To the doubters here: Believe the hype. Prune is my favorite NYC venue hands-down.
1
I had the pleasure of brunch at Prune back in the early nighties. It was the best eggs benny I had ever had. We were so tightly packed in at our table I had to inhale and hold my breath to get up and use the bathroom. GH loves brunch service and it showed. Most chefs hate working brunch.
6
My husband and I snuck in a weeknight dinner at Prune last fall. It was perfect ... exactly the kind of place we would love to have in our neighborhood.
5
Pete, you sell yourself short. To use "scuzzier" and "louche" in the same review is admirable, let alone using them in the same sentence.
I adore GH's approach to food. She's like the Talking Heads: stripped down and efficient, self-aware but not too serious. I can just see her creating a dish and dedicating it to her television.
6
Haven't been to Prune since the early 00's when it was somewhat of a hip novelty. I didn't like it back then, perhaps because I didn't appreciate the simplicity and directness. It seemed gimmicky, almost a statement against "proper" restaurants. Having said that, I do remember a cool dish of almonds, celery and white anchovies that I loved. How many places do you still recall a dish from 15 years ago?
Now I'm older and know more about food, definitely seems like it's worth another visit.
7
Indeed, Gabrielle Hamilton is such a good writer that I've read "Blood, Bones, and Butter" not once but twice. I teach it, alongside Obama's first memoir, as an example of the ways words can serve even those of my writing students who have no intention of becoming writers. But I couldn't have had, indeed, a grayer, paler, more boring meal than the birthday dinner I had at Prune last year. The braised rabbit! "If I were a sentence," it mewled from its broth, "Gabrielle wouldn't have dared put me on paper." It wasn't bad, exactly - just the dinner-out version of convalescence food. There was toast with some forgettable, over-salted stuff on it, a messed-up drink order, neither version of which was very good... I feel like there's simplicity and there's simpleness. I'll stick to reading her.
2
"...a bunch of Concord grapes lounging on a plate of chipped ice."
Isn't this the kind of food David Chang made fun of to try and prove his point that New York chefs are superior to California chefs? I'm in California and that "dessert" makes even me laugh.
3
I'm in California and I plan to steal that grape-on-ice idea, as well as the sugared plums on toast. But you bring up a point I was wondering about. Was Mr. Wells poking a bit of fun at his friend in this review? I thought it read that way. Maybe he's still sore about that toy truck.
7
Could you stop making remarks about the literary bits? It's boring, amateurish, also, most of all, time-wasting. Nobody reads a book review for smug, knowing remarks about the sentences in menus or, worse, advice about what food to eat when we're not doing the immensely, immensely important work of reading a book . . .
4
A very good restaurant and a well-written review. Pete Wells is, for me, one of the best restaurantc critics AND writers in journalism today. I look forward to his reviews every week.
16
I look forward to each of Pete Wells' reviews. This one was no disappointment. It made me want to visit Prune. I love simple ingredients prepared perfectly, but if that was all the review said, it would not have drawn me in the way it did. There's something about Mr. Well's writing that manages to paint the mood and qualities of place that could be almost indescribable. He is one of the reasons I continue to subscribe to the NYT and definitely the reason I check in during my hectic work week for a dose of foodism (yeah, purists, I made that word up). I admit, I'm equally engaged by the comments -- who comments, what they say, and where they're from. Although I don't have many opportunities to dine in New York, I feel like the nature of Mr. Wells' reviews are more in line with the Bay Area's sensibilities than most. Now I'm looking forward to reading some of Hamilton's essays because I admit, I neglect the magazine. Also, I'd like to say, I'm most intrigued by the reviews where Mr. Wells plays with style. Writers play with style; chefs play with style. The rare combination of the two is the treat.
18
She is quite a good writer. If you knew anything about chefs and what messes they are, generally speaking, you'd see this as refreshing. Also, it's nice to see simple food, without the tweezers/micro greens/trendy veg of the day on the plate. I love Wells' writing and I think he accurately described her food, which, frankly, is underappreciated now-a-days.
10
Pete, Pete, Pete...? "Instead you see phrases that could be in the first sentence of a short story you wouldn’t be able to put down." Stick to restaurant reviews. I didn't see one phrase that would intrigue me as the beginning of a short story. Don't confuse hipster charming with literature.
7
As I've come to expect, this is another beautifully written piece by Pete Wells. Personally, I stopped going to Prune when they took their hamburger off the menu. I honestly think it was the best/top 3 hamburgers in NYC in the quarter century I've lived here. Mr. Wells' review makes me want to go back and brave the constricted space to see what Ms. Hamilton and Ms. Merriman are up to there now.
6
I was there recently for dinner and could swear I saw a burger on the menu.
1
Admiration fir anyone that can run a successful restaurant in NYC for that long, at that high of a standard. Well done
15
I suddenly have a craving for brand new kind of afternoon tea - with a 'louche' Long Island iced tea, and black sugared plums on warm buttered toast.
7
I know this is restaurant review writing, but still... I don't think it could possibly be more affected and over-wordy. Amid the irony of comparing writing...
"Braised rabbit leg... over yellow hexagons of carrot mixed with Calabrian chiles, mint leaves and pine nuts, with a handful of fried bread crumbs thrown over the top [is] directness?" Really?
"It is confidence that gets you unshowy desserts like slices of black plums tossed with sugar, lemon zest and cardamom and spread out on buttered toast." What, then, would be showy? Cerises flambees upside down on the ceiling?
7
I think what Prune has to offer is a well-considered paring back of NY restaurant cuisine to essential flavors, texture and optimal technique. It's not gobstoppingly elaborate fair presented with a complexity fit for forensic analysis. Imagine, instead, having dinner with a well-traveled friend who is the best cook you know, someone who offers the simplicity of provincial (in the best sense of the word) cooking tempered with a practical curiosity. That speaks of confidence in planned simplicity and a trust of the food itself to entice and satisfy. BTW, enjoyed the slideshow...but somehow didn't notice before?! Looks yummy.
8
I'm about to start a short story that begins: Cerises flambees upside down on the ceiling. Jason glanced up and tucked a stray lock into his manbun. "Oh, babe," Mackenzie said, "don't be so paranoid. They are fake cherries and fake flames."
Do you think Pete would love it? Thanks for your comment.
6
"...one has to balance the simmering resentment I feel each time I remember that writing is only a sideline for Ms. Hamilton, and yet she’s better at it than most people who do it for a living,"
I feel exactly the same dumbstruck admiration about her, since her writing has started showing up in the Magazine. And, similarly, about Atul Gawande. Some people have been given quite a lot more than their fair share of talent !
9
“What more could you ask from the start of a meal than sautéed chanterelles shedding mushroom juice and butter into a thick slice of toasted white bread?”
Personally, the same chanterelles, but sautéed in a bit of olive oil and put on a thick slice of toasted whole wheat sourdough bread. But that's just me.
8
Interesting way to pivot from a disclaimer to a food review. Although, I didn't learn much about the food from reading the review. "Scrupulous" is a wonderful word but not very helpful when describing a martini. After a long enough day, I don't care whether a martini is scrupulous or not. Convince me why I should pay $14 for a cocktail at this restaurant. The place that pours fastest probably wins.
I think Pete Wells mistakes description for review. When I read this piece, I see a well written description of a menu. However, I could have saved some time and gone straight to the menu. I think Wells needs to learn the unique vocabulary of food before he can embellish on the vernacular. There's more to a dish than the ingredients and presentation. We're talking flavors and combinations.
Don't get me wrong. I appreciate a well designed menu too. And yes, there's a lot more than words that goes into a decent menu. However, the reader is appealing to the expert for more insight than atmosphere and back story. I don't know. Maybe you need to work in a kitchen before you can add the language of food to your lexicon. Either way, Wells should work on it.
6
"I think Wells needs to learn the unique vocabulary of food before he can embellish on the vernacular."
It sounds to me like you want another cliche- and jargon-filled restaurant review. To each his own. But I read Pete Wells every week precisely because he avoids that kind of pretentiousness. Along with Michael Powell, he's one of the Times's must-read writers. They're not trying to embellish anyone's vernacular. Thank goodness.
17
What critics don't focus on is the fine art of menu writing. A Chef will often spend as much time figuring out the patterns of ordering by a customer. For example, a good chef will spend a lot of time on imagining the pairings of first courses that go with second courses, third courses, dessert, ect. and try to offer up a menu that leaves room for the myriad of combinations. Critics spend almost no time trying to understand what a chef wants to convey, and why things work the way they do.
I have a real love/hate relationship with Mr. Wells writing. He doesn't talk about food anymore. He talks a lot about experience and that, at least for me, is not what I'm looking for.
2
'Confidence" or arrogance?
4
Her memoir was insufferable.
2
Two of my favorite things: Food and Words. Delightful read. And, btw, your words certainly up to snuff! Cheers!
14
Can I just remind some of these sage commenters that a one star review denotes a "good" restaurant and a two star, a "very good" one. If the kitchen and service isn't "off" for some unusual reason, you should enjoy a solidly prepared, satisfying meal. Real estate is expensive... the place seems to be doing what it needs to space-wise to make a business, with a traditionally small profit margin, work in a highly competitive environ and has done so for nearly two decades, while still pursuing a cuisine ethos that suits them. Really, why such harping? If you are seeking a neighborhood haunt with the ambiance of a church, stay home and cook for yourself.
21
I am a longtime fan of Ms. Hamilton's writing. I've read the memoir, cook from the cookbook, and eagerly read her monthly columns. Her talents are unquestionable, and I mean neither her nor Mr. Wells any disrespect when I say "one small step above the sidewalk" is tantamount to an entire flight for power wheelchair users like my husband. I realize the buidling is old and ADA accommodations are often difficult, if not impossible. While a gut renovation is an unrealistic expectation, an honest assessment of a restaurant's accessibility would be appreciated.
13
I went into some detail with the restaurant's manager and was informed that there is a temporary mobile ramp that they can and do use for guests in wheelchairs. I am sorry I left that out. I was trying to keep things brief and wrote "small step" hoping that would come across as a surmountable obstacle, but I should have shared more of what I knew.
30
This is the sort of for I love to eat. I went there a couple of nights ago and it was fun and cool and delicious! Turkish disco pistachios and some martinis set us up for some fantastic food.
And I love the review!
10
Gabrielle's book, Prune, is a definite keeper. It doesn't waste one iota of energy dumbing itself down to teach a new or lazy cook how to boil water. The book has a tightness and an honesty that represents Prune the restaurant and, more, precisely, Gabrielle.
The book is sometimes better than the restaurant given that books aren't open to the vagaries that active, moody kitchens are and by which diners both delight and suffer (gray beans anyone?).
Prune's seating situation is also worth calling out as a tight little bistro so one has to be in the mood to shoulder with stranger neighbors. I like that kind of thing and value that Gabrielle hasn't changed it much. It is telling that Pete didn't say a word about the room considering his almost pure awe at the rooms at The Grill and despite that Prune's food is almost always wonderful where The Grill's is pretentiously elevated steakhouse-fare (prime rib carved table side anyone?).
Gabrielle, if you always have a steak you can throw on your grill, I will always choose Prune over places like The Grill (as long as I can get a seat). Soul-satisfying classics are boring for you but important for diners (you have those sardines for a reason).
9
He specifically cites servers having to navigate the tables being so close together.
4
The way he wrote it expressed more concern for the confidence of the staff than diners.
1
I want to make two essential points.
Firstly, I think it's important to point out something Pete Wells really doesn't focus on. This is a very expensive restaurant, one of many that years ago mined the unpretentious nature of the East Village and turned it into an overpriced foodie theme park. Mom and pop stores had to move and residential rents soared. The food served at Prune was never worth that disruption.
Secondly, there is actually not much content difference between this review and Frank Bruni's Times review from years ago. I appreciate that it's linked within the column. Bruni writes about the chef's writing talent, the sardines (not truly available now), the branzino, the sound level, the pink t-shirts the servers wear, and the simple, pared-down nature of food served at high prices.
Wells gives two stars to a restaurant that still sounds like Bruni's one star place. I'm not sure I understand the elevation to a higher rating.
I ate at Prune once after Bruni's column was published. I never returned. To me, there is nothing special about Prune, not even the fact that the chef has a way with words. That is not a reason to go to a restaurant. A poetry reading, yes. But not to go out to eat.
37
To your first point, it's true that the review does not focus on the prices but as I do every week I give the range of prices under "Recommended Dishes." Whether that's very expensive or not is subjective but by the guidelines we use, it's "expensive." As far as Prune's having been in the forefront of a shift in the East Village from "unpretentious" to "overpriced foodie theme park" Prune took over from a French bistro called Casanis; the strength of its commitment of to its neighbors might be judged by its condition after it closed suddenly, which Ms. Hamilton describes in "Blood, Bones and Butter." I have no idea whether it was a mom-and-pop operation but Prune is a mom-and-mom shop. Yes, corporations and large restaurant groups have changed the character of the East Village but Prune isn't one of them. I lived in the East Village in the 80s and 90s and while I enjoyed it I also would have appreciated having a place like Prune on my block; the prices would have been a stretch for me but simply having a stable, steady business that is open every night (going on 18 years now) tends to make any street safer and more civilized.
As for the upgrade to two stars, please see the rest of the paragraph where I mention Frank Bruni's review, as well as the one that follows.
40
I've eaten at Prune regularly over the years, and, although not inexpensive, the restaurant impresses me as a place that tries to moderate prices by, for example, using less expensive cuts of meat. It is, as PW says, much closer to a mom and pop place than part of a branded enterprise owned by a corporation or investment partnership. This, I think, is also reflected in the staffing at Prune.
7
Local lore Has it that that particular little block had at a certain point during those less pretentious times the highest murder rate in the entire city, apart from Brook Avenue in the Bronx (maybe). A dozen or so other restaurants have come and gone there since Prune opened like Elephant and Joe & Doe. My favorite Polish place nearby was replaced by a Subway. In any event I don't think 'foodie theme park' is as fair a characterization as maybe 'drunken frat boy stomping ground'. Get rid of all the bars first where the SLA ignores its own density rules. If anything, the good restaurants improve the quality of life.
5
Except for the butter and the price I've always considered Gabrielle Hamilton, along with her renaissance woman writing skills, an Italian chef, pure and simple. Of course her olive oil is well-chosen for a naked zucchini. Her branzino is Sicily by way of Greece. When the weather turns to make her small room warm and cozy and where you want to be if not at home cooking your own meal her coniglio will remind you of her best intentions realized. As for noise levels, go to Prune and eat in silence with your dining partner. No one eats better than an Italian monk.
7
One of my favorite rooms and menus in the city. I spent some formative years eating sardines and Triscuits at the bar, sipping a martini while I watched the bartender work.
8
Having read Blood, Bones and Butter along with the many articles written, I was so curious to go to Prune which I had the pleasure about 3 yrs ago.
My only take away from the experience was her food was filled with anger. It was not prepared with love. I hope the addition of her wife has brought the love in because her talent as a chef and writer are clear.
4
Gee, tough room here, people. "We don't care if she can write...what's the decibel level, Sonny?... too bad the kid didn't knock him out cold with that truck...tattoos, schmatoos" etc etc. It was a nice review.
25
A whole lotta verbiage to describe very little.
32
My favorite chef on Mind of a Chef - really inspiring. Her segment on Octopus was great. Haven't made it to the restaurant yet, hopefully soon. Words and their manipulation aside, I do believe something as simple as squash in olive oil can be surprisingly delicious and delightfully unpretentious.
11
I regret being so negative, but this reads like a parody of an overly precious restaurant review.
The rhapsody over the menu descriptions ("plain boiled zucchini drowned in olive oil,"), the "boldness" of pale pink crew neck shirts mixed with more florid pink V necked shirts, the "confidence" of waiters picking their ways through closely packed tables.
Please, Mr. Wells. Next time, let's find out more about how the food tastes. This piece came off as pretentious and uninformative.
78
The most ridiculous part was his admiration for the masterly writing of a menu with an item listed as "corn on the cob with butter and salt." Seriously? And who wants a vegetable drowning in olive oil? Doused with it maybe, but drowning in it?
8
Prune is way too greasy ... and wait staff just a tad too pretentious.
Never lives up to hype, in my opinion.
3
Even though food is the main event at restaurants, there is lots more to write about. I loved this review, for the descriptions.
2
I agree with Mr. Wells that the restaurant is "direct and unfussy". Some clients may find the complex tattoos on the arms of the co-chef and barman not inducing appetite. The dish I like most is Slide No. 6, whole grilled branzino: this is how an ideally grilled fish should look like, crunchy on the outside and soft inside, to be easy to bone.
10
"tattoos on the arms of the co-chef and barman not inducing appetite."
You're a little late to the party dude. If tattoos are unappetizing to you than your eating out options are severely limited. Some of our finest chefs are heavily tattooed. It doesn't seem to interfere with their culinary skills. It's what's on the plate that counts.
55
@ Marc Campbell Austin, Texas
I beg to differ. About "what's on the plate that counts", see George Orwell's note in "Down and Out in Paris and London" of the chefs and waiters dipping their fingers in clients' soup.
A much-deserved wonderful review for a fantastic restaurant run by great people. I'm salivating just reading it. Time to go back for another winning meal!
15
I've never gone to a restaurant here in the region where I live, nor in the NYC region where I often visit, to read a menu the way I might read a short story.
Mr. Wells wants to give us a sense of simple urgency about the cooking, but I was left satisfied that the food truly is ordinary. And yes, Mr. Wells's warning to the contrary, I absolutely will zero in on the boiled zucchini covered in olive oil.
That better be the greatest zucchini ever grown and the best olive oil in existence: a bland vegetable elevated to Royal status from a planet visited only recently and a liquid green oozing from an ethereal Venusian grove.
The review left me cold. I'm glad the chefs can cook, but it's a waste of my time to know one of them can write.
34
It's a wonderful restaurant. (We thought even the shell beans were delicious -- gray in color, yes, but not at all in flavor.) And she is a truly great writer; letting the reader know this doesn't seem like a waste of time.
I do think the review's construction about short-story-type menu writing is overwrought, and overdone by at least half. It even kind of misses the mark. It's a menu you want to eat, not read.
About Prune I would say that every time I go I'm struck by how personal a vision the food and drinks are -- nothing far out, as Wells says, even dishes that it seems you could make at home, but always elevated somehow by a special touch or ingredient, or even by just beautiful cooking. I think the review conveyed that part well.
As for the zucchini, I never had it in the restaurant, but I made it at home (stems only) after seeing GH do it on Mind of a Chef, and it's awesome. What she says about it kind of sums up Prune -- the dish could be dull if not handled properly, but with very salty water, proper cooking, and really good olive oil, it's an eye-opener.
24
Dear Carmela, the paragraph in your comment about greatest zucchini and Venusian olives made me burst out laughing. It's as good as anything Pete Wells writes. Perhaps you, too, could be a chef in a restaurant where the writing on the menu overshadows the food.
As for the dishes described by the critic, they bring up the age-old question: Why do people go out to eat? Is it for the experience of eating extraordinary food they can't prepare at home? Is it for comfort food like a great meatloaf or a transcendent pizza? Or is it to eat boiled zucchini slathered in olive oil?
I do not have a complete answer to the question, but I know that I go out to eat to enjoy a good, satisfying meal with family and friends who are equally enjoyable.
I can also write that I would never order boiled zucchini with olive oil no matter how stongly a critic praises it, especially at Manhattan prices.
Wells used too much space on the chef's writing ability and too little about the food. This review does not make me want to eat at Prune.
14
For those of us of a certain age, who want to be able to have a conversation with our dining companions without having to strain to hear what is being said, it's always helpful to have a sense of the restaurant's noise level. In this case, "Sound Not meditative, but well below screaming" might be clever writing, but really doesn't give us useful guidance. I must be getting old.
34
Oh boy oh boy, what a great review. Pete hit it squarely on the head. and not just about the sublimely and deceptively simple food at Prune.
Pete started with Hamilton's writing, and what a lovely reference it is. She wrote an essay, not so long ago, about her ex-mother-in-law, Alda, that still makes me tear up. Sure, it was about food (artichokes, actually), but it really went to the heart of Prune. Of Gabrielle's cooking, her approach to hospitality - on a micro-scale every bit as telling as Danny Meyer's - and why her Negroni is so special. To her, and to us.
Astonishingly, Prune has been open for 18 years, since before the East Village presaged Williamsburg. Pete's descriptions salivate in a way that Prune's food causes me to salivate; from within, seemingly effortlessly. I'm going back as fast as I can.
Bravo Pete. Brava Gabrielle.
62
Speaking of hitting things squarely on the head, so, apparently, did Pete's son.
10
I correct myself, Gabrielle Hamilton's piece, Blood, Bones and Eggplant, made no mention of artichokes!
1
Salivate?
I didn't get that at all. Save for the sugared plums.
How long have you been using medical marijuana?
8