Can roasted chicken ever be a rut? Its a question I ask myself at least every few weeks, because thats how often I go to Barbuto in the West Village, and every time I get the roasted chicken, so Im a culinary broken record, a creature of fowl habit, a version of Groundhog Day only with poultry in the starring role. Went to Barbuto again last night, had vowed in advance to branch out from the chicken, and what did I order? The surest thing. The chicken. A bird in the hand . . . Ive lost count of the number of times Ive ordered it, just as Ive lost count of the number of times Ive had the Breslins lamb burger, although on my most recent visit there, I DID branch out and got, well, ITS chicken, or rather poussin. And it was fantastic, because the kitchen there, like the kitchen at Barbuto, is no one-trick pony. (This is clearly Animal Metaphor Day.) Actually, the poussin isnt the whole truth. Im leaving something out: I deliberately sat myself next to a friend who was sure to order the lamb burger, sure not to finish it and sure to push a portion of it on me. So, like Mary, I had a little lamb.
Posted on: Sat, 31 May 2014 16:56:51 +0000
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