I am liking some of the trends in New York dining. Â The Smith is an exponent of many, including the provision of free and bottomless supplies of not just tap, but also sparkling water. Â Eating irons wrapped in a proper cheesecloth napkin of tea towel proportions fulfils both form and function.
Under the High Line, one of the seven wonders of New York City, where peace and tranquility mix with rare greenery on a former raised platform railway converted to a unique public park, lies a restaurant of some repute.  A place that, although set amongst meatpacking factories, has thoughtfully empathised with, and even beaten a path for other trendy venues to raise the Standard of this eponymously named district of New York City. And yet a “Grill” that has remarkably few items on the menu that might ever see a char broiler.  For example, I had oysters followed by shrimp fettuccini. Although I use the word ‘followed’ in a loose literal sense, or perhaps as its own antonym since the main courses arrived before the starters. This was one of a number of service fiascos we experienced when lunching there on the last day of a New York trip.
Stumble It!