Specialty of the house: New York restaurants in the age of specialization

MacBar, in SoHo, serves macaroni and cheese—just macaroni and cheese.

Photo: MacBar

It's best to do one thing very well. I don't know who was first to adopt this business philosophy, but it is one that several New York restaurateurs have captialized on in recent years. I'm not referring to restaurants that focus on a single cuisine, which is about as cutting edge as doctors making house calls. I mean places that offer essentially one dish on their menus.

Places like MacBar (54 Prince Street, at Lafayette St,  212-226-8877). There are an even dozen items available—and all of them are macaroni and cheese. Admittedly, some of the variations on this American comfort-food staple are a tad out of the ordinary. There is mac strogonoff, which includes braised beef, stewed mushrooms, and a sour cream sauce, and mac quack,  done with duck confit, Fontina, caramelized onions, and fines herbes. Each variation is available in three sizes, enabling you to sample multiple preparations in the space of a single meal. Prices range from $5.99 to $7.99 for a small order, $7.99 to $11.99 for a medium, and $12.99 to $17.99 for a large.

I'll give you three guesses what the specialità della casa is at Peanut Butter & Company (240 Sullivan Street, bet Bleecker and West 3rd Sts, 212-677-3995). Again, the menu offers twelve (what is it about that number?) takes on the lowly peanut butter sandwich, all with fanciful names: Lunchbox Special (your classic pb&j), The Elvis, Peanut Butter Cup. You can have your peanut butter with Fluffernutter®, with

Nutella, or, if you're really flying, spiced with chilis and paired with grilled chicken and pineapple jam. For heathens who don't like peanut butter, the house offers a half-dozen alternative sandwiches listed under "Other Homestyle Fare"—tuna, chicken salad, baloney and cheese—but clearly their heart isn't in it. Stick with peanut butter. Sandwiches run between $5 and $6.50.

In Valencia, soccarat, which literally denotes a clay tile of the region, is the nickname for the delicious crust that forms along the bottom of a perfectly executed paella. In New York, Soccarat has become synonymous with a restaurant in Chelsea (259 W 19th Street, 212-462-1000) that offers a half dozen incarnations of paella, and little else. They do an authentic paella Valenciana that features bits of pork rib and rabbit, as well as snails, scallions, sugar snow peas, and asparagus. More pork, this time with chicken, duck, chorizo, and mushroom soffrito in paella de carne. When you've reached the bottom of your paella, which is the name of the iron vessel as well as its contents, your waiter comes over to assist in the ritual of scraping up the soccarat, the caramelized bits of rice and protein stuck to the pan. There are about a dozen tapas to start, but the real draw are the paellas, which are served to two, priced between $22 and $24 a person.