Allen & Delancey

Growing up in Florida, things like basements, cabins, chunky sweaters and chilly fall evenings made me literally gaga. I'd watch movies with summer camps in the Berkshires or romantic getaways at a lakeside house and think...Why is it so damn hot here? Why are there mosquitoes the size of my dog? New England looks cozy, cool...and sexy. All that candlelight. All that snuggling. All that red wine.

Once while I was in college, a friend of mine spent a phenomenal and secret weekend with her boyfriend at her aunt's lakeside cabin in Upstate New York—obviously I was ridiculously jealous. When she returned, she showed me all her (appropriate) pictures as a lame consolation prize. They were filled with brick-a-brack, wood plank ceilings and tons of velvet. I couldn't get enough.

So every time I visit Allen & Delancey in the Lower East Side, I have a strange, fantastic feeling that I'm in her photos. After sweeping through velvet curtains, my eyes need a moment to adjust to the dimly lit, narrow hallway of a bar. Beamed ceilings have that shabby-chic, not-quite-finished-but-who-cares feel and bulbs twinkle in a neat row above the dark bar. Behind the bartenders, shelves are filled with makings for cocktails galore—and porcelain dolls, art-class successes (and failures) and tzatchchis picked up on road trips somewhere in the Midwest, or maybe Provence. The same is sprinkled through the two main dining rooms, contrasting brassy chandeliers, opulent rugs, slick tables and luxurious booths. If I had a rich, wacky aunt myself (I've named her Aunt Zelda in my imagination for some reason) and threw a Jay-Z-style sexy/grown party at her vacation pad it would look like this—mischievous and playful but luxurious nonetheless. Aunt Zelda may paint with water colors, but you can tell from looking around she's got diamonds somewhere, too.

Through the seasons, Chef Neil Ferguson flits from menu to menu as market-ready produce cycles through. He keeps a few signatures throughout, though. From this bunch, is the hamachi with grapefruit beads. It's sleek and neat, a proficient palate opener, with all the zing you want without any superfluous decoration. Another perennial favorite is caramelized bone marrow. While the dollop of caviar is pretty ostentatious (and unnecessary in my mind), the sweet shallot puree and drippy succulence get me every time. Too bad a choice from the seasonal menu doesn't equal the two mainstays: Peeky toe crab ravioli lacks punch, and is swallowed in a salty crunch from pistachios and a too-thick green foam. The crab meat gets overpowered, even though underneath it all, it's sweet and lush with a tasty pasta wrapping.

To find Ferguson's real talents, the entreé section is where his heat hits the top. Although last time I visited it wasn't on the menu, when it is, the tersely and aptly titled "cabbage beef and onion" fills that hearty need the wintry digs call for. A huge chunk of tender beef sits beside its condiments, each requiring equal, quiet attention, but still a no-muss-no-fuss meal. The lamb chop is a more festive dish, with salty, tender meat dressed up in olives and eggplants for an unusual snap. For a real treat (again when/if they put it back on the menu), the lamb chop and neck is succulent with a potato puree to highlight the rosy meat's perfection. Surprising for a hibernation-inducing ambience, the real flavor explosion comes from a lighter dish: the snapper with braised celery is elegant and flaky, with a sultry whip of sugar from the wilted vegetable. A fork-licker for sure.

Dessert is relegated to the after-party and doesn't share the sparkle of the rest of the meal. Only a devilish take on snickers is chewy and intoxicating—honey ice cream seals the deal with a swath of freshness. For a more adult end, check out the diverse selection of cheese.

Sometimes I wonder if I like Allen and Delancey even more for the grown-up treehouse vibe than the savory, hearty food. Either way, I go back time and again, and I always love the feeling that at any moment I might have to pull out a lantern and long-lost fake ID to get in. Bring on the candles, vino and tight cardigans.

Allen & Delancey
Rating: Excellent
Address: 115 Allen Street at Delancey
Phone: 212.253.5400