Dear Gluttons,
I write to you this week with a beautifully tragic (wait, not tragic at all) satiated hunger, with a stomach and system of arteries gloriously clogged with the most perfect kitchen creations. Two words: The Smith. Okay, make that seven words: Skillet Mac and Cheese from The Smith. Conveniently, sneakily, Fordham slated Parentâs Weekend to collaborate with Halloweekend (interpret as you please). So naturally, in my best effort to celebrate both, I summoned my visitors and we adventured downtown to one of NYCâs latest, paradigmatic-Midtown-good-eats haunts.
Needless to say, I was absolutely stoked to have my family visiting. The Smith, by word of mouth, endless online restaurant lists, and its centrality in Lincoln Center, seemed to epitomize the upscale yet laid back âfamily dinnerâ style restaurant that I sought to whet my palate for a killer meal. My concern for overall family enjoyment took priority, and my sisterâs love for simple carbs and exclusion of any âfancy fluffâ drove home the notion that American dining was the way to go. Upon arriving, the upscale-diner decor instantly engaged my appetiteâdonât you resonate black and white tiled walls and large wooden booths with imminent indulgence? Shoot, is that just me?
We were seated immediately, nestling into one of the wooden booths in the middle of the restaurant, perfectly amidst the large open roomâs bumbling energy: enough music + murmur to foster a casual environment, lively waiters swiveling about, and the exposed kitchen in the back corner sent aromas of the angels drifting about. (Curveball: restaurant review becomes soliloquy for a forever-hungry girl (me)).
A true GluttonousGal studies the menu before she even arrives. Why I spent the days leading up to the reservation torturing myself studying the options, stalking them on various Instagram food handles, anticipating, mouth watering, desperately cravingâŠ.I will never know.
It was borderline pathetic. A waiter would pass by with a toppling tray, instantly I could identifyâŠ. GASP! the Hot Potato Chips, mmm, the Brooklyn Style Crispy Fried CalamariâŠ. oh my god, Mom, THATâS THE INFAMOUS MAC AND CHEESE. Indeed, I was fan-girling over other peopleâs passing meals. It was like freakinâ John Mayer was sauntering by. Iâm doomed.
Eventually, we ordered, I practiced patience, and I giggled in delight to be back with my family, bonding over the deliciousness we were about to have served. (Clearly, I had high expectations for this place). The Skillet Mac and Cheese and Brooklyn Calamari were brought out first, and indeed, they fulfilled my wildest fantasies. Rumor has it that everything tastes better from a skilletâŠâŠâŠ.truth. So âAmericana.â
It was the wildest collaboration of cheeses, the most plump, tender noodles, and the temperature remained thrillingly hot. I really canât complain, it really canât compare. Passionate. Calamari is a staple appetizer whenever we Bransonâs treat ourselves to a dinner outing, and The Smith kitchenâs take did not disappoint. Perfectly crispy, we were digging for crumbs to lap up the remaining tar-tar sauce with.
The timing of our main entrees was impeccable. Appetizers had been cleared just long enough to visit the bathroomâs photo booth to return and settle into our nook before Jim, my all-star of the night â yes, our waiter â brought over our meal. I absolutely adored everything about the Pot of Mussels I ordered. Dripping in chardonnay broth, topped with Dijon and tarragon, the succulent shellfish was the ultimate autumn dinner. The circumference of the steaming pot matched that of my skull, I was stuffed, but who can resist the side of crispy-crunchy-curly fries? No shame.
My sister experimented with the Lobster Roll, devouring the sandwich faster than you could say âNew England, baby!â The buttery, toasted bun enveloped the creamy lobster-mayo-heavy cream-spinach center, and the thick cut deep fried homemade potato crisps were the perfect utensils for scooping up the leaked sandwich remnants. Glorious.
Mom and Dad split a heaping plate of black pasta, yes, black pasta, or formally referred to as Tagliatelle, made from squid ink, topped with sauteed shrimp and scallions, crumbled garlic bread to round out the masterpiece. Few words were exchanged during their sharing of the plate, just the occasional, âMMM!â or wide-eyed grin showcasing pure delight. A Lady-in-the-Tramp-esque pasta kiss may have occurred, but was unfortunately not photographed. I learned the value of Gluttony from two real champs. It simply warmed my single little heart, my stuffed little stomach, and my satisfied little soul.
In terms of dessert: Banana. Cream. Pie. In. A. Jar. No other explanation is necessary, but know that the Smithâs pastry chef is one mastermind with whipped cream. And I love whipped cream.
 The Smith fulfilled my wildest dreams and more. I got my Skillet Mac and Cheese, I Instagrammed it and relished in its glory. The Smith is a perfect escape for a Ram bored of the plates of pasta on Arthur Avenue, not looking to break the bank but eager for a little Manhattan celebration. Gluttony is completely applicable, and I couldnât be more pleased. I highly recommend.Â
Until next time, stay hungryâŠ.obviously I will.
XO,
Tay
Address:Â 1900 Broadway; b/t W. 64th & 63rd
Hours of Operation: Mon-Wed 7:30-12am, Thu-Fri 7:30-1am, Sat 9-1am, Sun 9-12am