It was an early fall day in 2006, one of those mild, yet hint of warm, sky blue days that we New Yorkers would like to enjoy, except it always reminds us of September 11th. I was lounging on one of the benches at the Rockefeller Center Promenade wondering what the six other wonders of the world were up to. Actually, I was waiting for a business appointment, who, upon her arrival, suggested we have our meeting at Brasserie Ruhlmann. I walked on the red carpet, passed the Art Deco doors, and we sat at the bar area looking out at the Plaza, sipping cappuccinos. I knew I had found a place for dins that Saturday.
Brasserie Ruhlmann is a recent addition, within the last year and a half, to the row of restaurants in the area from 51st street between 5th and 6th avenues in Manhattan that cover the cuisine spectrum from best left to tourists in squeaky white sneakers, polo shirts and jeans killing time between Big Apple Tours to those of executives in Paul Stuart suits, Tiffany cufflinks and Mont Blanc fountain pens trying to figure out the new way to re-package sub-prime mortgages over Pellegrino and Bombay Sapphire martinis. You’ll find the latter at Brasserie Ruhlmann, along with an assortment of others in publishing, TV and the occasional tourists who sport Polo shirts.
The big dude at Brasserie Ruhlmann is Jean Donoyer, who also owns La Goulue, Le Colonial among other jewels in the NYC restaurant tiara. I haven’t been to those for I am not one of the Paul Stuart but Mens Warehouse crowd. What immediately appealed to me about BR is that my meeting companion and I had only cappuccinos, yet they let me put them on a credit card. I like a place that encourages you to increase your debt. The other attraction is that Art Deco flavor. I imagine it’s how most of Rockefeller Center must have looked like fifty years ago and the vibe that comes with it.
Laurent Tourondel is the Executive Chef. The guy knows which end of the frying pan to put to the Viking range. When I went there on the following Saturday night with my meeting companion, we arrived at 9:30PM. It was hopping. We sat down at our table, tucking into bookends of the aforementioned Bombay ‘tinis. And, yes mein friends, I truly felt like this is what it must have been like at Toots Shor’s Restaurant during its 1940s and 1950s prime. Of course, we had to start off with Oysters Rockefeller. Now I know why they call them Rockefeller, decadently milky with a hint of brine from the ocean, with a side frisee, breaded and a fried soft boiled egg that has me drooling on the keyboard as I write while simultaneously reaching for the Lipitor.
For dinner, I had the New York Strip Steak Au Poivre, nice and spicy, crispy on the outside and as Babs Streisand would intone “like buttuh” on the inside. Said meeting guest went for the Steak Tartare, which can either be an appy or entrée. Guest chose the latter. I imagine she enjoyed it, if repetition of: “Oh my God, oh…my…God!” is an indicator. It was either gustatory ecstasy or basking in my magnetism. Guest did between invocations of the deity say that it’s “just the right amount of spicy and this grilled bread is unbelievable. Here, have some. No…have some!”
We skipped desert for the bar was calling to us. It’s one of those bars that I like to think Hemingway would have sipped absinthe at when he was in France in the twenties. Imagine the bar in Soho’s Balthazar with less of the din, like you’re eating in a grange hall and none of the ‘tude. We opted for Sidecars and then exited into the spring Manhattan night.
There are a few negatives. The alla carte menu can quickly add to the price, though the sides are lip smacking good; and you should definitely order them with your entrees, which are on the smaller side but make up for it in mouth and stomach satisfying richness. The wait staff can rush you a bit, so you may have to rein them in. The good news is it’s not done out of your perceived class station. All diners get it. I’m not going to complain about the price. Our dinner was $250. It’s to be expected. You’re getting an experience that will pay off. I can especially testify to that with regards to my Saturday night dinner. But if you don’t want to drop a lot of cabbage, opt for the bar menu, which is equally full of tasty, luxury surprises. Try the Mini Kobe Burgers (3) for sixteen dollars.
So what’s the verdict? If Life is a near death experience, then enjoy it by stopping by Brasserie Ruhlmann, just remember to check your credit limit.
Hey…want to see and hear my gassing on about the world in general? Visit Ed-E-torial.
