Next: Sicily

Stepping into the fifth incarnation of Next is a curious experience – at once familiar and novel.  Yes, the room looks just the same, lined with happy diners, with the bustling kitchen at the far end.  But there are differences.  Paris 1906 was all white tablecloths and gilded china.  During Thailand, there was the heady aroma of spices and jasmine rice.  At elBulli, roses hung above each table.  

Now, there are colorful, mismatched pottery plates on our table, and a handwritten note of welcome.  For it’s not just the food that changes between iterations, but also the experience – and Sicily, unlike the prior menus, is meant to evoke the feeling of a home-cooked meal rather than a formal restaurant dinner.


We had an aperitivo to start, Prosecco spiked with Amaro and a subtly herbal hint of chamomile.  Then came an assortment of dishes to share – panelle (chickpea fritters), arancine, caponata, and carciofi alle brace (grilled artichokes).  The arancini are almost impossibly light – with just a touch, the risotto balls reveal their filling of stewed lamb tongue.  (I’d never have guessed that’s what it was.)  99% Valrhona chocolate provides the caponata, a mix of summery vegetables, with unexpected complexity.  The artichokes are blackened on a Weber grill in the alley behind the restaurant and then dressed with a lemony vinaigrette; it’s a bit of a messy job scooping out the artichoke heart, but each bite is a tender and tangy reward.

Pastas were next, first bucatini with bottarga and basil, and then gemelli with sardine. I’ve never really cared for bottarga, cured roe, since it’s generally dry and unappealingly salty and crumbly.  Here, it has a mild flavor and a supple texture – a vast improvement. But the bucatini seemed thick and doughy, and much as I love pasta, I found this unremarkable.

The gemelli con le sarde, on the other hand, is lovely and satisfying, lightly dressed in a tomato sauce.  Pine nuts add texture and there’s a balancing sweetness from currants. The sardine filet is pristine, not at all fishy.

After pasta, we move firmly into family style for the fish and meat courses, dishes that are meant to evoke a celebration in a Sicilian home.


First, a generous swordfish steak, topped with a head of roasted garlic and a bundle of charred mint.  It’s served along with a bowl of faintly lemony stewed chickpeas and romanesco (beautiful, fractal-patterned broco-flower), which I liked even better than the fish.

As a palate cleaner, we had blood orange granita that was refreshingly tart and cooling, especially welcome since the dining room seemed to be getting warmer as the evening went on.  (Between the heat and the strains of Sicilian folk music in the background, I could almost imagine we were dining al fresco in Palermo.)

Dessert is a cassata, a traditional Sicilian cake that’s a real showpiece, decorated with pale green marzipan, white icing, and candied fruits.  Apparently cassata-decoration was a popular hobby among Sicilian nuns, who must have welcomed the opportunity to express themselves with the occasional flash of ostentation.  

The whole cake that was initially presented to us was just for display, taking a page from restaurants in Japan.  After admiring it, we each received a nicely plated piece – airy layers soaked in Nocino, a walnut liqueur, filled with ricotta and garnished with fruit and candied orange rind and herbs and whipped cream.  It was homey yet elegant, and very good.

Finally, a platter with fresh fruits and pastries, to snack on.  I tend to avoid cannoli and other fried desserts, but I tried these in good faith.  The cannoli shell is wafer-thin, really just a conveyance for the filling and the little Amarena cherries – in other words, to my taste.  There was also a sort of strawberry-filled fried ravioli and some hard sesame seed brittle, which I found less successful.  But the fresh strawberries and cherries, my last bites of the evening, were sweet and simple and a fitting end to a meal that really did feel like a celebratory dinner.