[Wilfrid1]

Er, it's probably smaller.

[Rail Paul]

Has anyone stopped by lately?

[yvonne johnson]

Yes, Cabby has. See Death Pool.

[cabrales]

Service seems amateurish, and the food seemed to lack heart/strong technique (focusing more on superficial appeal).

[Chambolle]

[We take you back to the 12th, 13th, 14th century? Britain, Denmark, Spain, New York? Plagiarism alert.]

cabrales, on Aug 18 2006, 08:01 PM, said:

Service seems amateurish

Milady, I couldn’t agree with you more.
For you speak the truth. And I love the truth.

I love you more than Word can wield the Matter,
Dearer than Eyesight, Space, and Liberty,
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare,
No less than Life, with Grace, Health, Beauty, Honour;
As much as Child ere lov’d, or Father found.

For you hath spoken truth.

cabrales, on Aug 18 2006, 08:01 PM, said:

the food seemed to lack heart/strong technique (focusing more on superficial appeal).

Halt!! Halt, I say! Who goes there!
For there is something rotten in my kingdom.
For there is something rotten in the state of Denmark,
For there is something rotten in the state of New York,
For there is something rotten in the city of New York.
To be or not to be, that is the question.
I choose to be. To be. To defend.
To defend the things we cherish.
All that is right in the world.
Truth. Principle. Honor. Reputation.

And I have bristled at many a post,
And I have ground and ground my teeth, and incurred the wrath of great dentistry bills,
And I have bit my tongue, and silently incurred the pain of many and many a surgery,
And yet, a knight has his limits, Milady. And you have surpassed them here.

You have gone way beyond the pale.
A reputation cannot be blasphemously attacked with such non-chalance,
With such carelessness, With such superficial words.
Lack of heart! Lack of strong technique!
If this is not blasphemy, I know not blasphemy, I know not God, I know not food.
You have been summarily challenged to a duel.
Granada. Alhambra. The courtyard. Midnight. Tonight.
Swords drawn. No excuses. No tears. Eat well. Eat your last meal.

[Chambolle]

I have eaten at Urena a half dozen times.
Urena is not close to where I live.
I usually eat at Urena by myself each time.
Why by myself? you might reasonably ask.
Because I know the people in my life.
Because I know my friends.
Because I know what they like, don’t like, what they value.
Urena is unfortunately often 1/3 full to close to empty after 9pm.
The vibe of Urena is sadly close to non-existent.
The décor of Urena is truly close to pathetic at best.
The front of house, with 1 or 2 exceptions, is close to poor.
So, why would one drag themselves close to such a place.
Because, between visits, something slowly builds within me.
Desire, slowly, but surely, builds, give me modern food with a history.
Give me food with a soul, a heart. Give me food unfound elsewhere.
Oh Spain, oh weary Spain, oh tasty Spain, speak to me.
Oh Alex, Oh muse, sing me your song, cook me your food.
Some of THE most inspired, modestly priced fine food in the city.
That’s what’s going on in the kitchen here.
Does anyone like that combination. What’s the catch? Re-read above.
So let me help you out a bit here in these lonely woods.
I really like the food at Blue Hill. I love the food at Urena.
Both places really cook. There are chefs are work. No doubt.
Blue Hill – more simple, straight-forward, American, restrained.
Urena – more complex, interesting, deep, soulful.
What to order at Urena, you ask?
No need to ever look at the menu.
And no, do not order the chef’s $120-ish tasting menu.
Why? Because you will most likely be disappointed.
Because that space simply cannot justify food at that price point.
Because that service simply cannot justify food at that price point.
So what to do, dear Virgil, as I find myself here in the darkness?
Follow me, across Acheron to Limbo, past the Lustful, past the Gluttons.
Order the $45/55 tasting menu from a constantly changing Spanish region.
Never been disappointed to date. Dishes unfound elsewhere in the city.
Seriously tasty food. Heart. Passion. Inspiration.
This is interesting, modern, Spanish, Bouley-ish cuisine.
Giggle at how good food at this price point can be.
Cry about how empty the restaurant and the dining experience is.


And Alex, if you are listening, please pay attention:
You are a sweetheart of a guy and your food is excellent.
Your food has great heart, great technique.
Your food is some of the most inspired in the city. But, …
You must redo the décor whether you have the funds or not.
The chairs must go. No discussion.
Those brown divider panels must be rethought. No discussion.
You must rehire most of your front of house.
You must hire a PR firm AFTER doing all of that.
The alternative is not a pretty picture.

[Miguel Gierbolini]

Excellent Chambolle.

[cabrales]

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man [or woman]

[pixelchef]

cabrales, on Aug 19 2006, 08:54 AM, said:

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man [or woman]

Huh. That was incredibly insightful (truly). Thanks.

[Chambolle]

[Granada. Alhambra. The courtyard. The century is unclear. The knight speaks.]
It is now past midnight. I have been here for hours. The time has come and gone. And although prepared physically and mentally, spiritually I knew that there would be no combat tonight.

Because just as Saint George slew the dragon and David slew Goliath, when the Heavens are on your side, when the weight of history is on your side and when the truth is on your side, how can the other rapidly mount a credible defense.

There will be no duel tonight or on any other night. Because it is only a duel when called with short notice. But, given time to sharpen and resharpen one’s weapons, given time to buy brand new weapons, given time to hire a military board of advisors, one no longer has a duel on one’s hands. One has an arms race. And I am not in the mood to race tonight or any other night. So, this will be the last time that you will ever see me here. For I am not of your world. For I only eat cold soup. And please do excuse my rude intrusion.

[Down one knee, helmet off, head bowed, arms crossed, hands touching opposite shoulders, medallion of the Order of Calatrava sparklingly in the moonlight] And to you Alex, sire, my master, as always, I re-pledge to you my heart, my soul, my life, my stomach. As you stay true, I stay true to you.

[He rises and aimlessly strolls the courtyard] Finally, may I ask one last indulgence. For I am a lonely knight on this lonely night.

For I am in the mood to dream tonight. For the moon is completely full and it beams its soft romantic light upon these old, old stones. This very courtyard that has seen the history of Spain, the furies of Spain, the feasts and banquets of Spain. And my eyes widen as they take in this light reflected off these tired Spanish rocks and my heart and soul begin to warm and glow with life. I now close my eyes.

[Total darkness. Stillness. Absolute void. He reaches for the infinite beyond.] I want to dream. I dream.

[Chambolle]

[New York City. October 2007. Speaker unclear]
I have a dream. I have a dream that one day this city will rise up and live out the true meaning of a great Spanish restaurant. I have a dream today.

[We quickly cut to the 2007 World Series.]
[Stage direction. Words should be audibly spoken aloud, so others in the room will think that you are crazy, just as you are thinking that I am crazy. Raise your voice if and when necessary]
Ladies and Gentlemen. Here we go. We got a real pressure-cooker going here. What an amazing evening it has been tonight. We might be watching baseball history here. For those of you just tuning in, let me bring you up-to-date rapidly. This is what every young boy in America dreams about. World Series. Game 7. We’re here in the Big Apple, in New York City, at Yankee Stadium. It’s the bottom of the Ninth. Yankees down 1-0. Two out. A man on third. The count is 0 and 2. Visiting pitcher Daniel Humm is on the mound and is one pitch away from throwing a never-done-before, shut-out no-hitter to win an away game 7 and bring his team the World Series Championship. Pinch-hitter and, yes, unbelievably, last night’s starting pitcher, Alex Urena is at the plate.

Okay, Humm winds up, here comes the pitch. Fouled back. Count still 0 and 2. Now for those of you who don’t know, Urena is a great talent, but not all that well-known yet outside the Big Apple. But, that could change awfully quickly, folks. Humm is ready to deliver again, here comes the pi..., URENA RIPS THE BALL deep, deep, deep to right-center field, the center-fielder and right-fielder at screaming towards each other, the crowd is rising to its feet, I don’t know if anyone is going to get to this one folks, right-fielder dives at the warning track, no, no, no, nobody’s gonna gets this one, Urena, the Spanish missile, is rocketing around first base and making a wide, wide turn, this boy can really fly, one run is in, the game is now tied, the ball hits the bottom of the outfield wall in the deepest part of right-center on the fly and caroms strongly off it, center-fielder is hightailing towards it, Urena blows past second and continues to accelerate, the crowd is going absolutely ballistic, the third base coach, eyes bulging, knees slightly bent, right-hand on right-thigh, perspiration flowing down his brow, is rotating his left arm ferociously in a circle like a high-speed propeller. Folks, they may send home on this one, center-fielder launches the ball to the impatiently-waiting second baseman whose got his feet just on the outfield grass, second baseman on tippy-toes makes the cutoff catch, that was a perfect throw from the outfield, second baseman immediately turns, oh my god, they have sent him home, Urena is simmering towards the plate, the noise from the crowd is deafening, there is complete and utter pandemonium here at Yankee Stadium, here comes the throw, Urena prepares to dive headfirst, this kid’s got heart, catcher’s got homebase blocked, it looks like a perfect throw to the plate …

[Required action: cue up Meatloaf, Paradise by the Dashboard Light]
[For those of you who don’t know the song by heart, we are at minute 4:25]
[www.napster.com/search/results.html?type=Track&query=dashboard+light]
[it’s free. you may have to register]
Holy Cow! I think he’s gonna make it …

[Of all times for this sort of thing, this one may take the cake. The demanding and impatient Mr. Meyer, who has been in secret negotiations to replace Humm, at this very moment decides to call Urena on his cell phone, which happens to be, strangely enough, securely and safely squirreled away in his back right pants pocket. And, due to some extremely strange interference abnormalities, the stadium loudspeaker picks up the following …]

[Danny Meyer interjects]
STOP RIGHT THERE!
I GOTTA KNOW RIGHT NOW!
BEFORE WE GO ANY FURTHER.
WILL YOU COOK FOR ME.
WILL YOU COOK FOR ME FOREVER.
DO YOU NEED ME.
WILL YOU NEVER LEAVE ME.
…

[Urena equivocates]
…

[Meyer is having none of it]
WHAT’S IT GONNA BE BOY?
COME ON! I CAN WAIT ALL NIGHT.
WHAT’S IT GONNA BE BOY, YES OR NO?
…

[More equivocation]
…

Crazed, feeling like a tidal-wave, invoking God and mother, the “appropriate” response followed and the course of New York dining was changed just like that. Stranger things have happened.

With heart. With inspiration. With great service. With a great space. Urena and Meyer have sinceforth been running the only 4-star, Spanish-inspired restaurant in the United States, named “Alhambra Madison Park”, cherished by insiders as AMP. Yet, we are not sure if Alex is happy or not, we are not sure if this marriage is really working or not, but we know one thing for sure: Urena no longer pitches or pinch-hits for the New York Yankees.

[Miguel Gierbolini]

I think we should send Chef Ureña this thread. Is there still an issue with the size of the portions?

[cabrales]

So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found;
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
Now counting best to be with you alone
Then bettered that the world may see my pleasure;
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,
And by and by clean starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight
Save what is had, or must from you be took
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.

[Rail Paul]

Dee and I had dinner at Urena last night, and much of our experience is consistent with what's been mentioned here.

At 8pm on a Saturday night, there were just 15 customers. Three of us ordered the off-menu $75 five course tasting menu. I asked about its availability, and was told Chef Alex would be happy to prepare it.

Well prepared, carefully spiced, mostly winning combinations. I wasn't impressed with a "lasagne" of crab and salsa verde, but other items were fine. Foie gras yoghurt, apricot egg roll, duck two ways (sliced breast and confit) were very engaging. I thought the skate was slightly overcooked, but the parship base offered a contrast. The meal was nicely timed, with about five to seven minutes between the removal of a course and its replacement.

Dessert was interesting. White chocolate soup, a deep fried ball of crema and apricots, and good coffee.

Wine was a 2003 Bizerto Valdoneje(?). I sent back the first one for excessive oxidation, but its replacement was a fruity, slightly syrupy wine. Good suggestion.

Overall a good meal, at a good price point. Most of the entrees were in the $25 to $35 range.

With tip, a few drinks, etc the bill was $260

[cabrales]

I agree that the wine list is very well-priced, for a NY restaurants. Many bottles in the 30-50 range. Mostly Spanish wines.