My mood will always affect how I view my food, but it's far from a one-way street. Food can also affect my mood, and on this night, my mood needs Manhattan House.
The mood lighting makes for terrible photos, but it hides the dark circles under my eyes, a much better concealer than the stuff I don't have time to wear.
The Roasted Brussels Sprouts play too my dark mood, the need for something that gives it to me straight. This dish is sharp and bitter, barely sugar-coated by provolone and pesto, a little something simple yet assertive that cuts through all the B.S. of my week.
The Prosciutto & Honey Dates hang heavy, a favorite for their juxtaposition of salt with sweet, mildness with pungence. The gorgonzola glides along a gooey date, all softness against the chewy, cured charcuterie.
A Fondo Del Mare as black as my temper: a stimulating dungeon of black sourdough flanks delicately-breaded baby octopi, each bite as soft and supple as the one before.
My spirits lift with my final southern comfort. The Buttermilk Fried Chicken is flawless, and there is a dash of honey in the adherent crust. The cornbread is fluffy yet dense, savory yet sweet, a balance that simultaneously uplifts and grounds.
Ending with the Olive Oil Cake, a moist, modest slice of not-too-sweet interspersed with raspberry coulis.
I like Manhattan House. It's a safe haven of familiar food, prepared with undeniable skill. The concepts are easy to grasp, the execution is exact. A good meal, a reasonable price for the quality, all too easy to enjoy.
No comments:
Post a Comment