Portfolio at NYU

Posted 01.05.08
Crowning Achievement
The intoxicating 116 Crown will thrill foodies to the marrow.

By Freda Moon

Published in the New Haven Advocate on October 25, 2007

116 Crown
116 Crown St., New Haven, (203) 777-3116

A half-dozen Wellfleet oysters, a sirloin burger dripping with brie, a Cuban sandwich, a plate of large, fried green olives and fried orange slices, slow-roasted short ribs, roasted beef marrow with carrots and onions, a beet and goat cheese salad and two cocktails. That is what I ate last night-and that is the wonder of tapas.

Between the two of us, my husband and I shared eight small plates during our long, luxurious and semi-dangerous evening at 116 Crown, the ultra-hip, über-modern tapas restaurant cum cocktail bar in New Haven's Ninth Square. We tucked ourselves into a white fiberglass "pod"-the table-bench combination formerly known as a booth-alongside the long, alight bar and went about eating and drinking ourselves into what can only be described as hedonism-induced illness. It was an excellent evening.

We ate all this food while slurping down cocktails comprised of exotic liquors, herbs and spices and gawking cock-eyed at the odd and interesting touches that make 116 Crown as much a spectacle as a restaurant. For their first venture into the ever-expanding universe of high-end New Haven foodie-dom, the owners of 116 Crown, Danielle and John Ginnetti, have created a "lounge." Not a restaurant, bar or bistro-a lounge. A place to luxuriate in a bath of semi-precious ingredients: caviar, pâte, artisan meats and cheeses and top-shelf liquor-a place to soak in youth, beauty and the fineness of a $15 cocktail.

The cocktails here are as much a part of the experience as the multi-plate meal. They are a commune with the "exhilarated senses" and "pleased mind" that famed food writer and wild woman M.F.K Fisher wrote "must enter in any true gastronomic experience." Fisher is right. A meal of marrow, oysters and fried oranges-so tactile, so sensual-wouldn't be quite right without shocking the senses awake with a sharp whisky or tickling them with a gentle Hendricks gin, my personal favorite. At 116 Crown, the menu contains as many pages of cocktails as it does food-even with the wine, beer and liquor lists tucked away at the back.

We began with a Grand Prix ($10) to share, a shaken blend of Hendrick's-a Scottish cucumber and rose petal-infused gin-pink grapefruit juice and black pepper, in an odd, squat vessel that looked like the stem of a martini glass got neutered and only the top remained. The gin brought out the punch of grapefruit. You don't so much taste the pepper as feel its warmth on the way down.

Then there was the gulp of vanilla pipe smoke that 116 calls a rosemary tangerine cooler ($9). A special effect in a tall, thin glass, the drink is vodka, fresh-squeezed tangerine juice and a sprig of rosemary-but somehow tastes like none of those. I can only imagine this has to do with Bison Grass, the mysterious vodka variety, which was recently legalized after having been banned in the 1970s because of what its producer calls "medicinal properties" (it's rumored to be a "potent agent for virility"). The vodka is made from fermented rye and bison grass, an herb found in the Poland's Białowieza Forest.

Once the food started coming, it didn't stop until we were in submission. First there were two types of "slider"-small burgers, cut in half to share ($8). The sirloin burger was moist ground steak, topped with melted brie, bourbon barbecue sauce and a crispy fried onion ring. Rich, oozy goodness! The "116 cubano"-a take on the Cuban sandwich-was somewhat dry pulled Berkshire pork, cornmeal-crusted bacon, provolone and "cornichons" (Tart miniature gherkins, called by the French word for pickle).

Then came a plate of massive green olives ($7), pit-in and deep-fried, alongside a true wonder: thin, deep-fried orange slices with their rind. They could have been desert, but here they offset the olives' brine and gave us reason to marvel at the creativity of man.

Meat and more meat arrived: thick cubes of short ribs ($12), cooked slow in a red wine reduction and a beef femur lopped into three chunks and standing up tall, a Stonehenge of flesh, bone and marrow ($10). I felt a wave of pity for the Advocate's vegetarian photographer, and dug in with carnivorous abandon. The pork was so tender we ate it knife-free. The marrow-which had to be dug from the bone using a dainty spoon-was a primal experience. It looked like gobs of pure fat, was oily on the tongue and tasted like mashed potatoes and gravy. Spread on thin slices of grilled bread, it was delicious.

Last, but not least: The Last Word, 116's mystery cocktail; a $15 concoction of which-I was told-only the bartenders learn the mixology. Our waiter told us what he knows: The drink contains Chartreuse, another liquor of ancient origin and mysterious "medicinal" qualities. The Last Word had a vaguely licorice taste, smoky and potent. The last word, indeed.