March 20, 2014
Can't stop thinking about these. The Parker House rolls at Butter on 45th Street are good enough, all by themselves, to bring me back. (They come with two kinds of butter – both fantastic – but the rolls are so tender, rich and delicious that I'd devoured an entire one before I even thought to look around for butter.)
This was fantastic too: chicken liver pate spread on matzo and topped with fried shallots. Everything tastes better with matzo, but this was an inspired combination.
Can't fault this enormous hunk of steak either. Meant for two, the Tomahawk's easily enough for four. Especially with the little pot of buttered grits (so good it was gone before I could snap a photo) and this very delicious kale and pear salad.
Butter's a beautiful subterranean room with high, high ceilings and a wall of windows up above. Looking upward, it's as if the entire city is holding its breath, waiting for you to emerge into the night and join it. When I was small my father's office was right next door, and gazing through the window above us I couldn't help thinking how much the city has changed.
Back then the neighborhood had no restaurants like Butter, and I thought how happy Dad would have been eating here. Especially when we got to dessert and a plate of these warm, raspberry-filled bomboloni appeared.
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