Showing posts with label Guest-Writer Series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guest-Writer Series. Show all posts

2/4/10

Louey Colicchio Reviews: Blue Water Grill

In the never ending quest to discover culinary greatness in New York City, Gallen de Robuchon, most commonly known as The Chef of the Century, has enlisted his disciple and protégé, Louey Colicchio, to traverse and explore the great expanse of New York City restaurants with the goal to bring knowledge to the 9 loyal readers of New Jersey Is Clean, Idiots. Today brings the first installment of what we hope is many to come. Gallen de Robuchon hopes you enjoy the contributions of Louey Colicchio here, and in the future.

Restaurant Review:
Blue Water Grill
31 Union Square West
New York, NY 10003
www.brguestrestaurants.com

Ambience:
The setting at Blue Water Grill is diverse. The location is excellent, right in the heart of Union Square, which initially brings a good feel to the evening. Upon entering, you navigate your way down a hallway and enter the first floor bar area, which seems to be a happening scene for people who like to throw down a couple of cocktails prior to a meal. There are also tables downstairs, and it seems to me that it is a more lively and loud atmosphere because of the location of the bar downstairs. If that is your thing, then you will like it. Louey Colicchio, however, sometimes enjoys a more mellow environment, and that is precisely what he received upon walking to the second floor of the dining area. The tables included booth-style seating on one side, with two chairs on the other. The art was mellow and understated, and the lighting was nicely muted, but not too dark.
Ambience Grade: B+

Service:
Blue Water Grill is part of the conglomerate known as B.R. Guest Restaurants, who own and operate about a dozen restaurants in New York City, including well known spots such as all of the Dos Caminos and Ruby Foo’s Times Square. While I generally would rather support a well run, small, family oriented business (Please check out my new restaurant, Colicchio & Sons, which epitomizes those values), there is something to be said for the resources and expertise that comes with such a brand. This was all a long-winded way of saying the service was flawless. Upon entering, the hostesses were very polite. Our jackets were checked and we were lead to our table. Upon our arrival, our waters were briskly filled (after politely being asked if we would like Pellegrino or bottled water, which we declined), and throughout the meal the water was consistently being replenished - an essential and appreciated element for The Chef of the Century’s disciple. Bread was served promptly, with a dollop of soft butter - a subtle, yet appreciated nuance. Our order was taken quickly, our wine served on time, and the food came at a consistently good pace. Throughout, we were always greeted with a smile. The woman I happened to be with on this evening got fresh pepper on her salad, which was so kindly offered and executed, and the pre-bussing was timed excellently, an under-the-radar sign that a guest is being treated expertly. Our check was presented quickly, and returned even quicker. Overall, very well done.
Service Grade: A

Appetizers:
On to the food. After all, this is a cooking competition! For first course, I dabbled with the Baked Little Neck Clams Casino, while the woman had the Heirloom Citrus Salad. My clams, served in the shell, were four morsels of happiness. The house cured bacon gave it great flavor and that little bit of texture, and of course, everything is better with bacon. The dollop of cherry pepper aioli gave a slight punch, which really brought the dish together. The Citrus salad stole the appetizer show, however. The simple combination of the bitter arugula and fennel combined with the sweet and sour citrus was balanced perfectly with the aged pecorino cheese, and finished nicely with a white balsamic vinaigrette. What made this a prefect appetizer was that it really woke up and excited the palate for what was coming next. Well done.
Appetizer Grade: A-

Main Course:
As a man of the sea, I continued to venture into the ocean for my main course, which was a Slow Roasted Gooseberry Cove Cod. My company for the evening remained on land with the Maple Brined Pork Chop. First the Cod. When the dish was presented, it was very appealing. A simple roasted filet of fish rested upon a bed of Braised Short Rib Risotto, which was then outlined by a Pomegranate Reduction. My one complaint with the presentation was that it was all a little too white, with the plate, the rice, and the fish contributing. While the pomegranate reduction really stood out, I think it could have used a little more color, maybe adding the baby spinach on top, instead of hidden beneath the fish and in the risotto. Once I dug in, I was quite pleased. The fish was simply cooked, really letting this flaky treat stand alone. However, what stole the show was the risotto. Creamy, cooked slightly al dente, combined with the pomegranate reduction - it was divine. My only critique is that the risotto at times overpowered the fish.

On to the pork. For a restaurant known for its seafood prowess, this dish was really a success. While not the most creative combination, the execution was flawless. The pork was cooked to the point where the outside was slightly charred, giving the pork that great flavor combined with a nice texture. The Fingerling Sweet Potatoes added another sweet element to the dish, which was tamed by the slight bitterness of the Swiss Chard. The Bacon Bourbon Gastrique added color to the plating and bacon to the dish, and as noted previously, you can’t go wrong with bacon. I have nothing negative to say about this dish.
Main Course Grade: B+

Dessert:
For dessert, the woman did what women do, and went for the chocolate. The Chocolate Butterscotch Tart with Espresso Toffee Chip Ice Cream looked excellent, and while I didn’t really dig in, my female counterpoint finished the entire plate, which must mean something went right.

I went with the Citrus Cheesecake with a Tangerine Sorbet and Pistachio Financier. Another beautifully plated desert; the height and color provided by the candied slice of orange was well executed and creatively done. I enjoyed that the cake wasn’t as rich and dense as cheesecake normally is, and instead had a nice fluffy quality to it. The tangerine sorbet paired perfectly with the cheesecake, providing a clean, refreshing element which was a great counterbalance to the cake. I approved of the fact that both desserts included an ice cream or sorbet, but by the time the plates got to our table, they were slightly melted. While I do not wish to blame a restaurant on a matter of physics, perhaps putting the scoop of ice cream in a separate, small ramekin, then placing it on the plate, would remedy this problem.
Dessert Grade: B+

Overall, an enjoyable experience. The service and ambiance are appreciated and pleasurable, and the food certainly holds it’s own. If you are looking for a meal while wandering around Union Square, you would do well to give Blue Water Grill a shot.

6/26/09

Glover wins US Open; lips out on life.

The New Jersey is Clean, Idiots Guest-Writer Series continues here with a submission from our wonderful friend from the south, Rich. Rich is an avid golfer, he works for the Golf Channel, his entire wardrobe is golf shirts and khakis, he sleeps with his driver... you get the idea. Rich eats, breathes, and sleeps golf.

Now when he came to me with his submission for the blog and told me it was about the US Open, I figured it was about how much of a disaster the tournament was due to the atrocious weather we had here in the northeast over the weekend, and that Rich would give us proper perspective on the tournament now that we've had a week to digest it. Well, Rich gave us perspective alright, but on a slightly different topic. So without further ado, I give you Rich's rant on the US Open.

I know you, but I don’t like you.

Yes Lucas Glover. I’m talking to you.

Glover, the same guy who turned me away for an interview after the final round of the Wyndham Championship in 2007, quoting “I have to catch a flight,” which then I quickly snapped with a “I have to catch a deadline”… I haven’t forgot that Lucas. I hope you missed your flight.

Needless to say, I wasn’t cheering for you this past weekend. In fact, I don’t know who was. I wanted you to collapse like General Lee’s troops at Antietam, just without all the blood. The only red I wanted to see was the firing of Tiger Woods fist pumps through the air like a machine gun strapped upon a tank ready to blow shit up.

But no, you and your smug face, with your cap turned low walking around probably the hardest public golf course in the world beating the best players in the world, and you can’t even crack the smallest of grins? You made arguably the best major of the year into a snooze fest, and you did it looking like Droopy Dog. Here was your chance to show the world who you are, and you provided nothing.

No one will remember you. There I said it.

I hope you feel good about joining the ranks of boring US Open winners like Steve Jones, Scott Simpson, and David Graham. Where are they now? Probably filling up my large bucket of balls at my local driving range.



With that being said, here’s a few options on how I would have acted upon walking through Bethpage State Park with the US Open trophy in my hands (in no particular order):

1) When you (or I in this case) made that clutch putt on 16 to lock this thing up, I would have thrown at least 2 continuous cartwheels, then Rocky’ed my way up the grandstands to throw a huge gainer towards the 17th tee.

2) When I’m walking up the 18th fairway, I would ran passed all the fans (who most took off of work on Monday to attend) and slap hands with each and every one of them. Think Hulk Hogan as he would make his entrance to ringside (minus “I’m a Real American” playing in the background…but on second thought, it is the US Open, and I’m American…so fuck that, I’d definitely want that playing).

3) Once I sank the final putt, I would have ran and slid to my caddy on my knees like I just won the World Cup. Mouth open, screaming “geeyawwn,” fists clenched to the sky.



4) After being presented with the trophy, I’d walk over to Phil Mickelson and say, "Phil, I’m sorry, but I can’t find your name on here? I know it’s on here…oh wait.”

5) During the post round interview, I would not accept being addressed as “Rich” or “Mr. Calabrese” but “2009 US Open Champion.” Where I’d then interrupt every question with “Did I just win the U.S. Open? I did? Have you won a major before? No? Well why not?” in the most douche-baggiest way possible.

Those are just a few examples on how any normal person would celebrate a life-crowning achievement.

If this posting sounds bitter, it’s because it is. Let’s be honest, I’m extremely jealous of Lucas Glover. Any golfer should be. It was a great U.S. Open until Lucas Glover won. If he’d had shown the slightest bit of personality, he’d be known as the guy that took down Tiger and Phil in their prime. There’d be a famous golf phrase coined “I’m going to pull a Lucas Glover.” I don’t what that means yet, but believe me, golfers would start saying that.

There are not many opportunities in life where you can show the entire world who you are. We know you’re a good, wait…GREAT golfer, but as big of a golf nut as I am, it hurt to watch you win. I watched you play for hours this weekend, and the worst part is, I have no idea who you are.

6/10/09

An Open Letter to Mr. John Mayer

I am not a big music guy. I like it, don't get me wrong, but I'd much rather listen to sports talk radio in the car or watch TV at home instead of locking myself in my room, applying black eye-liner and then slitting my wrists while listening to Alkaline Trio's latest. I LOVE THE PAIN. IT TAKES ME AWAY FROM THE MONOTONY OF MY EVERYDAY LIFE. THAT AND MY GIRLFRIEND JUST BROKE UP WITH ME, AND HIGH SCHOOL IS DEFINITELY NOT OVER. Sorry I got carried away there.

Anyway, my friend Joseph is a big music guy, though not the emo parents-hater that I described above. He'll dabble in it for sure, and he wears tight pants and cardigans, but he has more eclectic musical taste, which, for a long time, has included John Mayer. He's loved John Mayer for years now, so much so that there is an autographed picture of Mayer next to his toilet (I'll let you draw your own conclusions). But alas, there is trouble in paradise. And Joseph is here to share that trouble with you. So without further ado, I give you "An Open Letter to Mr. John Mayer," penned by New Jersey is Clean, Idiots' first guest-writer, Joseph.

Dear John,

We’ve been together a long time, you and I. Through both feast and famine, the Bush administration, the aftermath of Y2K, and the Von Dutch trucker hat, your melodies have dusted the soundtrack of my existence much like that of a scene from a demented romantic comedy that lacks both requisite components. John, I’ll be honest – it’s been a test of both emotional endurance and musical devotion, but, regrettably, things have finally come to a head. It’s time we had a little chat. Please listen and listen well.

You’re a douche.

I can certainly look beyond the fact that your greatest commercial successes are tied to such lyrical revelations as, “One pair of candy lips,” and, wait for it, “Your bubblegum tongue.” Granted, if you really get off on Dubble Bubble, more power to you. The creepy-solo-face-thing? You probably go 6 to midnight every time you try and hone your inner Hendrix. So be it. Your affinity for courting America’s favorite tabloid fodder? Let’s not kid ourselves into thinking you entertained Joe Simpson’s wonder child for her insights into the global economy. I don’t hold it against you. Not entirely, at least.

But, seriously, shut the fuck up.

Your Twitter page is a busted caps lock and mullet fro short of Mr. Jesus Walks, though even he seems a step above the fervor with which you “tweet” like a pubescent parakeet from hell. Please put down the narcissism you peddle as intelligent introspection, put your tray table back in its upright position, and prepare for landing back in reality where no one needs to know you’re “having a bad pubic hair day.” You speak the truth in stating Twitter “has lost a little bit of its new car smell.” Yes, John, you bought a lemon. Please take it back. It smells like pubes.

And, no, it’s not the tattoos, the oodles of TMZ-worthy cover girls in your future, or the fact that “Your Body is a Wonderland” makes me want to violently punch an infant. The guitar gymnastics you perform? God-like. Musicianship? Top notch. But, honestly, lock it up.

Today has been a long day coming, John, but it’s finally over between us. Our ship has sailed, but not before you were tossed overboard to drown in a pleasant, little sea of self-concern. My only hope is that the sharks enjoy your body. And all your candy-coated insides.

Joe