Madison Square park is about 15 blocks from Madison Square Garden, the sports arena/convention hall on top of what is still called, with complete lack of logic, Penn Station, though the Penn Central railroad line has gone the way of dial phones. The park is formed where Broadway crosses Fifth Avenue, and at one corner, in a handsome space that was once part of the Metropolitan Life Building, stands Eleven Madison Park, possibly the head of the restaurant class created by former St. Louisan Danny Meyer and his Union Square Hospitality Group.
What began on a wing and a brilliantly-thought-out prayer at the Union Square Cafe some 15 years ago has grown to eight restaurants, plus five more casual operations, including one at Citi Field, nee Shea Stadium, and a catering company. And in our experience, they are not producing factory food anywhere, so don’t let the expansion fool you.
It’s prix-fixe only at Eleven Madison Park, so plan on dinner as a full-evening’s entertainment. It will be a totally worthwhile experience, and while dinner begins at a celebratory $88, lunch is a real bargain beginning at two courses for $28.
Chef Daniel Humm shows imagination and an elegant sense of restraint in his work. In the last few months, the restaurant was awarded four stars by the New York Times, and while we were in New York early in the week, we thought it time to revisit in the company of some friends. It was a marvelous experience by every possible test.
A cocktail before dinner was accompanied by frequently refilled saucers of warm gougeres, the Burgundian nibble of choux pastry with plenty of cheese beaten into it. After our group had assembled, hors d’oeuvres arrived on a narrow oval plate; six vegetarian items, wee bites of things like a remarkable marshmallow made of beet, and a macaroon flavored with Meyer lemon. Three layers of cracker so thin they were translucent made friends with slices of goat cheese. And each nibble was tiny enough to have served as a marker on a Monopoly board.
Bread was served with two butters, one of goat and one of cow (the former of a slightly stronger flavor), with flakes of sea salt for a sprinkle if desired. They arrived just before an amuse-guele of a foamy celeriac soup, feathery-light, its celery-like flavor mild enough to charm even someone not crazy about the vegetable, with a light fruity note that was hard to define. The garnish was an undulating strip of sweet-salty hazelnut tuile.
By then we finally were getting to the part of the meal we’d actually ordered. Hawaiian prawns arrived in a roll, dressed with a lime-laced, thick, rich yogurt, bits of Granny Smith apple for some crunch, all gently wrapped in paper-thin slices of ripe avocado, barely heavier than air on the tongue. And then there was the egg. Described on the menu as “slow poached with autumn mushrooms and Everglades’ frogs legs,” the egg sat atop a serving of tiny, savory mushrooms. The bits of meat looked like white meat of chicken, the cooking juices were hanging around in their aromatic way, and three slices of truffle jumped in for the sheer glory of it all. The yolk was just beyond soft-cooked, slightly runny but with a firm white, and the egg acted almost like a hollandaise sauce, helping to mesh and carry the other flavors. It was a dazzling dish, despite its quiet palette of brown and white.
One of the entree options was a roast Muscovy duck for two, and part of our group took advantage of that. Surprisingly for a New York restaurant, there’s a goodly amount of finishing and plating at tableside, using guerdons the way Tony’s and some other fine, old-line St. Louis restaurants do. In this case, the duck, glazed with lavender honey was carved tableside, and was served with gently braised fennel and black figs. The breast was sliced and presented, along with the vegetables, and another, separate dish, offered a confit made from duck legs. (The rest of the carcass was whisked away, prompting musings about taking it home for duck soup.) Our photo of the carving is by Barbara Mandel.
Venison worked beautifully with roasted pears and bacon, the meat moist but un-fatty, cooked medium-rare as ordered. Boneless chunks had a wonderful sear, but the meat was extremely tender, and not at all gamey, just carrying that slightly different flavor of farm-raised deer. Black trumpet mushrooms garnished the plate.
But the star of the entrees was the suckling pig. One piece was pork belly, with a skin so crisp, it literally crackled, the meat falling-apart tender, and the other piece seemed to be pork loin, cooked more briefly but moist, pinkish and with a flavor showing the differences in various parts of our piggy pals. Small rounds of sweet potato topped with crumbs of amaretti cookies came alongside, as did buttery brussels sprouts about the same size, and the sauces for the meat, one a puree of sweet potato, the other of tart plums giving good contrast. All the components worked well, both separately and together.
The wine list is in a leather loose-leaf binder thicker than a volume of the Arabian Nights and with more than enough bottles to last for the entire thousand-and-one nights. Wines from everywhere number in the hundreds, and provide an elegant, high-priced feast for a wine-lover’s reading. Ordering can be a chore, but a kind, competent sommelier made things easier. When asked to compare a couple, she favored the less expensive bottle, pointing out that it came from a better vintage and was several years older. When she spoke highly of a couple and I told her they were out of our price range, she went back into the book, recommended a 1999 Gigondas from the Rhone Valley that was rich and excellent.
Choices are no easier at dessert time, but two of us succumbed to the Tahitian vanilla souffle made with quark, a soft, slightly tangy cheese, and with a layer of passion fruit puree at the bottom, which really made things sing. We miss souffles in restaurants, and it’s so nice to see the traditional treat done in new ways to create new fans. The chocolate lovers leaped upon Symphony No. 2, a chocolate caramel tart topped with a few flakes of Maldon salt and with a dense chocolate ice cream alongside, the whole thing richer than one thought possible and displaying a beautiful crust under the tart. Three small medallions of yogurt cheesecake surrounded an oval of cranberry ice cream, and wore a garnish of candied cranberries, plus a generous shower of gingerbread crumbs.
Yes, the coffee is good, not surprisingly, and the decaf really is decaffeinated. And with the coffee arrived plates and a young server bearing a tray of six or eight different kinds of mini-macaroons. We tried chocolate-guava, sesame seed, pumpkin pie and —oh, dear, more delicate, delicious bites lost in the mists of time. And then, as we prepared to leave the table, the women were presented with small boxes of chocolates. One of the few good things about sexism?
There is no question that the other major thing that sets Danny Meyers’ restaurants apart is the service; it’s eager and pleasant, but neither subservient nor condescending. This crew fit right in with our experiences at all his places, both planned and drop-in. It’s a well-oiled operation with carefully chosen and trained staff. We can’t say enough about them.
Not an inexpensive meal, but one well worth the money. No smoking, as in all New York restaurants for several years. And no cell phones, a policy Meyer pioneered.
Eleven Madison Park
11 Madison Ave., New York
212-889-0905
Lunch Mon.-Fri., Dinner Mon.-Sat.
Credit cards: Yes
Wheelchair access: Good
Smoking: No
Comments
2 responses
My dinner there in September 08 was the best dining experience that I’ve had. I know another couple that just ate there and had plenty of good things to say.
Too bad a talent like Meyer had to leave for a more progressive city to become a success.