e.g. spinach, pear, arugula and fennel.
27 main courses ($8 -- $33) small and large plates e.g. black linguini, paella, sea bass, blackened
            chicken, pork belly, lobster, burgers, stuffed salmon, and eggplant.
  9 individual pizzas ($9 -- $12) cooked in a brick oven.

Standard Nine: the range of food, unusual choices alongside old favorites well executed

Standard Ten: do only what you do best, and no more than the kitchen can easily handle.

 Hopefully La Pala’s great advantages (a sophisticated clientele pampered by expert staff; excellent word of mouth advertising, delightful range of menu, excellently cooked; and reasonably priced) will overcome its disadvantages (poor location, limited parking, and no curb appeal).

 Using a restaurant outside of Raleigh to distil my criteria has the advantage of not setting any single local establishment up as the be all and end all, though when I think of how our own fine dining opportunities match up, three immediately come to mind: Holly’s On Hargett, Irregardless, and Bloomsbury Bistro.

For my friends in Manhattan, get away from the noisy streets and take the train to Glen Cove; for those already on Long Island by all means try La Pala to see if you agree with my assessment. 

 For those of you in Raleigh, let me know what restaurants you feel meet these criteria.

 

La Pala Restaurant, located at 246 Glen St, Glen Cove, NY 11542, (516) 399-2255
          https://www.facebook.com/lapalaglencove?rf=1524241887815265
          Two blocks from the Glen Street Station on the Oyster Bay MTA Line.

New Year’s Resolutions

Blog resolutions for 2015?  Let’s get started.

Resolution #1: post at least two times per month in 2015, except December which is way too busy.

 Resolution #2: maximum length, 1000 words.

 Resolution #3: aim to visit each restaurant at least twice before writing.

 Resolution #4: Expand Ramblings beyond restaurants, perhaps a post on martinis.

 Resolution #5: broaden my audience.

 Resolution #6: Never write an opinion that I would not say face-to-face with the owner.

 Resolution #7: take time to rest and reflect, enjoy friends, and nurture the joy of dining out.

 That's enough for 2015. Now for some news.

 Mo’s Diner has closed.  Horrors of all horrors – I love Mo’s.  Though I've not written about it yet I have been there several times in the past two years; it was even the site of my 70^th birthday party.  Great food, great staff, great times.  But don’t pull out the mourning crepe just yet.  Holly is not retiring; instead she is upgrading for a wider (including a younger) audience and changing the name from Mo’s Diner to Holly's on Hargett. The former name honored her late husband; I am glad she’s now stepping forward to receive her own well-deserved accolades.

BOLT BISTRO & BAR

A kitchen that charms and confounds.

 

Strolling through downtown Raleigh, showing off our adopted city to my visiting sister, we chanced upon a bucolic cluster of chairs and tables. When a waiter appeared, we ordered sandwiches and beers. 

Bolt Bistro & Bar had found us. 

Later that summer, we returned to Bolt for diner.  My wife and sister chose their wine; I recited my martini recipe: straight up, filled to the top, Tanqueray gin, stirred with ice for ONLY a few seconds to avoid dilution.  Shocking both my table partners, I took a sip and promptly sent the drink back; it was half water.  William appeared quickly and introduced himself as manager; he listened patiently, and solved the problem by replacing the ill formed drink. He apologized for Bolt, laying no blame except to say that a waitperson, in order to expedite my order, had filled in while the regular bartender was busy

We proceeded to order when something happened, something very surreal, even magical.  I found myself ordering lobster bisque. How could this be? Why take the risk of being served the thick and lumpy paste that all too often passes for bisque. Somehow I intuited that this soup would be different. Bolt justified my gamble. The chef, rather than relying on cream and flour, built up levels of flavor: starting with a medium hued roux; adding a strained broth consisting of the New Orleans trinity (celery, peppers and onions) and his own herbs and condiments; then simmering very large chunks of lobster along with a final finish of sherry. Delicious. 

My wife ordered the scallops for her main course; my sister the shrimp and grits. I asked for fried oysters atop a Caesar salad. We were delighted with all our choices. The shrimp and the grits were cheesy yet not leaden.  The scallops were crisp edged and yet very tender. My salad dressing was house made and finely tuned.

 

At my wife’s urging because she had enjoyed the food so much, we returned again. The lure of the bisque beckoned.  This time it was she who fell prey to Bolt’s seductive spell; she ordered the short rib; she almost never orders beef.  The aroma from a neighboring table caught her fancy. What an excellent choice. Not only was it fork-tender but also extremely tasty.

 The joy in my martini and my wife’s quality wine, the snippets of pita and homemade bean humus, meeting William again, and the opportunity for more bisque promised a successful evening.  Our prospect dimmed a bit as we tried to read our menus. The single table votive proved insufficient for the small and faded print. Our helpful waitress brought over more candles. The menu amply described seven possible starters, five soups or salads, and fourteen entrées.

 The lobster bisque was as wonderful as I remembered.  My wife’s short rib had been slow cooked to perfection, making her knife superfluous.  My entrée fell short of what I had come to expect from Bolt.  AD’s Stuffed Chicken, named after David Sadeghi’s Maryland partner, lacked any taste of chicken, the meat did little more than provide a stringy texture to the congealed cheese.  Perhaps the new corporate chef, Jeff Williams, brought in only a few weeks before from Los Angeles, will have among his recipes a tastier replacement.

 Of the three restaurants owned by David Sadeghi, Bolt is considered the most upscale. Its downtown prime location, fronting both on a treed corridor-park and busy Fayetteville Street, its slightly uneven but enticing menu, its relatively easy parking (a city parking deck is only a block away), along with its affordable prices give ample expectation that Bolt will establish itself among Raleigh’s several fine restaurants. To do so, I’d recommend attention to a few inexpensive basics: the owners need to be clear on how this restaurant defines its “upscale” claim in all its aspects: hiring, training, menu, service, bar and kitchen; and though this generation may find some of the old, seemingly quirky rituals, out of fashion, upscale elegance requires hints of old world charm, such as not rolling the silverware, putting down a clean napkin before the cocktail is introduced, and periodically changing what is brought to the table initially. The bean humus is adequate for one visit, but not forever.

 Would I go back for yet another visit?  A definite yes.  My wife enjoys Bolt’s range of taste options; William brings personality (and a good martini); and there are several gastronomic delights yet to be explored.

Bolt Bistro & Bar is located at 219 Fayetteville Street, Raleigh, NC.  918 821 0011.  www.boltbistro.com.

Good Every Day!

Welcome to Jay’s, an intentionally opinionated view of the restaurant world in Raleigh.

 

Friends have frequently suggested that I write a food blog as a fitting thrust for my definite opinions. Their reasons? That’s to be seen; I’m eager for responses.

 

Me? I’m Jay, a retired educator who happily did most of his work in states that paid teachers far more than North Carolina, leaving me a retirement that enables me to continue my love for dining out.

Like my avian namesake, the jay,  I can be noisy and garrulous; I tend away from the ordinary,  socialize happily even with strangers, eat with gourmand gusto after pickily refusing anything less than gourmet, fling out words  indiscriminately,  love life, delight in the hunt, and puff out my hunter’s quill extolling a great new find.

 

The blog, what’s it about?  Mostly restaurants, sometimes about food, frequently about beverage. My judgment is both experiential and intuitive i.e. I both taste and feel what makes a restaurant truly special.  My personal criteria Include:

 

Décor and Service: a place that welcomes, a room that wraps me in contentment; I realize fully that snugness defines differently, depending on occasion and frame of mind.  I prefer formal settings for my wife’s birthday or our anniversary; but far more relaxed mountings for those let-it-all-loose celebrations of another week alive.  The word “restaurant” not coined by the French until 1821 referred originally to food that restores. Great dining evokes a fantasy of senses that stirs up our youth, so long banished from our morning mirror.

 

Social: I insist on the privacy of talking to those I am with – and yet welcome the opportunity to visit at the table next door. Too much noise or music too loud diminishes this pleasure. I enjoy meeting interesting people, especially waiters who I find, as a breed (or perhaps tip driven) respond to my chatter with smiles and quirky humor.  Miguel, one of my favorite waiters in Maryland, gathered jokes from fellow staff, in order to cheer me during the weeks after my father’s death. Good restaurants quickly sift out waiter-chaff, male or female; dullards don’t last; those who remain tend toward complex, smiling individuals, cherished by the establishment, and by me. 

 

Food and drink: Unlike many restaurant bloggers, I rely less on the common denominator of recipe and presentation. I rarely stick slavishly to the menu, and far more on the full experience. Except for the occasional need for comfort food, my wife and I choose healthy over greasy, savory over sweet.  My taste in beverages ranges from craft beer to well-proportioned cocktails; my wife’s toward a good red wine.

 

Price: We’re retired; our income is fixed. We’re dedicated to finding ritzy quality on our tap water budget.

 

Sit back, these writings hopefully will tickle forth that youthful exuberance to which we all cling. Perhaps they’ll provide insight, perhaps they’ll guide judgment, but mostly I hope that they’ll evoke pleasure.