La Savane

Many people are put off by the texture of okra. The Man Who Ate Everything, when composing an annotated list of his food phobias upon being appointed a food critic, classified it as a food he might eat "if starving on a desert island, but only if the refrigerator were filled with nothing but chutney, sea urchins, and falafel."

Though thickened by the namesake vegetable, this sauce gombo (lunch, $11), wasn't nearly as gooey as the bowl I remember from the former Florence's. At that beloved restaurant, the okra stew was downright mucilaginous; at Savane, I could raise a spoon to my lips without finding a trail of goo threading back down toward the bowl. Thanks also to fat chunks of lamb and a broad plate of white rice, I ate light at dinner.

This afternoon's chef hailed from the Ivory Coast, as does the owner, who tells me that he also employs chefs from Mali and Guinea. I don't yet know who cooks when.

La Savane
239 West 116th St. (Frederick Douglass-Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Blvds.), Manhattan
646-490-4644

Comments

[el jefe]

I assume that this is like most of the west African restaurants on W.116 St. in that you can only get the stews during the afternoon and that in the evenings they only have grilled meats and a French influenced menu?

[Dave Cook]

Savane is like most of the West African restaurants on West 116th St. in that they don't have a takeout menu for my files. From what my notes tell me, however, the typical menu dichotomy holds true.