Prune - Wrinkles and All
Dried plums be damned! I'm officially a Prune fan, after a particularly soul-satisfying brunch at this miniscule East Village dining room (exterior, pictured above).
Now, considering that I'm not the most patient gal in the world, it should come as a shock that I am actually giving Prune kudos after a 45-minute wait in the cold with my friend Kristin for the restaurant's "no reservation" brunch. (Apparently an hour is the norm.) And, yet, Prune is definitely getting a rousing standing ovation from The Vamp, even with its unsightly "long-wait" wrinkle. Miraculously, even the "cramped table space" wrinkle didn't bother us.But, heck, what's a prune without a few wrinkles?
There is something bewitching about this teeny tiny establishment. Could it be its friendly, attentive waitstaff? Its unpretentious, homey bistro decor? The tempting menu? The gourmet delights that come forth from its teeny tiny kitchen?
All of the above to be sure - but there is also something to be said for the inspired leadership that comes from the restaurant's chef, Gabrielle Hamilton, who clearly has a very specific vision for Prune - and doesn't waver from it one iota.
Her brunch menu is a testament to culinary craft, home, neighborhood and comfort. Kristin and I had a difficult time narrowing the field. The Youth Hostel Platter, consisting of assorted fish pastes and sausages, creminded Kristin of bygone days, but didn't quite intrigue me as much as the Smoked Fish Platter which spotlights the wares of the restaurant's legendary neighbor Russ & Daughters. The Joe's Dairy Plate consisting of soft, fresh ricotta, seasonal fruit, jam and addictive fried scones, dusted with powdered sugar, also sounded like a winner. So did the peppery Spaghetti Carbonara. How to decide?
We felt it best to take a pause and concentrate on the drinks menu instead. Kristin delighted in the restaurant's nine varying riffs on the classic Bloody Mary, settling on the "Chicago Matchbox" which featured housemade lemon vodka, an array of pickled vegetables and caperberries, followed by a Red Stripe beer chaser. I wasn't quite as daring and ordered up a Pimm's Cup, which whimsically sported an pickle-sized wedge of cucumber.
With our drinks on the table, we knew a decision had to be reached in terms of food. We finally agreed on a split: an order of the Steak & Eggs, accompanied by a Monte Cristo with a side of fried eggs and red-currant jelly.
Question: When was the last time you actually swooned over a fried egg?
Yes, even the eggs are a treat.
Kristin and I oohed and aahed throughout the meal. We didn't want it to end. And, so it didn't. Although the restaurant's dessert menu isn't available at brunch, we made due with an order of Oranges Arabique - sliced oranges topped with fresh vanilla bean - and a side order of the fried scones with jam.
The line outside of impatient diners continued to grow. We felt the pressure. And, yet it would have been pure sin to gulp down these sweet jewels. We didn't rush, but we didn't dally either. When we finally rose from our wee corner table, we were sated and grinning ear to ear - not the least bit concerned about the wrinkles that our grins might cause.