Magazine article The New Yorker

Seasonal

Magazine article The New Yorker

Seasonal

Article excerpt

Given that Austria's most visible ambassador these days is Bruno, it seemed only sporting to give equal time to a more sedate representative. Seasonal, a tiny wedge of a restaurant, certainly offers a less outre aspect of the nation. Translucently white walls, a tasteful painting or two above the dark padded booths--you almost forget what the place looks like as soon as you walk in the door. Between the aggressive blandness and the menu, which on a hot summer's evening reads like all the foods you don't want to eat (spatzle, veal, pork belly, accompanied by things like creamed spinach and potato pancakes), it's surprising to see the room fill up.

Yet there is a charmingly detached, Old World air to the staff, including a waiter who seems slightly annoyed by the English language. ("The special ravioli are goat cheese, with . . . hmm, creamed corn?" he offered the other evening, with a quizzical look.) There's a certain comedy, too, in trying to parse out one's order: Fruhlingssalat (an arugula salad), Jakobsmuscheln (sea scallops), Zwiebelroastbraten (strip loin). And, it turns out, there's nothing dour about the food. The ravioli (with its confounding creamed corn) was oddly ethereal. A poached quail egg sat astride a pretty plate of halibut and salmon carpaccio; pea soup balanced its natural sweetness with smoky bacon and sour pickled onions. …

Search by... Author
Show... All Results Primary Sources Peer-reviewed

Oops!

An unknown error has occurred. Please click the button below to reload the page. If the problem persists, please try again in a little while.