It took more than a year for Bener Bilgin,
the owner of My Moon in Williamsburg, to gut the boiler room
of an old factory and transform the neglected space into the
performance venue and eatery he envisioned.
His hard work created a showplace with a towering ceiling, arched
brick walls and huge banquettes cleverly fashioned from the former
plant’s water tanks.
Above the long bar hovers a sculpture that resembles Emma Thompson
descending from the heavens in Tony Kushner’s "Angels in
America." Like so many places in the neighborhood, the walls
serve as a gallery space for local artists. When I visited, an
exhibition of paintings, strongly influenced by Picasso’s early
works, hung about the room. (A new display goes up every six
weeks.)
After a "Pomelitan" (Absolut citron and fruit juices),
the dark, multi-leveled space can seem as campy as it is dramatic,
like a hangout for creative types as envisioned by a set designer.
Artists and others may be in attendance on Wednesday when a live
belly dancer entertains; they may show up on Fridays for jazz
sessions, or on Saturdays when a DJ spins ’80s rock or house
music, but on a recent Tuesday evening, only a few tables in
the 246-seat dining room were filled.
The nearly empty restaurant may be due in part to a chef just
getting his bearings in the kitchen. Manny Marin, who cooked
for Palio in Manhattan, took over the kitchen in early March.
He offers an eclectic mix of Spanish, Turkish and Mediterranean
meze and tapas – little plates meant to be shared – as well as
a small selection of entrees. The menu makes a good read: garlic
shrimp in white wine; grilled octopus with chopped red onions
in a sherry vinegar dressing; "boreks," the phyllo
dough turnovers filled with feta cheese; and other dishes that
promise a lively dining experience. However, much of the pleasure
lies on the page.
There were a few highlights: a briny seafood bisque; rare shrimp
and tuna over a salad with a tart, lemony dressing; and a silky
creme brulee tinged with orange. But too many overcooked, improbably
under-seasoned dishes made for a disappointing meal.
Pretty green zucchini patties, one of the hot meze offerings,
looked lovely drizzled with garlic yogurt dip; however, they
were bland and soft, and the garlic in the sauce was barely noticeable.
After such a dismal beginning, briny mussels, chunks of sweet
shrimp and lobster in a rich seafood bisque came as a surprise.
I understand why Marin thought sliced, toasted almonds in the
"tuna stack," one of the cold meze, would make an intriguing
addition. A few nuts would have added an interesting crunch to
the soft raw fish, but someone in the kitchen went overboard,
layering the mound’s center with so many almonds that munching
became labor intensive. Frizzled slivers of beets sprinkled over
the fish were chewier and a little sweeter than expected, but
pleasant. And dabs of roasted beet vinaigrette cried out for
salt.
Nothing was needed to improve the flavor of grape leaves filled
with rice and tiny cubes of apricots that lent a welcome note
of sweetness. Too bad they were left on the stove until the grain
went from tender to soggy.
A skewer of sweet shrimp and meaty tuna with delectable, chargrilled
edges redeemed the disappointing grape leaves. A pile of mixed
greens in a strong lemony dressing, which were served with the
kebab, complemented the fish’s smoky taste.
What should be the restaurant’s signature dish, "couscous
with 10 ingredients," turned out to be the biggest disappointment
of the evening. The waiter came to the table carrying an elaborately
engraved metal pan with a conical lid. With some fanfare, he
lifted the tagine’s top, revealing a small serving of pallid
couscous.
"It must taste better than it looks," I thought. Not
so. The lamb was cut into such tiny pieces I could barely taste
it; the vegetables were also diced into cubes so minute that
I’d need the team from "C.S.I." to detect them. As
far as spicing goes, that, too, was kept on the understated side.
There were no Middle Eastern notes in the small dessert list,
just the usual bistro-style suspects: creme brulee, chocolate
mousse and sorbet. I couldn’t find fault with the citrus-infused
creme, and the mousse was serviceable. Neither was memorable.
I suspect My Moon will be at its peak on warm spring days and
summer months, when its doors open onto a breezy, secluded courtyard
lined with tables. A change in ambience may soften the space,
but the kitchen needs more than a shift in mood to turn out decent
fare.
My Moon (184 N. 10th St. between Bedford
and Driggs avenues in Williamsburg) accepts American Express,
MasterCard and Visa. Entrees: $14-$18. The restaurant serves
dinner daily; brunch is available on weekends, from 11 am to
4 pm. For reservations, call (718) 599-7007.
