Sweet Smell of Success and a Few Bites from the Big Apple

I can’t go for too long with­out a visit to my favourite place: Manhattan.

There’s some­thing about the buzz, hub­bub and hum that per­me­ates it both night and day — not to men­tion the food aro­mas ema­nat­ing from food carts and eater­ies at every cor­ner — that make that place feel like home.

No doubt the feel­ing is made even stronger by the fact that much of its pop­u­la­tion seems decid­edly Jew­ish — and, of course, many of its lively cit­i­zens are, as am I.

So Ross and I recently decided to make the trip — his first time, my umpteenth — before the bone-chilling weather that is New York win­ter closed in.

We trav­elled by car to Ithaca, another of my most beloved spots south of the bor­der, then took the Cor­nell cam­pus bus to mid-Manhattan. (On the way home a few days later, we stayed overnight at the super Statler hotel in Ithaca and re-visited the excel­lent restau­rant in that burg called Fine Line bistro where the goat cheese/spinach cros­tini are alone worth the trip.)

Any­hoo, eschew­ing the more well-known, trendy din­ing haunts of NYC — Momo­fuku, Locanda Verde, Jean-Georges and their ilk, all of which I’ve fre­quented on other occa­sions — we found our­selves at Le Relais de Venise located near our hotel on Lex­ing­ton near 51st St.

This was serendip­i­tous for sev­eral rea­sons: I adore steak frites, the restaurant’s spe­cialty; the price is right ($26 a per­son for that deli­cious dish), and the ambi­ence is unas­sum­ing, wel­com­ing and com­fort­able with excel­lent service.

But best of all, the con­cept is sweet, sim­ple and truly bril­liant. The Relais (its odd name comes from the orig­i­nal, still-existing sis­ter restau­rant in Paris by that name where the for­mer inhab­i­tant of the estab­lish­ment had this name) has no menu. They serve steak frites and that’s it. (Read on for an excep­tion to this rule: a dessert selec­tion that is decid­edly memorable).

The only deci­sion here is how rare or well-done you’d like your steak: a good-sized piece of sir­loin bathed in a delec­table creamy, mus­tardy, herb-laced sauce accom­pa­nied by those manda­tory frites. The lat­ter are skinny, per­fectly cooked and down­right divine. The steak and frites are served in two por­tions so that, explained our lovely server, “they don’t get cold.”

As I won­dered where this place has been all my life, we were handed the dessert menu. “I rec­om­mend the “tower of power” advised the afore­men­tioned server refer­ring to a dessert offi­cially listed as Le Vacherin de Relais.

Wow, what a thing of beauty and a taste sen­sa­tion! Rounds of home-made meringue piled high between choco­late and vanilla ice cream and chunks of hazel­nut, all doused in a dark, vel­vety, bit­ter­sweet choco­late sauce.

When we returned to Toronto, I sug­gested to a cou­ple of chef friends that some­one open a restau­rant with this stream­lined steak-frites theme here. So far, no takers.

A few days later, still nos­tal­gic for New York, I encour­aged Ross to watch one of my favourite movies with me in our cozy TV room: The Sweet Smell of Suc­cess star­ring Tony Cur­tis and Burt Lan­caster. This mag­nif­i­cently dark and edgy film evokes NYC, albeit sev­eral decades ago, like noth­ing else.

Not bad until I can savour the real thing. Come spring, it’ll be “Big Apple, here I come!”