Nicholas P.
Yelp
I had a near perfect meal at The Dutch. Interested? Please keep reading.
The clock struck midnight on the 2 pillows of Zyn in my mouth as I exited Dassidou's Uber (X) at 8:00pm. He gave me the knowing nod, meaning I landed at the right spot OR he needed me to get the heck (we'll try to keep this PG) out of his white minivan. I assumed the former.
Since I frequent NYC once every 17 years, numerous friends tried to steer me in the right direction for dinner tonight, knowing that if left to my own devices, I'd have an "authentic" slice of pie at Sbarro. A good friend told me to give The Dutch a try, and seeing as my favorite child (wink) is a 70 lb. dog named Dutch, I was game.
As I entered the dimly lit restaurant, solo without my wife, god bless her soul (no, I'm not a widower . . . she just didn't get to join me on this work trip), the hostess gave me a once over and upon seeing my orthotic grey New Balances, ushered me to the far corner of the bar - aka "The Dad Zone." Smart move on her part. My only objective for the evening was to eat a good meal and catch up on my "stories," consisting of whatever the DrudgeReport and perhaps even Barstool had to offer.
The service from the get go was top notch. I'm just a country boy from South Highland Park (Texas, not Chicago), and the big City frightens me. The waitress was more than accommodating and immediately asked me what I'd like to drink. A dry vodka martini with 3 olives, of course. Would Tito's suffice? You bet your buns it would. I want to look sophisticated but drink moderately priced (side eye to you, Stoli drinkers).
After a few readings on why Trump/Biden is destroying/saving the country/former democracy and then also catching up on the latest in the Hawk Tuah saga, the time came to place an order. I asked my waitress what she recommended, and to my great surprise, she followed by reading the entire menu. For an indecisive man in an indecisive world, this was exotically perplexing.
I settled on the pork chop with a side of spinach. Why? Well, the waitress swore that the pork chop was irresistible, and the spinach made me feel like I was being a big boy.
In truth, the food DID NOT disappoint. The last time I had a pork chop, my mama pan fried it for me and cooked all of the color/flavor/texture/life out of it. I loved mama's pork chops (this is my truth), but this was AMAZING. It was crusted in mustard seeds and chives (at least I thought they were chives, it was dark and I forgot my readers), and accompanied by a mustard au jus (spelling?) and a dollop of whipped potatoes. Simply put, it was delicious. The pork chop and au jus were cooked to smoky/tender perfection. The spinach was . . . spinach, but its somewhat sour taste helped cut the richness of the pork chop . . . which was as thick as a ribeye. I must say . . . (pause) . . . I did find the whipped potatoes a bit anemic. Don't get me wrong. They were good, but they needed salt, pepper, cheese, other cheese and bacon. Beside that they were fine.
As I washed my meal down with a few moderately priced glasses of cab, I paused to take in how perfect the evening had been. The weather - not as bad as Texas. The venue - perfect if you are a creepy old man eating at the end of the bar. The food - divine!
BUT! And, reader, I assured you at the outset there would be a "BUT." The meal was not perfect.
As the chef plated the dish, he/she oriented the bone portion of the pork chop to the right of the plate. Not the left. Right side bone is the preferred orientation of any bone-in meat if . . . and only if . . . you are one of the 99.9% of the people on this Earth who are cursed right handers. However, such orientation is darn (see, PG again) near useless for any of the 0.1% of the illuminati . . . I mean lefties . . . in the world. Had the chef noticed I had placed my water cup, wine glass, second wine glass, martini glass and smart phone (not gonna give you free press, APPLE!), they would have noticed that this critic is a lefty. A southpaw. A . . . dare I say, but I shall . . . social outcast at The Dutch, at least.
So, in the end, while the experience and food were amazing, I am only giving The Dutch a 4.99 (repeating) stars because they apparently hate old left-handed dads who wear reasonably priced, but comfortable as heck (keeping it PG, Yelp!) sneakers in what we all agree is a walking city.
But, seriously. The Dutch is great.