FORK PLAY: November 15, 2007
Fairway's Nutritionist, Henri Soulé Memory, Grayz Domain, Kingswood Regrets.
Dear Friends and Family,
I know some of you think my life is all caviar and foie gras and roses from chefs wooing my attention. And sometimes it is. I have to leave a glove in a taxi or spill  raita on my favorite blouse or give a cab driver a $50 bill thinking it's a five just to jolt myself back to reality.
That brings me to Fairway Cafe again. Our loyal dining pals want a burger at Fairway. The often cantankerous host, Mitch London, interrupts his own dinner to ask how we're doing.
"What should we have for dessert?" I ask
"The apple pie is great. But have you ever had our cheesecake? It's rich and creamy, the perfect cheesecake. I won't tell you what the crust is."
"Oh, you can tell us."
"Cornflakes."
Hmmm. I'm game anyway.
"We'll have one apple pie á la mode and one cheesecake," I say to the waiter.
"I have good news and bad news," says waiter Daniel Velasquez. "The bad news is we don't have cheesecake today. The good news is, it's not really good for you and you're avoiding 10,000 calories."
Nutrition bulletin at Fairway.
.
Remembering Henri Soulé
I wanted to write my memoir, "Insatiable: Tales from a Life of Delicious Excess" before I forgot the whole story. I also wanted to have my say before history gets rewritten by those who weren't even at the table. Putting some of my earliest articles on InsatiableCritic.com has brought back memories of a time when each new discovery brought us early foodies to our knees or made us weep..because it was all so astonishing. Now we are the most food obsessed nation in the world and new mouths take the latest revelation with an ironic half-smile and a ho-hum.
Recall (or discover) what it was like when that snub-master Henri Soulé of Le Pavillon was forced to take back La Côte Basque after the man he sold it to went bankrupt in 1965. Go to Papa Soulé Loves You in Vintage Insatiables, an article from New York when it was the Sunday magazine section of the late, lamented Herald Tribune, three years before New York as we know it today emerged from Clay Felker's brow.
Indeed, I've now posted two more acts in the continuing drama of La Côte Basque. The Quintessential Soulé Food takes on Mme. Henriette Spalter's era at Côte Basque. That Old Côte Basque Magic documents the takeover of Jean Jacques Rachou.
Why Doesn't Gray Kunz Give Me What I Want?
Grayz had just opened in the luminous old Aquavit space and friends insisted we go for dinner. "It looks like they did it with  leatherette remnants from Café Gray," my designer pal from Hong Kong observes.
"Leather-topped table," I counter.
"A lot of naugas gave their lives for that table-wrapping," he contradicts me.
Some of the small plates we tasted and the three normal-size entrées) were really good. After all, a seasoned master like Chef/patron Gray Kunz is not about to suffer slackery in his kitchen. But we are not exactly on a royal banquette - here in our back corner under a large "exit" sign, facing a brightly lit door to the kitchen.
I was not eager to rush back. But last week I returned to Grayz with some gourmand chums, professional food world stars, and Chef Gray himself choreographing. Lunch was truly transporting.
That Down Under Spirit Roars on West 10th
The blast of the crowd at Kingswood practically blew me back out to the sidewalk. My guest was happily socializing at the bar when I walked in. "We've got to get out of here," I said. "Where can we go?"
"We'll seat your six here in the front," said a charming young man. "It's a little quieter here." He was so chivalrous, so cute with his prince valiant do, pushing some cafe tables together. Soon enough we were sitting in the window, scarves draped against the chill. The waiter was adorable too.  Rougher looking, tattooed, a sort of Anthony Bourdain, I thought. And the place had a certain dim charm. Butterflies were free, dangling above the bar.
I could find something to eat here if I was sentenced to another evening in the noise. The rocket ("That's what we call arugula in Australia") salad with proscuitto shards, the lamb chops definitely, maybe the wild mushroom risotto, possibly the too thin rib eye. And the fries are amazing!
But Ruby's Bronte burger with balsamic vinegar and sweet Thai chile sauce is an ad for what's wrong in the kitchen: too much sweetness, too much misguided creativity.
From the good looking twenty and thirty-somethings streaming in and shouting to each other happily over the stereophonic din, I doubt that Kingswood really needs a fragile noise-phobic flower like me.
121 West 10th St (Greenwich Avenue and Sixth) 212 645 0018
Fairway and Kingwood Photo by Steven Richter
Copyright pending: Gael Greene 2007
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