When they were first building this space out after the closing of the lovely Silver Bullet bar, I wondered how a semi-upscale eatery would ever make it next to the trinket salesman and the festering open wound guy in the entryway of the Port Authority. I still wonder, honestly, why anyone in their right mind would pay high-ish prices to eat sandwiches and brasserie fare in such close proximity to human flotsam. Well, this is why I’m no business savant. I only ate here because we were stuck at work late one night and the person with the corporate card decided it was okay to pay $17 for take-out chicken from a sort-of chain restaurant at the foot of a manmade mountain of carcinogens. Granted, it’s not every day I get spaetzle and brussel sprouts with my to-go orders. And, by god, the stuff wasn’t half bad! The chicken was moist and tasty, the brussel sprouts were plentiful and not completely revolting, and the spaetzle, while probably better eaten in house, was sufficiently greasy and texturelicious. Would I order dinner from Metro Marché again if someone else was footing the bill? Sure–but probably not without a very loyal food-taster. [MF]
625 8th Ave.