Sel et Poivre
853 Lexington Ave
New York, New York 10065
(212) 517-5780
http://www.seletpoivrenyc.com/
Hold on
Stave in the ground
Are you being treated right
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
This world will make you think.
Mahalia Jackson
Carnegie Hall celebrates the 1960’s (a reflection of the fractured zeitgeist). I am going to see the Kronos Quartet. Their performance is brilliant. They play:
Pendulum Music by Steve Reich
The Star Spangled Banner Jimmy Hendrix Version
The House of the Rising Sun
Porgy and Bess Summertime
Glorious Mahalia
Sel et Poivre means salt and pepper. It is an UES institution since 1989. It is modest from the street; there is a dark awning and you can see twinkle lights inside the bistro. The crowd is decidedly older and it feels more like a private club than a public restaurant. They are dressed up for their weekly night out on the town. Even though they have little time left in life, they take their time over cocktails and talk between the tables. A matriarch with a cane enters slowly and deliberately; she is escorted to her table by the owner with great care. She has a large ivory broach fixed on her black jacket. She is alone. She has white hair which is flipped up stylishly at the ends. She has the nose of a vulture. She checks her watch. She orders a double cocktail. I wonder who is late or does she has the courage to dine alone on a Friday night? Men with suits and hats and cloth handkerchiefs in their breast pockets enter: they have 1940’s class and style. They walk slowly and stiffly to their tables happy to be seated safely.
This is not a theater or a tourist crowd. It is neighborhood crowd.
There is a small bar to the right as you enter the bistro. The cocktail crowd is drinking and talking, shifting continuously in the crowded space. A large vase of flowers separates the bar area from the dining area. The owner seats me promptly at a nice table along the wall. There are white table cloths, candles, and Thonet chairs. I love the double curves on the back of the chairs. The Thonet chair is the most elegant, simple and beautiful chair ever invented.
There are old black and white photographs of Parisian street scenes on the walls of Parisian as there should be and, across from my table, is an Eiffel Tower made from a wire frame.
The waiters are multi-cultural: French, Asian and Latin. This is unusual in a bistro. They work the entire room but the system works. They wear traditional white aprons, white shirts and black vests. They are not personable but they are efficient and attentive.
There are many seafood specials on the menu. There is a duck cassoulet.
I order cream of mushroom soup and swordfish (which I can never resist). The soup is a deep muddy brown and rich with pepper accents. The notes are long and low and earthy.
The matriarch has finished her cocktail. She checks her watch and orders another. It is not the husband but her granddaughter who arrives. She has a long face like her grandmother. She is wearing a sleeveless black dress on a cold January night in New York. She puts on a grey jacket but she still seems dressed for summer.
The swordfish arrives. The sides are green beans and rice. Dispose of the sides: bland, overcooked and pointless. Why serve hospital food at a bistro? The swordfish has a light white wine and butter sauce and is well-prepared. The pommes frites are excellent: salted, firm and not greasy. The bread is standard issue. It should be disposed of with the sides.
For dessert I have the chocolate terrine strawberry coulis. It is rich and dark and luscious.
The madams at the table behind me inquire and I advise that I am on my way to Carnegie Hall. They advise that they eat here every week and that almost everyone lives in the neighborhood and knows one another. They live around the corner and have been coming here for twenty years. This is their weekly night out on the town. They love being seen and catching up on the neighborhood goings on.
I consider that I will be climbing Aconcagua in a month. I will struggle with the altitude, the cold, the wind, the fear and the hard physical work in carrying the loads of the mountain. I consider if I will summit. I consider why I put myself through so much stress, risk and suffering. I try to stop time and remain at this warm and friendly bistro and have another glass of wine and dessert.
Am I the doer of my actions or is something else the doer of my actions? It does not feel as if I am making the decisions to climb mountains. Something else seems to be driving me: it is more subtle than I can perceive and more powerful than I can control. I cannot understand the energies. Consider the Bhagavad Gita on this point:
They alone see truly who see that all actions are performed by prakriti, while the Self remains unmoved. When they see the variety of creation rooted in that unity and growing out of it, they attain fulfillment in Brahman.
Eknath Easwaran
Ratings
Staff: 6 (Casual and attentive but not personal or engaging)
Archetype: 7 (Indicia of the Archetype: black and white photographs, Thonet chairs, formal waiters, neighborhood crowd)
Food: 6 (Bistro standards, uneven, extensive seafood specials)
Energy: 7 (Fun to hang out with the older UES crowd; friendly and conversational people; interested in why I am eating at their neighborhood club.)
Resources
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-mariani/sel-poivre-celebrates-25-_b_5050799.html
http://johnmariani.com/archive/2010/101226/index.html
https://foodforott.com/2017/02/08/sel-et-poivre-revisited-the-game-festival/