AfterTaste (by Sherry)

Chinatown Brasserie
380 Lafayette Street (corner of Great Jones Street)
(212) 533-7000

This had never happened to me before. I’ve read about it in fiercely angry reviews on menupages.com and nymag.com, and always wondered to myself, “this really happens?” Perhaps, up until now, I’ve been going to all the right restaurants, restaurants that respect their patrons, take pride in their level of service, and actually honor reservations made. Perhaps, up until now, I’ve been lucky.

I had made a reservation at Chinatown Brasserie for 10:15pm (earliest time available) for this past Friday for Restaurant Week. I met Matt there and noticed with a sigh of gratitude that the place was not in a state of madness. It was neither too crowded nor too loud. We arrived ten minutes early so when one of the three hostesses told us it would be ten minutes, we nodded in understanding. But then no one offered to check our bulky coats for us. Five minutes passed and we had to ask them to check our coats; not a very big deal, but noted. The same hostess that told us it would be ten minutes led us to a small door next to the bar and checked our coats.  There was no suggestion of waiting at the (nearly empty) bar, so I took it upon myself to tell her that we would be waiting there, praying she wouldn’t forget us. Sitting down at the bar, we were presented with drink menus by the seemingly polite bartender. It then took another ten minutes to give our orders. I tapped my fingers on the beautifully hammered metal bar as I watched the bartender rush to and fro for the three other customers, then meander down to the other end of the bar while refusing to look up so I couldn’t make eye contact with him. We finally gave our orders and received our drinks with an apology, the only apology we would receive all night. My blood orange martini was eye-poppingly strong, which in the end was probably a good thing.

So Matt and I chatted and chatted…and chatted and chatted and chatted. I asked him what time it was. It was 10:35pm, 20 minutes past the time of our already very late reservation, so I sent Matt to go ask what was going on. When he returned he said the hostess told him we were “next” with no apology for the wait. Losing my patience, I rolled my eyes and turned back to my drink. We continued talking about love, life, and the American way when I asked again what time it was. It was now 10:50pm.

10:50pm. 35 minutes past our reservation. I was livid.

I walked to the hostess (a different one than the coat checker) and stated plainly, but not too sternly, “Excuse me, but I had a 10:15pm reservation and I’ve been waiting at the bar for nearly 40 minutes now. Can we be seated soon?” The hostess, without batting an eye, peered slowly around the large dining room with a markedly blasé attitude. “There’s a table,” she stated as she nonchalantly pulled out two menus. Once again, no apology, no excuses. Nothing. I stormed back to the bar and told Matt we had a table.

To be clear, I am not the type that is overly concerned with service. I don’t need slavishly doting waiters, but my experience at Chinatown Brasserie was entirely unexpected. The exchange with the hostesses from beginning to end left such a horrible taste in my mouth that it was hard to enjoy the meal after that. It was also difficult to enjoy the meal because, OH YEAH, it was nearly DAWN.

The food was delicious and our waiter was very pleasant, thank god, but again, everything had already been tainted. There’s no worst feeling than sitting down at a table, feeling disrespected by the very establishment you’re forking your money over to.

We both began with the barbecued ribs (2 ribs each), which were coated in a tasty barbecue sauce, but had no real hint of any Asian influences; at least they were meaty. Mine were not too fatty, but Matt’s apparently were and he has a pretty high fatty meat tolerance.

Next were our dim sum courses. I had the “B” assortment with the peking duck spring rolls, a beef “triangle”, a pork gyoza type pan fried dumpling, and a pan fried garlic chive dumpling that reminded me of a Thai dish I haven’t had in ages. I enjoyed the peking duck spring rolls and garlic chive dumpling the most. The garlic chive dumpling was pleasantly sticky and doughy with a delicate onion/garlic flavor from the chive. The beef triangle tasted only of fried spring roll dough and the pork dumpling tasted like something I could order at any Japanese restaurant.

Matt’s dumpling assortment (”A”)  came in a bamboo steamer. He was so hungry he inhaled everything before I could ask him how each piece was. I believe he enjoyed the crab dumpling the most, but who knows. They looked light, delicious, and well-crafted.

For our mains, I had the peking duck and Matt had the crispy chicken with a chili bean sauce. The peking duck came with a side of sliced cucumbers and scallions, a bamboo steamer of eight flour wrappers (of 4-5 inch radius), and a bowl of hoisin sauce. It was delicious and certainly a hearty portion (I couldn’t believe it when I counted up the wrappers), but I couldn’t help thinking that peking duck should be made to order or at least eaten in a restaurant with such a high turnover that the peking duck might has well be made to order since they have to pump them out (literally) every other minute. It was tasty, but nothing special. No creative twists with the hoisin sauce or the flavor of the duck. At least the fat was scraped off the skin in the properly traditional fashion.

Matt’s chicken was prepared in a similar way, with the skin crisped up, separated from the white meat, and the fat scraped off. The chicken was garnished with a scattering of fried garlic bits. The “chili bean” sauce tasted more like a slightly less sweet hoisin sauce. I expected a more complex flavor and was not very impressed, but Matt seemed to enjoy it. The rice was noteworthy, however, with its greasy (in a good way) texture and taste, reminiscent of Hainanese chicken rice, where the rice is cooked in chicken broth and fat. I suppose the only real issue I had with the dish was the sauce. It should not have been so sweet.

For dessert Matt had a surprisingly delectable chocolate lychee cake with a white chocolate sauce and a ball of hazelnut ice cream. I asked for just lychee sorbet, which was unpleasantly florally and tasted of roses and hibiscus. You would know there was lychee in it only if you were told.

The frozen mai tai, the bar’s specialty, was perfectly strong, sweet, and tart. Strangely garnished with an olive, the drink was neither too watery nor too icy.

My experience at Chinatown Brasserie left me wondering if I’d be returning for dinner anytime soon. It’s a shame really. The decor is striking with the requisite red drapery and dark woods, not to mention the beautiful koi pond located under the stairs to left as you walk in. The food is solid, the noise level tolerable, the location easily accessible. 

I may just stick to the dim sum brunches from now on. Perhaps in the cold, harsh light of day, the staff of Chinatown Brasserie will learn to mind their manners and understand that they are, indeed, in the service industry.

• 2 Restaurant Week Prix-Fixe Meals - $70
• 1 Frozen Mai Tai - $12
• 1 Pint Pilsner Urquell - $6
• Total (excluding tax and tip) - $88