Michael Booth

David Chang-athon - Momofuku, Ma Peche, Milk Bar.

One chef more than any other is on my radar during my time in New York: David Chang. As regular readers will know I had great success with his Bo Ssam recipe for New Year, and his blend of Japanese, Korean, Italian and French intrigued me, so I wanted to pay homage. Top of the list of his places to try was Momofuku, his flagship restaurant with - I think - at least one Michelin star. To make a reservation you have to log in to his website, giving your email address and so on, then give your credit card details AND make sure to be online at 10am Monday morning New York time to bag a seat at the 14-seater counter one week hence, supposedly because he sells out virtually instantly.

Bit like trying to set up an interview with Mariah Carey crossed with sorting something out via internet banking.

I jumped through all these hoops, and got myself a Saturday lunch spot with no problem.

Chang has a no-photography policy, which is fair enough. Everyone knows them's the rules before they eat there. Took a sneaky one, nonetheless. Maverick hip-shooter that I am.

There is but one menu served, a lengthy, costly tasting menu. It included the now classic shaved foie gras, lychee and Riesling jelly (excellent), a gruyere and Comte consommé (slightly sick-making), burned Brussel Sprouts (eh?), a super oyster (but singular), a foamed poached egg (striking, but also frightful) among numerous other treats and trials. I'll spare you the rest of the course-by-course details, but my conclusion is this: this was tasty, firework food. Massive flavours, simple, crude, very sweet, very fatty. Basically your standard American flavours: sugar and bacon, grilled, burned aromas etc. all in a variety of entertaining forms. If you like Burger King, you'll probably find something to cling to here.

It was pretty much the same story at Ma Peche (can't be bothered with all the accents), Chang's new Midtown place. Almost as difficult to get a reservation, even more snooty, too-cool-for-school staff, slightly less refined, less memorable food. Here's a terrible photo:

I have to say, on a Saturday night the place was buzzing. You really felt you were at the centre of the culinary universe, which seems to be one of Chang's great skills/confidence tricks as a restaurateur. And another blurry shot:

New York restaurant goers never quite feel they've got their money's worth unless they've been treated like naughty children, it seems, and so, at Ma Peche, when you try to order dessert, you are told instead that you may have some cheese. You point out that you walked past a well stocked 'Milk Bar' at the entrance, with all manner of tarts and cookies.

But your request for some of these is refused. Well, you can keep your artisanal cheese Mr Chang.

I persisted with my Chang-athon, now seriously addicted to his brazen flavours, and headed for the original Milk Bar on the Lower East Side to try the 'iconic' steamed pork bun.

Utterly fabulous. God I wish there was a place serving these near me. Although I'd be dead of heart failure within six months. (And, I have to say, Ippudo's were better):

I don't mean to sound snide about Chang (well, not too much). He's (re-)introduced us to some great new flavours (most notably kimchi puree, cereal milk, Korean fermented soy bean paste, and Maggi seasoning), and great new combinations. His crack pie is indeed addictive (though his truffle things are even better). You've got to admire too how he's generated his own myth, albeit another riff from that old 'cooking as the new rock and roll' Anthony Bourdain playbook where working in a kitchen is pitched just below a tour of duty in Helmandland in the range of ultimate macho endeavours.

So, that's all great. Hats off to the man, and thanks for some wonderful food.

Just don't ever even think of mentioning Chang's name in the same breath as Redzepi, or Narisawa, Aizpitarte, Adoniz or any other young chef with any subtlety, proper culinary vision or skill. 

That's all.

Best burger in New York - The definitive survey.

Let's cut straight to the chase again, shall we. There is enough tension in the world.

No question, the best burger in New York, if not the world, is to be found at Shake Shack, Madison Square Park.

Proper beef flavour and - crucially - a soft, sweet bun. None of this toasted malarky.

Get in! There is no indoor eating, which tested our mettle that day, but you get to eat in the shadow of the Flatiron, which adds a little frisson.

And the squirrels were crazy mad for them. We literally had to fend them off. And they were real fatties, too:

Honourable mentions should also go to:

The Spotted Pig, for their irresistible shoestring fries, even though their staff were very much of the 'too cool for school' persuasion (to the extent that, when I arrived without my dining companion, who was running late, the maitre 'd refused to seat me even though there was literally only one other guest. While I am at it, what is it with the staff at April Bloomfield's places? They were also horribly sniffy at the Breslin, too. Rant over). The burger was fabulously rare, as requested, but lost points for having a crispy bun. No, no, no, no... (shakes head ruefully).

And, of course, a tip of the stetson to Prune, for their inspirational idea of using an English muffin for the bun - surely some award for design and innovation and a plinth at MOMA is in the offing for that? - although they lost points for making a burger you needed a knife and fork to eat. Burgers are to be clasped purposefully between two hands in a vague 'crab claw' formation. I don't make the rules here...

Other runners up, include the burgers at Five Guys which, though it is a chain, were leagues better than any chain burger to be had anywhere in Europe (and better than virtually any proper restaurant burger too, while we're at it), and, if we are broadening things out to general bun-centric fast food, then this beauty:

It's the lobster roll at the Pearl Oyster Bar in Greenwich Village. Staggeringly good, even for 27 dollars. I still dream about this meal.

 

Prune - New York

Let's cut to the chase, shall we? The best place I have eaten at so far in New York is Prune, a 24-seat, one-room, Modern American bistro in a fairly grotty part of the East Village. It reminded me of a few places in Paris, mostly Daniel Rose's Spring - intimate, informal, with an open kitchen to the rear and a largely market-driven menu featuring improbable combinations, plenty of offal, and the odd tasty broth.

We went for dinner and I asked to have a look at the lunch menu. That looked so good, we came back the next day for lunch (luckily the awful weather has pretty much emptied the city and laid waste to the usually long restaurant queues and reservation lists in the city - we even got tickets for Letterman).

(Said his name was Frosty, seemed a jolly happy soul).

Here's the menu itself. It's a little out of focus, but that's of course deliberate and nothing to do with my inability to hold a camera steady due to my excitement. The best things in life are worth working a little harder for, don't you think?

Chicken hearts? Sweetbreads? Fried oyster omelette? I wanted to eat virtually everything on it.

The chef sent out an amuse of a dish which seems to be the current (and slightly weird) food trend in the city these days - devilled eggs. Everyone is doing their version, and these were great, if you like that kind of thing, which I don't, terribly.

But they were merely the prelude for the sweetbread, which was exceptional, albeit in the singular (it was a starter, admittedly, but still):

They have a book coming out in March, which has now gone to the top of my wish list. I'll also be taking another look at monkfish liver, having been inspired by this starter the evening before.

Looks a bit of a mess, but the trick with monkfish - and cod - liver is to deglaze with something acidic, in this case balsamic, and not to serve too much of it. Both of which they employed at Prune to stunning effect.

My main that evening was pork in octopus broth with clams. Splendid.

So, Prune, yes, definitely. No prunes to be seen on the menu, though, which seemed a bit remiss.

If you can make it there... you will almost certainly need some sensible footwear

Hello from a perma-frosted New York. Or is it Paris? 

No, it's definitely not Paris - not with children, having fun, in public.

And, what is the best way to stave off the cold? To eat of course!

More in a bit...