Fork It Over The Intrepid Adventures of a Professional Eater-Mantesh by Unknown (rm book recommendations .TXT) 📕

of the same kind of food they’ve been eating all winter. Nearly thirty-five years ago, Henri Soule, the owner of Le Pavillon, pioneered this concept when he came to the Hamptons and opened one of the first great resort restaurants, the Hedges. Craig Claiborne, the legendary New York Times food editor and critic, now retired to East Hampton, says, “In those days, almost all the well-known restaurants in Manhattan closed their doors in the summer months. Soule thought all the fancy international crowd would follow him if he moved to the Hamptons, and he was right.”

Claiborne recalls Soule’s establishment in the Hamptons as being F O R K I T O V E R

3 7

“very fancy, very elegant.” That is not the prevailing style today. For the most part, the new places are either of the Cal-Ital genre (sconces, uncluttered walls, blond-wood tables, terra-cotta floors) or of the storefront genre (smaller, darker, homier). The Honest Diner, operated by Jeff Salaway and Toni Ross—she being the daughter of the late Steve Ross, chairman of Time Warner—is much talked about, and the tough-est table to get on a Saturday night is at The Palm steak house. Battling for top honors as the place to be seen are: Sapore di Mare, owned by Pino Luongo of Manhattan’s Coco Pazzo; Della Femina and East Hampton Point, both owned by advertising icon Jerry Della Femina and operated by Drew Nieporent of Manhattan’s Montrachet; and Nick & Toni’s, also owned by Salaway and Ross.

Rivalries, however fierce, are usually friendly—Nick & Toni’s sent flowers to Della Femina on opening night. The exception to this amia-bility is Luongo, who picks more fights than a sailor on shore leave.

Earlier this year, he ran an ad across four columns of the East Hampton Star warning potential customers to beware of restaurants run by com-petitors with Italian-sounding last names who didn’t offer a “real Italian dining experience.”

The challenge facing all restaurateurs is simple and obvious: Who’s going to be eating out in January and February? The village of East Hampton, which has a permanent population of only 1,500, has at least ten upscale restaurants. During July and August, it’s a certainty that every one will be filled on Saturday night. Fred Price, a manager of the 400-seat East Hampton Point, says, “There’ll be a Saturday night in the summer, I’m sure, when we’ll serve a thousand. And then we’re going to have to take the chef to the hospital.” The only year-round sure thing in the Hamptons is the patronage of one remarkable customer: Billy Joel. He is to dining in the Hamptons what George Washington was to sleeping in Bucks County. They can all boast, Billy Joel Ate Here.

For my purposes, I define the Hamptons as beginning at Basilico, a restaurant in Southampton, and ending fifteen miles east, at the Honest Diner in Amagansett. I did not include Westhampton in my survey because it doesn’t feel like a Hamptons town to me. I did include Sag 3 8

A L A N R I C H M A N

Harbor, which is located five miles north of Route 27, the main artery of the Hamptons. Sag Harbor is too cute to leave out. The village by which all others are measured is East Hampton, one of the most bucolic spots in America. No, you do not have enough money to buy there.

In two trips to the area, one in late April and the other in early May, I tried more than a dozen restaurants. A few times I ate only an appetizer. I spotted Eli Wallach (I think) at the Laundry, sat two tables from Princess Yasmin Khan (I was told) at The Palm, and saw Ralph Lauren (I’m certain) at Della Femina. Although I missed the grand opening of East Hampton Point, Billy Joel was there.

“I’ll have the pepper steak,” I tell Big Al Cavagnaro, the owner, chef, and bartender of Cavagnaro’s Bar & Grill in East Hampton. To find the place, you drive around East Hampton until you see a neon-lit restaurant that doesn’t look like it belongs in East Hampton. That’s Cavagnaro’s, which has been around far longer than all the places that look as though they do belong. Al’s father opened for business in 1933, and Al, who lives in back, took over in 1951. Inside, regulars are drinking shots poured from a bottle of Imperial whiskey as big as a harbor buoy.

A sign on the door says: try our lunch. Offered are hamburgers, corned beef, roast beef, and more. The special of the day is pepper steak.

Al, a big old guy pushing eighty, looks at me suspiciously with his one good eye when I ask for the pepper steak.

“Had that the day before yesterday,” he says.

“So why’s the sign still there?” I ask.

“Too lazy to take it down.”

“I’ll take the hamburger.”

“Didn’t grind any meat today.”

“I’ll take anything you got.”

“I got the spaghetti and meatballs I made yesterday.” I change my mind.

Al tells me to come back the next day, he’ll have something for me to eat.

.

.

.

F O R K I T O V E R

3 9

My first meal is at Southampton’s Basilico, attractive in a formulaic way: awning over the door, bottle of olive oil on every table. I order an appetizer that comes with fried onions and fried basil. The greasiness drives me out the door. I try another appetizer at the just-opened 95

School Street in Bridgehampton. The place is comfortable and low-key, offering newspapers and magazines in the bar area. I order tuna carpaccio topped with grilled shrimp, an unusual combination of unlike seafoods. The silky tuna nicely compliments the crispy shrimp, although the dish is flawed by an excess of lemon juice. It turns the raw tuna into tuna ceviche.

I complete my three-village, three-restaurant dinner at the Laundry, in East Hampton. I’m stunned when I walk in. I expect to see Hef and his Bunnies lounging on the black-vinyl boomerang-shaped couch wrapped around