Joe Allen
326 W 46th St (btwn Eighth/Ninth Aves)
212-581-6464
JoeAllenRestaurant.com
SHORT ORDER: The straightforward, consistent Restaurant
Row joint is a New York classic
that is pretty hard to beat.
PETER’S PICKS: Joe Allen! Meeting Joan Rivers!
PETER’S PANS: The “flop wall” featuring posters of
panned Broadway shows that suffered at the hand of theater critics and
indifferent audiences.
Joe Allen, the fabulous, storied,
classic New York joint on
Restaurant Row has been a favorite for me ever since I first experienced it
over 20 years ago. With all that goes on in this ever-changing borough, Joe
Allen is a constant, and we sat comfortably with a soothing soundtrack in the
background by Ella, Billie and Bing. We pretty much had the place to ourselves,
as the 7pm theatergoers had already
left, and were excited to learn that we were seated at Joan Rivers’ favorite
table. Later, much to our jaw-dropping surprise, she actually walked into the
restaurant! Since we were lingering over cocktails, having already finished
dinner, we gladly offered her our table, but the grand lady graciously declined
after talking to us for a while and sat instead at her “second favorite table”
with entourage in tow—and yes, she looked gorgeous.
When it comes to cocktails, I can’t think of anything else
to order at Joe Allen but a brisk martini, and Belvedere vodka made the grade
this time. My fella conservatively slugged back some sparkling water. For
starters, a huge portion of aromatic steak tartare was buttery, flavored with
strong mustard; sharp, pungent onions and tangy capers plated with a glistening
arugula side salad. Toast points provided a fine conveyance. Escargots were
tender and not chewy at all, as they so often are. This dish was done right,
with fresh herbs, garlic and simmering oil. A small, fantastic Caesar salad was
certainly enough for two to share and was exactly what it should have
been—fresh, crunchy romaine perfectly coated with a creamy dressing, composed
of pert lemon and pungent garlic. It’s a simple preparation that so many
restaurants mess up all the time.
About here we stepped up to an Austrian Grüner Veltliner,
which was crisp like a lively autumn day with creamy, resonant green and floral
notes. I do find the Joe Allen hamburger to be one of the best in the city (for
years it was never even listed on the menu), but we turned our thoughts
elsewhere and ordered the shrimp and grits as a sort of pasta course. We loved
it, just like a country breakfast with andouille sausage and jumbo shrimp in a
lobster consommé with a fried egg on top and a peppery finish.
Thinly sliced sautéed calf’s liver served medium rare was a
rapture with grilled onions, a delicious torrent of whipped potatoes and
wondrous, diaphanous slivers of bacon love notes. The moist, bone-in pork
chop had a great sear, served with Jersey peach
chutney. It was surely sent courtesy of Henry VIII—it was a huge, gluttonous
piece of meat that we could only eat half of! Accompanying roasted Brussels
sprouts were wonderful and further fit the bill.
The chocolate pudding cake with vanilla ice cream and hot
fudge has always been a delight, but having been alerted to Ms. Rivers’
favorite, we ordered the banana cream pie instead, such a light, elegant finish
to an extraordinary evening!
Prices: Appetizers: $7-$17; Entrées:
$13-$33; Alcohol: wine, beer, full bar, specialty cocktails
First published in part in Next magazine.
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