New York: Part 3--Brasserie Les Halles and Hudson Bar

Brasserie Les Halles

Ah Anthony Bourdain, how I miss thee. I finished watching all that Netflix has to offer, but am still craving more. You definitely ended on a high note, pretending to be James Bond in Vietnam. Squeasle anyone? Porcupine actually. I laughed and laughed. Probably the funniest thing I'd seen in a long time. But I digress.

Our penultimate night in NYC, Ingrid and Margaret finally caved and agreed to go to Anthony Bourdain's restaurant, Brasserie Les Halles. We decided on the Downtown outpost and headed out. I've been waiting months for this.

Let's just say, it wasn't quite what I expected. Bourdain describes it as an attempt in replicating a working-class french brasserie. I expected small, intimate, cozy. The place was huge!! A cavernous brasserie, harsh lighting, and not exactly packed. As soon as I stepped inside, my hopes of meeting the chef himself evaporated. It seemed pretty clear that his present role was honorary only, and that he didn't really have a hand in the daily operations of the place anymore. Very disappointing. But we must press on.

We were seated, and our server Daniel was the most entertaining server I've ever had. I think he made our night, and we probably made his. He seemed very W.A.S.P.y, and I was a little confused as to why a rich kid needed to be a waiter, but that was beside the point.

Now, back to the restaurant. Here's the problem: we were sitting in a corner booth, discussing the atmosphere, and concluded that yeah, he must not be involved anymore. Then Ingrid said something along the lines of "yeah, check out my seat!" I looked, and the banquette (is that what it's called?) had been torn, and instead of properly repairing it, had been hastily mended with duct tape. Yes, duct tape! Really classy. I was shocked.

Daniel the amazing server returned. Margaret asked him what on the menu he recommended. He replied, then spacily asked, "now what were you asking?" Margaret reiterated her question, he repeated his answer, and then Margaret started giving him crap. He looked confused at first, then I started laughing, then he realized that she was just teasing him. Dinner commenced. For appetizers, we ordered a potato salad that was non-traditional, I believe involved kalamata olives, and was good. Other than that, I don't really remember it. Also, we ordered a gravlax and cucumber salad. I liked it, the gravlax had a very assertive flavor, but if you aren't a strong fish fan, I could see how it could be problematic. Unfortunately, I didn't take pictures of either dish.

Entrees. We all ordered different variations on steak. All were artfully prepared, tender and juicy, and accompanied by whatever sauce we ordered, as well as frites and a salad. Bourdain claims to make the best french fries in the world. A tall claim. My verdict: they were good, but honestly, couldn't compare to the fries at Laurelwood or Moon and Sixpence here in Portland. Sorry Anthony.

When questioning Daniel the spacey server as to what he liked, he heartily recommened the Coq au Vin, saying that the smell was "intoxicating, dahling." None of us ordered it. That, however, was his dinner for the night, and in an unusual twist, decided to bring out his dinner plate so that we could smell it. We all sniffed, Margaret made a smart-ass comment, and were all astounded that a waiter brought out his dinner for us to look at. It was very entertaining! And, it did look pretty good. But it was time to go. We exited, but then I ran back in. Daniel was too entertaining not to have a picture taken. Here he is:

His response to my asking permission to take his photo: "Well, I can't say that this hasn't happened before." Yeah, whatever. But he really made dinner fun. But seriously Anthony, check in on your restaurant once in awhile. I think you'd be appalled by the atmosphere.

Brasserie Les Halles

15 John Street

New York, New York 10038

212.285.8585

http://www.leshalles.net/ny_downtown.php

Hudson Bar

Our next stop was Hudson Bar, recommended by the New Jersey sister Diane. Hudson Bar is a swanky affair in the eponymous Hudson Hotel. It seemed like the kind of place that you might see a movie star or two, but maybe that is overly ambitious. But, it was a supercool place. Definitely different from anything in Portland. The entrance was highly inconspicuous: nondescript green escalators heading up, up, up.

When you actually were up, up, up, it looked like a hotel reception area, but unlike any I had ever seen before. I don't know how to describe it, but I'll do my best. It was dark, had crystal chandeliers, lots of greenery, all of which sounds usual, but was done in a very non-traditional way. Their website describes it as surreal. I think that's accurate.

We find a seat inside the bar. The floor is lit, and a large "bench" running the length of the room is a long log with chair backs attached at intervals. I've never seen anything like it. Everyone there is dressed, except me of course. Oh well. I'm from Portland, what do you expect?

By now you must be wondering about the drinks. Ah, yes, the drinks. They were pricey. Drinks in New York in general are pricey, even at cash-only dive bars expect to pay $10. But, at Hudson Bar my drink was approximately $17. Yes, that's right, $17. And I didn't even especially like it. I ordered a Smoking Martini, and the waitress especially described it for me, since apparently people often order it and end up sending it back because they didn't like it. It is a standard martini, but in place of the vermouth, whiskey is added, hence the smokey taste. It was okay, but I wished I had ordered a girlier drink like Ingrid had. I tasted hers, but I don't remember what was in it. Passionfruit maybe. Whatever it was, it was good, better than mine, but normally I am a martini fan.

Drinks finished, we decide to explore the place further. There is a garden, but the doors are locked for the night, no new customers! We also find a game room full of pool tables, dart boards, all the usual suspects, but decorated in over-the-top glam. It's like a rich guy on acid was in charge of decor. Case in point: the fine art adorning the walls consisted of photos (maybe they were paintings, I can't remember) of cows wearing goofy hats. (I know the photo is a little blurry, but at that point, so was I. Those drinks were strong.) Creepy, actually.

The toilets were pretty fancy too, but that's just the word on the street, because I never actually saw them.

So check out Hudson Bar, but don't order the Smoking Martini.

Hudson Bar

356 West 58th Street

New York, NY 10019

212.554.6500

http://www.hudsonhotel.com/hudson_hotel_hudson_bar.asp

It's late, almost 3:00 a.m. Time to go home.