Images by Danny Kim
In the course of the course of his industrious profession, the frenetic West Village restaurateur Gabriel Stulman has mastered virtually each informal eating pattern on this fickle, fashionably informal restaurant period. He helped pioneer the upscale New American neighborhood-bistro craze (to not point out the upscale-burger craze and upscale-meatball-slider craze) with Joey Campanaro on the Little Owl, after which once more at his personal in style, tiny West Village restaurant, Joseph Leonard. He’s opened a counter-style restaurant dedicated to stylishly informal meals (Jeffrey’s Grocery) and a raffish neo-speakeasy joint (Fedora) that includes the nose-to-tail cooking of a younger chef from the offal capital of North America, Montreal. You possibly can get pleasure from superb nouveau-southern cooking in Stulman’s mini eating empire (the crispy ham-hock sandwich at Joseph Leonard) and an infinite number of stylish retro cocktails, a lot of that are poured by whiskery barkeeps carrying lumberjack shirts.
So it was solely a matter of time earlier than Stulman obtained round to tackling essentially the most sturdy of all informal New York eating traits: rustic Italian meals. His new restaurant known as Perla, and like his different institutions, it occupies a comfortable little area inside strolling distance of Sheridan Sq.. The bar serves drinks with catchy names like Tombstone Sunday Nights and Meet Me in Laredo. The clubby, beamy room is adorned with tastefully curated retro tchotchkes (pale black-and-white photographs, framed vintage menus) and lined with banquettes lined in shiny crimson leather-based. Social gathering ladies graze on the bar on esoteric styles of handmade pasta. Obscure peasant delicacies like roasted lamb’s head are served as occasional specials. And the late-night bar menu consists of boutique mushroom pizzas fired in that nice totem of the Italian nouveau-rustico motion, the wood-burning oven.
Perla’s chef, Michael Toscano, used to run the kitchen on the fantastic Eataly meat restaurant, Manzo, and earlier than that he labored at Babbo for the nice nouveau-rustico godhead himself, Mario Batali. In accordance with the Batali doctrine, Toscano divides his menu right into a dizzying variety of sections (six plus dessert), every of which is filled with sufficient relentlessly hearty meals to feed a household of Calabrian peasants for per week. On one go to, my tasters and I loved crostini topped with lardo and baccala, adopted by waxy strips of prosciutto made out of a pig that, our waiter jauntily knowledgeable us, was raised on a weight-reduction plan of greens and whey. We picked at stacks of potato chips all’Amatriciana lined with a powder that features pulverized chile flakes (amongst different issues), and tasted so many antipasti (rosy beef tartare Piemontese, comfortable chunks of braised octopus, wood-fired blue prawns completed in brown butter) that even a few of the most seasoned fatsos at my desk have been starting to really feel just a little pressure when the pastas arrived.
The pastas we sampled—after sips of water and several other restorative gasps of air—have been respectable sufficient (strive the agnolotti filled with beef quick ribs and testa, and the eggy, pancetta-laced cavatelli), though a number of of them (the fazzoletti Bolognese, the marginally too sticky gnocchi, the spaghetti with rock shrimp) appeared to have been poured with the identical thick, faintly pedestrian tomato sauce. Should you’re smart, you’ll save your energy for the secondi objects, just like the plump fillet of purple snapper in a refined tomato brodetto, or the monkfish, which the kitchen garnishes with a black-truffle French dressing. I’ve by no means been a fan of that previous rustico standby, roasted rabbit (it’s wrapped in pancetta right here, in a useless try and alleviate its generic blandness), however the sweetly crisped roast duck is a factor of magnificence, and so is the hen cacciatore for 2, which is roasted complete within the oven and introduced to the desk, in excessive peasant model, with its gnarled claws nonetheless hooked up.
Toscano is likely one of the extra gifted nose-to-tail cooks within the metropolis, which implies you may as well get large helpings of grilled beef tongue at Perla (“How can anybody eat this a lot tongue?” one of many fatsos gasped), and platters of pink lamb loin served with tiny, deliciously fatty lamb breast on the facet. The world-class steaks embrace a properly charred New York strip (with a mélange of escarole and chanterelles and bone marrow), and an outstanding bone-in rib eye for 2, which is fired within the wood-burning oven and piled over a mass of candy, tangy borlotti beans splashed with balsamic and fats drippings. Then there’s the lamb’s-head particular, which is roasted complete and dropped at the desk propped upright on a butcher board like some large, medieval totem. The cheeks are the perfect half, as each rustico veteran is aware of, and in the event you’re feeling courageous, you may dip them right into a smear of recent Robiolina cheese, which the chef leavens with lamb’s brains.
I suppose it’s doable to not eat like a drunken Viking at Perla, however as a dutiful skilled, I by no means managed the trick. My daintier friends assured me that there are vegetable choices to choose at in between the pasta and secondi programs (sautéed Brussels sprouts with yellow foot mushrooms and goat’s-milk cheese, arugula salad, good funghi misti and cauliflower contorni, or “facet dishes”), and in the event you really feel like subsisting on recent oysters on the bar (Island Creeks from Massachusetts for $3 apiece, say), you are able to do that, too. I’ve dim reminiscences of 1 or two comparatively gentle desserts, like sorbetti flavored with grapefruit and Campari, and a snow-colored wheel of panna cotta that regarded lighter than it was because of an accompaniment of fennel shavings and grapefruit. However one of the simplest ways to finish dinner at this strong, polished, barely formulaic ristorante is with a wedge of the home polenta apple-and-fig upside-down cake, which is as elegant, in its stolid means, as a basic tarte Tatin, and almost twice as thick.
Perla
24 Minetta Ln., nr. Sixth Ave.; 212-933-1824
Hours: Dinner Sunday and Monday 4:30 p.m. to 11 p.m., Tuesday and Wednesday until midnight, Thursday by Saturday until 1 a.m.
Costs: Appetizers,
$3 to $21; entrées, $14 to $35.
Perfect Meal: Blue prawns
or beef tartare, cavatelli incatenati with egg and pancetta, glazed duck or dry-aged rib eye for 2, polenta apple-and-fig upside-down cake.
Notice: Beware, boozehounds. The wineglasses at this rustico institution are etched with miserly pour marks.
Scratchpad: One star for the polished, neighborly area, and one other for the impressed meathead portion of the menu.
Perla
Photograph: Danny Kim
Perla
Photograph: Danny Kim
Perla
Photograph: Danny Kim
Perla
Photograph: Danny Kim
Perla
Photograph: Danny Kim