"Gabriel Stulman, who has opened some of the city’s most beloved restaurants—the Little Owl, Joseph Leonard, Fedora—named his latest, Simon & the Whale, after his young son, who is passionate about those awe-inspiring creatures of the deep. If there’s a thematic connection to draw, it’s that at night the dining room, in the swanky new Freehand Hotel, is as dark and exciting as an aquarium, with romantic lighting just barely illuminating the dramatic Arts and Crafts-inspired décor by the design firm Roman & Williams, heavy on custom woodwork, oceanic-blue tiles, and warm metals. It has the glow—and the early buzz—of a place to be, and people lucky enough to have won tables scan each other’s faces searchingly, as if to say, “Are you somebody?” The menu offers dishes that sound delicious and cleverly unusual in the way that the current moment demands—pork collar Milanese with apricot mostarda; apple confit with parsnip sponge cake and sunchoke cream—and many that center on seafood. On a recent evening, I watched, mouth agape, as a nearby table was presented with what looked like a pot of desiccated calla lilies. It was fish chicharrón, a server explained, giant sheaths of sea-bass skin deep fried until crackly, then coated in salt, pepper, and dehydrated malt vinegar. It is not currently on the menu, but this party had put in a special request, and she’d see if there was any left over. There was; the bouquet, in a ceramic vase, was as striking as a sculpture and remarkably satisfying, like salt-and-vinegar potato chips plucked from the sea. Otherwise, though, I felt a bit like a child who had misgauged her wrapped Christmas presents. My hopes for the Milanese—that the collar of a pig would prove as tender as that of a fish—were dashed by a too-thick, gristly piece of meat in an appealing-looking but undersalted shell of bread crumbs. The beautiful whole fish for two was overwhelmed by its accessories—couscous, almonds, Brussels sprouts, charred carrots, and mandarin-orange segments—and priced at an inexplicable eighty dollars. A few things were wonderful, including the black-bass crudo, with its perfect little packages of raw fish, coconut milk, and sheets of crispy rice topped with togarashi. I’d eat the crusty roasted-barley black bread—which has all the nutty, caramelized appeal of burnt toast without the bitterness, and a delightful hint of anise—every day. But the accompanying taramasalata, a classic Greek dip made with fish roe, was remarkably bland, and seemed, like too many things at Simon & the Whale, chosen primarily for its visual effect: it’s millennial pink. (Entrées $18-$80.)" - Hannah Goldfield
