Readers, every so often you come across somewhere that
sticks with you long after leaving. Sometimes you turn up
at a venue with no idea of what you’ve booked, apart from the little knowledge
you gained from the internet before you emailed to make a reservation… which asked
for a credit card to secure it.
Fast forward a few weeks and with Mr WhatClaireDid dressed
with no sneakers, no jeans and a mandatory jacket for dinner and me in the
nicest, least crumpled dress at the end of the holiday, we headed to 21 Club. We were met at the door by the concierge who
accompanied us upstairs and knocked on the door. Yes knocked.
Next thing we were met by two waiting staff in full dinner suits and led
into the dining room.
Upstairs at 21 is something special and from what we could
gather, is relatively unknown. The
private dining room seats 32 people maximum.
Celebrities, heads of state and figureheads have dined and drank here in peace over the years. The original owners Jack and Charlie were enthusiastic collectors of art… in the great depression, customers who couldn’t settle their bills with cash did so from their art collection and as a result, the venue has a rich and varied selection of paintings and sculptures, which the staff are only too happy to tell you about.
You’re greeted at the doors by ornamental jockeys’ many of
whom were donated by some of America’s top stables. The wrought iron gates
at the front entrance date back to 1926.
Let’s be clear… this place comes with history as standard.
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Image Source: http://www.newyorkmarkt.com/ |
The private dining room “upstairs” is nothing short of
beautiful. Four huge murals adorn each
wall of the rectangular room, depicting iconic New York landmarks across the
four seasons. There’s white linen on
the tables, the cutlery carries significant weight and there’s crockery when
you arrive “for show”. I’ll be honest,
we had no idea what we’d booked until we turned up. It was near on impossible to find out much online. I came across 21 by chance on a New York dining guide. The likes
of 11 Madison Park were out of budget, but we were looking for something with
class and elegance for the last night of our east to west to east American trip. The four course tasting menu sounded exactly what we were looking for.
Upstairs at 21 oozes elegance. It’s 1930s glamour throughout. Walking in
through those iconic iron gates you can imagine the days of old. Wives of Wall Street brokers mingling with
America’s first lady. Walt Disney
sneaking to a table in the corner… you get the picture.
Dining at Upstairs at 21 is an experience. It’s to be savoured; food is taken to your table slowly,
drinks are poured as you need them and there’s no in, out, have a nice night
approach. We were in the restaurant for
nearly 3 hours. Every course was a masterpiece
in itself. The highlight though: it wasn’t
pretentious. We’re fairly sure a number
of diners were significantly wealthier than us, but to Steven (our host for the
night) it didn’t matter. We were there to
enjoy the experience as much as everyone else.
We bonded over our “across the pond heritage” – both dining room hosts were from
Ireland. The couple sitting next to
us had been coming to the venue for years and took the time to ask where we
were from, how we found the food and wished us well for our lives back home.
It didn’t feel appropriate to take photos of my food. So I’m afraid there aren’t any. I’ll just need to talk you through it…
...We started with fish courses – me enjoying crab cakes and Mr
WhatClaireDid trying oysters for the first time, which came served over ice,
with lemon and salsa. Next, came the
mid-course and for both us, lobster ravioli was the only choice. Pasta was perfectly al-dente, the filling
rich and creamy.
Moving on to mains – a filet mignon for me, with a rich
meaty sauce, potatoes and seasonal veg, whilst my partner in crime went for
the duck.
I broke my own rules of white wine with white meat only,
justifying it with the two fish courses I started with, forgetting the beef that
followed – enjoying a Sancerre which I savoured.
Never one to shy away from dessert, despite the mammoth
amount of food we’d consumed, we saved space.
In fact, I was delighted to be told there was a wait for the chocolate soufflé. It arrived towering over its ramekin (soufflé
goals) with cream and a tart raspberry ice cream. Absolutely delicious.
Several hours later, stomachs full and in a comatose state,
we realised we were the last table left in the dining room. The staff hadn’t rushed us, in fact
encouraged us to stay as long as we liked and enjoy the surroundings: just in
case we didn’t find ourselves back in Manhattan again.
Despite being slightly anxious on arrival at the formality
of the dining room, we both enjoyed the experience, were delighted with the
quality of food, standard of service and the wonderful once in a lifetime trip
to savour a little piece of Manhattan history…
So much so, I’ve managed to find a copy of Jack and Charlie’s
Iron Gate yearbook published in 1950. A memoir from the original owners, documenting the famous faces who'd walked through those iron gates I’m
not bothered if it’s battered, bruised and a little worse for wear when my copy arrives. I just want my own little piece of Manhattan history
to stay with me on the bookcase. When I’m
old and my years of travel are a distant memory, I’ll look back on this red
leather book with great fondness, recalling a night of unexpected surprises and enjoyment.