October 04, 2005
While the SoHo gallery scene died years ago, some notables hang on, anchored by the ancient premise that West Broadway consistently regenerates itself into something more expensive, more fabulous, and ever more Italian. While Walter DiMaria's permanent installation Broken Kilometer remains just as restaurant I Tre Merli does, once the beloved Rizzoli bookstore went, so did many, leaving SoHo behind for the Eurocognoscenti and other tourists to devour.
Enter Illy, which has brilliantly capitalized on this nexus of cash, culture and glitter, fortuitously and perhaps consciously directly across the street from Sotheby's. In a dazzling, light-filled space with charming minimalist touches, a gallery/café that highlights Illy products has arisen and remains through mid-December. Relax and peruse one of dozens of art books or booklets of illystories while enjoying a ristretto ($2) or a marocchino ($5) with desserts from notables such as Jacques Torres, Le Cirque, BLT Fish, and wd-50.
Surely Galleria Illy was destined to be the ultimate tie-in, for you can also take a three-part class that meets on Tuesdays, or simply order the espresso machine and designer cups of your choice. The cup selection is terrific, the machine selection rather average. Additionally, the busy professional can choose a membership program or home delivery coffee program, replete with pods in case you hate to clean up coffee grounds.
For further explication of this extraordinary development, consider the past 1000 years of coffee drinking as retold in chapter 19 of Maguelonne Toussaint-Samat's History of Food. This chapter on "Coffee and Politics" has a charming recollection of an English tourist in 1617, who tasted a beverage "made of a blackish bean boiled in water 'to which it imparts almost no flavour'," a tale that reminds us that a mere 20 years ago the coffee culture in New York City was equally morbid. While it was perhaps possible to find a few locations serving a palatable espresso in the mid-1980s, Chock Full o' Nuts was still widely considered to be serving a decent beverage, a coffee that was described by a blogger on this website as "hot water with a brown crayon dipped in it."
While this website has no need to detail the descent of the Starbucks mothership ten years later, only to be followed by the endless cloning of graphically-challenged Dunkin' Donuts outlets a further ten years after that in 2004, we still must confess that despite Illy Galleria, there are still many, far too many restaurants that cannot make a decent espresso, regardless of how expensive the machine in use. Our unscientific study reveals the usual suspects: 1) the staff are untrained in the art of making an espresso, 2) the restaurant does not consistently use freshly-ground beans, 3) the restaurant has busboys make espresso, sometimes reusing the grounds when not merely using half the necessary amount required to draw a proper espresso. This third observation is not a joke; we have seen it done multiple times. A recent example—with other staff of this website as witnesses—was a waiter who decried he could make a perfect espresso. What he brought was translucent and had nothing that resembled crema on top. When he inquired how it was, he got an honest response, and unfortunately insisted on making it again, which is always a bad idea. The rule of thumb: quit while you are ahead. Insist on a cup of tea instead, because round two will be somewhere between the aforementioned hot water with crayon dipped in it and a normal cup of coffee. But this waiter was so earnest and insistent, we did not want to disappoint. Too bad the result was also disappointing. In contrast, Falai on Clinton Street serves such a perfect espresso that after a fine meal there it would be a pity not to order one.
We conclude that anything to further the utopian goal of producing a good espresso ought to be greeted with joy, if not a healthy dose of skepticism. But on West Broadway, where suspending disbelief is the norm, a perfect espresso for two dollars is actually a New York bargain. True confession: this editor uses a stainless-steel Saeco Classico machine, does not use pods, and consumes four espressi a day (the first around 7 a.m., the last around 10 p.m.).
Tags:
None
© All rights reserved.
Posted on 10/4/2005
(
Permanent Link
)
Send to Friend
