When Mr. Food Musings and I were in New York last month, we supped and brunched and nibbled our way around town with Little Sister and The Boyfriend. One of the places we went was Pastis. Who better to tell you about our meal than Little Sister herself?
On a recent Sunday morning, with Ms. Food Musings herself and the Mr. in town, The Boyfriend and I met them at one of our favorite spots, Pastis, which sits smack in the middle of the oh-so chic Meatpacking district. Although Pastis is sometimes dismissed as overstuffed and over-hyped (and a recent New York Times article declared brunch to be totally passé), The Boyfriend and I have been won over by meal after meal of delicious bistro standards. After eight years as a vegetarian, I had my first steak there, and I couldn’t stop eating the velvety meat even when I was nearly bursting. The French onion soup is so good, The Boyfriend promised to marry me if I learned to make it (and don’t think I’m not practicing! Remember the chicken carcass I smuggled through airport security after Thanksgiving?). What makes Pastis stand out is the energy, straight from the streets of Manhattan, by way of Paris.But back to brunch....that morning the sun had peeked out for one of the first official days of spring and I debated asking for a table outside, but decided that Ms. Food Musings should enjoy the authentic Pastis – inside at a small bistro table, the hum of the bustling wait staff and snippets of conversation mingling with the aroma of good food.
I don’t see the point of standing around when there is food to be had; our reservation guaranteed that we’d sail past the crowd, smiling, within five minutes of arriving. Once seated in the mirror-bedecked dining room (rumor has it that the interior was dismantled brick by brick from a French bistro and resurrected in its current home), I ordered the panier basket. The moment those freshly baked delectables from Pastis’ sister restaurant, Balthazar, arrived, we peeked in to find bread with hunks of dark chocolate in every bite, a golden-tipped brioche, several slices of hearty bread bearing dried fruits and nuts, and, The Boyfriend’s favorite, the cinnamon roll with wrinkly raisins sitting askew a glistening mess of sugary spices.
If you are a hollandaise fan, you wiould be delighted with the classic eggs Benedict (The Boyfriend’s pick this particular time) or the eggs Hussarde, my choice because one sauce simply isn’t enough: hollandaise plus bordelaise drench a medley of tomatoes and mushrooms and a slice of ham, crackly at the edges from the frying pan, over sturdy sourdough. Mr. and Ms. Food Musings wondered aloud what they should choose. Ms. FM opted for the eggs Sardou, two poached eggs drizzled with hollandaise atop a mound of buttery artichokes, thick creamed spinach and deep-fried bread; Mr. FM had the fruit-topped pancakes. The server whisked our orders to the table just as we were finishing off the last of our panier treats. The service at Pastis is just how I like it: efficient, pleasant, and straight-forward. They somehow manage to always have my coffee and water refilled without my ever noticing.
The aromas of artichokes, spinach and hollandaise flirted with me from my sister’s plate, and I had a momentary pang of food envy, something I am prone to, especially since Ms. FM has an uncanny knack for ordering the best thing** on any menu, anywhere. But the moment I tasted a bite of my perfectly poached egg (a little runny, but starting to congeal), the tasty combination of the two sauces banished any fleeting jealousy. The four of us chomped away busily, enjoying the food, the company, and the sun spilling through the windows. Though Pastis is steeped in New York style,full of people-watching and the hubbub of the streets, it’s fun to pretend that there is a little bit of Paris tucked away inside its walls and marble-topped tables.
To those who want to experience Pastis without the crowd, I say – Don’t! The fun is not only in the food, but in the frenzy!
**P.S. I only wish I always ordered the best thing on the menu!
P.P.S. Hmmm...
P.P.P.S. Well, maybe she's right.
Pastis, New York, 9 9th Avenue, 212-929-4844
This is the perfect description/review of Pastis. It was a delight when we ate there last summer. And you're right--Daughter FM does somehow always manage to have the most delectable plate at the table!
Posted by: Mom | May 16, 2005 at 04:23 AM