The Chic-Cheap Showdown: Italian

A Voce

41 Madison Ave. (at 26th St.)
212-545-8555

Subway: R, W to 28th St

For my first installment, I have chosen a fairly impossible task: choose one location for a splurge and one for a bargain on Italian food. In this city, everyone has a favorite neighborhood Italian and a favorite fancy pasta purveyor, so I have decided to narrow my field slightly. I have chosen my two favorite romantic, modern Italian eateries: in the splurge corner, A Voce, in the bargain corner, Max SoHa .

First the splurge: A Voce, located on 26th St at Madison Ave, has appeared on virtually every list of the hottest and/or best new restaurants of the year, from New York magazine to Conde Nast Traveler. You might describe the room as British luxury meets Scandinavian chic—swiveling Eames chairs in beige leather, large, spherical lamps over the bar, cool, orange lighting, and dark-wood tables with bottle green, leather tops. It’s a beauty of a room, but nothing in it so much as hints at Italy. That is, until the menu arrives. From the appetizers, my table chose the duck meatballs with dried cherry mostarda, and Sardinian Sheep’s Milk Ricotta with sea salt, herbs, and olive oil. Neither of these starters was a showstopper. Instead, the flavors of these sensational dishes were so subtle, soft, and disarmingly rich that they acted as a sort of comfort blanket, breaking down all possible resistance. The ricotta especially, whipped to a mouse-like consistency and served with grilled and seasoned bread, tasted at first like pure air. Not until a few bites in did the soft flavor of the cheese creep up on me, followed by the gentle bite of the sea salt and the supple sweetness of the olive oil. I moaned aloud.

The main courses continued in the vein of Italian comfort foods. For our main courses we ordered the gnocchi with lamb ragu and ricotta, and the jumbo prawns, one of the daily, market-driven specials. The gnocchi literally melted in my mouth, and the shrimp were tender and fresh, served over a mixed bean salad so rich and flavorful that it could have made a sufficiently delicious appetizer. On the side we ordered wild mushroom orso with truffle oil and white string beans with parmigian, pine nuts, and onion, both outrageously good.

The desserts at A Voce surprised and delighted me. We ordered a peach tart, an olive oil cake, and bomboloni, cream-filled Italian doughnuts with dark chocolate dipping sauce. Though all three were delicious, the olive oil cake was absolutely my favorite.

Max SoHa

1274 Amsterdam Ave. (at 123rd St.)
212-531-2221

Subway: 1 to 125th St.

If A Voce presents you with the kind of Italian home cooking that you could never really cook at home, Max SoHa, on Amsterdam Ave at 123rd St, serves a meal that feels like the first meal you cook for a date that you really want to impress, except in this scenario you actually do manage to impress said date. Instead of A Voce’s confident swankness, Max SoHa trades in casual, neighborhood charm—exposed brick walls, about 10 tiny tables, mismatched chairs, chalkboard specials, walls decorated in wine bottles (still my favorite aesthetic statement), and ample amounts of candlelight. Actually, for my money—and quite a bit less of it at that—Max SoHa is far more romantic than A Voce, if less sexy.

I have less to say about individual dishes at Max SoHa mostly because, as my neighborhood Italian place, it’s enough for me to know that anything I order will be delicious. I have ordered pasta, meat, and fish from the regular menu and the specials and have found myself neither disappointed nor blown away; I invariably leave Max SoHa happy and content, with a smile on my face, and a widespread hand on my belly. And generally I can leave with around $15 dollars missing from my wallet.

Okay, so this isn’t really a showdown, because there’s no winner (except me, because I’ve eaten at both places). The food at A Voce is more impressive, certainly, but then so is the bill (thank God for visiting parents); the room may be sleeker, but the intimate charm of Max SoHa never fails to loosen the knots in my shoulders. Ultimately, A Voce and Max SoHa are kindred spirits separated only by cool and cost…oh, and about 100 blocks.

Ode to Pork Belly

Momofuku Ssäm Bar
207 2nd Ave (at 13th St.)
212-254-3500

Subway: N, R, Q, W, 4, 5, 6, L to Union Square

www.momofuku.com

For the last year or so, Momofuku Ssäm Bar has stirred excitement amongst food critics and gourmands throughout the city, garnering rave reviews from Food and Wine Magazine and the New York Times among others. Search Momofuku on Gothamist or eater.com and you will find entries from the past two years raving about Chef David Chang’s brilliance in the kitchen (these started when he opened his first restaurant, Momofuku Noodle Bar), or alternatively pieces by Chef Chang himself begging people to stop talking about the restaurants and to just enjoy the food. Unfortunately, it seems that I, like every other foodie in this city, simply can’t shut up. That’s right—the food is every bit as good as people say, and that’s not something to keep quiet about.

Though Ssäm is notably chic, the minimalism you find there is of the dark-wood-and-warm-lighting variety rather than the industrial-glass-and-steel that has reigned supreme in past years. The smell of pork and—corny though it may seem—the sounds of laughter leant the space considerable warmth. I and two of my graight associates (who else?) sat at the bar and ordered sparingly, selecting only the steamed buns, the hamachi collar, and the signature Momofuku Ssäm.

The food started arriving shortly thereafter, beginning with the steamed buns. Aromatic strips of pork belly rested in pockets of thick, chewy dough. The crunch of fresh cucumbers and the sharp-sweet tang of hoisin cut through the gooey, decadent richness of the pork belly: an auspicious start.

Next, the grilled hamachi collar arrived. As light as the steamed buns were rich, the fish didn’t pack the same flavorful punch as the buns, but was pleasantly refreshing. Unfortunately the absence of utensils other than chopsticks made consuming this particularly bony cut of fish something of an ordeal

Finally, the Momofuku Ssäm arrived, the restaurant’s signature dish. This traditional Korean burrito consisted of an outer wrapper, something like a doughier tortilla, filled with rice, pork shoulder, pickled shitake mushrooms, edamame, bacon black beans, and kim chi puree. Both I and my companions reacted to our first bites of Ssäm with something that one might best describe as surprise and delight at such a serendipitous conglomeration of disparate flavors. The sweet, meaty, almost creamy flavors of the pork were mirrored in the sweet-and-spicy kim chi and the earthy beans, while the sharp vinegar acidity of the pickled shitakes, and the crisp, fresh edamame struck an astounding contrast.

Shockingly, the Ssäm was not only the most exciting, and satiating dish on the menu—it was also among the cheapest. At only $10, the Ssäm was a downright steal. I plan to return sometime soon for lunch when chef Chang replaces his full menu with one comprised exclusively of Ssäm. Surprises this genuine and delicious do not come along terribly often in the food world, and when they do you simply have to talk about them. Don’t worry, though, Mr. Chang—in the future I’ll try to save my rhapsodizing for between bites.

Rejoice, Coeliacs! Rejoice! (and everyone else, too)

Risotteria
270 Bleecker St (at Morton St.)
212-924-6664

Subway: 1 to Chistopher St./Sheridan Square
A, B, C, D, E, F, V, Q to W. 4th

www.risotteria.com

In my family of amateur gourmands, risotto easily ranks among our favorite gustatory indulgences. My mother in particular practically swoons whenever she sees it on a menu. We all of us adore that most decadent and satisfying of Italian starches and its ability to be both luxurious and simple, elegant and rustic.

Of these adjectives, the only one that really applies to Risotteria, a West Village eatery specializing in (shock of shocks) risotto, is ‘simple.’ Risotteria occupies a modest glass storefront on the corner of Bleecker and Morton streets more redolent of a midtown diner than an Italian trattoria, an impression that continues in the cozy (read: tiny) ten-table dining room, where you find an open kitchen with bar stools and a wine list overhead hand-written in multi-colored chalk.

The picture starts to change, though, when the menus arrive accompanied by crispy, warming, olive-oil-and-herb doused bread sticks, which are reason enough to dine at Risotteria. The menu offers a broad array of salads, sandwiches, and the restaurant’s eponymous specialty, risotto. Many dishes are gluten-free or vegetarian for the more persnickety diner. Regrettably, that chalkboard drinks list fails to match the diversity of Risotteria’s food. Still, the few bottles of wine are reasonably priced, and some gluten-free beers are light and refreshing if not particularly exciting (the Anheuser-Bush Redbridge was surprisingly good).

I and three of my graight associates all ordered from the classic Arborio section of the menu, and not a single dish disappointed. My corn, porcini, and truffle-oil risotto was rich and creamy, loaded with the intensely earthy flavors and aromas of its constituent parts (perhaps a bit heavy on the truffle-oil, but there are worse excesses.) The other three dishes were lighter than mine, primarily featuring cheese, seafood, and vegetables, and all managed to strike the appropriate balance between luxurious richness of texture and refreshing lightness of flavor.

The meal itself transcends the quaint, dinette atmosphere, but mercifully Risotteria returns to its more rustic side when the check arrives—virtually nothing on the menu exceeds $15. And somewhere my mother weeps for joy.