Terroir

When Ash suggested we meet in my new neighborhood for a much needed happy hour catch-up sesh, I jumped at the chance to try Terroir. Terroir, “the elitist wine bar for everyone,” surged to such levels of popularity that they expanded their original location, an adjunct of the East Village restaurant, Hearth. There is now a location in TriBeCa and one just 6.5 blocks away from my apartment in Murray Hill. Yippee – something in my neighborhood that’s not a college sanctuary!

Just because it’s a wine bar that’s not geared toward the immediate post-collegiate crowd doesn’t mean it’s stuffy, which you’ll quickly learn from the chalkboard walls spacing out the exposed brick, magnetic letters, and quirky signs on the bathroom doors. (I actually chuckled aloud and stood outside the bathroom with my hand on the doorknob til I finished reading them.) The wine list is basically a three-hole-punched manuscript with section introductions that are bound to put you in a giddy drinking mood (who can resist a parody of SNL’s “D*** in a Box”?). “Wine Bar” to me often means an excuse to charge more for glasses of vino because you call it your specialty. Terroir, however, is reasonably priced with plenty of happy hour specials. We wanted to savor the last few days of Summer so we ordered a delicious bottle of French rosé. It managed to be fruity without being sweet.

There is a great menu of nibbles so we ordered three small dishes to share. Once again, we had to pick something ultra Summer-y so we started with a salad special of heirloom tomato, watermelon, and basil. Next we tried one of their fried ball varieties. Since we were going veggie on the other dishes, we chose the oxtail risotto balls. They tasted like a ragu without the tomatoes. Good flavor, but a little over-fried (yes, there is such a thing). Finally, we tried the tomato, basil, and egg bruschetta. They hit it out of the park with this one. The egg’s contribution was entirely yolk – no whites allowed (is that reverse racism?). Before cutting the incredibly thick country bread (that was still soft enough on the inside and crunchy enough on the outside to accommodate our bites – I was worried upon seeing the huge slice), Ash smeared the yolk all over the top so we each got some of the smooth sauce on half. The tomatoes, which had just the right amount of garlic seemed to have been stewed and was almost like a tar tare.