AVRA
141 E. 48TH ST. (212) 759-8550
‘I PREFER not to fraternize with my food before I eat it.” My squeamish friend explains why she sits out the waiter’s invitation to visit the impressive fish counter at Avra.
She’s missing a scene. Tonight the display is less fish tank than meat rack. The guys, feigning interest in the waiter’s spiel – “This is the lavraki, flown in from the coast of Greece” – paw and grope their giggling dates.
Two-month-old Avra, Manhattan’s newest Greek temple to the grilled whole-fish gods, is also its merriest. Archways, a plank-wood floor and Greek customers lend a whiff of Saturday-night Astoria to east Midtown. But Avra’s fish is a lot better than I’ve tasted in Astoria.
And it’s cheaper than at Milos, the Midtown restaurant that pioneered (for Manhattan) this style of ordering, where you choose whole-fish entrees by the pound. At Milos, this can result in post-digestive shock when you learn dorado just set you back $41.
At Avra, an equally fine specimen of dorado comes to just $23.30. Our three-course dinner for four with wine and drinks topped out at $301, a fair price for a Greek feast in Avra’s convivial ersatz-rustic setting of off-white walls, square pillars, colorful wall fabrics and gauzy white ones on the ceiling.
Avra’s three stars come with strings attached. Service is beglitched, especially when the place is as busy as it usually is. Your check might come with plates still on the table. The waiter who escorts you to the fish bar might vanish at sea, never to return. And beware the back room – not quite Siberia, but under-decorated and dull.
In the far-better front room, the mix of table setups – including giant booths for five and a 100-year-old table for “communal” dining – promotes schmoozing, and there’s a buzz even at weekday lunch. Gently arched portals lead gracefully from bar to dining room to the fish bar.
That’s where you see those whole fish, the act to catch on Avra’s extensive menu. Your selection, brushed with olive oil and lemon and the odd herb, is grilled over charcoal, filleted and delivered to your table, head and all. It arrives glistening, lasciviously sprawled across a long plate – an arresting sight.
I tried four of them over three visits. Dorado ($26 a pound) was buttery, and herb-scented enough to transport you to an Aegean village. Loup de mer ($24.50 a pound), equally pristine, came light brown on top, the fish a tad less sweet than I recall at Milos but every bit as rich.
Arctic char ($22.50 per pound), the menu insists, has “flavor similar to salmon and trout.”
If they say so: The dozen-odd fish choices have different complexions of flavor not easily pinned down by facile comparisons.
While those head-on babies are the stars, owners Nick Tsoulos, Nick Pashalais and Marc Packer have made a commitment to freshness and quality that’s apparent throughout executive chef Peter Spyropoulos’ menu.
Spanakopita ($8.50), a big triangular wedge, towers over most renditions of this cliché/classic: The delicate crust conceals exquisitely fresh-tasting spinach, feta and leeks, lighter on the tongue than it looks.
Appearances deceive as well in tuna souvlaki ($18.50). You’d never guess from their gray color how good the metal-skewered tuna chunks are, served atop homemade pita bread and brightened with lemon mayonnaise.
Grilled calamari ($9.50) stuffed with feta, tomato, and herbs, was a world-beating dish, the squid tender and the feta possessed of a rare, ricotta-like delicacy.
“Avra potatoes” ($6), meaty and herb-scented, are not to be missed. Among desserts, go with fresh yogurt and honey ($7); chocolate sorbet combined with baklava is not my cup of tea.
Skip the Greek wines, especially if the waiter suggests Hatzimach Merlot. Greek pride will survive in a place where Dover sole ($29 a pound) is prepared better than most French restaurants know how.
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