In a precinct of artsy boites, Midway is a bare barn with a sea of orange and red booths and white tablecloths, standing perforated aluminum screens and 20-foot windows that open in fair weather onto sidewalk seating. Lemon-drop lights suspended from the high industrial ceiling accentuate the yawning volume. In an age of insecure journeymen chefs who pile 100 things on the plate, a guy who worked for David Bouley doesn't need to try too hard. Schutz's presentations are clean and attractive, with just enough visual flair. The juicy chilled shrimp are aligned between rows of chopped asparagus, the assemblage wrapped in wilted spinach leaves, and tweaked with creme fraiche and wasabi.
Midway is a place to take old friends who've moved away.
Two women chew over a stalled pier project in San Francisco. At meal's end, the slender, stylish ladies look shocked they've devoured their plate-full of tuna as well. Schutz's entrees rely on well-chosen ingredients and sound technique to bring out your Inner Glutton. Interesting and well-priced American and French wines are presented in properly large glasses. The short dessert list could lose chilled honey-rosewater soup that tasted like a Bloomingdale's perfume ambush.