Taking a good photograph inside the orchard, a newish Italian bistro on the Lower East Side, is nearly impossible, thanks to the ochre-tinted lighting and very pale wood in the restaurant's dining room. We tried filters, white balancing, and even a little prayer, but in the end, every snapshot we took required a few heavy blows with the Photoshop hammer, leaving us with what you see here. Fortunately, as we discovered during dinner late last week with pescatore and Schnicksy, getting a good meal at the orchard is far, far easier than taking a picture of it.
Both LES locals, our companions were eager to give the orchard a try, while HungryMan and I were more intrigued by the restaurant's BYOB policy. Very few moderately expensive restaurants in Manhattan allow diners to bring-their-own, primarily because these are the same eateries that make a good chunk of their profits on alcohol sales. But the orchard has welcomed customers' bottles with open corkscrew since it opened, and from all of the chow chatter we've seen, this no-corkage policy is one of the orchard's big draws. HungryMan and I brought two bottles with us: 
a Californian Petite Sirah (very big and fruity, as you might expect), as well as a more traditional Italian Chianti Classico (mild tannins, slightly spicy). Although we made our selections in advance, we were happy to discover enough variety in the menu that we can't imagine choosing a bottle that wouldn't go with at least a few of the dishes.
Our meal started with the Royal Trumpet Mushroom flatbread, a cracker-thin layer of dough slathered with polenta, herbs, and mushroom purée. Although polenta might sound like a strange thing to smear on a crispbread, it worked wonders at affixing the mushrooms to the dough without adding extra grease– a very clever feat of kitchen engineering. The appetizer also remained light, as only a tiny amount of polenta was used. It's easy to skip past the flatbreads listed at the beginning of the menu, but don't: this was my favorite item of the evening.
Schnicksy's Yellowfin Tuna Tartare appetizer consisted of a half-dozen poker-chip sized fried plaintains arranged next to three large dollops each of minced, raw tuna; fresh guacamole; and creme fraiche. While it's easy enough to spoon out portions of each of the toppings onto one of the crispy plaintains, the yellowfin is good enough to eat on its own with a spoon. 
We also cleaned up all of the leftover creme fraiche and guacamole with the excellent, thick-sliced bread we were served.
Both pescatore and HungryMan ordered the Rock Shrimp Salad, which arrived as a huge pile of mixed salad greens, tangerines, and deep-fried rock shrimp. This isn't the healthiest salad in town, but it certainly was tasty– most especially the combination of the orange-honey vinaigrette and the lightly battered seafood. This is a dish that would also work well as a main, with the portions inverted.
The main dishes we did order (except one) were also wonderful: Schnicksy and I chose the Olive Oil Poached Halibut with Crispy Black Bean Salad, and I have to admit that I poked at my fish several dozen times during the meal, trying to figure out exactly how it was cooked. This was easily one of the moistest filets of halibut I have eaten, and the texture combination of the soft white flesh with the gentle crunch of the black beans was marvelous. I did think the bean salad could have used a little more spicing and a bit less salt, but on the whole, both Schnicksy and I were pleased.
Pescatore lived up to his name by ordering the Langoustine Risotto with Braised Octopus. I have long considered risotto (along with caesar salads and puttanesca sauce) to be a litmus-test dish: if a restaurant makes a good one, it's a very positive sign. If not, be wary. Judging from the quality of the starters, I suspected the orchard would probably make a fine risotto, but I never expected the risotto to be as creamy and precisely al dente as it was. Nor did I anticipate the subtle and rich combination of seafood and seasoning– especially the flecks of roasted peppers that set off the hints of sweetness in the octopus.
HungryMan's Veal Paillard with Faro and Arugula Salad was the only mild disappointment of the evening. The whole grain salad, while very healthful, was a little too chewy. Moreover, the veal paillard tasted just fine, but was too greasy and did not seem to have been prepared with as much care as the other main dishes. Overall, the entrée was still decent, and fixing these small problems should be a trivial matter for the kitchen.
It might be counterintuitive, but we really think that the orchard's best chance for long-term success lies, in large part, with its inability to serve alcohol (or to retain a no-corkage policy). Here's why: there are dozens of other well-above average, $20-30/entrée Modern European restaurants throughout Manhattan, the kinds of restaurants that open to great buzz and then slowly progress through a slow decline in business and interest. It's the life-cycle everyone expects, and unless the restaurant distinguishes itself pretty strikingly, it usually means that after a year or two of good business, the plywood goes up over the windows. Nothing to be ashamed of, but it happens. Without intending to do so, the orchard has already done the tricky job of making itself unique in its price category by allowing patrons to bring their own wine, something virtually every single party we saw on our visit did– I haven't seen as much wine consumed in one dining room since our last visit to London. If the orchard can work out the business calculus to make its food sales profitable without including alcohol in the equation, we suspect it is likely to guarantee itself brisk business for as long as it remains open. I, for one, would love to see that happen.
the orchard, 162 orchard Street (at Rivington Street), 212-353-3570
