Keeping things on the smaller side can be advantageous in certain situations, like if you're a professional jockey, or a kiddie pool, which is known in racing circles as a "jockey pool". Decisively siding with smaller portions, Restaurant M
After a two-year dormancy, the colonial manor bordering the historic Morris House Hotel's re-opened with a new chef, who's designed a menu that discards the larger, complex entrées of M's '06-'07 run, and instead features a selection of small plates for delicately inhaling in either the white-tablecloth'd rear dining room or at wrought-iron tables on the idyllic English-ish courtyard surrounded by rows of dogwoods and magnolias that seal it off from bustling Washington Square like a fragrant, flowering cyclone fence. Apps range from olive oil-fried calamari w/ tomato agrodolce, and poached figs w/ gorgonzola dolce wrapped in Prosciutto di Parma, to six varieties of bruschetta, including Delice de Bourgogne w/ truffle honey, chicken liver pâté & caramelized onions, and caponata spread w/ Prima Donna shavings -- enforced hygiene sessions David Beckham absolutely hates. Slightly heavier fare includes a trio of empanadas, long hollow Bucatini pasta "alla Matriciana", Ligurian gnocchi in pesto, and sandwiches like grilled chicken w/ smoked mozzarella & pesto mayo; prosciutto, mozzarella & tomato; and one with braised short rib covered in Dora's tucco, because once she stopped exploring, it just blew up
Top-shelf hooch flows behind the five-seat bar in the retouched front sitting room, and bottled beers include Yuengling, Paulaner, Stella, and ESA, IPA, Philly Pale, and the Brawler from Yards -- but you'd be angry too, if you found jockeys splashing around in yours.
After a two-year dormancy, the colonial manor bordering the historic Morris House Hotel's re-opened with a new chef, who's designed a menu that discards the larger, complex entrées of M's '06-'07 run, and instead features a selection of small plates for delicately inhaling in either the white-tablecloth'd rear dining room or at wrought-iron tables on the idyllic English-ish courtyard surrounded by rows of dogwoods and magnolias that seal it off from bustling Washington Square like a fragrant, flowering cyclone fence.