Bruni on Del Posto


was right, of course: Del Posto got its inevitable three

stars. On the other hand, Leventhal was wrong. Reading the review, there’s

no nitpicking, no on-the-one-hand-on-the-other-hand. In fact, I’ve never read

an NYT restaurant review which makes me want to visit a restaurant more than

this one does. This is three-stars-verging-on-four, not two-stars-bumped-up-to-three.

Del Posto is now officially The Restaurant I Most Want To Go To In New York,

easily overtaking the (disappointing?)

Per Se. Some of what tantalised my tastebuds:

Ravioli that are filled with a chestnut and Parmesan purée and paired

with pigeon and myrtle.

Roasted guinea hen, the skin over the breast golden and crisp, the flesh

from the leg mixed with risotto and served in a hollowed baby pumpkin.

Bucatini alla gricia, noodles mixed with guanciale, red onions and an emulsification

of rendered guanciale fat and pecorino.

And, best of all,

Pici, a sort of fat Tuscan spaghetti, with coxcombs, chicken livers, duck

testicles and, for conventional decadence, black truffles.

Somebody take me!

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.