At Last

*Warning, this is a self-indulgent and, for the most part, irrelevant post detailing a dining experience rather than a cooking experience…

Tuesday night I finally made it to Mario Batalli’s flagship four-star eatery, Babbo, in the West Village. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Batalli, he’s the Italian Cuisine Iron Chef on Iron Chef: America and I think I may have seen him lose once – unless that was a dream… His food always looks amazing and he combines really unique and really high-quality classic ingredients with spot-on technique to create dishes that really aren’t fair to show to a television audience who can’t even smell them. Needless, to say, he’s kind of brilliant. And Babbo is kindof impossible to get a table unless you…well, to be honest, I don’t know what it takes. They have one line for reservations that opens at 10 am on the dot and is busy the rest of the day with hundreds of people trying to get a table for the date exactly 30 days later. It’s supposed to be more “democratic”…much like the infamous online-only reservations accepted at Ko, where it is equally “democratic” to get a table. On a tip, I called late in the evening to secure a table rather than fight the phone lines during the daytime and lo and behold, miracle of miracles, I was greeted with a glorious ringing rather than the harsh busy tone I’d been getting all morning. I managed to secure a 10:30 pm reservation – I know, I know, it’s late. But you don’t turn down a table at Babbo. End of story.
We had a glass of wine at the bar downstairs, where the only incongruity was the pop-rock bursting into the cozy ambiance from hidden speaker. Beef cheek ravioli and a side of All American Rejects, anyone? Then we were seated at a corner table in the upstairs dining room- a really lovely space with tree-like arrangements sprouting out of oak barrels in the center of the room and a warm at-home dining room feel throughout. To attest to the desperation of those who finally score a table, there was a couple at the table next to us who had with them, at the late hour, their under-a-year-old baby whom they must have sedated or something because that kid was an angel…not a cry all night.
And on to the main event: the food. Oh, the food. It was delicious. I was impressed, but not blown away…satisfied but not exultant. I started with a grilled Octopus little number that was spicy and tender and garnished with bitter orange peel. It was fantastic. The next course was a spegghettini with flowering chives and one pound lobster dish and it was probably the best thing on the table all night. The pasta was cooked to the best al dente I’ve ever had, it was cooked perfectly to the second. The sauce was like an arrabiata, but with the delicious tang of chives, and the lobster was succulent. My main course was a plate of lamb chops with a lemon yogurt sauce, melt-in-your-mouth grilled onions, and sunchoke hearts, which are similar to artichokes but sweeter and these had almost a fennel taste. It was all well balanced, seasoned, and cooked, but by the time I got to lamb chop #3 (out of 5) I was too stuffed to proceed. I even passed up desert. I kick myself for it now because that strawberry crostini with a sweet balsamic reduction sounds pretty damn tasty right about now.
So, all in all, the night was pleasant and lived up to my expectations. I can now watch Iron Chef with the smug satisfaction of someone who kind of knows what Battali’s dishes might taste like. Or at least delude myself into thinking I do. Now, if I can only figure out a way to get into Ko…