I had a song for you Thursday night. It was in response to a meal Lauren and I ate at Craftbar:
Specifically, it was in response to my first course: Sweetbreads. The song started like this:
“When a person’s mostly meat-fed
they can’t avoid a sweetbread
but from sweetbreads I obstain.
Yet if I were not an objecter
I could be Hannibal Lecter
if I only ate a brain.”
The song was a charming ditty, all set to be recorded, and then I learned something most troubling…
The brain I thought I was eating when I ate this delicious sweetbread…
…was not a brain at all. For I have latently learned that sweetbreads are not brains but thymus glands. Cue the Food Network Encyclopedia: “Prized by gourmets throughout the world, sweetbreads are the thymus glands of veal, young beef, lamb and pork. There are two glands–an elongated lobe in the throat and a larger, rounder gland near the heart. These glands are connected by a tube, which is often removed before sweetbreads are marketed.”
And so you have it: I am not a brain eater. I am a thymus gland eater. And this being my first thymus gland, let me tell you: I enjoyed it. It was crispy on the outside and–well–succulent on the inside. For something “prized by gourmets,” it’s not as decadent as foie gras or as fragrantly suggestive as truffles, but it’s worth trying at least once in your life. Especially if you have an extra thymus gland lying around.
Lauren and I were at Craftbar because her infrequent visits to the city from D.C. make any arrival a cause for celebration. And since neither of us had been to Craftbar, we figured it was a good project for this site.
The space is much larger than the old Craftbar, which I used to walk past on my way to ‘wichcraft. But ‘wichcraft is no more and Craftbar is now a full-sized restaurant. Compared to Craft (where I went with Derrick and Melissa) it’s much more casual, with bright colors on the walls and lighthearted waiters. Ours helped us pick wines by the glass to match our food. He, in fact, brought several bottles over for us to taste. Lauren and I really liked that.
When I was gnawing on what I thought was brain, Lauren noshed on a terrific appetizer of “pecorino cheese fondue.” I was dubious at first because we all know cheese-eaters are an inferior species to brain-eaters (or thymus gland eaters) but Lauren’s appetizer took the prize. The secret was in its sweetness.
“There’s honey in here,” declared Lauren.
I didn’t disagree. I just ate whatever she gave me.
For my entree, I had what foodies frequently call “the best meatballs in New York.” (I thought those belonged to Rocco Despirito? Zing!) These are Craftbar’s Veal & Ricotta Meatballs:
Light as a feather, stiff as a board: these meatballs are intimidatingly large and yet not overwhelming once they hit your mouth. I have a hard time justifying their appx. $20 price tag, but that’s for economists to debate. Would I get them again? To be honest: no. I don’t love meatballs that much. But these were well made.
Lauren had quail and we switched plates halfway through. I thought here quail was a bit dry in places, but I really admired the ravioli that came with it:
Do you notice the truffle shavings on top and the herbs pressed into the dough? That’s what I call a classy ravioli. And that was my favorite part of the entree service.
For dessert, we shared brown sugar cake with apple and ice cream:
‘Twas very tasty; ’twas consumed right quickly.
So in conclusion, Craftbar is a fine place to eat dinner. You can get exotic things like sweetbreads or comfort food like meatballs. Is it the best bang for your buck in New York? No, but it’s a welcome contribution to the scene. And if they start serving heart in a tin can, I’ll surely write a song about it.