Since last autumn, Lewis and I hadn't revisited Maialino Restaurant, so we decided to go. Our intention was to test-drive its brunch menu. The restaurant occupies a street-level corner of Ian Schrager's Gramercy Park Hotel.
The eatery is owned and carefully operated by famed restauranteur, Danny Meyer, who is a native New Yorker. When collaborating with Schrager, he insisted that his restaurant have its own name, instead of being "attached by name" to the hotel (like the "Plaza Hotel Palm Court" or the "Rotunda at the Pierre"). In fact, it's not called the "hotel restaurant". Aptly, it is its own destination. An advantage of adjoining the hotel is that its guests can pause in the lobby, admiring the log fire crackling in the lobby's mammoth fireplace, or they can go to the hotel's jazz bar.
Maialino has its own entrance: clean lines of genteelism.
The sight of fresh bread populated one of the sidewalk windows.
Being a Danny Meyer restaurant, it is excellent "from A to Z". I recall Meyer's book, "Setting the Table", about how to give great customer service. The most important "first impression" is given by the phone receptionist and hostesses. If they're cheerful and competent, then you know that the place "cares". All of Meyer's eateries invest the time to put well-trained, well-paid individuals in positions to give you great first impressions.
Why is that significant? Thousands of eateries employ careless, unenthusiastic people (bored-sounding or acting like you interrupted their life) to answer the phones or greet guests. Thousands of unconcerned restaurants employ hosts who can't answer questions, have a poor attitudes, put you on extended Hold, are busy flirting with the bartender and not watching the podium, or offer no personality. We dislike that (as do foreigners from first-world countries), yet many American customers tolerate it. Some stand in "velvet roped" lines to be treated that way. However, Meyer learned his techniques in Europe and believes that your first impression should warmly welcome and coddle you. His "first line" of employees treats you like a competent concierge would. That stands out impressively amongst thousands of mediocre places that scrimp on cheap workers, or make you feel like it's a privilege to eat with them.
The sight of fresh bread populated one of the sidewalk windows.
Being a Danny Meyer restaurant, it is excellent "from A to Z". I recall Meyer's book, "Setting the Table", about how to give great customer service. The most important "first impression" is given by the phone receptionist and hostesses. If they're cheerful and competent, then you know that the place "cares". All of Meyer's eateries invest the time to put well-trained, well-paid individuals in positions to give you great first impressions.
Why is that significant? Thousands of eateries employ careless, unenthusiastic people (bored-sounding or acting like you interrupted their life) to answer the phones or greet guests. Thousands of unconcerned restaurants employ hosts who can't answer questions, have a poor attitudes, put you on extended Hold, are busy flirting with the bartender and not watching the podium, or offer no personality. We dislike that (as do foreigners from first-world countries), yet many American customers tolerate it. Some stand in "velvet roped" lines to be treated that way. However, Meyer learned his techniques in Europe and believes that your first impression should warmly welcome and coddle you. His "first line" of employees treats you like a competent concierge would. That stands out impressively amongst thousands of mediocre places that scrimp on cheap workers, or make you feel like it's a privilege to eat with them.
It's worthy to note that his chefs and maître d's stay with him for YEARS,. He's one of the few restauranteurs who truly started "in the kitchen" and who currently gives lectures about Hospitality and Customer Service--that its possible to "make money by investing it and treating people as 'special' ".
When I called a month ago to make our 1pm reservation, the lovely receptionist was as ladylike as the reservationist of a 5-star hotel. I asked if we could order a particular side dish from the weekday menu? Quickly, she obtained an answer: the chef could make it, since it would be used on that night's dinner menu anyway. Efficiently, she noted my request in our reservation.
Today, we ran late--due to the MTA's dilapidated subway. So, Lewis called to push our reservation back by 30 minutes. No problem. The host told Lewis that if there was a slight wait for a table, we could start with drinks at the bar. When we arrived, the host found our reservation and looked up with a smile and said, "Thank you for calling us to say that you'd be a tad late. You're table is set, and we'll make your day even better now." What a great way to start... and that didn't cost the restaurant a cent! Yet, such helpfulness and cheeriness is priceless.
Maialino was created as an homage to a old-world Roman trattoria. In fact, it's the only place in the city that authentically uses guancalle (pig's cheeks) for the carbonara sauce! That is an authentic Roman recipe, which brings tremendous flavor. Lewis and I went to Italy twice, and we love Rome's cuisine.
Many of Meyer's eateries have a formal--and austere--section, separated from a tavern-style section. Sometimes, the course-menu of the formal dining room is worthwhile. Usually, Lewis and I prefer the colorful vibe--and expansive menu--of the non-formal section. That part of Maialino was decidedly more crowded, with boys in straw fedoras and tight T-shirts popping in for French-press coffee and baked-on-the-premises croissants.
The blonde girl tending bar was double-fisted as she vigorously shook up 2 cocktails. (I love a vigorously shaken drink)! People were situated at the bar, perched on barstools while nibbling on poached eggs and flapjacks.
We sat in the cozy dining area: wood floor planking, gingham checkered tablecloths, handsomely-lit wall art, and stylish wainscoting. Our "table for two" was surrounded by bubbly chatter. On one side, a trio spoke Italian (and wore brighter colored pants and jackets than New Yorkers do). Behind us, university students were in deep conversation. On the other side a gay couple ate with one of the boys' parents. It seemed like it was the parents' first time getting acquainted with their son's boyfriend. Everyone seemed jovial.
The well-trained waitstaff meandered through the room fluidly. Each wore a blue chambray shirt that is made by Brooks Brothers. Paired with an apron, that's the extent of their uniform... which keeps the ambiance homey.
Our server was named Ashley, and she quickly fetched a vodka Bloody Mary for me (extra horseradish), and a salted tequila Bloody Mary for Lewis. For nutritional value, Lewis ordered a blended juice of kale, fennel, tarragon, and mint. The taste was extraordinary, with the fennel giving a wonderful tap on the palate.
We devoured everything in the breadbasket, dipping the rosemary twists into a wooden bowl of Italian olive oil. We ate two orders of tomato/cheese risotto balls, dipping each forkful into warm Mariana sauce. Fried artichoke hearts with lemon and oil were scrumptious. Next, we selected a plate of thick-cut, charred pancetta. SO YUMMY! I got a pan-browned pork & pecorino sausage.
As each aromatic dish arrived, we noticed other customers looking at them to get an idea of what to order for themselves. Or maybe it was because we chatted cheerfully with each server, making them laugh with us, and causing them to blush from our compliments. Therefore, servers clustered at our table and lingered, chatting briefly to make sure everything was okay. I remember being a waiter at unpleasant mealtimes. So, it's nice when customers treat to you like a human... and not as part of the furniture. When you avoid "talking down" to servers, they treat you nicely. It's the decent thing to do.
I ordered a French-press pot of coffee. I asked Ashley for a recommendation, and her blue eyes "lit up" as she mentioned one--described as "adventurous with hints of chocolate and orange." Sold! Smartly, I requested a small pitcher of cream, to soften the final portion, after it steeped so long amongst the coffee grinds.
Lewis ordered Chef Nick Anderer's famous Porchetta sandwich: moist roast pork and two fried eggs. I had Garganelli: homemade lemon-scented pasta with cream-braised oxtail, tomato, and pecorino. Each forkful was GREAT! The chef only uses tried-and-true Italian cooking techniques.
People predictably eat scrambled eggs and French toast, but Lewis wanted something savory and "different". Plus, you know that when you dine at a Danny Meyer place, all the ingredients are farm-fresh. As a trendsetter in the 1970s, he created the Farmer's Market at Union Square (which was previously only for hardcore drug dealers... and sadly the city lets that remain). Seen below, it was the city's first greenmarket.
Today, we ran late--due to the MTA's dilapidated subway. So, Lewis called to push our reservation back by 30 minutes. No problem. The host told Lewis that if there was a slight wait for a table, we could start with drinks at the bar. When we arrived, the host found our reservation and looked up with a smile and said, "Thank you for calling us to say that you'd be a tad late. You're table is set, and we'll make your day even better now." What a great way to start... and that didn't cost the restaurant a cent! Yet, such helpfulness and cheeriness is priceless.
Maialino was created as an homage to a old-world Roman trattoria. In fact, it's the only place in the city that authentically uses guancalle (pig's cheeks) for the carbonara sauce! That is an authentic Roman recipe, which brings tremendous flavor. Lewis and I went to Italy twice, and we love Rome's cuisine.
To see the recent time that we explored Rome, please use this link:
*Lewis still raves about entering its ancient Pantheon, rebuilt in 126 AD by Emperor Hadrian--who openly enjoyed same-sex intimacy. It is worth seeing.
Italy's gastronomic details are surprisingly hard to find in NYC--a huge, supposedly "first-world" city. That is because it is inundated with cheaply-made junk food, because restauranteurs are cheap, and conglomerates dominate the food industry. So, finding authentic Italian cuisine is worth going out of our way for!
Many of Meyer's eateries have a formal--and austere--section, separated from a tavern-style section. Sometimes, the course-menu of the formal dining room is worthwhile. Usually, Lewis and I prefer the colorful vibe--and expansive menu--of the non-formal section. That part of Maialino was decidedly more crowded, with boys in straw fedoras and tight T-shirts popping in for French-press coffee and baked-on-the-premises croissants.
The blonde girl tending bar was double-fisted as she vigorously shook up 2 cocktails. (I love a vigorously shaken drink)! People were situated at the bar, perched on barstools while nibbling on poached eggs and flapjacks.
We sat in the cozy dining area: wood floor planking, gingham checkered tablecloths, handsomely-lit wall art, and stylish wainscoting. Our "table for two" was surrounded by bubbly chatter. On one side, a trio spoke Italian (and wore brighter colored pants and jackets than New Yorkers do). Behind us, university students were in deep conversation. On the other side a gay couple ate with one of the boys' parents. It seemed like it was the parents' first time getting acquainted with their son's boyfriend. Everyone seemed jovial.
The well-trained waitstaff meandered through the room fluidly. Each wore a blue chambray shirt that is made by Brooks Brothers. Paired with an apron, that's the extent of their uniform... which keeps the ambiance homey.
Our server was named Ashley, and she quickly fetched a vodka Bloody Mary for me (extra horseradish), and a salted tequila Bloody Mary for Lewis. For nutritional value, Lewis ordered a blended juice of kale, fennel, tarragon, and mint. The taste was extraordinary, with the fennel giving a wonderful tap on the palate.
We devoured everything in the breadbasket, dipping the rosemary twists into a wooden bowl of Italian olive oil. We ate two orders of tomato/cheese risotto balls, dipping each forkful into warm Mariana sauce. Fried artichoke hearts with lemon and oil were scrumptious. Next, we selected a plate of thick-cut, charred pancetta. SO YUMMY! I got a pan-browned pork & pecorino sausage.
As each aromatic dish arrived, we noticed other customers looking at them to get an idea of what to order for themselves. Or maybe it was because we chatted cheerfully with each server, making them laugh with us, and causing them to blush from our compliments. Therefore, servers clustered at our table and lingered, chatting briefly to make sure everything was okay. I remember being a waiter at unpleasant mealtimes. So, it's nice when customers treat to you like a human... and not as part of the furniture. When you avoid "talking down" to servers, they treat you nicely. It's the decent thing to do.
I ordered a French-press pot of coffee. I asked Ashley for a recommendation, and her blue eyes "lit up" as she mentioned one--described as "adventurous with hints of chocolate and orange." Sold! Smartly, I requested a small pitcher of cream, to soften the final portion, after it steeped so long amongst the coffee grinds.
Lewis ordered Chef Nick Anderer's famous Porchetta sandwich: moist roast pork and two fried eggs. I had Garganelli: homemade lemon-scented pasta with cream-braised oxtail, tomato, and pecorino. Each forkful was GREAT! The chef only uses tried-and-true Italian cooking techniques.
People predictably eat scrambled eggs and French toast, but Lewis wanted something savory and "different". Plus, you know that when you dine at a Danny Meyer place, all the ingredients are farm-fresh. As a trendsetter in the 1970s, he created the Farmer's Market at Union Square (which was previously only for hardcore drug dealers... and sadly the city lets that remain). Seen below, it was the city's first greenmarket.
Meyer also provides leadership for the City Harvest charity, founded in 1982.
His restaurants obtain their ingredients from the aforementioned farmers.
During our meal, everything was presented and cleared effortlessly by food runners and bussers who seemed to genuinely enjoy being there.
For dessert, such a sunny day deserved a yellow slice Glazed Lemon Cake with Meyer-Lemon Marmalade (delicious lemon rind). The pastry chef outdid herself.
Finished with our scrumptious meal, we departed through the busy dining room. Passing the Service Counter, we observed waiters cutting baguettes and slicing salamis. Across from them, bakers added fresh platters of pastry to the showcase.
The sound of shaking ice cubes told us that the blonde was still busy. From there, we strolled under the sunshine and white puffy clouds. Flowering trees added a sprinkling of small petals to the sidewalk. It was a fine day, indeed.
For dessert, such a sunny day deserved a yellow slice Glazed Lemon Cake with Meyer-Lemon Marmalade (delicious lemon rind). The pastry chef outdid herself.
Finished with our scrumptious meal, we departed through the busy dining room. Passing the Service Counter, we observed waiters cutting baguettes and slicing salamis. Across from them, bakers added fresh platters of pastry to the showcase.
The sound of shaking ice cubes told us that the blonde was still busy. From there, we strolled under the sunshine and white puffy clouds. Flowering trees added a sprinkling of small petals to the sidewalk. It was a fine day, indeed.
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