6/20/2007

Blue Crab Mondays at the Hideaway

If you can't find a favorite hometown food in New York City, do you a) return home as often as possible to eat it, b) learn to cook, or c) open a restaurant and start serving that hometown food to all New Yorkers?

Fortunately for New York, hungry entrepreneurs have been answering "C" for centuries now. In the case of Justin Palmer of the Hideaway, first came the bar and restaurant, then came the bluefin crabs. Unable to find a place dedicated to serving hardshell crabs from Maryland or his native Virginia, he contacted his longtime crab supplier and started flying bushels of bluefins up every weekend. Now the Hideaway, a bar and restaurant started by four friends who wanted their own "clubhouse" in Tribeca, has become a mecca for transplanted crab lovers from up and down the Eastern seaboard.

If you don't know from crabs, you may think a restaurant like City Crab is enough. It's not. A real crab shack doesn't have newfangled things like sushi on the menu, nor should it dabble in crabs from here, there, and everywhere. As for places that specialize in Cajun food, do what you will with crawfish, but the words "crab" and "boil" should never appear next to each other. In a real crab shack, the tables are covered in paper, the paper's covered in steamed bluefin crabs, the crabs are covered in Old Bay, and the diners are covered in crab. It's seafood gluttony at its finest.

Do not be afraid if you don't know how to tackle this crustacean. The Hideaway makes it easy, providing instructions for how to eat a crab on their menu, and chances are the diners at the next table would be more than happy to help out with tips. I would say you burn nearly as many calories opening them as you do consuming them, but we were served at least 15 crabs on our order of a dozen. The generosity didn't stop there: the crabs were caked in Old Bay and steamed just right, even though the chef was working with a more difficult pot-on-the-stove system rather than the steamers dedicated to crabs that you see further south.

We also tried the shrimp and the fries, but both of these paled next to the succulent crabs. Non-seafood fans can opt for the hefty burger, which has been a draw at the Hideaway even before the crabs came.

Though Blue Crab Mondays have brought the Hideaway into the limelight, the place still retains its clubhouse feel. Led Zeppelin plays on the stereo, major league baseball plays on the TV, and the walls are decked with slick photographs of a young Mick Jagger, Jimi Hendrix, and Carolina basketball stars. (Several of the owners attended Duke.) When all the crabs were gone and the waitress had swept up the shell debris from under the tables, the chef, staff, and owners got together and did a shot behind the bar. Now this is the kind of place anybody could call home.

The Hideaway
185 Duane Street, between Hudson and Greenwich Streets
New York, New York
212-334-5775


How To Eat a Crab:

1) Make sure you have the necessary accoutrements: a mallet, paper towels, and beer.

2) Remove the claws and legs.

3) Pull off the pointy underside piece, the "apron."

4) Slide your thumb in the opening between the crab body and top shell. Pull off the shell.

5) Tear off the spongy "lungs," scoop out the "mustard" (the gunk in the cavity), and discard all.

6) Crack the crab body in half with your hands.

7) Pry away any of the overlying thin shell and dig into the body to extract the crab meat, then fan each half apart to get at the inner cavities.

8) Use the mallet on the claws only, tapping hard enough on the upper part of the claw to break it but not so hard as to pulverize the meat underneath.

9) Save the fiddly legs for the end of the crab feast and deal with them only if you are still hungry.

The Aftermath:





The Upper West Side

The Upper West Side dresses more like the rest of the country than any other neighborhood in Manhattan.

I don't know what else to say about that.

There was some fashion to be found, however, and most of it was a practical, comfortable spin on summer trends.

head scarves

sun hats



summer shirts in a windowpane check
very Charles Addams



little white dress worn as a layer
Birkenstock thong sandals
citron yellow and navy



eyeglasses with clear frames
white linen shirt and sandals

An iconic Upper West Side look, the zany lady

This style was immortalized by Ruth Gordon in Rosemary's Baby and was still in evidence here until the late '90s. But as the chain stores and young Rosemarys have moved in, the quirky, original look has disappeared. Where are the zany ladies of yesteryear?


6/18/2007

Roberta Freymann

So I walked up to the counter at Calypso in East Hampton the other day and put a cotton sundress and a pair of earrings on the counter. The saleswoman rang them up. My total was six hundred something dollars. I can't remember exactly. I lost track after the "six hundred" part.

What cost so much? Not the gold earrings, which were $100, but the cotton dress, which was over five hundred dollars. And no, the label didn't say "Chloe."

If you ever get the feeling that "beach chic" may be a synonym for "rip off," head a little further north on Newton Lane in East Hampton or further uptown in NYC to Roberta Freymann. Uptown girls have loved this boutique for years. Here they also source cotton and silk sundresses, wraps, kurtas, and caftans from all over the world, but the prices are much gentler.

Though I am a fan of Calypso's ingeniously designed silk wrap dresses, I wasn't willing to plunk down over $500 for a dress I was planning on wearing over a bikini. Instead I found this dress in an eye-catching African print from Roberta Freymann at their sale in New York. The bad news is the sale's over; the good news is that they have all new merchandise coming in now - and the prices are still gentle.

khanga dress, $135 (sale $67.50)


kurta, $50 (sale $25)


another little beach cover-up, $35 on sale


Roberta Freymann
153 East 70th Street, between Lexington and Third Avenues
New York, New York
212-585-3767

1019 Lexington Avenue at 73rd Street
New York, New York
212-772-7200


66 Newtown Lane
East Hampton, New York
631-329-5828

6/14/2007

Da Silvano

"That's him," High Maintenance whispered.

I turned around as subtly as possible to see an older gentleman in a lime green top and matching lime green glasses enter the restaurant at about 9pm.

Silvano had arrived.

It wasn't the only celebrity sighting of the night - Rihanna later emerged from the depths of the restaurant to be pounced on by paparazzi waiting outside with video cameras - but it was the most exciting. It would have been hard to recognize Silvano from his svelter illustrated portrait on the Da Silvano balsamic vinegar or the Da Silvano water. Yet this was the man who has been able to lure celebrities here consistently for years now (for details, see his site and photo album), even though Da Silvano is, well...not known for the food.




Not all of it is bad, but Da Silvano is a lesson in levels of access and being in-the-know, in keeping with the celebrity theme. One of the best dishes wasn't even on the menu. When High Maintenance ordered a caprese salad, I asked the waiter why this popular choice wasn't listed with the rest of the salads.

"Everyone knows we have it," the waiter said, in his signature blasé manner. Oh, of course. "Everyone."

At least the caprese was good. The firm exterior of the freshly made mozzarella yielded to a soft, slightly salty inside. I couldn't determine the provenance of the tomatoes due to Italian-American translation difficulties. (How do you say "heirloom" in Italian?) But the waiter agreed that the tomatoes were "speciale" (my word).

Oddly, the tomato bruschetta consisted of untoasted bread that was difficult to manage, though both bread and tomatoes were good separately. Not so for the panzanella - bread salad with tomatoes - which was quite disappointing if you've ever had the real thing. (It's easy to make, too: For a recipe check out Rogers & Gray's Italian Country Cookbook.)

"This is good, isn't it?" High Maintenance said.

"No," I countered.

"But it's good, isn't it?" she repeated.

"Needs more garlic or onion."

It also seemed to contain a lot of white wine vinegar, an odd choice that made the panzanella taste more British than Italian. Broccoli rabe sauteed with pan-roasted garlic was spot on, but the sausage that topped it off was dried out.

But forget about the food. We were here to dine outdoors (the summer theme of Gastro Chic), people watch, and drink wine. As for the reds, there were not a lot of offerings under $100, which annoyed me given Otto's ability - and, OK, Morandi's - to find excellent Italian reds at inexpensive prices. The Le Cupole was a good wine at $95, the Sondraia a great one - bigger, more complex, and slightly more tannic - for $120.



In the entree category, the pastas fared well. The rigatoni focaccia was the best of the bunch, with its cream and tomato sauce of double smoked bacon perfumed with sage. All this dish needed was more of the excellent sauce. Sage also played a big part in the success of the ravioli bella Firenze, spinach and ricotta filled ravioli sauteed in butter and sage.






We took the train off the tracks a bit when High Maintenance's fiancé Boob and I decided to split the roasted fillet of veal, exorbitantly priced at $95. Veal is already very delicate, but this roast was downright bland, and the gravy didn't add much flavor at all. For tips on how to make veal gravy, the chef at Da Silvano should check out Marinella across the way on Carmine Street. If I had to do it again, I would order the grilled shell steak.

Good or bad, Da Silvano is truly Italian. A large part of the menu is given over to daily seasonal specials. A number of the diners here were speaking Italian, as was the staff. But the thing that really tipped me off to the true Italian-ness of Da Silvano - other than the photo of Silvano driving a sports car outside Modena - was a note on the bottom of the menu, in all-caps: NO CHEESE SERVED ON SEAFOOD AT ANY TIME.

This food-induced rage about what's correct is something you rarely see outside of Italy, the country where I was told "Cappucino doppo pranza non esiste, non esiste!" which loosely translates as: Not only is it incorrect to have a milk-based coffee drink at any time but breakfast, but cappuccino after lunch doesn't even exist, it doesn't exist!

Even though it is celebrity-driven, Da Silvano is approachable. Now that the maitre d' she knew has departed for Morandi, High Maintenance and I had no special in at the restaurant, but she managed to make a reservation just like a regular person, and we were still given a nice table outside despite our non-celeb status.

"The food is really good, though, don't you think?" she said as we were leaving.

"I don't think people are here for the food," I said.

"But the food is good," she insisted.

"Well..."

With that we walked out of the patio to the spot where Rihanna's black SUV had just sped off into the night.

Da Silvano
260 Sixth Avenue, between Houston and Bleecker Streets
New York, New York
212-982-2343








Note that the menu illustration is by Marisa Marchetto, Silvano's wife, Cancer Vixen, and talented New Yorker cartoonist ("Beauty is life's Easy Pass.") Look closely and you can see her in one of the photos.