First off, a disclaimer of sorts.
This is not a review. No, no, nothing of the sort. As Sheryl pointed out to me long ago, I am much too familiar and vested in the goings’ on at The Black Hoof to be objective about anything they might be doing on any given day.
No, this is more like a retelling of what I had for brunch yesterday in a ‘na na na na na, look what I had that you didn’t‘ kind of way.
Obnoxious? Perhaps. But who would’ve thought that reverting to 5 year old-like boasting would be so wickedly delicious?
We entered the former Chelsea Room space shortly before noon on Sunday. Tipped off to the opening by Corey Mintz’ Porkosity, after I mentioned it to the Everyman on Saturday night, he suggested that we visit immediately upon waking Sunday morning.
Once you cross over the threshold, it’s hard to believe that this space used to be a nightclub/lounge/bar type place, because it is literally postage stamp sized. But, a beautiful tin ceiling and antique looking cabinets chockful of Jen’s mixology creations make the 30 (18 table/12 bar) seat room undoubtedly Hoof-like. When we arrive all the tables are full, so we opt to eat at the bar rather than waiting for one to clear up.
Before I know it, my gluttony’s gotten the better of me and I’ve ordered not only a suckling pig benny (benedict), but also added a bone (marrow), while the Everyman has opted for the ploughman’s lunch. My benny is succulent, and comes with a lovely little salad topped with some achingly crispy pig skin puffs. One can never go wrong with a helping of bone marrow, and at 12 in the afternoon it’s like gilding the lily as I wash it down with fruity glasses of red wine.
The ploughman’s platter is a mini charcuterie board covered in terrine, cheese (if I’m not mistaken it was Thornloe’s Evanturel or something similar), goat butter, several sliced meats, pickled celery, chantrelles and cornichons and a few splotches of mustard. It’s been a good 3 months or so since the last time we visited The Hoof I think; it was still patio weather at the very least, but the real revelation for both of us yesterday was the goat butter. It was creamy, sweet and so pale white that when they originally set the plate down I thought it was a tiny cube of lardo. The rate at which the Everyman made the platter disappear should be all the compliment necessary to reassure the chef of his supreme meatawesomeness.
And as if that wasn’t enough gorging, once we’d both cleaned our plates, we decided to order 2 sides to finish off. A plate of house ham and another of toast, jam, and goat butter combined into a wonderfully ironic “dessert” of sorts once we layered the toast with butter, then a slathering of grape jelly, followed by a slice of the salty, fatty ham. Divine. Surprisingly, despite all of the food we consumed, I felt much less bloated than when we go there for dinner.
Stumbling towards the exit, 2 things occurred to me as I surveyed the now-packed room.
1) I was much drunker than usual for 2 o’clock in the afternoon
2) It might be a long time before I’d ever be in that room again, because once word gets out that The Hoof Cafe is open, I’ll never be able to get in there, either.
I’m considering stopping in for lunch on Friday (when it will likely be quieter) to explore a little more of the deliciousness before I get shut out.
In the meantime, all I have to say on the matter is nom.
Until next time…
Tags: Corey Mintz, Grant Van Gameren, Porkosity, Restaurants, The Black Hoof, The Hoof Cafe, Traditions Of Thornloe
