Eataly isn't a restaurant in the traditional sense- its also a market. Occupying a full city block on Fifth avenue, Eatlay is styled to reflect a walk down an italian street. There's counters for espresso, gelato, chocolates, paninis, and pastries where one can just grab a quick pick me up. For something more substantial, there are a series of little food counters throughout featuring cheese, chacuterie, seafood, pizza, pasta, vegetables, a rotisserie and a raw bar. Each spot offers its own kitchen and own cafe style seating. For something for formal, Manzo, offers a culinary tour of meat in a full restaurant experience.
This was not my first visit; but it's a place I love to return. What has impressed me the most it the quality of the ingredients and the originality of the dishes. Please there's so many options, the culinary permutations are limitless. I'm currently in the process of working my way through the various food counters; on my most recent visit, Le Cuillère and I paid a visit to the Pizza and Pasta cafe.
Like most Italian restaurants, the meal began with the obligatory bread and olive oil. I am a big believer in the small details at a restaurant because in my mind, if a place puts a lot of effort into the things that are easy to overlook, they are likely to do the really important stuff well. And the bread olive oil/butter combination can fall anywhere along the scale from an after thought to pure gluteny heaven. At Eataly it was positively transcendent. The olive oil was so good, I bought a bottle of the same to use in my own kitchen. (One of the perks of Eatlay as since it is also a market, you can in many cases purchase the ingredients you just ate. )
Le Cuillère elected to order from the pizza menu; beginning with the day's special salami selection, and finishing with the calzone. I chose the pasta kitchen, starting off with a winter vegetable salad and housemade ravioli. At our server's recommendation we both started with a glass of the Valle D'Asota Torrette Superieure, a special feature for the month of December.
Eventually, we were able to pull ourselves away from the bread and oil with the arrival of the first course. Le Cuillère was presented with a board of paper thin salamis; he was in heaven. Each of the four varieties had its own distinct (and delicious!) character; Le Cuillere slowly and with great relish worked his way through each type, silently expressing his delight with wide smiles, rolling eyes and deep groans of gastric pleasure. My salad was a crisp medly of roughly chopped cauliflower, celery root, fennel and apple in a lemon vinaigrette. The construction was well executed and perfect of the wet december afternoon.
The arrival of the main course was heralded by the intoxicating smell of Le Cuillère's calzone. A homemade half moon of bread stuffed with ricotta, mozzarella, tomato sauce, parmigiano, ham and fresh basil appeared before Le Cuillère. It was a divine combination, evocative of a secret family recipe and balanced to perfection; many calzones err on the side of too much sauce, or end up a gooey mess of mozzarella. The ham, in a most welcome departure from most "assembly line" Italian stops, was sliced paper-thin and cured to perfection. My ravioli was stuffed with fresh ricotta and spinach, tosses in a lemon butter sauce with pistachio. The crunch of the nuts added a needed textural element, the lemon butter sauce was the perfect compliment, not overstepping on the subtlty of the ricotta.
Following the meal, we took a tour of the market. Eataly features the finest ingredients and already prepared pastas and other items you can take home and make yourself. I resisted the urge to blow my savings on truffles and settled for the olive oil. We each grabbed a double espresso from the coffee bar, and set out to brave the damp December air, content and filled with the warmth of Italian home cooking.
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