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Restaurant Review: Primary Food and Drink

  • Writer: boxton9
    boxton9
  • Dec 11, 2022
  • 3 min read

Updated: Dec 12, 2022

Graham Elliot's First East Coast Restaurant Deconstructs American Standards


Westchester Magazine Restaurant Review, April 2014


This was a very silly—and very temporary—restaurant.

(Above) Parmesan Fluff on a Brioche Twinkie; just one element in Primary's rethought Caesar salad.


If you’re really looking for primary food and drink, chances are you won’t find it at Graham Elliot Bowles’s first East Coast restaurant, Primary Food & Drink. There is nothing elemental about this sleekly styled restaurant in Greenwich, Connecticut, the closest East Coast analog to Beverly Hills, CA. Yet despite an obfuscating name, Primary embodies the almost magical pairing of restaurant concept to its well-heeled clientele. Though we encountered several missteps, Primary is a stylish restaurant that delivers Americana flavors with a big dose of glamor.


First, Primary bears the sort of brand-name blinginess that’s perfectly suited to Greenwich Avenue. If you’re a foodie, you will have heard of Chef Graham Elliot Bowles and his two Chicago restaurants, Graham Elliot and Graham Elliot Bistro. The first of Elliot’s eponymous restaurants, Graham Elliot, snagged two Michelin stars, while Bowles himself has been nominated for three James Beard Awards. The killer in Elliot’s status, though, is his weekly turn (with Gordon Ramsay and Joe Bastianich) as a judge on Fox Network’s MasterChef. There, Elliot’s trademark tattoos and ice-white spectacles have made him a national brand.


Fans who know Elliot through the jazzy MasterChef production might be puzzled by the understatement in Primary’s dining room. It features all the familiar neo-vintage touches: Carrera marble, outsized white subway tiles, and old-fashioned barstools. An open kitchen lends modernity to the space while clusters of hanging globe lights accentuate its height. Nightly, Elliot may be found at any one of his restaurants (or on the MasterChef set), though you will catch Elliot in Greenwich at least once a month. Day-to-day operations in Greenwich are overseen by his managing partner and longtime collaborator, Executive Chef Merlin Verrier.


Primary’s menu features classic American and Continental comfort foods that have been dramatically rejiggered into modern cuisine. Take the chicken noodle soup that arrived looking like the underside of the She-Wolf of Rome, all baby carrots jutting up from a broth that was remarkably unflavored by chicken. But for showy plating (and a timbale of feathery pressed chicken shreds—an unpleasant texture that reappeared later in a main of Moroccan lamb), this $12 bowl of watery soup was unremarkable (and no longer on the menu). Buffalo chicken ($14), another American classic, was also dressed up for Greenwich Avenue. In this case, it entailed a tasty, golden fried chicken roulade complemented by celeriac slaw, Roquefort crumble, house-made hot sauce, and celery leaves. As one might predict, Primary’s Caesar salad ($13) is deconstructed, its romaine hearts partnered with Spanish anchovy, Parmesan “fluff” (like a marshmallow), and a brioche Twinkie. Fun—but “primary” this salad is not.


Some dishes appear without a wink, like the craveable beef tartare ($16), or the oysters with Champagne gelée and fresh chervil ($18). Sadly, when we splurged on the last, two of the six bivalves were still attached to their shells, necessitating some unseemly bite-and-scrape at the table; a more elegant option is Primary’s seasonally changing crudo ($15-$18). On one night, we caught beautiful, pearl-gray slices of mackerel served with sesame-scented nori and bursting sections of grapefruit. Also excellent, slippery butter-browned gnocchi paired with fragrant, russet-hued chanterelles ($15).


Don’t miss Primary’s beverage program, which offers fashionably old-fashioned cocktails. Look for the Road to Manhattan ($14), a twist on a classic Manhattan, shaken with persimmon-infused bourbon, fresh lemon, bitters, and maple syrup. Also good, the Solstice Sour ($14), a creamy mouthful of Monkey Shoulder Scotch, egg whites, fresh lemon, and allspice syrup. Save some sobriety for Primary’s wines, all thoughtfully presented by staffers. In particular, we appreciated our waiter’s suggestion of Jean-Claude Bessin Chablis ($16/glass).


For every success at Primary, we encountered a misstep. Scallops ($37) arrived without bounce, cooked well past optimal—worse, their delicate flavor was clobbered by spice. A small portion of Maine lobster ($42, with Japanese yuzu and toasted coconut) was overwhelmed by a mountain of bland forbidden rice, while beef stroganoff ($35, with filet mignon and black trumpet mushrooms) featured a bland and oddly chosen cut of beef. Primary initially made this dish with short ribs and it was better. Still, Primary is a likeable place. When we were served the wrong main, the manager simply added the correct one to our table and laughingly encouraged us to enjoy all three.


Desserts ($10-$12) are multi-media affairs that unite a world of flavors, textures, and temperatures. These can feel like meals in themselves, so plan to share. While we quibble with an overly gelled crème brûlée or an inexpertly spherified Hawaiian pineapple with our carrot cake, each dessert comes with multiple components. Hunt around—you’ll find something to love—like the carrot cake accompanied by delicious Neuchâtel gelato and walnut brittle.


2 Comments


terrancecart.e.r.36.0.7
Aug 16

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savannapatt.er.s.on.7.0.4
Aug 11

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About Me

I Was Supposed to Go to Grad School

Growing up in a large, loud family of 7, they use to call me “Pass Me The, Pass Me The” for the way that I’d try to doctor my dinner with whatever condiments were on hand. At about 8 or 9, I gave up on condiments and took control of dinner entirely, cooking out of a beat-up copy of The New York Times Cookbook that I still own, my little penciled-in annotations intact. I cooked for 7 people nightly, all throughout high school. By the time I was winding up college, I’d become a damn fine cook.

 

My father was a professor of American History. I figured I’d follow in those footsteps, teaching Dickens to 18-year-olds who were not at all interested. I gathered applications to doctorate programs, meanwhile, I took a job as a waiter in a busy catering company. The kitchen where I worked was perpetually understaffed—my cooking skills were quickly identified and I was press-ganged onto their crew. I LOVED it—the excitement, the creativity, the freedom, the trench humor, learning professional cooking techniques. There I stayed for several years while my graduate school applications gathered dust.

 

Cue me, later, a refugee from a crash-and-burn restaurant opening where I was not only the sous-chef, but also the loan application writer and babysitter for a chef/owner who had gone spectacularly off the rails. By then, I had a couple of herniated discs and no desire to stay in restaurants. I moved back to the world of words, and I’ve never looked back. 

 

Since then, I’ve been a restaurant critic, a national award-winning blogger, a food journalist, a travel writer, a columnist, a cookbook author, and the editor-in-chief of four Edible titles. I can’t wait to see what's next.

 

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