The Collective: Sorta Like Grandma’s House Went Down the Rabbit Hole … and Ended Up in MePa

How to describe The Collective. It’s sorta like grandma’s house went down the rabbit hole…

Pillars are draped in faux bling, bound in cable ties to look like a bristle brush or covered in a knotted weave of those skinny, noodley balloons (called twisting balloons) used to make balloon animals.

Tables have been inlaid with incomplete Scrabble tile sets purchased on eBay; street signs, bath tubs and even a classic “Walk/Don’t Walk” sign (which makes for a particularly warming seat) are now chairs.

The light fixtures are striking, particularly the prescription pill bottle chandelier with its surprisingly delicate orange glow and the giant sculptural ceiling light made of styrofoam. It just goes on and on…

Bottom line: Thanks to the craftsmanship of some crazy, brilliant, out-there motherfuckas, what’s old is new again and hardly anything is what it seems.

Which is exactly the point, said The One Group‘s CEO, Jonathan Segal, when he stopped by our table (I was here for a press function). Everything in the restaurant is reclaimed or redone somehow, or used in an unexpected way.

I like, I like. Makes for great eye candy … and I’m not referring to the statuesque Meatpacking crowd that had begun to settle in at the the bar.

Even the truffled deviled eggs (pictured, $10) came out lined up in an overturned egg carton, and the chicken-n-waffles ($12) — a table favorite — came out in a hot cast-iron skillet, presumably the one that had something to do with how the dish was cooked.

But then, everything else was presented on … white plates. Rectangular white plates, oblong white plates, white bowls, all uniform white, white, white.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if all the plates, glasses and flatware were mismatched, too?” our table mused. “They could be sourced from flea markets or … bought up at auctions from restaurants or wholesalers in incomplete sets. Something…”

Really, so insignificant. But we just loved the decor so much we wanted it to go all the way, down to the level of detail where that aesthetic would still be there even when we finally pulled our eyes away to look down at our food.

Oh yeah, the food! Lands solidly in the “grub” category. There are more ladylike dishes on the menu, but the best of what I sampled was the hands-on finger foods.

So whether it’s Hong Kong ribs (pictured, $20) at 10 p.m., a late-night dessert of the (darling) housemade fudgesicles on a stick ($8), or a 4 a.m. order of disco fries ($12) to sop up the booze, just get messy.

The Collective, 1 Little W. 12th St., at 9th Ave., 212-255-9717. More information can be found here.

Thursday: Report from Harvest in the Square (the “Ohhh … Good Food Overload” Post)

To use a terribly-overused metaphor, I was like a kid in a candy store at Harvest in the Square, only the store was a cavernous tented event space stretching three city blocks and the candy was little menu tastes from several dozen restaurants located in the greater Union Square area — and wine shops, wineries and breweries to boot.

An hour and a half? No problem. As far as I can recount, here’s a faithful tally of my candy store rampage:

Tocqueville‘s chilled tomato consommé with a confit tomato (right) was beautiful to look at, but, pardon my unrefined palate, seemed a little oily. Also not quite a success was Back Forty‘s cold corn soup with Trinidad pepper relish — the soup had a sourness to it that I just didn’t get, and the texture was oddly … fluffy?

In the veggie sphere, I much preferred  Union Square Café‘s simple zucchini alla scapece or Gramercy Tavern‘s souffléd crackers stuffed with zucchini — so airy and poppable, it’s a good thing I didn’t discover these little gems until toward the end of the night because I would have kept popping them and not had room for, say, my second serving of Blue Water Grill‘s smoked bacon-wrapped lobster sausage (above, served with corn salsa and fennel pollen aioli). Never knew such a form of lobster existed, but my life is better for it now that I do.

The Strip House — I’ve never been, but they’re supposed to do good steaks — served a crab cake with fingerling potatoes. It was fine. But I much preferred steak places that did meat, like the Knickerbocker. Perfectly cooked strips of the restaurant’s signature T-Bone steak (right) were being snatched up faster than the chef could slice them. (If the point of a restaurant’s participation is to get you interested enough to come in sometime, and you’re a steak place, serve steak.)

More great beef: The grilled beef tenderloin and malanga fondue with truffle trumpet frisee salad (left) from brand new Pipa Tapas y Mas restaurant was a dark-horse contender for favorite of the night. And BLT Prime served a bacon-crusted Wagyu flatiron with corn roasted bell pepper salad and bacon chimchurri that sounded more complicated in the placard than what I got on my plate, but it was a nice bite.

Wildwood BBQ‘s whole pig (right) was definitely the most ambitious display of the night; the pulled pork sliders with coleslaw and chipotle BBQ sauce were okay, but a little boring compared to the smoked pork spare riblets being served at Hill Country‘s table (served with mac & longhorn cheddar cheese).

Hands down, my overall favorite of the night was Almond, who had a gorgeous, potatoes-overflowing and rock salt display and a brilliant dish (left): house-smoked blue fish and potato chips, dill, goat yogurt. It’s like chips and dip deconstructed, pure mouth bliss. And entirely original. I will go to this restaurant specifically to order this dish in the future.

More from the fish front: SushiSamba did a kanpachi tiradito with heirloom tomatoes, fresh yuzu and white truffle oil, which was clean and just a lovely bite of sushi. And while I wanted so much to love ‘Wichcraft’s fluke with vodka-infused watermelon, charred chilies and basil — sounds so exotic — it was really overwhelming. The charred bits were almost gritty, whoa there vodka-soaked fruit.

… and, dessert. The Stand‘s mini toasted marshmallow shakes were perhaps one of the most adorable presentations of the evening, each topped with its own chocolate-dusted marshmallow. The perfect serving size for this sort of event: a few good sips and you’re done and SO satisfied.

And the guys hand-shaving the ice for market-flavor treats at Todd English’s Olives table get the award for hardest working team. Literally, hand-shaving ice. It’s like kitchen time-out to have to do that job. The flavors were ambitious and fascinating: Horachata was the clear winner. The creaminess improves the shaved ices, and it comes dotted with tiny raisins. Other flavors were: butternut squash, spiced cider and pomegranate.

On my way out I grabbed at beignet from ilili — so glad I did. It was the perfect sweet bite to end on.

Other miscellany: Whole Foods’ “Ploughman’s snack,” which featured local ingredients from Rick’s Picks, Schoolhouse Kitchen and Sprout Creek Farm on these fantastic plates made from fallen leaves by VerTerra Dinnerware out of Long Island City showcased all the locally-produced items beautifully. You could tell it was a really thought-out presentation. And then there’s the guac — I just couldn’t say no, not when I see the Rosa Mexicano team pounding out fresh batches in giant stone pestels (left).

… And about those noodles from Republic that were handed out in tiny orange and blue-colored take-out boxes? Mine ended up in my purse for later…

Dinner: Hello, My Name Is … (aka the “First Impressions of André” Post)

Disclosure: This meal was a complimentary media dinner arranged by André’s public relations team. That being said, we tipped appropriately, and there will be no special treatment. Now, let’s get down to it.

When an invite to “Dinner with André” popped up in my inbox the other day, my first reaction was, What? André who?

... Then I got it. Ohhh, the restaurant’s name is André. Cute. It’s personal. And just a touch cheeky, in that cocktail soiree sort of way. I kind of liked it. I gave the preview menu a quick scan — Peekey-Toe crab* salad, jamon de Bayonne and melon trio, smoked terrine de foie gras (and those are just some of the apps) … mmm. Let’s give it a go.

So a little background: André is the newly-redesigned, 30-ish seat dining room attached to Opia bar and lounge on the second floor of the Renaissance Hotel (a Marriott property) in Midtown northeast (59th and Lex).

What I like about the concept is that nothing, and everything, is new. Opia has been here for years; the venue is growing with the hotel, which has undergone a major redesign during the last few years — think, bulbous, flower-inspired, trippy-chic (left).

Which also means that the management team (Frederick Lesort & Antoine Blech), the chef (Ted Pryor) and even some (if not most) of the rest of the staff have been working together for years via Opia, so there are none of those brand new restaurant kinks to be worked out.

André is an ambitious new project for a team of veterans: They’ve gotten good at what they do, so they’re going after a new challenge, one that builds on what they’ve already accomplished. It’s admirable.

And a tad ballsy. This is not a casual dining room. My friend who wore a full suit was entirely more appropriately-dressed than me; I was on the precipice of under dressed in jeans, metallic heels, a black top and semi-fashionable (metallic threading) blazer. That doesn’t happen so often.

But really, who cares what I was wearing. We were here to eat, and we did. Here’s the breakdown:

Appetizers

So tough deciding on the apps. They caught my attention in the menu PDF I was sent by email, and again at the restaurant. (Thinking about it now, I’d hazard a guess it’s because the kitchen is so much more familiar/confidant doing lounge-y, appetizer-style food.) We finally decided on the Peekey-Toe crab salad on a bed of English pea puree, fried zucchini blossoms, mango vinaigrette ($14), and the jamon de Bayonne and melon trio with poppy seed vinaigrette ($12).

First impression, and the one that carried through the meal: Beautiful ingredients. The crab, fresh, light, non-fishy; the pea puree fresh and springy — think about how pea tendrils bounce and you’re about there. The melon was at the peak of ripeness, and I was just complaining the other day how I never eat melon at restaurants because it’s so ubiquitously under-ripe and watery.

If how these melon balls tasted was how melon generally tasted, I’d surely be a regular. And who could possibly have anything bad to say about the gorgeous, thin-shaved ham from Bayonne, France. Pas moi.

Missing: A pile of homemade potato chips to scoop up the crab dish. The deep-fried zucchini blossoms, which were supposed to be just a garnish, were actually a tease, because everything about this app is so soft, it needs a crunch, a structure. (What do you think the batter on crab cakes is?) No matter how good the goods, no one wants to eat mushy food with a fork.

Entrees

We ordered the whole fish à la Plancha with summer vegetables (M/P) — which I would probably not have ordered had I taken the time to demystify the lovely, roll-off-your-tongue sound of à la Plancha, which, I now know, basically means “cooked or grilled on a metal plate.” Which isn’t a bad way to cook a fish, just, well, it’s fish. Cooked well. And briefly presented to you, whole, on a plank, before being whisked back into the kitchen, only to return accompanied by monotone, yellow-white-brown colored vegetables. (Yawn.) On the other hand, the other dish I was considering, the warm-poached Maine lobster salad with baby beets and vinaigrette ($28), looked amazing.

Dish no. 2 was the roasted chicken breast with quinoa grains, butter beans, sherry and fresh fig sauce ($22) — an excellent choice. When we ordered it, the waiter told us the chicken (of all things) takes an extra 20 minutes. What?! Why of all things does chicken take more prep? Whatever they did, the whole dish was well executed and a lot more cohesive than mine.

Dessert

I don’t eat more than two bites of dessert, generally (unless it’s cheese), so I let my friend pick dessert and he went for the molten chocolate cake, which also takes a little extra prep time. (He was batting 2 for 2 that night.)

What’s not to love about molten chocolate cake? You cut into it with a fork and it oozes chocolate, like a slow-moving lava flow.

Overall, I stick by my first impression, which is that this a bold move to open a restaurant like this, at this time, but variables such as the intimate nature (read, 30-ish seats) of the dining room, plus André’s connectedness to Opia — André’s big brother, in many senses — it’s not entirely implausible. It’s actually a really good situational challenge for a seasoned team with an under-utilized room, which is how I suspect it began.