Talented chef Roxanne Spruance has left the troubled Cafe Tallulah—barely a month after its opening due to “creative differences.” (
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Shocking news awaited me on my first visit to train-wreck Cafe Tallulah last week, where the media for two months had hailed chef Roxanne Spruance’s “new twists” on French bistro cuisine:
She was gone! Yes! And barely five weeks since the corner place at Columbus Avenue and 71st Street opened, when grubstreet.com reported the owner had “met with more than 50 qualified chefs” before hiring Spruance, an alumna of Blue Hill at Stone Barns and wd-50.
That night they were out of most dishes, wine served by the glass recalled chemical solvent, and the soundtrack boasted such cutting-edge tracks as “The Watusi” by the Orlons.
The latest joint to claim it’s bringing a downtown vibe uptown (to the wild West 70s, no less), Cafe Tallulah might be the worst news on Columbus Avenue since a 1980s water main project put dozens of stores out of business. Maybe worse than the sudden closing of Lansky’s across the street and the imminent shuttering of the Emerald Inn.
In no danger of closing itself, Tallulah is ridiculously busy, thanks to publicist Lizzie Grubman’s way of filling a new house with scene-chasers oblivious to what they’re eating or paying.
It’s a place that makes a horrible time fun — if you’re lucky enough to have the bill paid by The Post. Did we really waste $211.47 for two on a meal (and an experience) I wouldn’t wish on a freebie-grubbing blogger?
Spruance and owner Greg Hunt parted ways over what Tallulah’s rep described as “creative” and the talented chef called “philosophical” differences.
Spruance said she left “on good terms.” Tallulah’s rep said Hunt wanted a “French bistro with a modern twist,” but not a “five-star type” operation she supposedly wanted — puzzling because, Spruance told us, the menu had been planned since last August.
Last week’s chaos sat oddly with cheery recent coverage. Cafe Tallulah was presenting “inventive” twists on clichéd bistro dishes, The Post reported. The pressed-tin ceiling, zinc bar and beveled mirrors struck the New York Times as “handsomely evocative,” a place where “A-listers and everyday customers” alike were welcome, as per dnainfo.com.
A ponytailed woman at the bar groping a guy rigid as an ice block presumably did not represent the A-list. Her advances failed to melt him. Maybe the menu, or what there was of it, had chilled him for good.
We passed up a dish of which the too cheerfully French-accented waiter said, “My grandmother would slap me eef I called this beef bourguignon; it is not beef bourguignon.”
I chose venison, one of the few main courses in stock. The waiter returned crestfallen to say they had just “sold the last one.”
Running out of options, I went with skate au grenobloise — the scrawniest specimen ever to touch a plate. With nary a molecule of brown butter, it did come with radicchio burnt through and through.
Some time between last Tuesday and Friday, when I came back, they hired a new chef: Patrick Farrell, who was once chef de cuisine at the International Culinary Center’s L’Ecole restaurant downtown.
But they were still having inventory issues on the liquid side: A friend found only half the draft beers in stock. They were out of some wine, including the Crozes Hermitage I asked for — “Unfortunately we are not able to offer that selection tonight.”
The kitchen was out of luck. Duck breast was artlessly carved into chunks aligned upright like dominos. The waiter had been right to warn us about beef bourguignon: It lay flavorless in a murky, wine-less sauce, attended by cold, curly noodles presented for reasons only the house knows in a tiny ramekin.
Will the menu change under a new chef? Tallulah’s rep said, “We’ll probably keep it but change some things.” Steak au poivre and cassoulet would be added, while sweetbreads, venison and monkfish — “a little too fancy” — face the ax.
Bon appetit!