12.28.08
Review of Merkato 55, Sunday June 2008 & Tuesday September 2008
55 Gansevoort St. & 9th Ave., 212-255-8855 (now closed)
Great for: pre-club trendy dining, large parties, subterranean clubbing, beef tartar, Amarula ice cream sandwich
With a 9pm res, the Producer and I still waited almost an hour to sit. It may have been because have the upstairs area wasn’t open. People really seemed to want to linger. The hostess was on top of the situation, though, and brought us free bread with hummus and apricot blatjang (mint yogurt on top of apricots). I was surprised that they usually charge for bread. It was good, as was the sour citrusy hummus, while the apricot thing was too sweet for me.
When we finally sat, I found my appetizer of shrimp piri piri with baby romaine satisfying. The shrimp could have been more tender but the slightly spicy sauce was nice. The super sour dark romaine leaves balanced the dish well. I was pleased that they only left the heads sans antennae and tails on – it’s such a waste when shrimp have to be peeled and all the flavoring comes off with the shell. P’s jerk-spiced duck with avocado and banana was interestingly delicious. I found it very spicy and chewy with the mushy sides a great counterpoint. I’m glad I was adventurous and had some – I usually don’t eat avocadoes and detest bananas, and would probably not have ordered that app for myself.
I continued branching out with a poultry main dish (I hardly ever order chicken, it just feels like such a waste when eating out, plus I usually only like it fried). I really enjoyed my Yassa guinea hen with caramelized onions and preserved lemons. The onions were tasty, as was the crispy skin. P’s merguez sausage with hominy, watermelon and corn on the cob was also a wise choice. We found it a spicy, tender delight. The coconut rice side was quite good, crunchy and without too much coconut so it was still savory.
They have some very unique cocktails here. I often see cocktail menus that have different names but basically the same drinks. Fortunately, that is not a problem here. The Larakaraka is a really interesting mixture of tequila and St. Germain. Tart and bitter, it packed quite a punch and I liked it (or maybe it got me drunk fast enough to think I did). P’s Ding Ding, basically a super-alcoholic caipirinha, was really sour as the bartender warned but got better as we drank more of it. He got tired of cocktails and switched to rosé, while my next drink was a Takada. It’s a hodge-podge of Bacardi Light (!!), aquavit, ginger beer, lychee purée and pink grapefruit. There was a bit of pulp; the grapefruit made the whole thing bitter. I still liked it, as it was a nice contrast with the food. We were intrigued by the infused rum flight but decided not to get too crazy on a Sunday night.
The waitress was great. She was really honest and nice. I asked her lots of questions about the menu and she very patiently answered all my questions and steered us right with everything. The decor, on the other hand, was a jarring note against the food and service. It was very cosmopolitan in a calculating way, pan-African and vaguely design-y. The word that immediately sprang to mind was corporate. There were weird twisted roots everywhere which turned out to be fiberglass – a good metaphor for the entire design philosophy behind the place, which seemed to be “get stuff that looks kind of African even if it’s fake and mix it all together.” For instance, the lamps are claimed to be bongo drums but a little staring soon raised questions of how on earth they could possibly be drums when one end tapers to a point. There’s also a light fixture by one of the doors so big I could hide in it, which is just bizarre.
Speaking of things that don’t make sense, the French doors are pretty confusing. I couldn’t figure out which set to enter through, since two different places look as though they could be the host area. I picked the wrong one and had to walk through the tables like an idiot. It did give me an opportunity to notice how spaciously placed the tables are, though; and there’s a large one in the middle that could probably hold 10 people comfortably.
I’m not sure if I can sort of recommend the place. In the first place, its creator Marcus Samuelsson left recently after only 5 months despite many pronouncements about bringing a new cuisine to New York (he’s an African orphan with Swedish adoptive family), so I have to assume the food won’t be as good. Even more disturbing, the space underneath the restaurant is going to be a giant club. (The space upstairs is for parties now too, apparently.) I can’t imagine they’ll allow the kitchen to keep turning out eclectic, different food. (A little bit.) I guess go right away if you want to catch the same menu I did. It’s good, but as the Producer and I agreed, it’s not special enough to warrant a return visit. If they fixed the decor, which basically looks designed by a focus group, maybe.
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In September 2008 I ate there with some banker friends after a party upstairs. This time I tried the kitfo beef tartar with spiced butter and crisp lavash. The sour cream on it was great and the scrumptious meat was slightly cooked with jalapeños. The spiced yellowtail tuna kitfo over avocado with chocolate sauce was too slimy. I didn’t like it, most certainly not the bizarreness on top. My friend E described the sauce as “cilantro meets espresso in cocoa.” Yuck.
The Berbere rack of lamb with watermelon and feta salad was puzzlingly devoid of feta but did have some bitter leaves. I didn’t enjoy the ginger rind and the lamb could’ve been less cooked, though it was more or less decent. The crunchy bits on top were nice. We liked more the ceebu jën (pink tile fish) with mussels. There was lots of pepperoni; unfortunately also lots of sand. The spiced hangar steak with pickled mushrooms and tamarind ketchup was another sort-of. The meat was good but had too much mushroom flavor and the sauce was too sweet.
The best thing I had that night (besides a lap dance later at Tens) was the Amarula ice cream sandwich. It was so ridiculously good. Amarula is an African cream liqueur, a bit like Bailey’s, and it meshed beautifully with everything else. The molten chocolate chai cake was just ok. There was some sticky sugar thing with it. I thought it too cinnamon-y, but then I have a violent aversion to cinnamon.
The menu is much smaller menu than before. It was also quite empty, especially for 8:30 pm on a Tuesday, although that could charitably be blamed on Rosh Hashanah. I was disappointed that the more adventurous African dishes had disappeared and the new management or whatever seemed to be trying to blend in with the bankerization of the rest of the meatpacking district.
Rating: 8 7 / 10
Our cost: $155 (3 cocktails, 1 glass of wine)
Noise level: fairly quiet, the tables are surprisingly wide apart
Chance of walking in: decent.
