Sitting across from the Antlers PJs on Frederick Douglass between 112th and 113th is arriviste chef Ryan Skeen's new 5 & Diamond. The cozy restaurant unabashedly brings a bit of downtown flavor uptown, including a coterie of chattering corporate-squares over which the PJs observe in quiet, bewildered judgment, as if to say: Where'd these fucks come from?
And only irony of the richest sort could explain the satisfaction those same PJs must have felt at rumors of belligerence transpiring across the street. Although said rumors claim the front-of-the-house staff left in solidarity with the ever-charming Gwen Butler, Fraud only noticed two absentees between first and subsequent visits. With friends like these... Who knows the full-story behind the shakeup but dude, Mr. Skeen, has been described as "peripatetic," which we all know in this instance is just a fancy euphemism for "pain in the ass." (Mr. Skeen is formerly of Allen & Delancey, formerly of Irving Mill, and formerly of Resto, all in the span of the last three years.) And Ms. Butler has been described as... Well, she describes herself as "street." Recipe for a scrap if you ask me...
In any event, Fraud wishes Ms. Butler the best of luck in her future endeavors (as if she needed any more) and implores her to please, please, PLEASE bequeath her exquisite playlist to new management. On his first visit, Fraud sat in tranquil indulgence at the bar, sip sip sippin' on a perfect cocktail on a perfectly sunny day, listening to a mix that included classic Sade followed by this. It was a nice (head) nod to the neighborhood that deftly jibed with the space's aesthetic. But since Ms. Butler's departure the music has been, well, oddly confused. The PJs and Fraud disapprove.
Now onto the food...
Mr. Skeen's reputation carries with it a penchant for fatty pork dishes among other fatty ingredients that might not be good for you but taste fucking phenomenal. I can attest to the magnificence of both his downtown burgers at Resto and Irving Mill. Diamond's apparently 70% beef/30% pork (with some beef cheek in the mix) version--if less succulent (more charred) than its downtown cousins--is more than competent and either Harlem's best burger or a close second. He uncharacteristically goes bashful with the cheese though. Speaking of which, the gruyere and mimolette mac and cheese was disappointing for this very reason, not rising much above upscale Velveeta Shells & Cheese. Now, The Kid has fond memories of shells and cheese from childhood, so this isn't an altogether unwelcome association, but not exactly five-star or worth $8, nawha'imean? Maybe Mr. Skeen has been cowed somewhat by criticism of his less than health-conscious fare. To this I say: if haters gon' hate, let 'em hate. And don't spare the cheese, homeboy.
For the main course, me and Ms. Fraud enjoyed the grilled chicken and lamb. The "grilled" chicken was cleverly fried somehow, with a crispy exterior secreting incredibly moist meat inside. Not bad for what I assumed to be a boring ol' chicken dish. The lamb entree was decent, a flavorful dollop of duck salvaged the dish from mediocrity. Can't even remember the veggies (Or was it beans?) the lamb sat on top of, and the menu's no help in jogging ye ole memory. That about says it all for the lamb. Good but nothing to write home about.
5 & Diamond saves the best for last, the highlight of the dining experience being the creme brulee dessert. First time I hit it, I was a little worried. Too much custard, not enough brulee, like little lilly-pads of caramelized sugar floating atop a custard pond as opposed to the traditional, tundra-like cover. But I licked that ramekin clean, y'all. The grace note is the slightly bitter, chocolate spongecake lying in wait on the bottom, sublimely balancing the vanilla sweetness of the custard. Dope with a capital D, inDeeD. My apologies to the readers for skipping the assortment of exotic, aromatic cheeses. (For the cheese review, see his blog.) I had the creme brulee twice and would've hit it thrice but for some complimentary cookies given in reward for voluntarily "selling" the dessert to some fellow bar patrons. If torn between the cookies and the brulee, y'all, it's a no-brainer.
My only real gripe with 5 & Diamond (aside from the music of late) is the wildly inconsistent quality of the cocktails, seemingly due to the restaurant's unsettled staffing. To be frank, if the, ahem, sapphic bartender is tending, full-speed ahead. Avoid the hipster whiteboy, apparently sidetracked on his way to Williamsburg, and the "Old(er) Queen." Neither measured out the drinks--a no-no unless making something akin to vodka-soda--and free-poured to mostly disastrous effect, the single non-disastrous effect being that Fraud got good and tipsy off some make-up drank. (Underlining once again that making up is indeed the best part.) I should add that drinks are, surprisingly, only $10, so keep that in mind.
In conclusion: ONE-AND-A-HALF THUMBS UP, does down (and subject to revision, see below). Does as in rabbits, son. Joint ain't cheap, y'all (entrees range from $18-$30). Only take wifey, not the jumpoff. Hell, make wifey take you on a special occasion, like Wednesday. If you're looking for a finishing move for somebody in between the wifey and the jump-off, you could take her for drinks. If she holds her nose, she'll get drunk, and you'll get it in. My dude.
5 & Diamond
2072 Frederick Douglass Avenue bet. 112th and 113th
646.684.4662
***For my devoted readership, I promise to supplement this review with somethin' on the rascally rabbit pasta and the shrimp and grits hush puppies. I got you.***
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