A Taste of the Outback is as Close as 79th Street

Burke & Wills - Upper West Side
226 W 79th St., New York, NY 10024

Have you ever had a sudden craving for sweetbreads? Can't say that I have. What about kangaroo? Ever wake up one morning and crave a 'roo burger? Well, at Burke & Wills you can satisfy all the outback cravings you never knew you had.

The restaurant located at the 79th Street subway stop on Manhattan's Upper West Side isn't exotic in name or even decor. The small drawings and maps hanging on the wall are the only indications that the restaurant serves Australian fare.

Below the restaurant's skylight, we nestled into our two-person table against the wall and cracked open the leather menu to look for the typical one-page insert detailing the options for Restaurant Week. One did not exist. Instead, the waiter informed us that we could select from the regular menu--one appetizer, one entrée, one dessert each. Nothing was off limits, though a few items did explicitly indicate a $5 or $10 additional charge.

Justifying the additional $5 charge (when have I ever seen kangaroo on a menu?) I ordered the kangaroo loin to start, followed by the spiced duck breast, finishing with a warm chocolate cake. My Restaurant Week partner in crime ordered veal sweetbreads to start, and then enjoyed his kanga-experience in burger form for the main course. For dessert he had the affogato.

Circo Combines Circus Whimsy With Fine Cuisine

What kind of place is Circo? It's a place to get a great meal, as I've already mentioned. But the restaurant has more depth than that. On a LivingSocial deal that felt like a hand-picked, secret discount just for us, we went back just a few nights ago to try it again. It didn't disappoint.

Circo is the kind of place where you can enjoy a beautiful meal outside watching passersby.

Circo is the kind of place that replaces your bread and water, rather than bringing in the "old" setting, when you move indoors due to the rain.

Circo is the kind of place where the Captain comes by to apologize for the rain--as if it were his fault.

Circo is the kind of place where a waiter comes by to fold your napkin in a point when you get up from your seat.

Circo is the kind of place that surprises you with a free sampling of red wine soaked cipollini onions when you show particular interest in the preparation. We are very happy when people really enjoy our food, they say.

Circo is the kind of place that gives you a free taste of Cointreau when you ask what type of liqueur you detect in the panna cotta.

Circo is the kind of place where the whimsy of the circus meets the gravitas of fine cuisine.

Yet Another Disappointing Restaurant Week Meal At Arlington Club

Arlington Club - Upper East Side
1032 Lexington Ave (Between 73rd and 74th)
New York, NY 10022

• Food: Sadly below expectations.
• Service: Prompt and friendly.
• Ambiance: Dim, quiet, with a Gentleman's club flare (minus the cigar smell). 
• Value: Ironically low, given Restaurant Week deals. 

Restaurant Week, the twice yearly New York celebration that brings high-class (high cost) food to the masses, makes me tingle with anticipation. I look forward to these few weeks a year when I can justify dining at some of the city's finest restaurants. Yet, it seems to let me down more often than not. There were a few superb meals--Circo, Perry Street, and Brasserie among them--but other restaurants seem to have a reduction in quality that surpasses the reduction in price. Arlington Club, a mix between a Good 'Ol Boys club and a pub, won the first spot on our Restaurant Week list.

The restaurant mustered the creativity to serve not table bread but rather popovers the size of pomelos. Breaking through the crusty exterior to the doughy bread beneath became more rewarding still when we were able to slather whipped butter over each bite. What was hard to swallow was that I grew up eating lighter yet richer popovers in the tiny town of Rutland, Vermont. Was it that a Zagat-rated restaurant in America's culinary epicenter couldn't top Rutland's popovers--or was it that even the popovers get a downgrade during Restaurant Week?

Appetizers of french onion soup and a tuna tartare arrived promptly. With cheese seared to a golden brown and bread that still had some crunch despite being drowned in soup, the former was a hit. However, the tuna tartare--while good--reminded me of the tuna avocado salad I'd had for lunch that day at Kobeyaki, the Japanese fast-food chain my colleagues frequent. 

The main meal consisted salmon atop a pool of puréed peas and asparagus. The deep green color was the most impressive aspect of this culinary slight. I really don't know how the simple act of blending can remove all flavor from a food. However, the salmon passed muster--I just wouldn't pay top dollar for it.

The most impressive aspect of the meal arrived in the form of a slender cake topped with three candied pieces of popcorn. This peanut butter chocolate bar almost washed away the disappointing meal. With a bit of crunch and a hint of salt, the chocolate cake and ice cream combo threw the curve, bringing up the meal's overall average. Sadly, however, I wouldn't call this restaurant top-grade. I wonder if it's any better outside of Restaurant Week. 

A Meal At A Circus Never Tasted So Good

Circo - Midtown West
120 W 55th, New York, NY 10019

It's amusing walking into a restaurant in which men in nice suits and women in expensive cocktail dresses politely cut into small bites of lavish meals while sitting against a backdrop of clowns and dancing elephants. 

In Manhattan it would be easy to make a serious affair out of fine dining. From tight ties, to snobby sommeliers, to highly elevated culinary expectations, nice (read: $$$$) restaurants are often straight-laced to attract the high culture crowd. But at Circo, you can eat your hand-made pastas and perfectly seared meats under a circus tent canopy. So, I finally answered the question that I'm sure has been plaguing all of you for ages: fine dining is possible among eclectic sculptures of acrobatic men and whimsical paintings of circus performers.

As mentioned previously, I have had some poor luck picking meals for Restaurant Week specials. However, Circo maintained the utmost quality from starter to dessert. The beautiful beginning included a radiant appetizer of colorful salmon enhanced with citrus zest and topped with a dollop of goat cheese. The tiny red circles? They're red peppercorns. Don't worry, I didn't know what they were, either.

Medium-rare skirt steak followed the salmon. Surprisingly tender for that cut of beef, the strips easily cut into delicate pieces and took little effort to eat thereafter. This made it all the more difficult not to indulge so quickly, and before I was ready to say goodbye the beef was gone.

The only creative weak point in the restaurant's whole performance was in the sweet indulgence at the end. Mint panna cotta and gelato scoops don't pique my interest the same way as a cake, or a pie, or a torte. However, in absolute terms, these little sweets still ended the meal well.

At $38 prix-fixe for Restaurant Week, this dinner felt like a steal. Too bad Restaurant Week ended, otherwise I'd have made reservations at the parent restaurant, Le Cirque, already. 

Went to Butter to Take Advantage of Restaurant Week And Got Taken Advantage of Instead

Butter - Midtown West
70 W 45th St., New York, NY

I'm ashamed to admit that I heard of the restaurant Butter on Gossip Girl. I know that's somewhat unappetizing, but Butter has a good reputation in the city from what I've heard since, so I figured it was worth a shot. Plus, I walk past it on the days I decide to leave my office for food, so my curiosity had grown with every lunch break.

Sitting on a plush couch in the reception area piqued my high hopes. My lunch companion arrived, and the host escorted us past a station of exotic herbs and oils, through a series of dark shadows and heavy daylight cast by the big skylight that carves through the center of the dining atrium. Tall columns and images of oaks furthered the forest theme as we walked under canopy to a booth settled in the shadow. 

Immediately, however, the excitement of such a modern and stunning restaurant dissipated slightly with an awkward encounter with our waiter. A server had brought over rolls and butter, poured us water, and left. A second server--presumably our assigned waiter--demanded to know who had already made up our table. At first we thought the comments constituted an attempt at light humor but soon came to realize the waiter awaited a legitimate response. My lunch buddy didn't think the encounter was so strange until this was compounded with other awkward snippets of conversation we endured throughout the meal. 

The food presented the same turn of expectations. Little bread rolls arrived, dusted with salt. They must have been toasted but left to cool before being served because we were left with stale buns. My starter--an artichoke soup--arrived in a single-serving pitcher. Though individualized, once poured into its tiny rustic bowl, the soup had lost all heat. And while I cut into my spice rubbed pork shoulder, my lunch date frowned upon four mini-ravioli that looked more like a mockery than a meal. 

The whole experience eluded us. Quality lay just beyond our forks and knives, but we never got a bite. I wonder if this was a result of lowering the bar for Restaurant Week. I have heard that Restaurant Week used to be a glut of exceptional fine dining. But over the years, as it has become more commercial, mainstream, and (gasp) touristy, restaurants aren't willing to plate their finest dishes for the cheap crowd that partakes only twice a year. Either way, we went to take advantage of Restaurant Week, but Butter ended up taking advantage of us.