Keeping Up With The Smith, And Why Cloverfield Was Nothing...

As a resident of Greenwich Village for almost a year, it’s safe to say I’ve now had enough to time to at least nick the surface of our great city’s pantheon of food. Aside from obtaining a superhero-like ability to endure severe acute postprandial bloating, this last year has offered some invaluable lessons on navigating the hypnotic maze of food and drink we call New York City.

Much like Madonna (without the Adam’s apple and bulbous deltoids), New York’s eating community is a persistent, passionate, and often presumptuous bunch, all too committed to battling the wildfire of closings, soft-openings, grand openings, and of course, re-openings, that continuously ravage our culinary landscape.

Ironically (perhaps), it is this “scorched earth” dynamic that makes things consistent…consistently inconsistent that is. Think about it. While you don’t know if the new sleek spot in the West Village will survive, you can be certain that neither its food, nor its location will ultimately determine its fate. There is another force at work here.

Obviously this notion defies all logic and innate common sense, but in the land of $22 hamburgers, $40 brunches, and $21 guacamole, logic is simply nowhere to be found.

As a result, promising establishments oozing potential, may inexplicably languish for a year before shutting their doors for good, while neighboring unsavory hack-joints serve glorified pet food to brain-dead locals and tourists; and continue to thrive for doing so.

Why, you ask? Well I’ll tell you.

Our culinary environment is a rabid, bi-polar, Cloverfield-like creature with an unreliable palette and a twisted mind of its own. Part Janet Reno, part Al Roker, this rotund, spectacled satanic mega-monster gleefully galumphs across Manhattan, devouring handfuls of helpless eateries like a bowl of Fritos, without any regard for quality, value, or overall public appeal. Sure there are some exceptions to the rule, but in this city, they are few and far between. When it comes to serving food to the public, everything has a shelf life...everything.

The scene is unforgiving, the climate, almost uninhabitable. In fact, in no other urban environment does so much of a young restaurant’s initial growth and development seem to rely so heavily on good old-fashioned luck and starting off on the right foot. In this city, there is no other foot.

This is a phenomenon to which nothing is immune, and is probably the greatest unsolved mystery behind our city’s epic culinary history.

In light of my disquisition above, I immediately remember that as the Ubereater, my greatest responsibility is to find the consistent in the inconsistent. Despite the paranormal muck and mire that makes running a restaurant in New York so daunting, this ultra-competitive, no holds barred environment is great for us diners, us consumers, us eager eaters, whose voracity for vittles can never truly be satisfied. Accepting that for the time being, I want to talk about a noteworthy meal we recently enjoyed at new East Village mainstay The Smith.

This spacious bar/restaurant brings polished American comfort food to a progressive, hipster-centric East Village. Previously home to a Pizzeria Uno, the combination of dark blue wooden paneling, kitschy wall art, and tique stained high-backed booths work to eliminate any lingering notion of deep-dish pizza, save for the black and white-tiled floor of course.

Serving what I would consider to be “refined yet rustic American”, the menu features a bevy of hearty salads, simple sandwiches, and starters that range from simple Mac and Cheese, to more sophisticated numbers like Alsatian Pizza and Braised Bacon with Red Onion Marmalade.

An impressive collection of “main dishes” include roasted Cod, Lamb Schnitzel and a classic Pork Chop with Apple Sauce, round out a menu that surprisingly includes steak as well.

One of my favorite soups in the city is their Roasted Tomato Soup, which arrives as a thick, peppery, silky smooth concoction served in a mini crock pot and capped with a thick layer of cheddar cheese that is generously blasted in the broiler (below left). This elixir gives French Onion soup a run for its money. The “Burger Deluxe” (below right) is respectable homage to the American classic, showing itself covered in ample cheddar and cradled by a lightly toasted brioche bun. Probably the best part about the burger is the house made “special sauce”, which is a calculated mixture of what seems to be mayo, ketchup, and pickles; a home-made Thousand Island dressing if you will. Heavy, tangy, and rich, this is a good example of when less is more, but don’t make the mistake of not using any at all. Meghan’s Char broiled chicken was flavorful and crispy, and joined by a mountainous arugula salad lightly dressed in balsamic, though, as a whole, not as memorable as I had hoped it would be.

Classy, organized, and casual all at once, The Smith is quickly becoming one of my main go-to dinner spots when I’m in the mood for quality American grub with a little bit of panache. I have always found it difficult to find a quick meal downtown that wasn’t either egregiously overpriced, or incredibly bohemian. The Smith is the whole package, and you need not look any further than to the packs of students, professionals, and neighborhood locals that fill these tables night after night.

I just hope the mega-monster waits a little while before coming here.

The Smith

55 Third Avenue, New York, NY
(212) 420-9800

Food: A-
Ambience : A-
Service: A-/B+