A Fromage to Remember: A Review of Artisinal

Nothing would demoralize a foodie like me quite like the neighborhood in which I work: Murray Hill/Gramercy, a virtual culinary dead end both with hours and taste. Oh, of course there's Shake Shack but that's an hour wait, and on the receiving end is after everything, not all that haute. So I was surprised to hear that there was a world-cass fromagerie tucked into the cold concrete environs of Park Avenue South and 32nd. But indeed there is.

Artisinal is snooty. Given that my friends (and myself) trend to run on the pink hair/visible tattoos front, the nerves were somewhat expected, though nothing catastrophically Gallic happened. But glorious French food there was to behold: my companions dipped into a light delicious watermelo salad with feta straight from Mt. Olympus and I tidily nibble through six tender delicious escargot. And while the French onion soup does cost you ten bucks, it's also smothered stoutly in cheese-- if you want something light, that's not where to look. But it got cooed over a table of six and another was even ordered.

But Artinsal's main glory is its fondue, which comes in six flavors, or rather strengths. The house blend of six cheeses (I caught the waiter saying Guyere, Swiss and Brie at least) is thick and induces a stupor so fantastic and complete that only half sentences could be utterly after dipping in hunks of torn bread. Oh, on the subject of bread, special mention must be made of their butter. Slick and smooth past all reckoning, it's probably the best I've ever had, too silken to be called creamy, and I'd be remiss if I didnt mention the excellent wine list-- But the melting luscious cheese keeps the whole thing aloft cradling you gently in a--well, ahem Artinsal does provoke a lot of purple prose, which it ought given its cavernous cafeteria like surroundings and slightly uptight service. Approach the cheese counter at your own risk, but by that time you'll scarcely be able to feel your feet, your head or your pocketbook.

Now excuse me, I need to go into a reverie.