This past Sunday, I thought it might be nice to brunch with a friend at Cookshop. It turned out that half of Manhattan had the same idea. There was a wait even though we had a reservation; fortunately it wasn't too long, as my buttermilk beignets craving was unbearable! Cookshop serves the four hot, puffy, sugar-dusted doughnuts with a stroke of genius: cardamom-spiked pineapple compote. Like
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*having problems with blogger accepting "read more" commands. anyone else?* Team Babbo decided to venture out once more before BeanieBaby's departure. Unfortunately our plan to eat out several times before she left fell through, and we only managed to squeeze in one more meal. Typical busy New Yorkers. One of the last meals we shared as a group was at Cookshop. Cookshop is right above the Meatpacking District. It was pouring that night and I opted to splurge on a cab since I was running particularly far behind schedule. I threw money at the cab driver, jumped out, shook off some of the rain like a dog, twirled my umbrella, and snuck...
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At dinner at the restaurant Cookshop the other night, I ordered the baby chicken. It was one of the dishes on the “rotisserie” section of the menu, and I wanted to see how the restaurant was doing with that piece of equipment, prominently displayed in the open kitchen. Although I had reviewed Cookshop very positively
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We returned to Cookshop last night. We happened to be in the neighborhood. We had gone before and didn't love it but felt inclined to give it one more shot. I'd heard good things. Alas, my gut instinct was right.
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In theory, the turkey club sandwich is a great idea. Turkey, bacon, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and toast; what's not to like? Yet every element of a club sandwich, except perhaps the mayo, is fraught with peril. Dry turkey or turkey roll, rigormortis-ridden bacon that was cooked and left for dead hours before it makes it into your sandwich, iceberg lettuce browned to a not-very-crisp, and woody, cardboard tomatoes that taste more like potatoes than tomatoes, often lead to a turkey club sandwich gone horribly wrong.
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Touted as another entry in the seasonal, local, and "slow food-esque" movement, Cookshop does not, however, deliver on any of those tenets. On a Friday night, I had a 6:30 reservation with my best friend from high school, who's a vegetarian. I thought it would be a good choice for me, the omnivore, and her, the vegetable/starch eater. However, we were both highly disappointed.
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On a gorgeous Chelsea evening last week, I met my former roommate and psychic birthday twin Lauren for dinner at Cookshop on 10th Ave. The walk over there was gorgeous, standing outside waiting for her was gorgeous, taking this picture was gorgeous. Say hi to the picture: Hello, gorgeous.
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Where to eat the first meal of the day on a weekend is taken as seriously among my crowd as the burial vs. cremation decision. Although there are many places that make a nice early-in-the-day food spread around town, the largest concentration of ones with good reputations are in the heavily foot trafficked/ late-riser portion of town, namely downtown on the East side. So if you straggle that way an estimated 45 minute wait can be very standard and often very inaccurate. It would seem, then, that what the city needs would be a new place, good at what they do, to start offering something resembling a brunch, ideally as far from the breakfast neighborhoods as possible.
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When there are voids, people fill them. In NYC, there is no lack of restaurants but there are always new ones opening. A few have been highlighted this year as "really good". One of those restaurants is Cookshop.
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There are many restaurants in New York that I want to try, so a restaurant has to be pretty damned good for me to rush back. If it is merely good, I move on to the next destination. After my friend and I had paid a first visit, Cookshop had made it into that rare pantheon of places we felt we had to rush back to
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A lot of good cooking is to be had. As a critic with but eleven months of New York eating before my retreat to Chicago, I select restaurants others recommend. They are my tasters. Sometimes I am brazenly disappointed - as at Spice Market - but typically my meals waver between very good and excellent with a handful of outstanding restaurants. The challenge is not to produce pleasant food, but to be transcendent. I average about one such dish a week.
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For my birthday, I like to pick a restaurant we wouldn’t normally go to—one that’s gotten good notices and promises a memorable meal. The danger in choosing somewhere new over a reliable favorite, of course, is that you can never be sure of what lies ahead. Last year, we celebrated my birthday at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, and it was disappointing. This year, it was Cookshop, and while disappointing is too strong a word to use here, with one small exception the food didn’t leave me desperate to return anytime soon.
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Cookshop has been open for several weeks. There was a good Sunday night crowd in the restaurant last night, but my friend and I were pleased that we could still hear ourselves talk.
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I revisited Cookshop last night for Wife's birthday. We were being taken out so, when I was asked for a suggestion, it seemed the way to go because the prices at Cookshop are fair, the food is quite good, and the restaurant subscribes to the local farmer philosophy Wife and I hold so dear. On this visit, though, I truly came to appreciate something I had only noted in passing on my first visit: Cookshop has an exceptional wine list.
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I had decided a while ago that I wouldn't post reviews of all of the restaurants I visit in NYC. But while I do like to keep this site focused on documenting my own cooking, I would be remiss if not mentioning who, what and where influences how I cook in my own kitchen.
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Saturday night was a reunion of sorts for me—it was the first night in almost two months that I had dinner with Susie, one of my closest and most treasured friends who had just spent seven weeks at Harvard for their Management MBA program for assorted geniuses of various industries. Susie is a total star, and she is like a sister to me—a sister you adore and cherish, not one whom you can’t stand. Not having her in my life these past weeks was like not having wine with dinner; you can do it, but it’s not pleasant—it’s just not right without it. And so for her first night back, Jamie, Adrienne and I took her to the most inspired new restaurant to open in her almost two month absence. We took her to Cookshop.
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Tonight, the butcher paper is gone from the windows of Cookshop on 10th Avenue and the grill is working overtime to satisfy the curious. And there are a lot of them– Cookshop redefined the concept of ‘long-awaited’ this past year as it sat senescent in West Chelsea, promising either to open ‘this summer,’ ‘in September,’ or more agonizingly, ’soon.’ The newest member of the Five Points family, Cookshop’s menu reflects chef Marc Meyer’s overriding dogma: ingredients should be local (where possible), fresh, wild or organic, and as much akin to what you’d get if you hunted and gathered them yourself. Not a bad place to start– a similar idea has brought widespread and well-deserved attention to the food at both River Cafés. Yet, ingredients are always a starting point and not much more. Good ones ease the transition into fully-realized dishes, but they remain only building blocks. So with the best locally-sourced ingredients and a chic modern glass and wood interior, how could Cookshop possibly go wrong? That’s what we keep asking ourselves after our visit last night– the restaurant’s opening night.
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