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After 26 years in New York, I finally got to pay my first visit to the storied 21 Club on the occasion of my wife and my six-month-iversary celebration, and I thought it appropriate that I report on our experience here.
In short, we had a great time.
After posting yesterday on my blog that we intended to patronize her establishment, I heard from the restaurant's PR manager via email with an offer to buy us a round of drinks on the house (what a nice touch, no?), and when we arrived, the staff actually fussed over us a little bit (though our waiter seemed a smidge disappointed when he learned that the anniversary we were celebrating was just our six-month one).
Erin and I each enjoyed two glasses of complimentary champagne -- one to open the evening, another to close it. The first one tasted better to me, but I don't know whether we were served a different champagne after dinner, or if it was just that my palate was impacted by what we'd already eaten and drunk. Both were perfectly fine, though. Erin enjoyed a glass of Pinot Noir with her meal, while I indulged in a couple of really good tequila gimlets.
We split a half dozen oysters on the half shell (and they were great -- maybe the best we've ever had, we both thought), and Erin enjoyed mussels marinara (her first mussels ever, and they got a big thumbs up), while I went for seared filet mignon (medium rare).
Both entrees were damned tasty.
For dessert, Erin selected the chocolate fudge cake with five-spice ganache and fruit compote, accompanied by quite acceptable coffee (and as a coffee professional, Erin is choosy), while I had the After Eight torte -- bittersweet chocolate, peppermint, and mint chocolate chip ice cream. Both desserts were delightful.
With our dessert, we shared a 15-year-old single malt Dalwhinnie, neat, that we both quite enjoyed.
We had requested the Bogart table, but ended up right next to it instead (it's a four-top, and we were only two) at Alec Baldwin's favorite table (thankfully, Mr. Baldwin did not show up demanding we surrender his spot), but when the foursome from Atlanta left the Bogart table vacant, I slid over for fifteen or twenty seconds, just to be able to say I'd sat there (yes, I'm just that big of a boob).
The decor is kind of clubroom/attic/wacky. Red leather banquettes and dark wood are accessorized by odds and ends the management has accumulated over the years. The ceiling is blocked from view by hundreds of toys hanging there, and shelves and ledges around the restaurant are filled with tchotchkes of various stripes.
The staff is composed of career servers, or at least that's the impression one gets. The sommelier was on the jolly side, joking with customers, but the other servers were less outgoing, though not at all stuffy.
All in all, it was a memorable evening and a satisfying celebration, and we will happily return on some future special occasion.
We forgot to bring a camera, so forgive the sketchy photos take with our camera phone:
In short, we had a great time.
After posting yesterday on my blog that we intended to patronize her establishment, I heard from the restaurant's PR manager via email with an offer to buy us a round of drinks on the house (what a nice touch, no?), and when we arrived, the staff actually fussed over us a little bit (though our waiter seemed a smidge disappointed when he learned that the anniversary we were celebrating was just our six-month one).
Erin and I each enjoyed two glasses of complimentary champagne -- one to open the evening, another to close it. The first one tasted better to me, but I don't know whether we were served a different champagne after dinner, or if it was just that my palate was impacted by what we'd already eaten and drunk. Both were perfectly fine, though. Erin enjoyed a glass of Pinot Noir with her meal, while I indulged in a couple of really good tequila gimlets.
We split a half dozen oysters on the half shell (and they were great -- maybe the best we've ever had, we both thought), and Erin enjoyed mussels marinara (her first mussels ever, and they got a big thumbs up), while I went for seared filet mignon (medium rare).
Both entrees were damned tasty.
For dessert, Erin selected the chocolate fudge cake with five-spice ganache and fruit compote, accompanied by quite acceptable coffee (and as a coffee professional, Erin is choosy), while I had the After Eight torte -- bittersweet chocolate, peppermint, and mint chocolate chip ice cream. Both desserts were delightful.
With our dessert, we shared a 15-year-old single malt Dalwhinnie, neat, that we both quite enjoyed.
We had requested the Bogart table, but ended up right next to it instead (it's a four-top, and we were only two) at Alec Baldwin's favorite table (thankfully, Mr. Baldwin did not show up demanding we surrender his spot), but when the foursome from Atlanta left the Bogart table vacant, I slid over for fifteen or twenty seconds, just to be able to say I'd sat there (yes, I'm just that big of a boob).
The decor is kind of clubroom/attic/wacky. Red leather banquettes and dark wood are accessorized by odds and ends the management has accumulated over the years. The ceiling is blocked from view by hundreds of toys hanging there, and shelves and ledges around the restaurant are filled with tchotchkes of various stripes.
The staff is composed of career servers, or at least that's the impression one gets. The sommelier was on the jolly side, joking with customers, but the other servers were less outgoing, though not at all stuffy.
All in all, it was a memorable evening and a satisfying celebration, and we will happily return on some future special occasion.
We forgot to bring a camera, so forgive the sketchy photos take with our camera phone:
