Fried calamari? I love it. There, I’ve said it. Look, it’s not something I am proud of, but I’m being honest. It’s one of my guilty pleasure foods—one you know you shouldn’t really eat, for health reasons first, but also because, well, it’s not exactly the most hip culinary choice. Perhaps a plate of delicately fried heirloom zucchini blossoms stuffed with homemade local ricotta from Salvatore’s, but fried calamari? Not so much. It’s one of those foods I used to eat at TGI Friday’s, along with potato skins and nachos. These are among the foods I loved as a teenager, a time where I wore Capezios, Guess jeans that zipped at the ankle, and legwarmers, and watched The Love Boat and Fantasy Island on Saturday nights. But I love my fried calamari. I remember Jamie and I having dinner one night at a no-name neighborhood restaurant in the Village many years ago, and while perusing the menu, I said, “Well, the fried calamari sounds interesting,” hoping she’d humor me and agree to get some for us to share.  She smiled, “Oh, yes, that sounds very interesting, indeed.” We cleared our plate.

Now, I know I am in the minority. Who’s gonna order fried calamari at a fancy NYC restaurant? Moreover, what self-respecting chef is gonna serve it? Well, let me break it to you gently: Jean-Georges Vongerichten, that’s who (along with his immensely talented chef de cuisine, Dan Kluger). They’re serving their fried calamari at ABC Kitchen where it’s fantastic, dusted in a remarkably crunchy batter made from Greenmarket’s Martin’s homemade pretzels and served with a pulpy marinara sauce and a bold mustard aioli for aggressive dipping and finger licking. You will not be able to leave one last tentacle on your plate.

I’d go back for that dish alone, and brave the nightly ridicule, except that I’d probably have add the scallops to the order too—another miraculous dish, though quite a bit more elegant; an ascot as opposed to a red bandana. Plump fat scallops are shaved into gossamer petals and dressed with freshly grated horseradish and lemon, sparkling flavors that balance the scallops’ buttery mouth feel with just the right jolt of acidity and heat.

Indeed, the Appetizer and Market Table sections of the menu at ABC Kitchen, the newish restaurant in ABC Carpet & Home, offer a wealth of wonderful eating opportunities.  A verdant salad of snow peas, bursting at the seams with their precious pea cargo, is served with a Parmesan dressing and a dusting of fresh herbs ($12), like cool summer sunshine in a bowl. Adrienne, who’s never been known for liking her vegetables, kept the salad close by, guarding it in her corner of the table, like a mother protecting her cub. We were also impressed with the beets, roasted until tender and sweet, and then given a tart punch from a lovely yogurt and lemon dressing ($9).

The peekytoe crab toasts were heavenly as well, mounds of the sweetest summer crab dressed in lemon and chiles, piled onto soft slices of thickly cut toasted bread. Susie was adamant that we needed to double our order. Come to think of it, we probably should have. We were there to celebrate Susie’s birthday after all, why not have a peekytoe bonanza? Honestly, we could have tripled it, even. It was that good. Maybe next time along with the calamari and scallops.

When we dine—and in this instance the “we” refers to Jamie, Susie, Adrienne, and I—we order (and eat) as a group; all decisions are voted on in a fairly democratic manner. But it was Susie’s birthday, so she got the last word, and I was skeptical of why she needed to order the crostini topped with mozzarella and heirloom tomato with basil. It just didn’t sound like it was going to be all that exciting. But once I tasted it, I was quite glad we’d obeyed. When tomatoes are plucked straight from the farm and marched directly to the table, it’s really hard to go wrong. Add some fresh creamy mozzarella and torn basil leaves, and a sprinkle of sea salt, and what’s better? Two orders, that’s what.

The food at ABC Kitchen is not only excellent, not only hyper local and sustainable (a list of purveyors and sources for all food, beverages, and design materials is enumerated on the back of every menu), it’s also quite a lot of fun and quite reasonably priced. You’d be hard-pressed to find food this good anywhere in the city at these prices.

Take his selection of pizzas. He’s not taking himself too seriously, serving some triple zero flour based ancient Neapolitan recipe. Rather, he’s serving wonderfully chewy and crisp (yes, all at the same time!) pizzas that taste sinful but are apparently fashioned from whole wheat. We devoured the one topped with tomatoes, housemade chicken sausage, kale and ricotta ($15). I loved the interplay of flavors and textures. He could very well open a pizza shop and offer Otto a run for its money.

Of the pastas, I have to send a shout out to the old school Jewish guy in the kitchen who decided to serve kasha with lusciously airy golf-ball sized meatballs made from tender veal and creamy ricotta ($14). It’s traif, for sure, but it’s delicious.

We also loved the fish, a black sea bass basted in butter suffused cut with chile and herbs with a side of red bliss potatoes and lemony spinach ($25). The fish would have made Eric Ripert do a double take it was that good: moist and silky and well seasoned a flash of heat and the freshness of soft herbs.  

The only part of the meal that didn’t wow me was dessert. We opted for a special: a buttermilk biscuit cake with blueberries and vanilla ice cream. It was doughy and lifeless, and did not do justice to the fruit.  Considering it was a birthday dessert, it was a bit of a disappointment, but this was the meal’s only miss. Otherwise, it was an exceptional evening of food, service, and company.

I should also mention that the restaurant, with a windowed bar up front and a wide dining room in the rear, is lovely: pretty but rustic, Anne of Green Gables meets Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It seems the place has finally been exorcised of ghosts of restaurants past: Colina, Chicama, Lucy, Lucy Latin Kitchen, all of them, dust in the face of a new design that includes ethereal elements of silvery light and sheer glass with rustic urban hardware, weathered beams, and wrought iron trim. Antique chandeliers strewn with what appear to be singing blue birds light the room with a sort of dewy glow, adding a mirage of delight and wonder. I could have sat there all night long, just bathing in that light, and wondering how I might be able to get some fried calamari for dessert. Now, that would be interesting.

ABC Kitchen is located at 35 East 18th Street, between Broadway and Park Avenue South, 212- 475-5829.

Andrea Strong