The interior of The Library is warm and inviting, with dark wood, books, pillars and girders.
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One night at The Library at the Public, I asked the waitress to defend the awful screeching from the sound system right over our heads.
“Smooth jazz,” she said with a smile. A mellow take indeed on Eric Dolphy’s 1964 “Hat and Beard,” which sounds like a braying horse battling a power drill.
But then, it’s easy to mellow out at The Library, newly secreted onto the Public Theater mezzanine. The accessible menu’s funkier than you’d expect inside an arts complex, even for a menu created by Locanda Verde/The Dutch god Andrew Carmellini.
Most times the music is just right. So why did we start out with the one time it wasn’t? Got your attention, right? Which isn’t easy describing a noshing zone that’s almost too normal, too civilized, for a neighborhood full of overreaching eardrum-breakers.
The Library, part of the Public Theater’s $40 million “revitalization,” is meant as a canteen for showgoers. But don’t let that stop you even if the last live theater you saw was the original “Cats.”
Don’t be put off either by the Public’s lobby, crawling with functionaries who repeatedly ask where you’re going. A back stairway leads to a flatteringly lit, David Rockwell-designed sanctuary of dark wood, pleated banquettes and shelves lined with works of Shakespeare, Voltaire, et al., like a “Great Books” collection sold on late-night TV.
The mood is textured, with industrial motifs including pillars and girders like the underside of the el tracks. A three-sided bar is as cozy as they come, and a central communal table as current as any within 20 blocks.
The Library is the classy spawn of Joe’s Pub, the Public’s popular music venue. The menu, fussily divided into Acts I, II and III, is similar but larger. You can eat for peanuts from the first two (everything’s under $20), but the slightly pricier mains are usually worth it.
Six weeks ago, my friend and I agreed, “This isn’t Carmellini’s food.” He’s busy with Lafayette, the French brasserie he’s soon opening nearby. The Library’s chef of record is Michael Oliver. On my first visit, salty Parmiggiano-Reggiano “pizza” popcorn singed tongues like ant-killer. Beet salad tasted as full of sugar as dessert cobbler.
But things got better each time I returned. And while the short wine list is just barely there, the cocktails are grand. They know how to make old-fashioned classics like, well, an Old Fashioned, as well as inventions like the Oriental, a potent brew of Overholt rye, Combier orange, Dolin sweet vermouth and lime.
There’s a splendid burger, juicy and loaded with mouth feel thanks to a 50-50 chuck and brisket blend. But most of the lineup offers unexpected twists on comfort dishes, even if they’re Carmellini Lite.
There’s no chicken breast or grilled salmon, those old warhorses. I flipped over seafood gumbo with Andouille sausage — a $17 meal in itself, each element distinct in a heady broth. Sadly, it was yanked after Sandy made green crab disappear; come back soon!
At least some nights, pasta, freshly prepared and al dente, could pass muster at Locanda Verde. In a typical menu quirk, Carmellini pairs sausage and broccoli rabe with rigatoni instead of the usual orecchiette in one of his patented, vivid red tomato sauces.
There’s sting in the salsa suffusing tender ruby-red shrimp in floppy corn tacos. But it’s baffling to find pulled pork rolls without the peppery piquancy they need. It’s a shame because the meat’s supple and vinegary. It wants a sauce, a rub — if not spicy, how about at least sweet?
The happiest surprise was Catskills trout — a generous fillet with a Dover sole texture, crisp-skinned and boneless, atop fresh lentils and butternut squash.
Basic, fun desserts like chocolate-vanilla soft serve send you out smiling. Just be careful, after those cocktails, to watch yourself on the stairs.