“I’ll talk about the chervil, two new kinds of strawberries, the black peppermint, the speckled romaine, the last gasp of peonies and the fava beans,” she said. “Tomato season will be when I get hysterical.”
RESTAURANTS
Delmonico’s Succumbs To Prohibition and High Rent
May 20, 1923
Some claim that Chicken à la King and Eggs Benedict originated at Delmonico’s, shown here in 1907.
DELMONICO’S, LONG ONE OF NEW YORK’S most famous restaurants, will follow the lead taken by Shanley’s, Murray’s and other well-known dining places, and close its doors at Fifth Avenue and 44th Street tomorrow at midnight. This was announced at Delmonico’s last night and formal notice was forwarded to all regular patrons.
It was explained, however, that it is not the purpose of E. L. C. Robins, who with Miss Josephine Delmonico controls the establishment, to go out of business entirely. But it was admitted that with Prohibition and high rent the restaurant had failed to make both ends meet.
“The closing is due to the unwillingness of the landlords to permit alterations to the building,” a statement said. “Litigation in respect to these alterations has been in progress for some time.” The alterations he wanted would have enabled the restaurant company to derive revenue from several stores on the Fifth Avenue side of the building, but the Delco Realty Company would not permit them.
Delmonico’s has been located at Fifth Avenue and 44th Street since November 15, 1897, having moved uptown from 26th Street and Fifth Avenue. The building consists of a Fifth Avenue restaurant, Palm Room and grill room on the first floor, six private dining rooms and a hall accommodating 200 on the second floor, a ballroom accommodating 600 and a small ballroom for 200 people on the third floor.
C’est la Fin! Lutèce Closing After 43 Years
By ERIC ASIMOV | February 11, 2004
AFTER SERVING ONE LAST VALENTINE’S DAY dinner, Lutèce, the renowned landmark French restaurant on the East Side, will close, ending a 43-year run as a pillar of French dining in the United States.
“Since 9/11 we have not had enough business to meet expenses,” said Michael Weinstein, president of Ark Restaurants, which has owned Lutèce since 1994. “This is probably a decision that should have been made a year ago.”
Mr. Weinstein said that Lutèce had lost much of the expense-account business that had sustained it for years, especially at lunch. He also suggested that an attempt to modernize the classic French cuisine that customers had long worshiped at the Lutèce temple had been misguided.
“We probably made a wrong turn a couple of years ago when we decided to make this menu edgy and more modern,” he said.
Though it has been more than a decade since Lutèce was in its glory days, the restaurant played a crucial role in the culinary development of the United States almost from the moment it opened its doors in 1961. André Soltner, who was the chef for 34 years and the owner for most of that time, was one of the first chefs in America to emphasize the freshest possible ingredients. While his nightly specials often included rustic dishes from his native Alsace, like a puffy onion tart, Mr. Soltner’s cuisine evoked the classic elegance of the Old World.
The closing of Lutèce, along with the announcement that La Côte Basque, another old-line Manhattan French restaurant, will close in March—and the opening of the glossy new high-end restaurants in the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle—cements the changing of the guard in New York restaurants. Long gone are the days when the city’s best restaurants were indisputably French, some tracing their lineage back to the restaurant at the French Pavilion at the 1939 World’s Fair.
Now the big excitement is reserved for chefs at the Time Warner Center like Thomas Keller and Gray Kunz, who, though they are masters of French methods and techniques, offer thoroughly personal styles of cooking.
Lutèce Both Elegant and Expensive
By CRAIG CLAIBORNE | March 28, 1961
LUTÉCE WAS THE ORIGINAL NAME OF PARIS. It also is the name of a recently opened restaurant in Manhattan that is at once impressively elegant and conspicuously expensive. There is much that is visually appealing about this establishment, including the candlelight, napery and walls, which boast a modest wealth of tapestries, paintings and a mural by Jean Pagès in colors as gay as a carousel.
The menus at Lutèce are opulently styled. On the cover is a print of a famous 19th-century painting of French roses by Redoute. It is a point of interest that there are, in fact, two menus at Lutèce. One is for the host at each table, the other for the guests, and there is this difference in the menus: The one presented to the host lists the cost of the various dishes; the menus presented to the guests list only the dishes.
There are approximately 30 items on each menu. There are three soups, seven first courses, nine main dishes, six vegetables, a platter of cheeses and seven desserts.
Lutèce has been opened for scarcely more than a month and perhaps it is this youth that causes an unevenness in the quality of the cuisine.
A few of the dishes, a foie gras en brioche or a roast veal with kidney, for example, could qualify as superb; others, such as a poussin rôti aux girolles (squab chicken with wild mushrooms) are routine. A few of the dishes, such as a fillet of sole sampled recently, are disappointing in the extreme. It is this reviewer’s opinion that the food at Lutèce could not be called great cuisine.
Spectacular in Décor and Menu
By CRAIG CLAIBORNE | October 2, 1959
THERE HAS NEVER BEEN A RESTAURANT better keyed to the tempo of Manhattan than the Four Seasons, which opened recently at 99 East 52nd Street.
Both in décor and in menu, it is spectacular, modern and audacious. It is expensive and opulent and it is perhaps the most exciting restaurant in New York within the last two decades. On the whole, the cuisine is not exquisite in the sense that la grande cuisine Francaise at its superlative best is exquisite.
Both the luncheon and dinner menus at the Four Seasons are extensive and, to a degree, bewildering. For example, the evening card lists more than a score of cold appetizers and nearly as many hot hors d’oeuvre. Typical in the cold selection is an “herbed lobster parfait.” If memory serves, this contains large chunks of lobster enrobed in a devastatingly rich blend of whipped cream and hollandaise sauce.
Flaming dishes are among the most popular items. One of the best of these is the traditional beef Stroganoff, which is prepared at tableside in a somewhat unconventional but thoroughly tempting fashion. It is made of quarter-inch slices of prime tenderloin seasoned with sweet paprika. The meat is then sautéed in butter, flamed with Cognac and bathed in a sauce containing meat glaze and sour cream.
Flaming dishes are among the most popular items.
Like most facets of the Four Seasons, the décor is a conversation piece. The walls are hung with a fortune in art and tapestries by such modern geniuses as Picasso, Joan Miro and Jackson Pollock. There are massive plants that reflect seasonal changes; from the ceiling in the bar area are hung thousands of brass rods to produce what is called a “sculptured chandelier” effect.
It is estimated that the average luncheon check for two with wines and without cocktails totals about $25. Dinner on the same basis is about $40.
Still Going Strong
By MIMI SHERATON | January 12, 1979
FEW THINGS CAN MAKE US FEEL OLDER THAN the realization that this year the Four Seasons is celebrating its 20th birthday. July 20 will mark that date for a restaurant that was spectacularly innovative when it opened and has weathered so well that it is still the handsomest and grandest modern restaurant anywhere.
The high-flown palatial interior, with its swagged, rippling, coppery-chain curtains, the marbled splendor of its reflecting pool, the garden of greenery and the gleaming, dark, French-rosewood-paneled walls and black upholstery of the barroom, brightened by Richard Lippold’s hanging brass-rod sculptures, all came from the drawing board of Philip Johnson, himself now virtually a fixture in the barroom at lu
nch almost every day. The late Albert Stockli, then executive chef of Restaurant Associates, tested and retested many of the dishes, which are still prepared under the expert hand of the chef, Seppi Renggli.
Five and a half years ago, Restaurant Associates sold the Four Seasons to Tom Margittai, then a vice president in charge of operations for that company, and Paul Kovi, who was director of the Four Seasons. Starting shakily at first, they turned out food that was, to be generous, uneven. But now they seem well on their way to success with a kitchen that rates a solid two stars and may be on its way to three.
Prices are astronomical, especially in the pool dining room (unless you have the $19 pre-theater dinner or late supper). Main courses, mostly ungarnished, range from $13.50 to $20 a person, and most are between $16.50 and $18.50. Everything else is proportionately as high, and there is a zapping and inexcusable cover charge ($2 for lunch, $2.75 for dinner).
Herbert Woods, Consort of a Soul Food Queen, Dies at 76
By DOUGLAS MARTIN | June 15, 2001
HERBERT WOODS, WHO STAYED MODESTLY in the shadows as his wife, Sylvia, played center stage as Harlem’s “Queen of Soul Food” at their famous restaurant, died on Wednesday at 76.
Mr. Woods played a far greater role than many of the patrons greeted by his vivacious wife realized. He handled purchasing and real estate decisions and was known to put in the occasional shift as chef. His income as a long-distance truck driver was a critical ingredient in the early success of Sylvia’s Restaurant, which is on Lenox Avenue near 127th Street.
Busloads of foreign tourists, delivery boys, chorus girls and celebrities from Roberta Flack to Robert F. Kennedy have flocked to Sylvia’s for feathery, moist cornbread, tangy ribs, perfectly seasoned collard greens and crisp fried chicken.
Mrs. Woods many times insisted that one spice made it all possible: love. Her own love story, she never failed to add, was her life’s inspiration.
Sylvia Pressley was 11 when she met Herbert Deward Woods, 12, who had been born in their hometown, Hemingway, S.C., on May 25, 1925. They were picking beans in the hot sun. “We kept our eyes on each other,” Mr. Woods once said in an interview with The New York Daily News.
They became inseparable, until Sylvia moved to New York with her mother in 1939. Mr. Woods joined the Navy and worked as cook on light cruisers and destroyers in the Pacific. “When I was in the Navy, that’s all you could be,” he said of the era’s segregated armed forces.
He married Sylvia as soon as he was discharged, and they moved to Harlem. He drove a cab, and she found a factory job on Long Island. When she wearied of the commute, she jumped at the chance to work as a waitress at Johnson’s Luncheonette in Harlem. In 1962, when the owner offered to sell it to her, she first thought it was a joke, but was able to buy it when her mother mortgaged the family farm.
On Aug. 1, 1962, the restaurant opened as Sylvia’s, featuring Southern fare. It had 15 stools and six booths. It has since grown into an empire, selling prepared foods in supermarkets, operating a restaurant in Atlanta and holding Sunday gospel brunches in Sag Harbor.
Moreover, Mr. Woods gradually assembled real estate, including all the other stores on the restaurant’s Lenox Avenue block and several nearby brownstones.
In addition to his wife, he is survived by their sons, Van and Kenneth; their daughters, Bedelia and Crizette; 17 grandchildren; and three great-grandchildren. Almost everybody in the family works at the restaurant.
Mrs. Woods insisted that one spice made it all possible: love.
Restaurants
By RUTH REICHL | October 29, 1993
The scene at the old Le Cirque in 2004. The restaurant closed on December 31 and reopened at a new location in 2005.
BEING A NEW RESTAURANT CRITIC IN TOWN has its drawbacks: there are a lot of restaurants I haven’t yet eaten in. But it also has its advantages: there are a lot of restaurants where I am still not recognized. In most places I am just another person who has reserved weeks in advance, and I still have to wait as more important people are waltzed into the dining room. I watch longingly as they are presented with the chef’s special dishes, and then I turn and order from the menu just like everybody else.
One of my first interests was to review the cooking of Sylvain Portay, who became chef at Le Cirque late last year. Over the course of five months I ate five meals at the restaurant; it was not until the fourth that the owner, Sirio Maccioni, figured out who I was. When I was discovered, the change was startling. Everything improved: the seating, the service, the size of the portions. We had already reached dessert, but our little plate of petit fours was whisked away to be replaced by a larger, more ostentatious one. An avalanche of sweets descended upon the table, and I was fascinated to note that the raspberries on the new desserts were three times the size of those on the old ones.
Food is important, and Mr. Portay is exceptionally talented. But nobody goes to Le Cirque just to eat. People go for the experience of being in a great restaurant. Sometimes they get it; sometimes they don’t. It all depends on who they are.
DINNER AS THE UNKNOWN DINER
“Do you have a reservation?”
This is said so challengingly I instantly feel as if I am an intruder who has wandered into the wrong restaurant. But I nod meekly and give my guest’s name. And I am sent to wait in the bar.
There we sit for half an hour, two women drinking glasses of expensive water. Finally we are led to a table in the smoking section, where we had specifically requested not to be seated. Asked if there is, perhaps, another table, the captain merely gestures at the occupied tables and produces a little shrug.
There is no need to ask for the wine list; there it is, perched right next to me on the banquette where the waiters shove the menus. Every few minutes another waiter comes to fling his used menus in my direction. I don’t mind, because I am busy with the wine list, but I have only reached page 3 before the captain reappears.
“I need that wine list,” he says peremptorily, holding out his hand. I surrender, and it is 20 minutes before it returns. Still, persistence is rewarded. The list is large and good, and has many rewards for the patient reader. Given a little time, I unearth a delicious 1985 Chambolle-Musigny for $46.
Our first course, sauteed foie gras with white peaches, is so good that the memory of it carries us through most of the meal. The sweet, soft fruit is a brilliant pairing with the rich meat.
I like the next course, too, curried tuna tartar. Encircling the silky chopped fish, which has just the perfect touch of spice, is a lovely mosaic of radish slices. But would a really great restaurant send out these pale and flabby pieces of “toast”?
We are considering this when the captain appears and informs us that a table has opened up and we will be permitted to leave the smoke zone. The move should make me happy, but when the busboy trails us to our new table, shoves our crumpled old napkins into our hands and dumps our used glasses onto the table, I can’t help feeling disgruntled. Later, as I pay the bill I find myself wishing that when the maitre d’ asked if I had a reservation, I had just said no and left.
DINNER AS A MOST FAVORED PATRON
“The King of Spain is waiting in the bar, but your table is ready,” says Mr. Maccioni, sweeping us majestically past the waiting masses. Behind us a bejeweled older woman whines, “We’ve been waiting a half-hour,” but nobody pays her any mind. Mr. Maccioni smiles down at us. “Let me get you some Champagne,” he says as one of his assistants rushes up with a sparkling pair of flutes.
Who wouldn’t be charmed? He has not even checked the book to see if we have reserved (in fact we have, but we are 20 minutes early). My date and I suddenly feel chic, suave and important. And that’s before we see that there is a luxurious table for four, a little sea of space in this crowded room, waiting for the two of us.
The first course comes; it is a luxurious layering of scallops and truffles nestled inside a little dome of pastry. It is followed by more truffles, white ones this time, shaved over an abs
olutely extraordinary risotto. Next there is lobster, intertwined with chanterelles, artichokes and tiny pearl onions. This dish is so tremblingly delicate, so filled with flavor, I feel as if I have never really tasted lobster before. It is followed by turbot, a fine, firm white fish, simply surrounded with zucchini, turnips and red peppers.
Now the captain is coming to the table with tiny glasses of golden sauternes. Is there foie gras in our future? Yes, here comes a slim slice, simply sauteed. Combined with the sweet satiny wine, each bite is an essay on richness.
But there is still dessert. They bring six if you don’t count the plate of pastries with its gorgeous ribbon of pulled sugar.
We order espresso. Tiny cups filled with intense little puddles of coffee appear. Each sip takes your breath away; it is the perfect ending to the perfect autumn meal.
I walk reluctantly out into the cool evening air, sorry to leave this fabulous circus. Life in the real world has never been this good.
Four-Star Reviews
JEAN GEORGES: The Steady Center of an Expanding Universe
By FRANK BRUNI | April 19, 2006
I WENT TO JEAN GEORGES WITH SOME TREPidation, instilled by disappointing experiences at Jo Jo, Vong and other restaurants in Mr. Vongerichten’s sprawling empire. It began to vanish as soon as the amuse-bouches appeared.
A crab beignet was a cascade of sensations. First came the coolness and gentle sweetness of strands of peekytoe crab, bound with béchamel, coated with panko, and fried. Then came a sliver of pineapple’s more pointed sweetness and slight acidity. And then, fast on their heels, the heat of pink peppercorn, but only for an instant.
Mr. Vongerichten loves this sort of dance, in which one effect often defers so quickly to another that it seems like a memory almost as soon as it’s experienced. He isn’t seeking a seamless blend; he wants each sensation to have its say without overstating its case—to frame, tame and joust with the other players.
The New York Times Book of New York Page 56