Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Restaurant review, Don’t Call It a Fish Shack.


In the rough-and-tumble, caste-bound world of restaurant kitchens, different jobs tend to attract different personalities. Sauciers are supposed to be secretive and mercurial, pastry chefs are persnickety, grill men are famously aggressive and verbose. And then there are the lordly seafood chefs, a delicate band of aesthetes, famous for their snooty, hypersensitive attention to ingredients and cooking technique. April Bloomfield, who made her New York reputation serving up elegant, two-fisted gastropub recipes at the popular West Village restaurant-bar the Spotted Pig, doesn’t seem to fit into the classic seafood-snob mold. Her most popular dish at the Spotted Pig is a giant Roquefort-smothered cheeseburger. As an acolyte of the great “nose-to-tail” London chef Fergus Henderson, she has a fondness for offal specialties like grilled beef tongue and crispy pig’s ear spritzed with lemon and capers. She serves chicken livers, too, and plenty of bacon, and has a happy English penchant for drowning her recipes in flagons of melted butter and country cream.

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