Police Said to Be Investigating Second Complaint Against Batali

The New York Police Department is investigating a second sexual assault complaint against the celebrity chef Mario Batali, a person familiar with the matter said Monday.

In that complaint, which has not been previously reported, a woman told the police in March that Mr. Batali drugged and sexually assaulted her in January 2004 at the Spotted Pig, a popular restaurant in Greenwich Village owned by the restaurateur Ken Friedman and the chef April Bloomfield. The person familiar with the case spoke on the condition of anonymity.

On Sunday, “60 Minutes” interviewed another, unidentified woman who said Mr. Batali had sexually assaulted her in 2005 at the Spotted Pig. The woman said she had passed out after drinking with him, and woken up with scratches on her leg and semen on her skirt; she called a rape crisis hotline and had a rape kit taken at a hospital. . The woman said she reported the incident to the police but did not file a complaint.

J. Peter Donald, a spokesman for the Police Department, confirmed Monday that it is now investigating that 2005 incident, but would not confirm the 2004 complaint. Mr. Batali has said he “vehemently denies” allegations that he engaged in any nonconsensual sex.

The New York Times reported in December on claims by several current and former employees that they had been sexually harassed by Mr. Friedman and some of his guests, including Mr. Batali, at the Spotted Pig and other Friedman-Bloomfield restaurants. Jamie Seet, a former general manager at the Spotted Pig, said that during a party in 2008, she intervened when she saw on the security camera feed that Mr. Batali, who was drunk, was groping and kissing a woman who appeared to be unconscious. The website Eater investigated similar behavior by Mr. Batali toward his staff.

Mr. Batali, 57, is an investor in the Spotted Pig and a longtime friend of Mr. Friedman. Both men were immediately removed from daily operations at the restaurants they once led. Their partners have been trying to extricate them from their restaurants entirely.

On Sunday night, after the “60 Minutes” report, the B&B Hospitality group, the empire of more than 20 restaurants built by Mr. Batali and his partners Joe and Felidia Bastianich, said in a statement: “The accounts tonight were chilling and deeply disturbing,” and added, “Our partnership with Mr. Batali is ending.”

Ms. Bloomfield also issued a statement, saying, “I am in the final stages of severing my partnership” with Mr. Friedman.

In recent weeks, Mr. Batali has been talking with friends and associates about whether a comeback or a new career might be possible.

Al Baker contributed reporting.

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Police Said to Be Investigating Second Complaint Against Batali

The New York Police Department is investigating a second sexual assault complaint against the celebrity chef Mario Batali, a person familiar with the matter said Monday.

In that complaint, which has not been previously reported, a woman told the police in March that Mr. Batali drugged and sexually assaulted her in January 2004 at the Spotted Pig, a popular restaurant in Greenwich Village owned by the restaurateur Ken Friedman and the chef April Bloomfield. The person familiar with the case spoke on the condition of anonymity.

On Sunday, “60 Minutes” interviewed another, unidentified woman who said Mr. Batali had sexually assaulted her in 2005 at the Spotted Pig. The woman said she had passed out after drinking with him, and woken up with scratches on her leg and semen on her skirt; she called a rape crisis hotline and had a rape kit taken at a hospital. . The woman said she reported the incident to the police but did not file a complaint.

J. Peter Donald, a spokesman for the Police Department, confirmed Monday that it is now investigating that 2005 incident, but would not confirm the 2004 complaint. Mr. Batali has said he “vehemently denies” allegations that he engaged in any nonconsensual sex.

The New York Times reported in December on claims by several current and former employees that they had been sexually harassed by Mr. Friedman and some of his guests, including Mr. Batali, at the Spotted Pig and other Friedman-Bloomfield restaurants. Jamie Seet, a former general manager at the Spotted Pig, said that during a party in 2008, she intervened when she saw on the security camera feed that Mr. Batali, who was drunk, was groping and kissing a woman who appeared to be unconscious. The website Eater investigated similar behavior by Mr. Batali toward his staff.

Mr. Batali, 57, is an investor in the Spotted Pig and a longtime friend of Mr. Friedman. Both men were immediately removed from daily operations at the restaurants they once led. Their partners have been trying to extricate them from their restaurants entirely.

On Sunday night, after the “60 Minutes” report, the B&B Hospitality group, the empire of more than 20 restaurants built by Mr. Batali and his partners Joe and Felidia Bastianich, said in a statement: “The accounts tonight were chilling and deeply disturbing,” and added, “Our partnership with Mr. Batali is ending.”

Ms. Bloomfield also issued a statement, saying, “I am in the final stages of severing my partnership” with Mr. Friedman.

In recent weeks, Mr. Batali has been talking with friends and associates about whether a comeback or a new career might be possible.

Al Baker contributed reporting.

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Sunday Routine: How Rawia Bishara, Chef and Restaurateur, Spends Her Sundays

Rawia Bishara, 63, a James Beard Award nominated chef who was born in Nazareth, Israel, is also a co-owner of the popular Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, restaurant, Tanoreen, a celebrated destination for Middle Eastern home cooking. She also has a new cookbook, which will be published in June, “Levant: New Middle Eastern Cooking from Tanoreen.” Since the restaurant is open on Sundays, the day is a mix of work and rest for Ms. Bishara, who also lives in Bay Ridge with her husband, Wafa Bishara, 73, who works in auto sales, and their dog, Zain. Their daughter, Jumana, 42, the restaurant’s co-owner, also lives in Bay Ridge. Their son, Tarek, 38, is an actor living in Los Angeles.

INTERNAL ALARM No matter the day of the week, I am up by 6:30 a.m. It doesn’t matter if I’ve gone to bed at 3 a.m., which I often do because I don’t get home from the restaurant until 11 and take some time to wind down before sleeping. I’m not much of a sleeper. Wafa is awake before me and brings me a cup of strong coffee with cream in bed.

FUR BABY While I’m drinking my coffee — I usually have two cups — I spend about an hour playing with Zain. We don’t get much quality time together, and I love cuddling him and spoiling him with new toys.

BREAKFAST BY WAFA Since I cook for a living, it’s nice to have other people cook for me once in a while. Wafa happens to be fantastic at making breakfast and will cook up a feast. We have eggs; they might be scrambled or fried and tucked inside a white roll with za’atar on top. Za’atar is a tart-tasting Middle Eastern spice, and I love it on everything. Our spread also has olives, a thick yogurt spread called labneh, cheeses like halloumi and feta and sliced cucumbers and tomatoes. To drink, it’s always mint tea. It’s a hearty meal that’s a great way to start my day. After cleaning up, Wafa will watch soccer games on TV while I sit on the couch and catch up emails and drink more tea.

EXERCISE I do a 15-minute workout and have a reformer in my bedroom that stretches out all my joints. Having loose muscles and moving in the morning gives me energy for the day. When I’m done, I shower and get dressed for work.

A CHEF PREPARES Tanoreen is a three-minute drive from my house, and I get to the restaurant somewhere between 11 and 12. Sunday is one of our busiest days. Between diners in the restaurant and our catering jobs and deliveries, we feed 600 people. We have a set menu, but we also offer between five to eight specials a day, and these are what I make while my five other cooks prepare the daily dishes. My recipes are based on specialties from countries around the Middle East, but they have influences from all over the world. I recently made kibbeh, for example, from Syria. It’s a mix of lamb and cracked wheat with pomegranate molasses.

MINGLE Cooking takes me between two to three hours, and when I’m done, I spend some time circulating around the dining room. It’s nice to see familiar faces, but we always have some newcomers. These new diners tend to be curious about the food and ask a lot of questions, and I try to take the time to answer them.

FRIENDS AND FAMILY My friends are off on Sunday so they come into the restaurant to have a meal and say hello. Later in the day, when I’m more free, I’ll sit with them and possibly have a glass of wine. They feast on meze, kebabs and fish, and, at some point, Wafa also comes in for dinner. I can’t eat when I’m working, so I only chat and maybe drink.

LIGHT, LATE DINNER I head home after the restaurant closes at 10. Zain and I play some more. Then, Wafa sits with me while I eat dinner. It’s always salad, like mixed greens with grilled halloumi cheese, or a tabbouleh salad with grilled chicken. To drink, I’ll have whiskey, tequila or wine. For dessert, I have a big bowl of in-season fruit. In summer, I’ll eat cherries and lots of watermelon. We often sit in our backyard while I eat.

MIDNIGHT MOVIE Watching movies is my favorite way to relax. I curl up on the chaise longue in our family room and find a romantic comedy. Wafa has already gone to bed, but I have Mondays off because the restaurant is closed so I stay up. I fall asleep there on the chaise longue, probably around 2 or 3 a.m.

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Restaurant Review: A Hotel Restaurant with Neighborhood-Hangout Appeal

I was drinking gin and pineapple juice at the bar of Gabriel Stulman’s newest restaurant, Simon & the Whale, and tasting folds of tongue pastrami laid over caramelized cauliflower, a combination that paid off against long odds, when applause broke out by the entrance. I hadn’t heard anyone break a glass or sing “Happy Birthday,” so I asked the woman next to me, who had eaten there three or four times already, if she knew what the sudden ovation was about.

“Have you eaten at Gabe’s other places?” she asked. “They like to clap for people.”

I hadn’t noticed that, but there were other Stulman touches that had been transferred from Bar Sardine, Jeffrey’s Grocery, Fedora and Joseph Leonard to Simon & the Whale when it opened in February. Case studies in how to maximize miniature spaces, they are intimate neighborhood hangouts with elevator-size kitchens where the food and cocktails are more interesting than ought to be achievable under such conditions. It’s a genre Mr. Stulman understands as well as anybody in the city.

With 76 seats in the new Freehand hotel on East 23rd Street, Simon & the Whale isn’t one of those. It’s an Army mess hall by the standards of Mr. Stulman’s Happy Cooking Hospitality group. But the design firm Roman and Williams has styled it like a California Craftsman house and subdivided it into niches and corners with open cabinets. It doesn’t display its size the way Upland, another Roman and Williams restaurant a few blocks north, does. Even the bar is personably scaled; it’s configured like a horseshoe. Extensive personal research suggests this is the best possible shape a bar can have.

Like all of Mr. Stulman’s places, Simon & the Whale is thick with high-volume conversations when it is full, which is pretty much all night long. Like Jeffrey’s Grocery and Joseph Leonard, its name comes from a relative — in this case, Mr. Stulman’s 6-year-old son, who apparently received an impressive collection of whale-decorated baby gifts.

Also familiar to Mr. Stulman’s regulars will be the style of the servers. They’re young, talkative, fresh-faced, enthusiastic, as if they are new to the city and haven’t yet grown the protective exoskeleton of the hardened New Yorker.

Our waiter one night showered us with recommendations for dishes, all of which he loved. When asked about things he hadn’t mentioned, he loved those, too. He loved the cocktails, a Happy Cooking strong suit, and was especially keen on one made with mezcal. “Mezcal never hurt anybody,” he said brightly. Extensive personal research suggests this is untrue.

One place where Simon & the Whale allows itself to spread out beyond the normal boundaries of the Stulman kingdom is breads and desserts. The restaurant shares a baker, Zoe Kanan, and a pastry chef, Charmaine McFarlane, with the hotel’s second-floor cafe, Studio, also run by Happy Cooking. Both are very good at their jobs.

Ms. Kanan makes the black, thick-crusted barley-rye bread flecked with anise seeds that comes with a halfhearted taramosalata and, more excitingly, a swipe of butter creamed with seaweed powder. The long thin toast, crackling with grains and seeds that together with cured and smoked Arctic char and smoked sour cream make a fine, Scandinavian-leaning appetizer? Hers. The poppy-seed torpedo roll that helps lift the fish sandwich with carrot-squash slaw above the ordinary? Also hers, although to be fair the long, flat fries also do their part.

And if your spirits have been sunk, as mine have, by the skimpy and uninspired dessert choices around town these days, Ms. McFarlane will be an answered prayer. No mere afterthought, her panna cotta sits on a low base of semolina cake and is decked out with pink grapefruit fillets and grapefruit marmalade spiced with red juniper berries. A cooling evergreen moat of pine ice surrounds an earthy rye pudding that’s enriched with brown butter; pears fried in honey are splayed out on top, and some acerbic cranberries prevent the whole thing from cloying. I defy you to eat it without smiling.

I can’t say I’m as taken with crunchy knotweed-rhubarb compote as a topping for a buckwheat cake as Ms. McFarlane seems to be, but the same dessert offers one of the most astonishing ice creams around. Made with beeswax, it was as deeply aromatic as honey but not as sweet, and its texture was intensely creamy but not at all waxy.

The rest of the menu is in the hands of Matt Griffin, until recently in charge of the food at Fedora and Bar Sardine. He does a neat balancing trick here, giving his adventurous side free rein at times while more often using it to add interest to the standards a hotel restaurant probably needs.

A winningly over-the-top recent special was a custard-soaked pain perdu under bacon jus, pickled cabbage and speck, like some kind of demented Reuben-croque monsieur hybrid. Liver and onions turned out to be a less thrilling snack: pickled onions with deep-fried and overcooked chicken livers.

Until it swam off the menu, there was an intriguing sideways version of squid ink risotto that had beech mushrooms and very tender squid confit over a black porridge of barley. Now there are spring peas, swirled with mint into a sauce for just-firm shrimp; the combination suggested pasta, but I was glad to have it without any starch getting in the way of the clear, sweet flavors.

If it’s pasta you want, Mr. Griffin has a glossy, chile-speckled bowl of spaghetti acqua pazza with littleneck clams and cherry tomatoes, and while the sauce is thicker and glossier than a normal acqua pazza, it is very good. What he calls a pork-collar Milanese is maybe a few millimeters too thick for the name, but I’ll take it. The cut is more flavorful than a normal cutlet, and the apricot mostarda makes a pungent and welcome counterpoint.

If you can’t finish the whole thing, it will be taken away and replaced by a plastic action figure of a New York sports hero. This is your claim check. Mine was Don Mattingly, and I wondered if maybe the applause was for him.

No, Mr. Stulman said on the phone a few days later. The woman he bought Fedora from was 89 when she sold it and was still showing up each night. When she entered, people clapped. “We turned that into clapping for our friends,” he said.

Follow NYT Food on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Pinterest. Get regular updates from NYT Cooking, with recipe suggestions, cooking tips and shopping advice.

EMAIL petewells@nytimes.com. And follow Pete Wells on Twitter: @pete_wells.

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Bites: Can an Italian Chef’s Success in D.C. Translate Into Spanish?

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Bites

The chef Fabio Trabocchi doesn’t have to work hard to get name recognition in Washington. Now he turns his attention to Spain at his new seafood-focused restaurant, Del Mar.

The whole branzino at Del Mar.CreditDel Mar

By Shivani Vora

With four hot-ticket Italian restaurants around town, including the Michelin-starred Fiola, the chef Fabio Trabocchi doesn’t have to work hard to get name recognition in Washington. But can Mr. Trabocchi’s translate his success into Spanish? Judging by a recent meal at his seafood-focused restaraurant, Del Mar, which opened in November, the answer is a resounding “si.”

Located at the District Wharf, a mile-long new development set on the Potomac River, Del Mar is inspired by Mr. Trabocchi’s Spanish wife, Maria, and their home on the island of Mallorca where they spend their summers. “Coastal Spanish cuisine has been a big part of our lives together for the last 20 years, and Del Mar is a nod to that,” he said. “When we’re in Mallorca, we eat the dishes that are on the menu here.”

Image

The dining room.CreditDel Mar

As at Mr. Trabocchi’s Italian spots, the ambience is packed and lively, and yet feels something like a mini-vacation: a bi-level nautical-themed space with an open kitchen, towering ceilings, large windows overlooking the water and hand-painted forest green tiled walls. You’ll want to linger a while and have an Earl Grey-infused gin and tonic — maybe two — at the glamorous circular bar, but soon enough the nearby seafood display of oysters and whole crustaceans flown in from Spain, New Zealand and other parts of the world will lure you to your table.

The menu is extensive, and although Spanish cheeses and charcuterie are also offered, we stuck to the star attractions. From the “Barely Touched” section, the scallop with Meyer lemon and caviar, yellow tail with ponzu sauce and fluke with raw green olives and snow peas — attractively presented in a large silver, octopus shaped ice bucket — were fresh and had the pop of spring.

From “Tapas Temporada” (Seasonal Tapas) the garlic shrimp, laced with brandy and presented in a pot of bubbling oil, was as good as the most memorable versions I’ve eaten in Spain; the steak-like grilled calamari with red peppers and onions was tender, not chewy, as grilled squid can often be.

I wanted to order the piquillo peppers stuffed with crab meat and topped with a sea urchin sauce, and my husband was tempted to get round two of the buttery scallop atop curried peas and potatoes, but our main course awaited, and I’m glad we saved some room.

The seafood paella at Del Mar.CreditDel Mar

Our server recommended that we go for one of the four seafood paellas made with the short-grain Spanish rice called bomba or pick a whole fish. The two-pound Spanish branzino had just arrived that morning, he said, and looked particularly tasty. We were sold: the simply grilled wild bass took me back to a vacation in Ibiza where I savored this same fish almost daily.

Compared with the preceding courses, dessert choices are more limited. In true Spanish style, there’s a flan, creamy and presented with a blood orange meringue, and a dairy-free house-made strawberry ice cream surrounded by a lemon-thyme compote. The cool treat was a light and refreshing finish to our short escape to the Spanish coast.


Del Mar, 791 Wharf Street SW; delmardc.com. A meal for two, without drinks or tip, is about $90.

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Korean Food and French Cooking Come Together

The cooking at Soogil, in the East Village, blends Korean tradition and French technique. The substantial soy-braised short rib with winter vegetables is one of the few things on the menu that costs more than $20.

Devin Yalkin for The New York Times

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Celebrities and Chicken Salad: The Lure of Freds at Barneys

A new cookbook focuses on the 22-year-old canteen’s achievement: a restaurant in a department store rather than a department-store restaurant.

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Bites: A Young Chef Swims Up-Seine in Paris

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Bites

Baieta, with a 23-year-old chef at the helm, foregoes an Instagram-oriented atmosphere for a firm focus on what matters most: the food.

The “bouillabaieta,” a take on the classic Southern French dish bouillabaisse, at Baieta, a new Paris restaurant that takes its name from the Nice dialect word for “little kiss.”CreditPierre Lucet Penato

By Rozena Crossman

While most millennial restaurateurs are populating the Right Bank of Paris with trendy neo-bistros, Baieta is swimming up-Seine. The first restaurant from Julia Sedefdjian, who earned a Michelin star at 21 years old as the chef at Fables de la Fontaine, planted itself on the Rive Gauche in March, foregoing an Instagram-oriented atmosphere for a firm focus on what matters most: the food.

Just one side-eye at the neighboring table’s sea bream tartare with lemongrass cream floating on lobster-infused coconut milk and I wondered how customers could concentrate on anything else. The reserved, minimalist décor certainly wasn’t distracting, but deviated from the restaurants of Ms. Sedefdjian’s contemporaries who aim to replace the stuffiness of higher-end restaurants with an ostentatiously cool setting.

Baieta also attempts to democratize haute cuisine with a relatively inexpensive fixed weekday lunch menu (a starter and a main for 29 euros, about $36), and the friendly young staff and cheerful logo erases any pretentious airs.

Ms. Sedefdjian and Baieta’s co-founders, Sébastien Jean-Joseph (sous-chef) and Grégory Anelka (manager), met at Les Fables de La Fontaine, where Ms. Sedefdjian became the youngest Michelin-starred chef in France at the time, in 2016. “We wanted to create the place where we would want to go when the three of us go out,” Ms. Sedefdjian said. “Where we can eat well for not too much money, and where we feel at ease, at home.”

Baieta means “little kiss” in the local dialect of Nice, a wink at Ms. Sedefdjian’s hometown and her culinary influences. A traditional Niçois dish, the pissaladière, is served as an amuse bouche: a warm slice of Mediterranean sun on a typically gray Parisian day. The homemade short, fluffy bread is baked with its toppings: onion confit, black olives and anchovies. The fish come from a Basque fishmonger who prepares the anchovies on the boat as soon as they’re caught, painstakingly removing the bones with tweezers.

Image

The dining room at Baieta.CreditPierre Lucet Penato

The courses soon got heartier and I was hooked. A starter of succulent, caramelized pork breast glazed in ginger, herbs and its own juice, garnished with cubes of mashed celeriac and celeriac chips, was a playground of texture and flavor; an herb sauce added the exact freshness required to lift up the meat. When the mains arrived my partner gleefully tucked into a cod roasted in butter fraternizing with a variety of clams; it was accompanied by a foamy garlic emulsion and laid atop a bed of fregola sarda, a small, round Italian pasta.

Ms. Sedefdjian’s impressive resume includes a degree in pastry arts, so it was no surprise that desserts were equally exciting. Dollops of lemon cream on a fennel shortbread tasted light and rich until I incorporated the pastis and lemon sorbet into my spoonful — the result was a punch of sweet and sour zing. For our post-meal digestif, we opted for the Clément rum, aged in the restaurant’s own oak barrels — a delicious byproduct of Mr. Anelka’s Martinique origins and love of rum.

“I feel free. I’m finally in my own home,” mused Ms. Sedefdjian, now her own boss at 23. “If I want to do something, I have no barriers. If I want to serve a pissaladière as an amuse bouche, I’ll do a pissaladière as an amuse bouche. Because that’s what I want to show my customers as soon as they arrive: bienvenue chez moi.”


Baieta, 5 rue de Pontoise; restaurant-baieta-paris.fr. An average meal for two, without drinks or tip, is €120, about $150.

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Bites: A Young Chef Swims Up-Seine in Paris

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Bites

Baieta, with a 23-year-old chef at the helm, foregoes an Instagram-oriented atmosphere for a firm focus on what matters most: the food.

The “bouillabaieta,” a take on the classic Southern French dish bouillabaisse, at Baieta, a new Paris restaurant that takes its name from the Nice dialect word for “little kiss.”CreditPierre Lucet Penato

By Rozena Crossman

While most millennial restaurateurs are populating the Right Bank of Paris with trendy neo-bistros, Baieta is swimming up-Seine. The first restaurant from Julia Sedefdjian, who earned a Michelin star at 21 years old as the chef at Fables de la Fontaine, planted itself on the Rive Gauche in March, foregoing an Instagram-oriented atmosphere for a firm focus on what matters most: the food.

Just one side-eye at the neighboring table’s sea bream tartare with lemongrass cream floating on lobster-infused coconut milk and I wondered how customers could concentrate on anything else. The reserved, minimalist décor certainly wasn’t distracting, but deviated from the restaurants of Ms. Sedefdjian’s contemporaries who aim to replace the stuffiness of higher-end restaurants with an ostentatiously cool setting.

Baieta also attempts to democratize haute cuisine with a relatively inexpensive fixed weekday lunch menu (a starter and a main for 29 euros, about $36), and the friendly young staff and cheerful logo erases any pretentious airs.

Ms. Sedefdjian and Baieta’s co-founders, Sébastien Jean-Joseph (sous-chef) and Grégory Anelka (manager), met at Les Fables de La Fontaine, where Ms. Sedefdjian became the youngest Michelin-starred chef in France at the time, in 2016. “We wanted to create the place where we would want to go when the three of us go out,” Ms. Sedefdjian said. “Where we can eat well for not too much money, and where we feel at ease, at home.”

Baieta means “little kiss” in the local dialect of Nice, a wink at Ms. Sedefdjian’s hometown and her culinary influences. A traditional Niçois dish, the pissaladière, is served as an amuse bouche: a warm slice of Mediterranean sun on a typically gray Parisian day. The homemade short, fluffy bread is baked with its toppings: onion confit, black olives and anchovies. The fish come from a Basque fishmonger who prepares the anchovies on the boat as soon as they’re caught, painstakingly removing the bones with tweezers.

Image

The dining room at Baieta.CreditPierre Lucet Penato

The courses soon got heartier and I was hooked. A starter of succulent, caramelized pork breast glazed in ginger, herbs and its own juice, garnished with cubes of mashed celeriac and celeriac chips, was a playground of texture and flavor; an herb sauce added the exact freshness required to lift up the meat. When the mains arrived my partner gleefully tucked into a cod roasted in butter fraternizing with a variety of clams; it was accompanied by a foamy garlic emulsion and laid atop a bed of fregola sarda, a small, round Italian pasta.

Ms. Sedefdjian’s impressive resume includes a degree in pastry arts, so it was no surprise that desserts were equally exciting. Dollops of lemon cream on a fennel shortbread tasted light and rich until I incorporated the pastis and lemon sorbet into my spoonful — the result was a punch of sweet and sour zing. For our post-meal digestif, we opted for the Clément rum, aged in the restaurant’s own oak barrels — a delicious byproduct of Mr. Anelka’s Martinique origins and love of rum.

“I feel free. I’m finally in my own home,” mused Ms. Sedefdjian, now her own boss at 23. “If I want to do something, I have no barriers. If I want to serve a pissaladière as an amuse bouche, I’ll do a pissaladière as an amuse bouche. Because that’s what I want to show my customers as soon as they arrive: bienvenue chez moi.”


Baieta, 5 rue de Pontoise; restaurant-baieta-paris.fr. An average meal for two, without drinks or tip, is €120, about $150.

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