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!