Dinner at Morandi

Morandi (211 Waverly Pl.) follows the same trend-setting formula as Keith McNally's other New York City restaurants: Balthazar, Schiller's Pastis. You know the drill--a sceney atmosphere, good to very good food and and terrible service. Morandi's atmosphere is too compact to create any kind of noticeable scene, the food--with the exception of a fabulous branzino--was mediocre, and the service was expectedly mediocre and endlessly slow.

I had high hopes for McNally's latest venture and am sorry to say I can not speak more glowingly of it. As a West Village osteria, his newest venture fails totally where his other restaurants, namely Balthazar, excel. In my many times eating at Balthazar I have eaten only the freshest fish prepared in traditional brasserie style. The chefs there tend to let the fish speak for itself, not doing anything fancy. This formula works primarily because they seem able to procure the fresehest fruits of the sea on a consistent basis. Simple, good--if not not slightly overpriced--food served in an airy room that transports one to a quaint restaurant in a small, Haute-Normandie town.

I arrived at Morandi a few minutes before my reservation and waited for the rest of the party at the bar where one glass of dry white wine, not Pinot Grigio the bartender informed me but something that he didn't know the name of, and a vodka soda collectively cost $23. My vodka soda came in a tiny highball and my lovely date's glass of wine was a meager helping of unknown constitution. No matter, I am fairly used to this happening. We were seated in a comfortable and dim banquette within a few minutes, and given a winelist and menu by our first waiter. We were presented with a carafe of lukewarm water. I am told that this is "very European," however I would have hoped that although the restaurant hopes to recreate an Apullian farmhouse, they could still provide thirsty patrons with iced or even slightly chilled water. It was tepid on the side of warm. Sensing the restaurant was busy, we ordered a carafe of house rosati wine and waited for over 9 minutes.

We ordered appetizers for the table including a foccacia insalate, fried olives and sardines with mint and tomato. Not even worth mentioning was the rubbery carpaccio. The foccacia was decent and consisted of cherry tomatoes and little mozzarella balls heaped on top of an enjoyable, if not slightly oily, peasant bread. The main problem here was the dish's identity: was it a salad or a foccacia? I'm still not quite sure. The mounds of tomatoes and cheese made it difficult to pass off as a finger food and the narrow bread slices only further exacerbated the situation. My solution? I scooped some of the topping onto my plate and nibble on a piece of well-baked, tasty bread on the side. The fried olives were an absolute disaster. The real way to create this dish is to lightly fry them with a thin, flaky batter coating a juicy olive. These gigantic olives were crunchy and without flavor. They tasted as if they came fresh out of a can and resembled a falafel I once had around the corner from Western Wall in Jerusalem. The main difference? The Jerusalem falafel was edible. My advice here is to go a little easy on the batter and don't burn the olives to a black crisp. The sardines were enjoyable for their taste but they were too well cooked. The mint and tomato accopmaniment was well-received but the dish could have been better. Over-cooking seems to be a theme at Morandi, and a harmful one at that. The sardines were somewhat juicy but their briny, oily texture was minimized by excessive searing. This also made it difficult to pry the meat from the tiny bones of the little fish. Had they been more expertly cooked, separating meat from bone would not have been the ordeal that it was last night.

I am happy to say that all is not awful at Morandi. Our entrees were all tasty. Of special note is the branzino which was cooked over charcoal and had a moist, fresh taste and texture. It was really outstanding. I fileted the fish myself and the bones fled meat without much coaxing at all. I was able to enjoy the entire fish quickly, rather than prying it apart and embarking on an endless hunt for bones and other inedibles. Another member of our group enjoyed his swordfish which looked delicious served with an assortment of vegetables and juicy raisins. The fettucinie bolognese, though appearing to be simple and a small portion for a main course, was by all accounts delicious. In all, the entrees were fantastic. One would be hard pressed to find a branzino of better quality, cooked more perfectly anywhere in New York City.

To close, Morandi is one of those places that I want to love, but simply can't. It's major shortcomings (interminable service, inattentiveness, mediocre food) outweigh its successes (friendly waiters when you can find one, terrific whole fish). Another major problem with the restaurant is its height. I stand over 6 feet tall and felt as if the ceiling was just overhead. This low ceiling causes the din inside to reach insane decibel levels. And when you are trying to call for a waiter, the bedlam inside the restaurant makes being noticed very difficult, if not impossible.