Readers, every so often you come across somewhere that sticks with you. 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 WhatClaireBaked 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 max,
You’re greeted at the doors by ornamental jockeys’ man of whom were donated by some of America’s top stables and the wrought iron gates at the front entrance date back to 1926. Let’s be clear… this place comes with history as standard.
|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. I found 21 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 trip. The four course tasting menu sounded great.
Upstairs at 21 oozes elegance. It’s 1930s glamour throughout: walking in the front door you can imagine the days of old. Wives of Wall Street brokers mingling with America’s first lady. Walt Disney sneaking to a table… you get the picture.
Dining at Upstairs at 21 is an experience. It’s to be savoured; food is taken 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 “over the pond heritage” – both 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 WhatClaireBaked 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, forget 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 delicious raspberry ice cream. Absolutely delicious.
Several hours later, stomachs full and in a comatose state, we realised we were the last left in the dining room. The staff hadn’t rushed us, in fact encouraged us to stay as longs 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 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.