Good Friday at Eleven Madison Park

There’s something uncomfortably hedonistic about lunch at EMP on Good Friday, traditionally a day of fasting and abstinence. But those feelings of catholic guilt were soon dispelled by the warm welcome we received on arrival and the first sip of Pierre Peters NV BdB (which should really increase the guilt, not reduce it). It had been a long time since our last visit, before the change in both ownership and format, and many things had changed but many were still the same.

I won’t dwell on the food, because its all been said before. We had the tasting menu (a copy of which is beside me as I type this) and it was simply 13 courses (14 if I include the liquid nitrogen/pomegranate/apple/lemon palate cleanser we were served in the kitchen but which doesn’t show up on the menu) of high wire, flawlessly-executed, ambitious yet fundamentally comforting cooking. Despite its ambitions and technical precision, the food was on the whole very easy to relate to with plenty of whimsical touches (the Clam Bake and the Egg Cream courses being particular examples). This isn’t to belittle the technical complexity, some of which was truly breathtaking.

What makes this place truly great however is the sublimely easy atmosphere they’ve developed there (which is infinitely harder than it looks). The combination of a relaxed and friendly demeanor and relentless professionalism is rare indeed. In my recent experience, only two other restaurants, The Ledbury and Passage 53 have come close to EMP’s trick of outrageously good cooking, friendly (but not matey) service and rigorous standards. The easy thing would be for a place like this to be stuffy as all hell given the seriousness of the food, and its to their eternal credit that they are (and in fairness always have been) the mirror opposite of that.

Wine-wise, we had Pierre Peters NV BdB and 09 Jobard En La Barre Meursault, followed by a real treat, the 05 Clos Rougeard Poyeaux. At one point I thought we’d have to be poured into a cab but lunch took three hours, we drank gallons of water and we finally departed, dignity intact, just after the NYC Taxi witching hour and easily hailed a cab home. I’m not sure we need to eat til Easter Sunday.

sounds great. that lunch is like a mini vacation.