What’s Not On The Menu

Getting the food right is key, but it’s not everything. How did Shadow 66, End Cut and The Elm fare?

By Hal Rubenstein

Shadow 66

Seventeen years ago, long before Martha Stewart began chronicling her antiquing along Warren Street, or The Maker Hotel embarked on hosting slavishly devoted Vogue readers to Amtrak it up to Hudson, there was Astrid Jehanno, staking her claim on 6th Street with an outpost of her West Village café, Le Gamin. Astrid’s now a legend up here, due to her steadfast commitment to quality, her playful rapport with regulars, the Emma Stone-like rasp in her sexy alto voice and the deadly Thanos-like glare that emanates from her large blue eyes when asked something stupid like “How come you don’t have Wi-Fi?” (“Try having a conversation” is her answer, posted on a sandwich board in the street) or “Can I get an onion soup with the cheese on the side?” I apologize in advance for admitting to getting off on Astrid’s handling of the increasing raft of entitled day trippers. Oh, they’re so easily scared, often quivering once they discover that the customer isn’t always right. Astrid is. Let them call her an acquired taste. I find her delicious.

Iknow people mean it as a compliment, so I let the dubious phrase go by with a demure thank you, but when someone says, “I really enjoy the way you write about food,” it takes Simone Bilesian stick-the-landing willpower not to scrunch my zygomaticus minor muscles into a post-lemon sucking grimace. If the contents on my served plate were all that mattered, my roster of favorite places to dine would triple in length. But when you’re writing about the joys of going out to eat—which is how I regard my four-decade-long fascination—there are other components to forming judgment that can’t be tasted with a knife and fork.

the chef radiates any, in creating both a menu and the experience garage with a license. you like whiskey or not, order an Gin lovers will savor a Route 66). And if for the coolest space in the Hudson side of the restaurant. Richie Cunningham never hung out anywhere this swell.

Understanding a chef’s mission, if the chef has one, and sharing a chef’s passion, if the chef radiates any, in creating both a menu and the dining experience surrounding your meal are equally essential when spending a few hours in his/her/their charge. But as vital as these two responsibilities are, we rarely get to speak directly to kitchen maestros for much more than a few shared pleasantries as they amble over to your table during their cursory nightly walk through the dining room. The person you will converse with, hopefully learn from, and, if all goes well, trust next time out, is your server. That’s why, even more than learning to balance a table of four’s dinner entrées on one arm (now as uncommon as plate-spinning), the paramount task of anyone working the floor is to make you feel appreciated, as if your presence in the room tonight makes a difference. It’s an easier task to master than plate spinning, which is good news, since failure to do so causes more lasting damage than broken china.

And I’m not alone, since so many have waited in eager anticipation for her chef/ husband Patrick to open his dream project, Shadow 66 Now that the doors are open, it’s immediately apparent what took him so long (three years including a break for COVID). No restaurant I can think of looks like this. With its dark wood walls, polished concrete floor, retro signage all in red, expansive wraparound bar (Jehanno built everything), flattering lighting and two gleaming vintage Citroëns dominating the space, Shadow 66 could be mistaken for the world’s most rustically elegant garage with liquor license. (Whether you like whiskey or not, order an Inspection. Gin lovers will savor a Route 66). And if you’re looking for the coolest space in the Hudson Valley to throw a party for a few dozen people, you cannot best the diner, complete with soda fountain that Jehanno found, restored and affixed to the far license to thrive Shadow 66 could be the world’s most rustically elegant garage with a liquor license.

The best news is that Patrick Jehanno is as adept in the kitchen as he is on a scaffold and offers one of the only menus in Columbia County serving French bistro cuisine. Jehanno’s father was a chef, and after benefiting from his tutelage, apprenticed under Michel Guérard, one of the first proponents of nouvelle cuisine, which eschewed the rich sauces and densely layered preparation of classic French cuisine in favor of lighter sauces, shorter cooking times, local produce, smaller portions, brighter presentation. So, if you still harbor any hesitation about French food because of the calorie count (for the record, an 8oz portion of veal parmigiana is 500 calories), let it go, come here and enjoy a nearly flawless Gallic menu.

Here’s perfect onion soup laced with caramelized onions and topped by a sumptuous layer of Emmentale cheese (a version of Swiss).

How can you pass up featherweight blinis bearing crème fraiche and caviar?

Ever tried snails? Of course not, but if you love garlic, you must, because the escargots are seductively reeking of alium cloves and parsley butter. The beef tartare’s listed as an appetizer but it’s so cleanthe-plate substantial and satisfying, especially when scooped up with the accompanying French fries, it could sub as an entrée. The same goes for a hearty order of mussels, which can be prepared either Provençal, or—my choice—with a saffron base. I make damn fine crab cakes (adapted from Chef David Waltuck’s—former chef/owner of the sorely missed Chanterelle in NYC’s Tribeca—smart and doable cookbook, Staff Meals From Chanterelle) but Jehonna’s crab pillow is something slightly different and— hmph—slightly better. The lump crabmeat isn’t cooked but interwoven with smoked salmon and topped with a yummy sauce of mango and guacamole. And if you’re either flush with cash or dining on someone else’s dime, how can you pass up featherweight blinis bearing crème fraiche and caviar?

No need to ask your savvy server which is his/her favorite entrée because there’s no disappointing option. All three beef variations would do a red banquette framed steak house proud. But at Shadow 66, there is, or rather there are, a few firsts among equals: a crackling skinned, you-gotta-gnaw-thebone-it’s-so-good duck confit, the tender braised beef soused in red wine, a splendid veal blanquette, which was a special the night we were there, but may be on the menu by now since our table became a broken record imploring Astrid for its permanence, and the chef’s signature dish, a smashingly irresistible Moroccan Couscous Royal, boasting most of the vegetables you ever and never wanted, sharing a fragrant cumin broth boasting meatballs, merguez sausage, chicken and lamb. Be warned. Should you order the couscous and offer your tablemates a taste, your entrée will become a share plate.

Each of the five dessert options is a quintessential version of a classic. The tarte Tatin is deservedly a staple at Le Gamin Country. But the café doesn’t offer the guilt inducing delight of these airy profiteroles with three different ice creams, or the ethereal, and for me, addictive pairing of peaked meringue with crème Anglaise known as Floating Island.

“This is my dream,” confessed Patrick Jehanno, “I’m sorry it took so long but I wanted to honor the cooking of my father, and my love of French cooking.” Oh, no! No apologies necessary. Because what could be better than someone who’s living their dream while letting us all share in his joy. And if that’s not wonderful enough, Shadow 66 doesn’t offer Wi-Fi either. So, if you’re from a generation that’s often challenged by face-to-face conversation, Astrid suggests you find something to talk about. If you’re stuck, start with the Citroëns parked in the corner.

SHADOW 66

47 Old Post Rd Ghent, NY 12075

518.320.8566 open: Wednesday-Saturday, 5:30pm – 9pm

End Cut

I admit to a slight bias toward End Cut, since Chef/Owner Jordan Schor also considers his place the realization of a dream he had with his dad, and I adored mine, plus his father worked at The Homowack Lodge in Wurtsboro, NY. I spent most of my childhood summers in the Catskills, and we’d always hitchhike to The Homowack because it was the only hotel in the Borscht Belt with a bowling alley and one of the first to have an indoor pool. And finally, the last time we were heading to End Cut, we hit a nasty swath of going nowhere traffic, guaranteeing our arrival minutes before the kitchen’s 9pm closing time. When I called Schor to inform and apologize, he replied, “Don’t worry. Focus on the road and you’ll get here when you get here. I’m not going anywhere, and it will be good to see you.” With a reply like that, we were tempted to drive along the shoulder. Instead, we walked in at 8:57pm. Schor greeted us at the front door with an easy smile and a sweeping hand to wipe away our apologies.

What’s so cool about End Cut is that it’s local. All by itself along Route 9W, the space is not big, but it’s not cramped. The bar, which takes up about a third of the room, is directly opposite the entrance, allowing house regulars to see everyone coming and going, so they may talk to you, but that’s what happens at a you’realways-welcome local spot, so don’t be a shit and ignore them. The staff, who know how to handle this, fit the room like a glove: comfortable, warm, unflappable and assuring. There’s live music on the weekends, but Schor has found the rare pianist who knows this isn’t his debut at Carnegie Hall. Consequently, his playing and pleasant baritone never dominate the room. In fact, his selection of Tin Pan Alley (look it up!) post-war (II in case you don’t know what that phrase usually refers to) standards is so appealing, diners sometimes get out of the chairs to dance for a bit cheek to cheek. If such sentimental spontaneity and the occasional, impromptu bar regular quip throw you, you’ve been in Manhattan for too long. It’s charming.

Despite its name, you won’t find red banquettes here either. Nevertheless, End Cut can hold its own as a steak house thanks to prime cuts, cooked as ordered, with perfect crust and no culinary curveballs to diminish the indulgent succulence of those who crave ruby red beef. But there’s lots more temptation on the menu. Order the warm homemade dinner rolls and naan-like flatbread from nearby Hudson Valley Bakery along with a soothing drizzle of ricotta and honey. Meatballs arrive with the added surprise of bits of broccoli rabe and mozzarella. Huge, juicy, Homowack Lodge-worthy stuffed clams are so golden and so good (somehow New York-centric Jews believe there was some divine intervention that still keeps them from eating pork—except in Chinese restaurants—and milk with meat—except for cheeseburgers—but give them dispensation to eat seafood). Naturally, there are large, tasty shrimp encrusted in coconut, but the apricot chutney could use a dash of heat to tone down the sweetness. Crab cakes, however, tastes like crab instead of breading and a splash of sriracha gives the accompanying remoulade that desired kick of fire. Onion soup is exactly what you were hoping for. Clam chowder’s even better. yes, chef! Talented Chef Jordan Schor considers End Cut to be nothing less than a realization of a lifelong dream.

There’s a thick yet juicy double cut pork chop (ask if they would undercook to have a hint of pink), with a delish side mélange of potatoes, apples and bacon, and a superior rack of lamb which you should snare whenever it’s a special. Though I’m prone to steer clear of pasta in creamy meat-based sauces (see parenthetical in previous paragraph), the ricotta laced lamb ragu is solid. Equally pleasing is the chicken saltimbocca, which manages the neat trick of wrapping the breast in prosciutto and gruyere without smothering the flavor of the bird. The familiar steak house desserts: lemon tart, key lime tart, tarte Tatin, do the job nicely—but the standout, a hazelnut sundae so dangerously fine as to incite a spoon fight, is currently a special.

End Cut is that rare restaurant that’s content to be what it is: an excellent neighborhood destination that, because it succeeds without overreaching, is well worth the trip. Chef Jordan should be very proud of that. I’m sure the spirit of his dad is proud of him. I wish I didn’t live an hour away from End Cut. However, if Chef Jordan would consider putting in a bowling alley and an indoor pool, I might consider moving closer.

End Cut

1746 Route 9W West Park, NY

845.384.6590 open: Thursday – Monday, 4pm-9pm Until 10pm Friday & Saturday