Inspiration

What It's Really Like to Enjoy a Five-Hour, 15-Course Tasting Menu at Eleven Madison Park

Sometimes world-class service means saying “dude” and letting diners stand on chairs.
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Upon arriving for dinner at Eleven Madison Park’s soaring Art Deco dining room, I gave my name to the man stationed at the entrance and, out of habit, started spelling it for clarity. Which I now realize was silly: A restaurant doesn’t earn three Michelin stars, a four-star New York Timesreview, and the number four spot on the industry list of the 50 best restaurants in the world without doing a little strategic Googling. “We’re not stalkerish about it,” co-owner and front-of-house overseer Will Guidara told me later. Researching the names in the reservation book yields possibilities for customizing a table’s experience—say, by pairing diners with a server with common interests.

A certain level of care—precision movements, constantly full glasses, accommodating your nut allergy—is a given at a restaurant of this caliber. But Guidara and chef Daniel Humm say their 50-50 business partnership means the restaurant expresses itself through how it treats diners just as much as through the food on the plate. “Other restaurants on our level are driven by the chef,” says Humm (who, it bears repeating, is the chef). “The service is there to kind of be servants to the chef and the guest.”

To settle in for a five-hour tasting menu here is to experience Humm’s particular combination of technique and play. But as Guidara puts it, “Fine dining meals can get boring; it’s important to make them engaging and stimulating.” Here’s how that happens.

9:17 p.m. Start with a glass of local wine (Sparkling Pointe Cuvee Seduction from Long Island) at the bar while we await our table.

9:37 p.m. We’re seated, and apparently all that Googling paid off. Our table captain Elizabeth seems like she’d be fun to hang out with. “Once upon a time, what you saw on Downton Abbeywas what people characterized as good service,” says Guidara. He believes today’s diners want “cool, normal people, being themselves.” (Granted, those cool, normal people undergo some intensive training.) If Guidara overhears a server speaking to a table in a way that’s more stilted or formal than their off-duty vernacular, he issues a gentle reminder. If the moment calls for it, not even the word “dude” is off limits at the country’s most eminent restaurant.

9:41 p.m. I tell the sommelier I’m interested in wine pairings, but concerned I might drink so much I won’t properly appreciate the meal. He offers to design a more restrained lineup of glass pours, thus saving me from excessive tipsiness.

9:53 p.m. Our progression of 15 tiny courses begins with a savory take on New York’s black and white cookie, the size of a 50-cent piece and made with apple and cheddar.

11:26 p.m. A member of the kitchen staff clamps a small meat grinder to our table, then introduces a carrot to the device’s business end, producing a vegetal play on steak tartare.

12:03 a.m. Butter-poached lobster with dandelion greens and ginger for me, roasted chicken with creamed nettles and goat cheese for my dining companion—she doesn’t do seafood. The restaurant often accommodates dietary restrictions by serving something entirely different. “We don’t like to just take things off the plate,” says Humm. Each course might have four alternative dishes, all conceived along with the main menu over a period of months.

12:16 a.m. A quick invite to the kitchen to gawk at its orderly energy. A member of the pastry team uses a hand-cranked machine to fashion us some deluxe cones of shave ice.

2:04 a.m. The sommelier arrives with apple brandy. Why simply uncork a bottle when you can burn off the neck with a pair of flaming hot tongs?

2:21 a.m. Suddenly we’re the last guests in the dining room. The staff makes us aware, not by clearing their throats and looking at their watches, but by offering to play whatever we wanted on the sound system.

2:45 a.m. Mark Ronson’s “Valerie” fills the room. Table captain Elizabeth assures us it’s totally fine to stand on the chairs, hold our brandies aloft, and snap endless photos so that tomorrow morning we might remember this improbable ending to a spectacular meal. Service doesn’t get much more customized than this.


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