Review: Onju
New York Press Say the words "organic," "vegetarian" or "vegan," and people
often assume they are synonyms for "healthy." In many cases, this
couldn't be further from the truth. At Foodswings, a vegan cafe in
Williamsburg, I had one of the most gleefully deep-fried and unhealthy
meals of the New Year: soy-cheese fries with unambiguously caloric
Buffalo "chicken" wings. Or think of the mock meat at the vegetarian
restaurant, Zen Palate. Without a doubt, the most popular dish is the
Sweet and Sour Sensation, batter-fried gluten nuggets in viscous
traffic-cone-orange sauce. Still, misconceptions persist. I
once spoke to a gentleman who knew so little about organic food that he
actually thought that it was like medicine: good for you, but bad
tasting. My experience with food items processed
"organically"—popularly defined as cultivated without fertilizers,
insecticides or artificial additives—is that they often retain an
authenticity of flavor that their conventional counterparts lack. If
you don't believe me, try this at home: Purchase an organic banana and
a conventional one, and do a side-by-side taste test. You are likely to
find that, when compared to the organic fruit, the conventional one
tastes bland at best, chemical-laden at worst. If you are of
the mind that organic is just purist nonsense, you still might enjoy a
dinner at Onju, a new Italian restaurant in the East Village that
utilizes all organic ingredients while avoiding a "health" agenda (note
the intervals at which staff members huff cigarettes outside and you'll
see what I mean). At first glance, Onju is just another sexy East
Village Italian boite (think Lavagna) with exposed brick walls, picture
windows, a knobby wood bar and tight banquettes that draws the
neighborhood's greasy-haired brand of beautiful people. With the
exception of accoutrements like "tofu cream" served with chanterelle
ravioli and two varieties of gnocchi, there is nothing ostensibly
crunchy about the place. Though vegans and vegetarians can eat heartily
here, there is enough meat, cheese and butter on the menu to
compensate. Two appetizers we sampled aptly captured both ends
of the "organic food" spectrum. The carrot salad ($11) consisted of
largely ungarnished carrots served three ways: julienned yellow and
orange carrots in a fresh honey-lemon dressing, halved purple-carrot
coins, raw, balanced so they stood vertically on the plate, and
parboiled spikes of yellow and orange carrot, also undressed. Though
pricey for a salad that consisted of mostly plain root vegetables, the
dish was also the one that showed, most nakedly, the power of fine
produce. Between the presentation and the earthy, warm flavor of the
carrots themselves, the dish was a thing of modest beauty. At the
very same restaurant, we enjoyed festive, indulgent arancini, fried
balls of rice served two ways. The more traditional variety, filled
with fresh mozzarella and shaved truffles, was nice but somewhat bland.
The star was the saffron and beef arancino, a golden orb of
saffron-scented rice with a pinch of ground beef in the center. The
crisp exterior tasted less like it had been fried, and more like the
crusty bottom layer of Persian rice or bi bim bop. I could have eaten
three or four. Following the appetizers, our experience began to
devolve: At least one hour elapsed between the first course and the
entrees. Taking into account that the dishes are made to order—risotto
can take twenty minutes, according to the proprietor—still did not
excuse the negligence. As my companions and I sat with our hands in our
laps, peering around the deafeningly loud restaurant, we noticed that
the staff at Onju (with the exception of our solicitous, over-tasked
waitress), whooping it up at the bar, seemed to be having a lot more
fun than we were. "Have you noticed that everyone working here is
drunk?" asked my cousin Naomi, a second-year student at NYU who, one
would imagine, knows of what she speaks. Judging from our
entrees, there is potential for the food here to soar. Right now, the
merits of Onju are limited to a few standout dishes. The port wine and
short rib risotto ($20) was the best risotto of my New York eating
career. The unadorned heap of brown-tinted rice boasted a wonderfully
low ratio of grains to shredded meat. The short ribs, marinated for 48
hours in Chianti, added to the winy resonance of the dish, which was
perfectly balanced between the richness of beef and butter and the
vaporous nature of the alcohol. Not as delicious but a feast for
the eyes was the seafood risotto ($20), heaped with attractive shrimp,
scallops, baby squid and calamari. The risotto itself was basic, not
overly rich—Onju displays wise restraint when it comes to fattening up
risotto—wonderfully al dente, and redolent of a mysterious smoky flavor
(Onju does not have a wood-burning oven). The Cornish hen special ($23)
was also solid: a flavorful bird, almost entirely deboned, baked until
crisp but juicy, served with competent but uneventful green beans and
brussels sprouts. The two duds of the evening were, in turns,
bland and bizarre. The tagliolini Bolognese ($18) was a mixture of fine
house-made pasta with remarkably flavorless Bolognese sauce—made here
with sofrito, tomato sauce and ground beef. Thanks to the obscure
ingredient "fennel pollen," fava bean gnocchi ($19) that might have
otherwise been palatable just tasted strange. (If you've ever had
medicinal teas, try to imagine that somewhat sweet, herbal,
licorice-like flavor, and you'll know what I mean.) Also peculiar were
the organic wines. After tasting several of them, we went with the
Villa Conversino from Italy ($31), which, in truth, was chosen on the
merits of being the least harsh of the wines—all notably tangy or
bitter—in the $30 price range. In line with the meal itself,
desserts leaned toward the rustic—a lightly sweetened ricotta
cheesecake ($9) with figs in wine reduction was the favorite of the
table, although my friends had no difficulty devouring the chocolate
cannelloni ($9), arborio rice pudding made with Green & Black
organic chocolate, wrapped in a crepe-like pastry and served with
chocolate- coconut ice cream. To its credit, Onju introduces
the correct idea that organic and indulgent can and should coexist. But
the lapse in service significantly cut into our enjoyment of the meal.
Onju needs to get its act together. As one might tell a gifted but lazy
student, if the priority at Onju is socializing, the restaurant will
never achieve its full potential.
January 25, 2005
Recent Comments