Grub Street

“Isn’t bone marrow a little like the quiche of the aughts?” asked one of my guests as we scanned the menu at Harold Dieterle’s neighborly, slightly schizophrenic German-and-Italian fusion restaurant, the ­Marrow, which opened not long ago on the corner of Bank and Greenwich Streets in the West Village. The answer is yes, although we’re well past the aughts now, and unlike many other post-gourmet culinary trends (lobster rolls, ­Wagyu sliders, haute meatballs), the great marrowbone craze is still going strong. The marrowbone is a beloved totem of the hipster nose-to-tail set (it’s served with escargot at the new M. Wells operation at PS1) and a high-­margin favorite at savvy big-city bistros like Minetta Tavern. The last time I checked, Le Bernardin even had marrowbone on its menu (topped with opulent spoonfuls of uni), and it has become so popular among urban beefeaters it’s a wonder nobody’s named a steakhouse after it yet.