New York summers, where would life be without eating through them?
Which is why, on one day that promised to be sweltering but succumbed to the fall weather tendencies of this twisted city, I wandered into a Michelin, despite having bruised and surprised by its experiences before. Not one of my favorite cuisines it was, for Italian foods are rather simple to prep in chez nous, but its impeccable location next to a meeting made it too savory to skip. And who misses a chance to be a charming, culinary Italian in the haute city of the N and Y and C?
A Voce truly brought me back to my Italian trip with its subdued lighting, measured plate spacing, and contemporary art on glinting walls that reflected the cellars of wine that lay in store. For Marlon Abela’s restaurant group is quite the staple in winery based restaurants in the world’s major cosmopolitans.
I however got my staple: a jalapeño margarita. An odd choice for a fundamentally Italian restaurant, but I am not a fundamentally ordinary mortal myself. It was however, as expected, rather bland, but a brightly chirpy green color.
Starting with the salad round, classic to Italian cuisine was the arugula and spinach green goodness with candied walnuts, shredded mozzarella and endives. While not the most inventive of plates, it was a fresh bite, crunchy and whimsical with the disguised mozzarella which one would normally expect in chunks.
The main was my favorite: truffle oil drenched homemade flat pasta with chanterelle mushrooms and shaved truffle in olive oil butter. While dense and rather rich, this was the perfect way to diminish the healthiness of the previous round in a hearty way. What I enjoyed was that the olive oil did not cling, and that the peppers were shaved finely, so as to avoid a train like coughing series.
Remind me to never venture out of my chocolate zone too much for dessert. For while the oddly titled coppa cafe allured me with coffee gelato, chocolate ganache and a bucket of milk foam, it was a tad too sweet and lacked the crunchy textures that one would expect of a sumptuous dessert, especially for being culinar-ily Italian. Plus, isn’t foam going the cupcake way? I.e. out?
The meal ended with a delicious limoncello marshmallow to savor as I peaked at perfectly clad empty tables and whisked myself out onto the streets of New York, chewing ceremoniously at the last bite of a mixed but refreshing Italian meal.
So long, New York.
My travels take me around enough to give your culinary scene an impeccably high benchmark.