In New York, where you eat is as important as who (as in designer) you're wearing, and probably the hottest restaurant of the moment is 71 Clinton Fresh Food. An unlikely, one-room, 37-seat eatery on a block of bodegas and tenements in the decidedly un-luxe Lower East Side, it is so packed with gorgeously chic people that it rivals - minus the clothes, of course - the DART at 8 a.m. from Dun Laoghaire.
The food is honest-to-goodness American cooking re-interpreted using the best, freshest ingredients and classic European techniques: braised short ribs where the sauce has been reduced and reduced, for example; or a seafood and fennel "sausage" that has been stuffed into a squid "casing" and served on a blood-orange emulsion.
On an unseasonably cold April night I was taken to the restaurant by a New York designer friend, who had booked the table a month in advance. (That's how long it takes to get a reservation at 71 Clinton, although two tables and seven bar seats are unreserved each night for walk-ins.) We ate and drank sumptuously in our cosy corner while unabashedly devouring the cultural dynamics of millennial Manhattan: the handsome waiter displaying his body piercings to the party at the next table; the rich, hip, powerful and fabulously dressed crowd making merry, while outside, homeboys slunk around, moms pushed baby-carriages, and Hispanic shopkeepers placed their clanking garbage cans on the wet sidewalk.
As we got up to leave, an exceedingly kindly-faced woman emerged from the crowd of scarily chic patrons, produced our jackets, and winked: "Too many fur coats blocking the way."
That kind-faced woman, it turns out, is Rachael Carron of Howth, who runs the restaurant with her partner, Dewey Dufresne, 71 Clinton's wine steward and father of its chef, Wylie Dufresne. Thirty-year-old Wylie is a protege of the famed New York restaurateur Jean-Georges Vongerichten: and in its seven-month existence 71 Clinton has earned him enough kudos to last him a lifetime: nomination for the 2000 James Beard Foundation Restaurant and Chef Awards in the Perrier-Jouet Rising Star Chef of the Year Award and an eight-week series of his recipes published in the food section of The New York Times.
Carron had no plans to open any sort of restaurant, growing up in Howth, she tells me over lunch in Dublin. She had always liked food and cooking, but there was no culture of dining out here: in fact, when her family took a trip to Paris when she was seven, they "ate out at a Chinese restaurant every night".
On moving to New York in 1985, she worked in various capacities as a proof-reader, publicist and waitress before hooking up six years ago with Dewey, a chef and restaurant consultant-cum-antiques restorer from Rhode Island. Sharing a love of the Lower East Side, a subversive sense of humour (at one point Dewey suggested calling the restaurant Open so people could say "Open is closed") and doubtless many other things, they joined two business partners to nurture the restaurant project to fruition.
They had the right ingredients for success - Wylie's pedigree cooking credentials, Dewey's innate understanding that restaurants are the entertainment of this era, Carron's organisational and people skills, not to mention financial backing - but they had luck too: the majority of new restaurants fail and both Carron and Dewey Dufresne readily admit they were in the right place with the right concept at the right time.
Carron's day as "manager" starts technically at 5 p.m., although earlier in the day she does publicity work and fields phone calls for Wylie. She checks the evening's reservations list - Does anyone require handicapped access? Are any VIPs coming (they'll get something extra sent out from the kitchen)? - and talks to Wylie in the kitchen about any last-minute menu changes. The restaurant opens at 6 p.m. "My job," Carron laughs, " is to welcome people and throw them out."
In fact, she's the glue in the machinery of assuring that irate, demanding New Yorkers get seated quickly enough to avert a minor nuclear meltdown, that tables are turned rapidly while still providing customers with an unhurried experience - the restaurant does between 80 and 110 covers a night and diners are usually allotted two hours - and that the general ambience remains fun and easy-going to match the "easy" food.
The earliest either she or Dewey leaves is midnight. Typically, Carron leaves around 2.30 a.m., while Dewey spends another hour overseeing closing details and recouping himself with alcohol in what he calls his "wining down" time. Then the routine starts over again.
Both Carron and Dewey adore Ireland. "Every time I come I see changes," Carron says, in terms of Ireland's "catching up" with America's level of sophistication. Conversely, they regard Ireland's indigenous products, its artisanal traditions ("in America you don't get butchers") and its expanding economy as harbingers of further growth.
"This town is ready . . ." says Dewey, trailing off - for what I assume are more restaurants in Dublin. In fact, the couple say they are casually "looking around" for a place. While neither Carron or Dewey has plans to leave their fledgling operation now, as an obnoxiously ubiquitous slogan for the New York Lottery goes - "hey, you never know".
Seared Scallops on Black Olive Risotto Cakes
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 medium shallots, minced 180g (7 oz) arborio rice
28 fl oz chicken stock
Salt and cayenne pepper to taste
50g (2 oz) grated Parmesan
70g (3 oz) pitted and roughly chopped Nicoise olives
Flour
5 tablespoons grape seed oil, or substitute vegetable oil
16 medium sea scallops (about 1 lb), tendons removed Basil-infused oil
Melt butter in large saucepan. Add shallots, and cook over medium heat until translucent, about four minutes. Stir in rice, and cook, stirring constantly, until grains are coated with fat, about two minutes. Stir in stock, salt and cayenne to taste and half the Parmesan. Bring to a boil, and reduce heat. Cover, and simmer until rice is creamy, 17 minutes.
Uncover, and stir rice vigorously. Add olives and remaining cheese, and stir until any remaining liquid cooks off.
Scrape rice into 9-inch-square pan lined with parchment. Rap pan against counter to level rice. Cool to room temperature. Refrigerate until firm and chilled, at least six hours.
Heat oven to 400 F (170C). Use 3 1/2inch biscuit cutter to punch four disks out of cooled rice. (Scraps can be reworked and used to make an extra disk.) Lightly dust rice cakes with flour.
Heat oil in 12-inch non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. Slide cakes, smooth side down, into hot pan. Cook until crisp and well browned on bottom, about three minutes. Flip cakes over, and transfer pan to rack in centre of oven. Bake until second side is crisp and well browned, about seven minutes.
When rice cakes are in the oven, season scallops with salt and cayenne.
Heat oil in large skillet over high heat. Add scallops, and reduce heat to medium-high. Cook until bottoms are golden brown, about two minutes. Turn with tongs, and cook until second side is golden, 1 1/2 to two minutes.
Transfer scallops to a platter lined with a paper towel.
When rice cakes are golden brown, transfer them to a platter lined with a paper towel. Place one rice cake, bumpy side up, on each plate. Stack four scallops in a pyramid on each cake. Drizzle a few drops of basil on each plate and serve.
Serves 4.