THE COMMERCE INN

I waited longer than I wanted before visiting The Commerce Inn, much as it was prioritized on my go-to-list.  But there's something about the precious Commerce Street address, sort of cozy secret little nook of a place.... a little hard to find, a little off-the-beaten-path, and one of my favorite streets in New York during the autumn season. 

 Also, I imagined that the powerhouse team of Rita Sodi and Jodi Williams would have an ace hand to deal with fall ingredients at a rustic, farm-to-table eatery such as it is.  So as soon as brussels sprouts popped up on the menu, I was there.

And then, tragically, they were the worst thing we ordered.  Well, if you like unadorned, raw brussels sprouts, well, here's your dish.  To be fair, they were paired up with thinly sliced apples and walnuts, and a pretty little salad, but nothing on the menu indicated that they would be raw, and quite surely, they were listed just beneath a cauliflower options that was roasted into complete and divine submission, salty and soft with the crispiness of breadcrumbs to counter the pillowy pulp into which the crucifer had been reduced to.  Or uplifted to, in actuality.  And that is how forgettable the disappointment of the brussels sprouts were, whisked away by our charming waiter, after explaining how they were not at all what we expected.  That cauliflower was brought in its stead, and a wonderful substitute it was. 

Nutty and plush, bedecked with toasty breadcrumbs anointed with olive oil  and anchovies that only deepened the savoriness of the dish.  

This is what one should expect from the food at The Commerce Inn, hearty and savory and utterly delectable, but refined and nuanced in the fashion that these two ladies are well known for.  Much like Major Food Group, Ms Sodi and Ms Williams have what amounts to a Midas Touch, and especially with the fickle nature of  the New York dining scene, have proven their prowess time and time again.  The Commerce Inn is no exception, and perhaps in my opinion, my favorite of their mini-empire.

The room is barn-like and spacious, although a lot of table are packed into the room, so noise levels can escalate and there is a definite feeling of conviviality and ease.  The menu on the website is much more succinct than the actual offerings, with almost as many specials listed daily as were listed on the menu provided, in its funky Amish script  and elemental descriptions.  We order quite a bit of food for just two people, but there were so many things left on that menu I still wanted to try: the green beans with bacon, Shaker beans, either of the two fishes (a porgy or a whole seabass), all of which looked sensational. 

But that cauliflower was equally as good, and if I had to only recommend one dish as a must-have from the experience, it would definitely be the cod cakes.   They were sublime, meaty with tons of fresh, flaky white fish and tender nubs of potato, nicely salted and crisp of crust.  Had the brussels sprouts only have enjoyed the same treatment.......

From then on we trended on the meaty side of things, the best of which was a pot roast-like mince served over thick slices of toasted sourdough- sort of like an open-faced pot-roast sammy.  Or not "pretty much"; that's what it was.  And a sensational rendition of it.  I was less thrilled with the Flinstones-esque beef rib, a special of the night. Although visually impressive in its heft alone, served on the bone (or at least for as long as the tender meat would cling to it).  Too fatty for my tastes, but the parsnips alongside soaked up a lot of the jus poured over top tableside, and my tablemate and I were a bit Jack Sprat about the whole affair, so it ended well.

  

We were unfortunately a bit topped out after all that, but those desserts... from an apple cobbler (that I still would made room for had my tablemate cooperated), homemade pudding or a sticky date cake, all would warrant a repeat visit.  And in a completely out-of-character move, I will go back and order those cod cakes again, which is frankly unprecedented, and hopefully clarifies exactly just how awesome they were, and this whole place is.

50 Commerce Street

www.thecommerceinn.com

LA BONNE SOUPE

Le problème is that the soup is not bonne.  It was okay, at best, even on the blusteriest of blustery, prematurely winter-esque autumn nights, where soup could not even conceive of a more suitable context.  In addition, the mood is cozy and pleasant, table packed with smiling patrons who seem content to be exactly where they are.  The majority of the, too, seemed to be French gleaned from casual eavesdropping, which I hoped would be as prosperous an omen as the make a case for in Chinese restaurants.  This, however, was unfortunately NOT the case.

I shrugged off the dismissive non-welcome by a passing employee as a result of the unanticipated inclement weather creating an influx of diners.  I eventually found my way to an open table, upstairs, and sort of self-seated and waited for my tablemate.  A server came by to inquire about beverages, and guided me toward the wine list already on the table.  He had this sort of louche and glib manner that he someone made seem amusingly charming, probably due to his (relatively young) age, and was sort of stereotypically "French" in a Ratatouille sort of way.  Water glass filled, friend arrived, ordering began.

We had chosen the spot on short notice simply due to its name, given the weather, and its proximity to the theatre we would soon be attending.  As neither of us had discovered the full array of dinner option that La Bonne Soup does offer, we hadn't allowed enough time for a formal meal, instead planned on a quick homey bowl to warm up and belly-fill before the show.  I actually started to lean toward a ratatouille-filled omelet, and then a mushroom crepe sounded really good, but alors!! We were at La Bonne SOUPE.  Let them eat soup- and so we did.  There was a mulligatawny lentil concoction as the daily special (of which there was surprisingly only one) that our server explained was really more of just a lentil soup, of which I'm not familiar with the precise differentiation he was implying, his tone indicated maybe it wasn't his first choice.  Thus, I went with a Crème Andalouse, described as a tomato based cream of vegetables, yet was somehow devoid of any vegetable flavor and certainly lacked creaminess.  What arrived was a rather insipid bowl of sour tomato broth, opaque but watery, which tasted mostly of unripened tomatoes.  Despite the premature snowfall, tomatoes were not long off the market, as well as being some of the most preservable types of produce, so the unpalatable concoction had no excuses.  It was actually difficult to finish the bowl, done so mostly by soaking slices of the generic baguette from the little basket on the table, whose starchy blandness cut the potage's acidity.  I had to eat SOMEthing, as the show ahead of us was a good two hours long, and there wasn't time to re-order.  Mushroom barley didn't fare much better, it was thin and under seasoned, the paucity of chewy grains and chopped fungus sinking wantonly to the bottom.  You had the option to "meal-size" your soup order, which bumped up the price $13 to add a salad, glass of house wine and dessert.  That is, if you can count a plate of oversize flaps of romaine with some meager shreds of carrot atop a salad.  Even the dressing was d.i.y.: each table bequeathed a bottle of a house peppercorn-ranch type dressing, conspicuously un-French and weirdly Applebee's-esque.  The red on hand was a generic blend, neither offensive nor intriguing.

After we finished our soup, we were offered dessert, which we would've gladly gone without given the quality of everything else, but since it was included, we waited for our mousse au chocolat (the other option given was crēme caramel), deprived the more appealing sounding option of a warm apple tarte tatin , or most of all, Le Colonel, an ambiguously undefined sweet that cost three or four dollars more than anything else.  Neither did it have any representation on Yelp!, which makes it all the more intriguing and mysterious.  Not intriguing enough, however, to actually go back and have to eat again at L.B.S. to find out.

48 West 55th Street (Between 5th and 6th Avenues)

Tel : (212) 586-7650