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There are cocktails now, expertly made but nothing you’d use the word “craft” to describe. On my first visit, as I waited at the bar for a table, I enjoyed a Cape Cod, with real cranberry juice and supremely carbonated seltzer from a high-end Japanese dispenser, and used all my quarters on a gumball machine filled with the world’s best snack mix, a buttery mélange of broken Ritz crackers, peanuts, and Crispix, scented with cumin. The mixed drinks are seventeen dollars, which seems both standard these days and also jaw-dropping, especially for Alphabet City’s slightly grizzled, sellout-resistant remaining punks, of which Headley is one. (He was the drummer for several hardcore bands.) “YIKES!” the menu notes, next to the price, defensively.
A gumball machine by the bar contains the world’s best snack mix, scented with cumin.
Gelato and sorbet flavors, such as rhubarb, rotate weekly.
But, compared with other restaurants of this calibre, the food prices feel shockingly low, especially given the obvious quality of the produce, some of it sourced from Campo Rosso, a specialty vegetable farm in Pennsylvania. The burger, made from quinoa, chickpeas, and walnuts, is thirteen dollars. The most expensive dish, at nineteen dollars, is the Yuba-Verde, a spectacular sandwich featuring chewy, slightly stretchy folds of yuba, or soy-milk skin, griddled and layered with chickpeas, broccoli rabe, and mayo on a crusty Italian hero. More menu marginalia: “incl freight the cost per gram of premium yuba is equivalent to that of American Wagyu.”
Holdovers from the old menu include the Sloppy Dave (tofu chili, frizzled onions), the burnt-broccoli salad (eggplant purée, candied cashews), and the beets with cream cheese and pretzels, all still wonderful. New additions are few but powerful. In a nod to Odessa’s Ukrainian heritage, there’s a texturally thrilling stuffed cabbage, filled with sticky rice and oyster and button mushrooms, draped in a sweet-and-sour tomato sauce, and finished with crunchy focaccia bread crumbs. A plate of steamed vegetables, one night, was as deceptively simple as a Rothko—perfectly al-dente spears of asparagus, overwintered carrot, and broccolini to be dipped in a luscious lemon-tahini dressing and a tart, fruity hot sauce.
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