cafe cluny: the benefits of being late

in 2006, frank bruni, offered his view of the then-new cafe cluny in the west village, titled "the benefits of being french and familiar." it wasn't a fully negative critique --he liked the roasted cod, the monkfish, the "supple" scallops and the profiteroles--but to his mind, the young cafe cluny could have tried harder to be better, with a more imaginative menu. it could have been more disciplined in the kitchen and on the floor. it seemed, though, to be coasting on the success and popularity of its forbears (the restaurant is partly owned by keith mcnally's ex). tennis player/legend john mcenroe once remarked that his kids might have suffered from a bit from "affluenza," suggesting his success might have allowed their ambitions to lie fallow, at least in their youth. bruni seemed to suggest the same thing about cluny, being in the cafe luxembourg-odeon-mcnally (by marriage) brood.

but cafe cluny was five years old when my friend z and i made a visit last week (my first time) and it seemed to have found good balance after its initial growth spurt.

the charming corner of west 12th and 4th street went though a tumult that night, a full-on hail storm, and cluny was the big, warm blanket we peeked out from under. we marveled from our window-side table at the wind, the big drops of ice and the helpless people caught with and without umbrellas. and then, we marveled at all the food things...

oh, i know i shouldn't rely on a server's opinion when trying to decide between a standard menu item and a daily special--aren't they programmed to push the special? fried zucchini blossoms stuffed with ricotta are a "regular" starter--it didn't take more than a second for me to start dreaming about those delicate petals, plumped with fresh cheese and quick fried to a perfect crisp. i was certain that would be my first course until i heard three magic words: potato cod fritter. i asked our server her preference--she said, unhaltingly, fritter. they are so nice... and she was right. this was a potato bonbon, with a taste of cod to ground it. it was crisp on the outside, melty on the inside. (a reminder that i really must invest in a potato ricer.)

my friend z ordered the pancetta-wrapped pork tenderloin. her review? it was so good, she was "really sad when it was over" and she would have licked the plate if she could. ah, but she's too much the lady.

i opted for "homemade handkerchief pasta and roasted autumn forest mushrooms with black truffle mushroom robiolina cheese." that sounds rather lady-like, too, yes? but midway through the meal, i had the feeling of breathlessly foraging my way through a glorious shroom forest--i think i was popping them a bit too fast. did i put my fork down even once? the lady in me sure hopes so. they were just so salty and woodsy and good, it was hard to slow down.

i wouldn't have minded a few more homemade "handkerchiefs" for the journey, i think there were a mere four pockets of pasta.

the robiolina was unlike any cheese i'd had before--it could be mistaken for a dollop of whipped cream or the finest butter. it was a touch salty and delicately cheese-y, with a lasting truffle essence. i felt guilty for leaving even a drop of it behind, but i was just so full...i wasn't even going to have dessert, only coffee.

but then the storm really hit...i took a gander outside, remembered that i'd forgotten my umbrella.

once of a sudden (as my adorable, bulgarian-born high school biology teacher used to say), i had room for dessert.

caramelized banana trifle...

i suppose it's hard to screw up a pudding? though i haven't actually tried to make one myself.
this was exactly what i wanted: layers of sweet thick pudding, the crumble of a vanilla biscuit and the crunch of a caramelized banana.

it made me happy to stay under the cafe's cozy blanket a little while longer.