Bloomingdale’s country might never again be what it was in the 1960s and ’70s, but Anassa Taverna does its damnedest to put the buzz back. This new Greek sparkler, its hype proclaims, “transcends patrons from the Upper East Side to the local dining experience of Plaka, Athens.”
Well, transcend this: The babes at Anassa flaunt more leg than they do on the Acropolis. The guys have what passes for class these days: shirts worn out of pants, but neatly. On style alone, Anassa makes Third Avenue matter again.
Younger New Yorkers might be shocked to hear that the blocks around Bloomie’s were once a place for action. Dylan’s Candy Bar’s kiddie legions can’t replace the trendies who flocked to Yellowfinger’s. Cinemas I, II and III can’t touch the original Cinema I, where another generation lined up for hours to see “A Clockwork Orange” rather than to eat at Mission Chinese.
Replacing tediously mediocre Brasserie 360, Anassa sways to the whim of breezes wafting through big, open windows on warm nights. The sexily lit bar glows red and gold, drawing a flirty crowd unseen in these parts since the days of Daly’s Dandelion.
Timber, marble and brick evoke the Greek coast without clichés; the ground floor is more attractive than the formulaic upstairs.
Greek cuisine is essentially simple. Anassa sometimes simplifies it further, to the point that some dishes seem more modern-American than Hellenic. Among them: perfectly grilled salmon filet, fervently herbed lamb chops and braised veal shank with orzo and feta cheese.
Executive chef Nikolaos Karvelas’ kitchen seems inclined to de-ethnicize things. “Classic Greek” salad is overcomposed into discrete rows of tomatoes, feta and cucumbers. Cheese saganaki, which I expect in a bubbling and gooey cauldron, sits like a brick.
Anassa happily dispenses with the fish-by-the-pound format (or racket) of pricier Greek spots such as Avra, where managing partner Tim Pappas previously worked. (All entrees but one are in the $20s.) However, the most impressive thing about parchment-wrapped bass was the parchment: Once opened, it revealed a thick cut a bit on the dry side and in want of seasoning.
There are splendid avgolemono classed up with fresh vegetables; marvelous charbroiled octopus that’s seared without burning; and dolmades rich enough to be a main course, although it’s a mere $17 starter.
A smooching couple at the bar looked more appealingly glued together than sludgy cuttlefish risotto drowned in truffle oil. It was offset by unconventional spanakopita they called “spinach pie” resembling a curled snake. Spinach, scallions and feta are wrapped in handmade phyllo dough nothing like the flaky norm; prepped with olive oil, salt and vinegar, it has gravitas that sets it apart.
Desserts rallied after a slow start, when almonds and walnuts in baklava were ground so thick as to jeopardize teeth. Today they’re what you expect, which is to say, just fine.
You don’t go to Anassa for cutting-edge departures or “authenticity.” It’s a fun place to eat and drink on a corner where nobody’s eaten or drunk this well in years. Catch the breeze and pretend summer’s just starting.