Simon The NYC C.
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Can one capture perfection when writing about perfection? No, but I'll do my best. Cove and chef Flynn are dancing with edible gymnastics, concept and execution married in a way that is pure excitement. In the four course meal last night there was this flight of four astonishing bites, a single mussel with leeks, green olive and lemon thyme, an oyster with sour apple, chestnuts an a sorrel leaf, purple chard with citrus and barley, and a small bowl of preserved with ricotta and beets. Layers upon layers of fireworks exploding in my head.
An amazing bowl of crab and artichokes over a custard with friend capers alongside fried artichokes over egg yolk. I was swooning, we were both smiling it was like we were young again.
But then - and as someone who has eaten squab (young pigeon) for many years, not only was this the best squab I've ever eaten, I will go out on a tree limb and say that I doubt there is a better version of it on Earth at this moment in time. Hyperbole, maybe but it was stunning, tender beyond measure, crisp of skin, each part of the bird laid out and each its own experience, accompanied by a dipping sauce that took it to an even higher level, if you can believe it. It's like it embodied both the Platonic and Aristotelian versions of perfection, both here on earth and in the heavens.
My husband had the vegetarian entree of lions mane mushroom "schnitzel" and it was bursting with flavors, with this mushroom disguised as the much better version of a chicken fried steak on steroids.
Dessert was berries and cream surrounded by an herb infused green crumble. A perfect ending.
The wine pairing was as close to perfection as possible with total clarity between wine and food, like the wine was literally made for the food. My only note here, the red chosen for the squab I think would benefit from a little more depth, not much you don't want to overwhelm that bird, but just a hint more.
Service was great, friendly, approachable, yet efficient, on point and the atmosphere is just lovely.
The New Yorker loved the restaurant but said this slightly snarky thing at the end, "McGarry’s dishes speak with such grace; they have all the subtlety and verve of an artistic thesis being mounted, and yet my meals left me without a sense of anything actually being argued for." That is because the critic Helen Rosner, didn't have the imagination, or the age (she's only 43) to understand what McGarry really is saying (at least to me): And that is, with his food, you can be young and in love all over again.