Le Veau D’Or has some of the most amazing food in NYC right now — but I might never go back
Le Veau D’or is the city’s most buzzed about restaurant revival in recent memory — with thrilling good reason.
It audaciously resurrects the fabled, boldface-haunt that opened at 129 E. 60th St in 1937 and served its last escargot in 2019.
At the new iteration, classic bistro dishes as interpreted by chef/owners Lee Hanson and Riad Nasr — of Frenchette and Le Rock fame — are wonders of delicious, rustic decadence. They make old warhorses seem new.
Everything tasted better than it did at Balthazar, where Hanson and Nasr once cooked, and better than I recall from an ancient, nameless auberge somewhere in the Loire Valley.
But this golden calf has a shady side as well. It’s the most glaring clash of great cuisine and obnoxious pricing, among other issues, since before the pandemic.
First, the great news. The L-shaped dining room, which looks much like the original, is easy on the eyes. So are customers, a mix of older uptown swells and younger downtown curiosity-seekers, most of whom dress casually but, thankfully, without cargo pants or excessive cleavage.
The old Le Veau D’Or drew celebs from Grace Kelly to Jackie Onassis and had fans in food critics such as Craig Claiborne. But over time, the kitchen faded and the crowds shrank.
The revival, although not an exact replica, brings back the cozy visuals, with a black-and-red linoleum floor, wood panels, red leather chairs, gleaming beveled mirrors and red-check gingham tablecloths.
A restored, 1960s painting of a dozing calf presides over the convivial scene. Servers make everyone feel welcome, smoothly navigating amidst a dozen tables with just fifty-five seats.
The menu, executed by chefs Jeff Teller and Charles Izenstein, delivers bistro heaven. Everything tasted as though it could have come straight from a French countryside home or bistro — but even better.
The menu isn’t for calorie- or cholesterol counters. Comte cheese brought creamy, buttery joy to a pair of fresh organic eggs in a deceptively simple “petit omelette.”
I haven’t had quenelles poached to such a delicate turn since the old La Caravelle. The near-drinkable fresh pike from Great Lakes waters came bathed in traditional tomato- and herb-rich, lobster cognac sauce Americaine — a sensuous, seductive fusion of Lyon-meets-Manhattan to the glory of both.
Sabodet, the Lyonnaise sausage made mostly of brine pigs heads, got my squeamish friend over her offal aversion. Its sweet-and-spicy essence was as luxuriant as it was rustic, accompanied by de puy lentils and dijon mustard.
Cured and aged duck magret — wrapped in peppered, crunchy crust for textural fireworks and attended by sweet, sour and bloomed dry cherries in cherry juice — melted on the tongue.
Pastry chef Michelle Palazzo’s meringue-like ile flottante with cracked almonds is the dessert to order. The pancake-like, liqueur-deficient crepes suzettes don’t quite measure up.
Yet, for all their pleasures, Le Veau D’Or’s sublime dishes are too expensive for the overall experience. Dinner is prix-fixe only — $125 for three courses (plus a splendid green salad) — whether you want dessert or not.
Then there’s the tightly-packed dining room. It’s noisier than a subway platform when express trains zoom by simultaneously. Background music isn’t the issue, but rather the problem is too many whooping voices all straining to be heard in a too-small, hard-edged, low-ceilinged room.
And — the wine! It’s a matter of taste, but I recoiled at the 200-bottle list of all-natural selections. Most are unfiltered and as grating on my palate as childhood cough medicine.
I get it — Hanson and Nasr are obsessed with natural wines. But I’d have killed for a decent, normal Chablis or Pinot Noir.
Can’t they offer at least a few traditional wines for those of us who loathe the funky stuff?
You can bring your own for a $100 per bottle corkage fee. which might almost be worth it if they lowered the volume.
