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Every couple weeks, we'll be filing proper restaurant reviews—with, deep breath, stars. On such occasions, Metromix dines unannounced and pays full price for the meal.
Shutter makes the stomach growl louder. So goes the story of Butcher Bay’s previous incarnation Seymour Burton, a cozy East Village bistro that suffered from multiple levels of identity crisis—the menu was French-rooted, but lost focus with head scratchers like brisket and blinis topped with caviar. A botched attempt at a garden permit—very tricky in the East Village—was the final nail in the coffin and SB shuttered in July 2008. And boy was that a sad day for me. I was devastated, because even with the confusing chalkboard specials and uncomfortable seats, they were serving one of the finest burgers in NYC. Thomas English muffins encased a super-thick brisket/chuck patty, dressed with raw red onions, cheddar cheese and a healthy spoon of rich herb butter. What a burger. But we can move on—as the restaurant apparently has, refining an haute fish-shack vibe with help from chef Eric Simpson, formerly of Tailor and Perry St. —MR
Once more, with feeling
After chucking Burton 1.0, Butcher 1.0 hoped that a spiffy makeover might kill the lingering bad taste of Burton's shuttering by the DOH, as well as an ownership shakeup. And what a spiffy makeover indeedy: Gone are the clunky communal table, classroom-size chalkboard and cracked-paint red walls (on which—while it was Burton—we spied a cockroach crawling toward our dinner buddy's shoulder. Bon appetit.). In their place: rec-room-esque wood-paneled walls and ceiling. The original bistro-ish grub became seafood dishes of the grilled-fish-and-whole-lobster variety. Bleh—they were a wash-out: Just four months after opening, Butcher 2.0 has thrown out the whole fishies, hooked Simpson and reeled in a reimagined menu, but with mixed results, beginning with…
Good cop: clam chowder fritters, oyster stuffing, fried oysters and corned lamb, clambake
In a trippy case of liquid-diet-goes-solid, clam chowder fritters kicked things off to a promising start: dense, piping-hot globs jammed with potato, corn and bacon, and wading in a shallow pool of Tabasco–sour cream sauce. They were playful, sweet-sour and delicious. Equally fun: a toothsome side dish of oyster stuffing that married a bready softness with crunchy bits of cornmeal-coated Chesapeake Bay oysters. Apparently, Simpson does quite well with those fried oysters. They cropped up again—sweet and crisp—in one of the evening's specials, paired with a corned lamb that was wonderfully marbled and none too gamey. An old-school clambake proved wholly satisfying, piled high with potatoes, shrimp, Andouilla sausage and curtains of Swiss chard, and drenched in a white wine broth that packed some nice heat. —ALL
Bad cop: mackerel, no-thrill lobster roll, fish and soggy chips
Out of the strong first courses, a marinated mackerel was the low—over-salted and fishy with a sweet onion tart serving as a clumsy foil. But it was the main courses that sealed this uneven chef’s fate. Well, a single dish—the lobster roll—did the damage. The upscale fish shack concept lives and dies by this summer classic, and Simpson’s version should be sent swimming with the fishes. Everything was off. The chilled lobster meat, flavorless and watery. The bun, hardly brioche, was doughy and stale, lacking a buttery paintjob. Citi Field puts out a better lobster roll. Nobody goes to Citi Field for the lobster roll. Fish and chips were also fumbled, dangerously undercooked with a pile of soggy fries. (A side order of crab fries—reconstituted condensed crab from Chinatown—were also soggy and unremarkably dusted with a layer of Old Bay and powdered crab). —MR
We like En Vogue as much as the next guy…
We’d heard that the music at Butcher Bay leaned moody indie rock, so we were thinking standard issue Pavement, The Shins, Pixies and The Sea and Cake. Instead, the mix was vintage 1992 Columbia House catalog. Which we can get behind…in doses. But Mary J Blige's “Real Love”, Soul II Soul's “Back to Life” and Prince’s “Get Off” pushed us over the edge. It reminded me of a recent nightmare where I showed up to my first day of college wearing Skidz and Cross Colours. My first day of college was in 1998. —MR
But will it find its sea legs?
Butcher Bay is smart enough to stick with what it does best—oysters, oysters, oysters—which has always gotten the most raves (see: here and here). And although it's much closer now to solving its identity crisis by embracing a seafood sensibility, it's racked up some casualties along the way: Gone is its beloved burger, which, really, isn't fish shacky at all. ("I'm so sorry!" our pained sever begged when we asked if we could still order the burger, even off-menu.) Also, Butcher Bay has yet to nab that garden permit—a serious bargaining chip for a place hoping to cash in on the whole summer-outdoor-seafood thing. Until that happens—if it ever happens—we'll be rooting for a menu makeover that finally lives up to the space's terrific aesthetic redo. —ALL
Photo by Gabi Porter
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