Most people have their favorite go-to television show. It's not something that you plan your life around, but when you're looking to fill about 46 minutes of your day, it's what you put on. For me, that program is Bourdain's “No Reservations”. It combines my two great loves of travel and food, and requires essentially no commitment from me. There is no character development; no plot twists. It's the perfect single serving entertainment. So my DVR is perpetually filled with the 15 most recent episodes ready and waiting for the moment I'm looking for some sort of distraction. I am fortunate that my traveling partner and sometime fellow gastronaut "Le Cuillère," (hey, he needed a nom de plume too!) encourages and sometimes participates in this habit.
One episode entitled “Disappearing Manhattan” features those quintessential New York establishments which over time have gradually fallen off the Manhattan landscape. One such place is Le Veau D'or on the Upper East Side. Once a common fixture throughout New York, locations like Le Veau D'or and their classic french cuisine have been largely replaced by more modern eateries boasting ever more impressive culinary techniques. From the description during the episode, we were both intrigued. So on our most recent trip, we made it a point to visit.
In a era defined by technology, Le Veau D'or maintains a low profile. The restaurant is inconspicuously located on E 60th, a small brass plaque the only marquee. There is no website to consult; you cannot make reservations on Open Table. One simply must show up and hope for the best, or call ahead if feeling overly ambitious. Since it was a midweek night, we elected to take our chances.
Walking through the front door is much like stepping back into an age where going to a restaurant was the height of sophistication vice a common place activity because most of us are more often than not too lazy to cook. I felt almost at a loss without my fur wrap, sting of pearls, and cigarette holder. Yet while classic in the best sense of the word, Le Veau D'or isn't pretentious. Upon our arrival we were greeted warmly by a charming woman, whom we knew from the Bourdain episode was the owner's daughter and oversaw the day to day operations. The owner himself, a very well dressed elderly gentleman, was stationed at a table by the door and you had the sense if he didn't like the looks of you he'd immediately toss you out on your ear. We must have passed the inspection however, as we were shown to a cozy booth in the back corner.
I suspect our waiter actually may have started when the restaurant opened in the 1930's...and he too was entirely in keeping with the classic French motif, dressed in a tuxedo and focused on the details. The menu is presented as a three course offering with a choice of appetizer, main course, and dessert. The options covered most of the major contributions of French cuisine, including dishes you are unlikely to even find on a menu these days.
We started with a bottle of 2008 St Georges from Saint Emillion while reviewing the menu. After significant weighing of possible menu permutations, Le Cuillère decided upon the escargot followed by the duck breast in cherry sauce. I selected the chilled artichoke with vinaigrette and the small roasted chicken in wine and mushroom sauce.
The appetizers appeared with refreshingly little fanfare, and presented simply; Le Veau D'or clearly prefers to let the dishes speak for themselves. The escargot, heralded its arrival in advance with the unmistakable and positively intoxicating smell of butter and roasted garlic. The little snails were themselves perfectly cooked, shelled, and as Le Cuillère described it, snorkeling in the sauce. They weren't drowning, but were definitely in over their heads! I love artichokes, but they are an unholy pain in the butt to prepare, and I almost never do. So I was practically giddy when presented with a perfectly steamed and chilled specimen, tender and complete with lemon vinaigrette for dipping the petals.
Following a perfectly respectable amount of time, the entrees appeared (Side note.... this is a personal pet peeve of mine, and something that I find can enhance or utterly ruin a meal. I do not want feel as though I'm participating in a Man v. Food challenge. At the same time, I don't want to be sitting there for an indeterminate amount of time wondering if perhaps I'll be served the next course for breakfast). Le Veau D'or got it just right. The duck arrived plated on a bed of pilaf with the cherry sauce on the side. The chicken made its appearance on a cutting board, whereby the waiter proceeded to carve it table side, presenting the dissembled bird with the pan sauce of mushrooms, bacon and onions along side a potato dauphin. We both received a spinach puree on the side. Le Cuillère found the duck to be perfectly cooked and was most impressed with the subtly of the cherry sauce which paired with the meat without being cloying or syrupy. The chicken was also a delight, the components of the sauce infused into the meat and were evident in every bite. Even the sides, which could easily have been an after thought, were well prepared and thoughtfully matched to the dishes.
The dessert menu contained many of the classic favorites. I selected an apple tart, while Le Cuillère elected to be bold and order the “Oeufs en la Neige”. Literally meaning “eggs in the snow” the dish was described as a “floating island”. Beyond that, there was little to indicate what that might possibly mean, but Le Cuillère, culinary Ponce De Leon he views himself to be when challenged, was undeterred. What appeared was a slab of toasted meringue in a pool of crème anglais with a hidden layer of caramel to create an added flavor dimension. Le Cuillère was pleased with the results of his gamble, evinced by his delighted smile and immediate insistence I try a sample. As for my admittedly safe choice, the tart was executed with remarkable precision. The apple was sliced wafer thin and layered across the puff pastry to ensure the perfect balance of fruit and crust. Capped off with espresso, it was a truly wonderful meal.
There were many aspects of the place which could be taken as kitsch, and I have no doubt there are a great many self proclaimed foodies who would deride Le Veau D'or's decision to cling to tradition. But tradition isn't a bad thing if its producing good food in a comfortable setting. In a world where chefs are striving to come up with the next big thing and food can look less like food and more like a chemistry experiment, it's somewhat reassuring that places like Le Veau D'or remain to remind us of our culinary roots.
One episode entitled “Disappearing Manhattan” features those quintessential New York establishments which over time have gradually fallen off the Manhattan landscape. One such place is Le Veau D'or on the Upper East Side. Once a common fixture throughout New York, locations like Le Veau D'or and their classic french cuisine have been largely replaced by more modern eateries boasting ever more impressive culinary techniques. From the description during the episode, we were both intrigued. So on our most recent trip, we made it a point to visit.
In a era defined by technology, Le Veau D'or maintains a low profile. The restaurant is inconspicuously located on E 60th, a small brass plaque the only marquee. There is no website to consult; you cannot make reservations on Open Table. One simply must show up and hope for the best, or call ahead if feeling overly ambitious. Since it was a midweek night, we elected to take our chances.
Walking through the front door is much like stepping back into an age where going to a restaurant was the height of sophistication vice a common place activity because most of us are more often than not too lazy to cook. I felt almost at a loss without my fur wrap, sting of pearls, and cigarette holder. Yet while classic in the best sense of the word, Le Veau D'or isn't pretentious. Upon our arrival we were greeted warmly by a charming woman, whom we knew from the Bourdain episode was the owner's daughter and oversaw the day to day operations. The owner himself, a very well dressed elderly gentleman, was stationed at a table by the door and you had the sense if he didn't like the looks of you he'd immediately toss you out on your ear. We must have passed the inspection however, as we were shown to a cozy booth in the back corner.
I suspect our waiter actually may have started when the restaurant opened in the 1930's...and he too was entirely in keeping with the classic French motif, dressed in a tuxedo and focused on the details. The menu is presented as a three course offering with a choice of appetizer, main course, and dessert. The options covered most of the major contributions of French cuisine, including dishes you are unlikely to even find on a menu these days.
We started with a bottle of 2008 St Georges from Saint Emillion while reviewing the menu. After significant weighing of possible menu permutations, Le Cuillère decided upon the escargot followed by the duck breast in cherry sauce. I selected the chilled artichoke with vinaigrette and the small roasted chicken in wine and mushroom sauce.
The appetizers appeared with refreshingly little fanfare, and presented simply; Le Veau D'or clearly prefers to let the dishes speak for themselves. The escargot, heralded its arrival in advance with the unmistakable and positively intoxicating smell of butter and roasted garlic. The little snails were themselves perfectly cooked, shelled, and as Le Cuillère described it, snorkeling in the sauce. They weren't drowning, but were definitely in over their heads! I love artichokes, but they are an unholy pain in the butt to prepare, and I almost never do. So I was practically giddy when presented with a perfectly steamed and chilled specimen, tender and complete with lemon vinaigrette for dipping the petals.
Following a perfectly respectable amount of time, the entrees appeared (Side note.... this is a personal pet peeve of mine, and something that I find can enhance or utterly ruin a meal. I do not want feel as though I'm participating in a Man v. Food challenge. At the same time, I don't want to be sitting there for an indeterminate amount of time wondering if perhaps I'll be served the next course for breakfast). Le Veau D'or got it just right. The duck arrived plated on a bed of pilaf with the cherry sauce on the side. The chicken made its appearance on a cutting board, whereby the waiter proceeded to carve it table side, presenting the dissembled bird with the pan sauce of mushrooms, bacon and onions along side a potato dauphin. We both received a spinach puree on the side. Le Cuillère found the duck to be perfectly cooked and was most impressed with the subtly of the cherry sauce which paired with the meat without being cloying or syrupy. The chicken was also a delight, the components of the sauce infused into the meat and were evident in every bite. Even the sides, which could easily have been an after thought, were well prepared and thoughtfully matched to the dishes.
The dessert menu contained many of the classic favorites. I selected an apple tart, while Le Cuillère elected to be bold and order the “Oeufs en la Neige”. Literally meaning “eggs in the snow” the dish was described as a “floating island”. Beyond that, there was little to indicate what that might possibly mean, but Le Cuillère, culinary Ponce De Leon he views himself to be when challenged, was undeterred. What appeared was a slab of toasted meringue in a pool of crème anglais with a hidden layer of caramel to create an added flavor dimension. Le Cuillère was pleased with the results of his gamble, evinced by his delighted smile and immediate insistence I try a sample. As for my admittedly safe choice, the tart was executed with remarkable precision. The apple was sliced wafer thin and layered across the puff pastry to ensure the perfect balance of fruit and crust. Capped off with espresso, it was a truly wonderful meal.
There were many aspects of the place which could be taken as kitsch, and I have no doubt there are a great many self proclaimed foodies who would deride Le Veau D'or's decision to cling to tradition. But tradition isn't a bad thing if its producing good food in a comfortable setting. In a world where chefs are striving to come up with the next big thing and food can look less like food and more like a chemistry experiment, it's somewhat reassuring that places like Le Veau D'or remain to remind us of our culinary roots.
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