Dinner
and a Movie
International
Intrigue and Riparian Entertainment
By
Steve Herte
While
on vacation, my mission, unless I try to get out of it, is to
continue what I only started last month: explore and straighten up
the workroom. Good thing it’s in the basement because the weather
person says it’s going to be hot again. No big deal. I’m a summer
person. I’m taking two of my karaoke friends to the Museum of
Natural History. One hasn’t been there in a long time. I can’t
wait to see her amazement.
Dinner
and a Movie night was an adventure as well. I joined the last of the
New York crowd in seeing a movie I’ve put off seeing because I had
trouble not associating it with the TV series it was based on. But
you’ll see if I accomplished that or not soon. The restaurant was
also a discovery and a pleasant one. Enjoy!
The
Man From U.N.C.L.E. (WB, 2015) – Director:
Guy Ritchie. Writers: Guy Ritchie and Lionel Wigram (s/p). Jeff
Kleeman, Guy Ritchie, David C. Wilson, & Lionel Wigram (story).
Based on the Television Series by Sam Rolfe. Cast: Henry Cavill,
Arnie Hammer, Alicia Vikander, Elizabeth Debicki, Luca Calvani,
Sylvester Groth, Hugh Grant, Jared Harris, Christian Berkel, Misha
Kuznetsov, Guy Williams, Marianna Di Martino, Julian Michael Deuster,
Andrea Cagliesi, & Riccardo Calvanese. Color, PG-13, 116 minutes.
“We
are at war with Russia!” If the opening slides showing maps of
Europe with a divided Germany, and an equally divided Berlin do not
convince you that it’s the 1960s, this line (spoken soon after)
does. The focus is on Checkpoint Charlie as Napoleon Solo (Cavill)
calmly walks up to the guard and gains admission to East Berlin. His
mission is to extract defector Gaby Teller (Vikander) and bring her
back to CIA headquarters. He manages to get her out and past all the
Russian guards except for the “giant” known as Illya Kuryakin
(Hammer), who pursues them relentlessly with the speed and strength
of a Terminator. (He tries to stop their car by holding onto the
trunk handle and dragging his feet.)
Safely
zip-lining into West Berlin and dropping Illya neatly on the other
side of the wall, Napoleon returns with Gaby to headquarters and his
superior, Saunders (Harris). Solo thinks his job is done when he
learns the true complexity of his ultimate assignment. Gaby’s
father Udo Teller (Berkel), a scientist allegedly working for the
Nazis, has been kidnapped by a private organization and is being
forced to assemble a nuclear warhead for them. But first, he needs to
take Gaby to Rome and learn of Udo’s whereabouts from her Uncle
Rudi (Groth).
The
organization is run by Alexander Vinciguerra (Calvani) and his wife
Victoria (Debicki) – an interesting and appropriate surname meaning
“victor in war” – who have a small army in their employ and are
extremely difficult to contact, much less visit. Speaking of
difficult, M16 agent Alexander Waverly (Grant) tells him that the CIA
and KGB have a tenuous agreement in working together on this mission
and Solo must work with Illya Kuryakin to accomplish their goals.
Unbeknownst to both top operatives, both CIA and KGB want to obtain
Udo and the nuclear warhead for their own purposes and both instruct
their respective agents that the other is totally expendable upon
completion.
Neither
Solo nor Kuryakin are likeable characters; they hate and mistrust
each other, and each points out the other’s dubious backgrounds on
their first (non-fighting) encounter. Solo is a self-involved,
over-confident thief and pickpocket who thinks he’s too suave to be
caught – and yet he falls for the oldest trick in the book, “Will
you have a drink?” says Victoria (she’s drugged every bottle in
her private bar). Illya is a stolid Communist stereotype with severe
anger management issues and deadly skills who is never “wrong.”
But the gods of prequels demand that they work together with Gaby.
But
all is not serious in this film. There is a sort of running gag
starting at the foot of the Spanish Steps in Rome when a test is
performed on Illya and Gaby. His cover occupation is architect and he
must allow himself and Gaby to be mugged by two street thieves, who
steal his father’s watch. Every time Illya thinks he sees that
watch he goes after it. There’s a Bugs Bunny-like scene where Illya
is being fired on and chased back and forth in a motorboat, even to
the point of it exploding, while Solo swims ashore and hides in the
cab of a truck, sipping wine and eating a sandwich from a convenient
picnic basket left on the front seat. Later, after electro-torturing
Solo, Uncle Rudy winds up in the hot seat (thanks to Illya), but it
malfunctions. When Solo and Illya go into an adjacent room to discuss
what they should do with him, he struggles and the power comes back
on. We see Solo and Illya facing us and debating while, in the
background Rudi is being barbequed.
Solo
rescues Illya from drowning. Illya rescues Solo from electrocution
and in the end they receive the team title U.N.C.L.E. (per the TV
series, the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement). The
private organization is not named; ergo there is no T.H.R.U.S.H.
(Technical Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesirables and the
Subjugation of Humanity) – yet. But neither character is endearing
still. The soundtrack was spectacular in this film. There were many
songs I’m not familiar with that I enjoyed and their placement in
the movie was perfect. The cinematography was exceptional when the
screen wasn’t being divided into thirds, quarters and smaller
fractions to show several views at once – which became dizzying at
best. The costumes were good attempts at copying 60s-era styles but
without the hairdos to go with them (strange). The acting and
dialogue was acceptable, though there were no standouts.
The
Man from U.N.C.L.E. is a good action film; clean enough for
the whole family (no vulgarity) and no gore. If you go to see it and
can empty your mind of any memory of the TV series, you’ll enjoy
it.
Rating:
3 out of 5 Martini glasses.
Riverpark
450
East 29th St.
(1st Avenue), New
York
Any
time I begin to think I’ve dined at all the best restaurants in New
York City, a new one pops up. Restaurateur Tom Colicchio has had
eight successful restaurants in New York previous to Riverpark (not
surprisingly, I’ve already dined at six of them, not knowing he was
in charge), and for six months his Executive Chef, Bryan Hunt, has
been preparing Sisha Ortúzar’s recipes at the east end of
29th Street. Ensconced in an unassuming glass and
steel building with a lovely garden outdoor café, Riverpark
overlooks the East River with sweeping views to match.
The
sign for the restaurant is posted outside, but it doesn’t indicate
which door is the entrance, and the restaurant proper cannot be seen
immediately. A gentleman outside kindly directed me to choose a door,
continue down the hall past the reception desk, and turn right at the
end, where a graceful spiral staircase led to who-knows-where. I
didn’t need the staircase. There was a black door with the name of
the restaurant in lights on its side.
Inside,
a large squarish bar dominates the room with a galaxy of mini-spot
lights in military formation above it. All around are tables, some
occupied. The Captain’s Station was to my left and I announced my
reservation. “Outside or in?” “Inside, please. It’s still too
humid to dine outside.” A young lady led me to a table by one of
the floor to ceiling windows facing the river.
The
wine list arrived before the menu and Alan, my server, took my water
preference. I noted his Australian accent and filed it away in
memory. When he returned with the water he asked if I desired a
cocktail. Upon learning that they did indeed stock my favorite gin I
asked for my signature martini. He returned with a chilled glass and
a small carafe from which he poured one of the rare perfect martinis
in Manhattan.
The
food menu is right to the point and lists dishes as First Course,
Pasta, Main Course and Sides. However, the selection was such that it
was difficult to choose. When I expressed my indecision to Alan he
called over a second server who helped with my order. There were
dilemmas in every course but he solved each one expertly.
For
instance, the fluke crudo – with pickled strawberries, nasturtiums
(an edible flower), hazelnuts, jalapeños, and lime sounded equally
good to me as the grilled quail – with corn, charred tomatoes,
okra, black-eyed peas, and thyme. The young man advised me to have
the quail (one of his favorite dishes) and, he was right, it was
wonderful. The juicy quail was cut in sections for easy eating and it
rested on a bed formed by the other vegetables. The okra was halved
and charred but tasted better than any I’ve had before.
I
asked him about wines because the wine list was quite extensive. Once
we narrowed it down to reds and he said the magic word “zinfandel”
I told him to stop there. But, which zinfandel? They have 14 on the
list. He recommended the 2012 “Old Vines” and offered to give me
a taste. It was delightful but I didn’t think it would stand up to
all the dishes I would be having. I needed something with more
tannins. We settled on the Turley Farms “Kirshenmann Vineyard”
Zinfandel 2013, Lodi, California. It was delicious with the quail –
intense but a little sweet and fruity.
Three
of the four pastas interested me. It was between the zucca pasta
(shaped like the end of a zucchini) – with (appropriately) summer
squash, basil, squash blossoms, and ricotta salata, the saffron
spaccatelli (thin, curved straws) – with mussels, jamòn mangalica
(a Spanish ham), dill, and fresno chilies, and the cavatelli, which
came with smoked lamb, shishito peppers (a green sweet chili), corn,
and merken (merquén, a red spicy Chilean pepper, usually ground).
The
cavatelli won hands down and when it arrived, the tiny purple flowers
decorating it added to its appeal. When I first tasted the tender
pasta, the lamb flavor mixed with the sweet and spicy chilies for an
absolutely transporting experience. A sip of the wine later and I was
in Heaven. The dish made the flavor of the wine literally explode! It
was eye opening and I told my server when he came back to check on my
progress. He agreed on the effect.
Why
do I keep forgetting to mention the bread? Another server kept me in
mini-baguettes and ramekins of sweet butter, which I used in each
course to get all the sauces.
Another
three dishes had to be chosen from for the main event. Online, the
grilled cobia – with manila clams, bok choy, onions, miso, and in a
lemongrass broth sounded excellent, but then there was the fazio farm
rabbit – with plums, daikon radish, honshimeji mushrooms (a small
capped, long stemmed mushroom that usually grows in clusters, like
the Hen-o-the-Woods), and togarashi (a Japanese red chili blend) –
was just as attractive. Then there was the pekin duck breast – with
French breakfast radishes, chanterelle mushrooms, blueberries, and
nasturtiums.
Again,
with help, I chose the rabbit. Again, the wine tasted different but
still a perfect match. The rabbit meat was served in small tender
cylinders among the rich brown mushrooms and sprinkled with the
togarashi, wonderful. And who could turn down a side dish called
fairy tale eggplant – in oregano balsamic? The little eggplants
were served halved, grilled and slightly vinegary – the right
accompaniment for the rabbit.
After
my second server checked up on me again, Alan came back and I told
him how great everything was. He explained that he handed me off to
the other man because he was a better “Somahlyer”. “He’s from
Somalia?” I said. “Oh, no. He’s good with wines.” “Oh, a
sommelier! Yes he is.” We both got a laugh out of that.
Dessert
I didn’t need help with. There was only one unusual confection and
I ordered it. The olive oil cake – with strawberries,
vanilla crèmeux (a dense, soft pudding), and a ball
of pistachio ice cream – was nothing like I anticipated. It was not
salty and had only a slight flavor of olives coming through the sweet
cake, vanilla and pistachio flavors. Lovely. A cup of hot Earl Grey
tea finished the meal nicely.
Through
my window I could see picnic tables, which I thought were unusual for
a classy restaurant. But, this restaurant is proud of its
“fresh-from-the-farm-to-the-table” reputation and they feature a
farm dinner menu, – for parties of 4 up to 10 or 16, seated at
picnic tables outside (weather permitting) – a three-course
family-style feast at $85 per person. A new idea for sure.
Needless
to say, there are several dishes I would come running back to try at
Riverpark and who knows? I might even try outdoor dining.
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