read.
Green Zebra
CABBAGE HAS NEVER LOOKED LIKE THIS / April 2009
Allow me to preface this with some background.
When I was six, my family went to Mexico. Armed with our bikinis, our (sun)block and our beach reads, I thought we were in for a wholly enjoyable, if unmonumental holiday. My, how naïve I was. Rather than pore over vapid chick lit (like, hello, what else are you supposed to read with a daiquiri??), mom opted for ‘Fit for Life’ – and while I noshed on carne asada under the sun, mi madre was being persuaded to forgo meat. She finished the book beachside and left Mexico a vegetarian. Thus, so did I.
My rationale became more philosophically driven over the years, but still, it was never easy. My tender youth was spent craving tender chunks of chicken – and at 17, I decided I’d had enough. Done denying myself that oh-so-succulent sustenance, I almost immediately became nearly carnivorous. Six years and a cornucopia of game later, I’m as happy (if a little morally conflicted) as ever.
So when I was told repeatedly about Green Zebra, ‘this amazing Vegetarian restaurant you just HAVE to try,’ I was more than a little skeptical. I had gone sans meat, really. And I didn’t want to go back.
My, how naïve I was.
Green Zebra is like a surreptitious vegetarian oasis. I say surreptitious because while it is unabashedly meat-free (with the exception of usually one fish dish), even the biggest carniwhores among us seem to forget this by about the third bite of our first course (scientific fact). Other times, it might be that we do remain aware of the meal’s meatlessness, but simply don’t care. I experienced the former on my first experience, and by dessert, Green Zebra had firmly positioned itself on my ultimate restaurants list (it’s überexclusive, obv). It’s been two years and multiple visits since, and let me tell you something. It ain’t going anywhere.
The menu is globally influenced (think Thai spiced carrot soup, polenta, sweet potato potstickers) without feeling muddled, a multi-genre approach that excites the palate but doesn’t overwhelm it. And it changes seasonally, but to give you an idea, here’s a taste from my last rendezvous (necessarily abridged and out of order).
The caramelized endive (with baby beets, blood oranges and candied pecans) is a mind trick of a dish, the whole thing drizzled with rosemary honey so delectable I might have licked the remnants off my plate, had there been any. The buttermilk polenta, on the other hand, is a savory number packed with flavor, its fluffy triangles enhanced by the textural contrast of crunchy chestnut slices, and elevated by its super-duper-quadruple pickled peppers. My tasting notes read ‘I am a believer.’ Consider my faith in cornmeal renewed.
The shiitake mushrooms (with savoy cabbage and crispy potato wrappers) and the poached egg (with sourdough and smoked potato puree) prove consistently delectable, perennial menu-gracers well worth the nosh. Both irresistibly salty, the former is an innovative and playful take on a spring roll that remains one of the best courses I’ve consumed in this city. The latter is a dish that doubles as an excuse to throw dining etiquette to the wind (or under the table): You pick up the slice of sourdough, slop up the yolk and baconesque potato (yes, it really tastes like bacon), and delight over the fact that you’re eating with your hands. True to exec chef Shawn McClain’s (Spring, Custom House) style, these dishes are deceptively simple, the intricacy rendered in their layering. They also kind of make you want to moan with pleasure. McClain’s good at that.
And in some unexpectedly complex pasta, I realized he’s something for surprises, too. The parsnip ravioli – with tart grapefruit, winter greens and whole almonds – is a lesson in contrast, at once sweet, bitter, acidic, nutty and creamy. A roving interplay of flavorful delights, this is a fourth-course wonder that left even me and my other half speechless. And we almost never shut up. That’s saying something.
There was a miss, however, in the medjool dates, a Middle Eastern-inspired dish I found palatable neither in taste nor plating; with coconut custard and too-scarce eggplant, the accoutrements are masked by an overwhelming amount of parsley. But if you’re looking for something sweet, don’t fret – just eschew this course and hold off until dessert. The rice pudding with stewed pineapple is, like, unparalleled. Even usual rice pudding loathers love it.
And in that vein, my final word. I don’t care how much you like your steak and potatoes – or scallops and foie, or rattlesnake sausage – you will survive a night without it, and at Green Zebra, you’ll be happy you did. With zucchini and zen, this McClain masterpiece will open your culinary horizons…and have you extolling the merits of cabbage before you know it.