Vincent, a restaurant
On our way to see a movie last Saturday, my husband G. Grod and I were behind the last car to get into the parking garage. We stared in disbelief at the sign that now read “Full.” Our original plans were to see a twilight matinee, have dinner at an inexpensive restaurant, and be home early to relieve the babysitter. New plans involved a different parking lot (old reliable: the little lot between Hell’s Kitchen and the old location of Big Brain Comics on S. 10th Street–$5 at night and on weekends), eating at the bar in a more expensive restaurant, and a full-price movie at The Heights theater, which features live organ music prior to movie showings on Friday and Saturday evenings.
We got seats at the bar at Vincent as soon as it opened at 5:30 p.m. The tables in the bar area were all reserved, unsurprising on a Saturday in the holiday shopping season. G. Grod and I shared the appetizer of pan-seared scallops over braised leeks in orange sauce, the Vincent burger, which I’ve praised before, has been most eloquently described by award-winning local food critic Dara Moskowitz:
This burger–and at $11.75 I know you’re already skeptical, but trust me, it’s worth it–this burger is a miracle.
To make it, the chefs at Vincent first braise short ribs overnight in a complicated stew of tomatoes, tamarind, Worcestershire sauce, and lots more. (This is a recipe chef Vincent Francoual picked up when he cooked at former New York City super-important restaurant Lespinasse.) The chefs then pull these short ribs off the bone, make a little patty of that short rib meat, add some smoked gouda to that, build a sirloin burger around it, and then just grill the heck out of it till it tastes like it’s been outside on a fire, when it hasn’t.
This miracle burger then gets tucked into a light, eggy bun that is best described as some meeting point between brioche and a Kaiser roll, a roll further dressed with a thing the restaurant modestly calls French cocktail sauce–a mayonnaise gussied up with more kinds of secret ingredients, including sherry vinegar and minced cornichons. The Vincent burger comes with all the fancy-restaurant accompaniments you hope for: sliced tomatoes that taste like tomatoes, leaf lettuce, wisps of onion.
Every bite of this burger is rich, profoundly meaty, as full of flavor as a symphony is full of sound. Like any great dish, it conquers several dimensions: In terms of flavor, the roasty qualities of beef are accented by the sweetness of the bun and the cocktail sauce, while the salt and smoke of the cheese give meaning to the fresh and light of the toppings. In terms of texture, though, the burger is exceptionally accomplished: The soft and stringy texture of the short ribs plays off the melting texture of the cheese, which teases out the more muscular texture of the burger. You know, it’s not easy for a burger to remain fascinating through every bite, but this one is.
We finished with the chocolate-caramel tart, which was garnished with Earl Grey chocolate sauce, and accompanied by a coffee sabayon, an ethereal foam encased in a chocolate wafer cylinder. The server and we agreed that the sabayon was the best part, and worth saving for last.
Even though we split an appetizer, entree, and dessert, the check, along with parking, a full-price movie, and the babysitter, totalled more than we would have liked. Since our original plans were thwarted, though, I thought we did pretty well.