Landmark Delmonico’s all class, no bite

After taking the long subway ride down to the Financial District, Delmonico’s seems to be an ideal choice for an exquisite dining experience. Opened in 1837, Delmonico’s is one of America’s oldest restaurants, housed in a structure reminiscent of the Flatiron Building. The home of classic dishes such as eggs Benedict, lobster Newburg, and Baked Alaska, its signature dessert, Delmonico’s raises high expectations.

With dim lighting and dark wood accents, the restaurant’s décor gives off an air of American antiquity. The patrons of the restaurant seem to reflect the upper crust of the city—women in fur coats and men in finely tailored suits.

In spite of appearances and reputation, however, Delmonico’s proves to be far from perfect.

Upon arrival, one of the hosts appears, taking diners to their seats. Bypassing the luxurious main dining room and the beautiful bar area, he leads deep into the bowels of the restaurant, right outside the entrance to the kitchen. Looking around, one notices that the seating assignments are reflective of age. Most of the customers seated in the back area appear young, late teens to late 20s. It seems as if the restaurant wants to shove the younger patrons to the back, out of sight of the older and wealthier diners.
After about 15 minutes, a waiter finally arrives to hand out menus. Hardly saying a word, brusque servers make younger diners feel unwelcome at Delmonico’s. Staring down his nose, he hastily jots down orders, offering curt responses to questions about the menu. For the next 30 minutes, diners will enjoy bread and butter—appetizers seem to take an eternity to come out of the kitchen.

Luckily, a first course of scallops and bacon tastes delicious. To be completely accurate, though, the dish should be called scallop and bacon—there is only one, lonely scallop on the plate.

Unfortunately, this appetizer turns out to be the highlight of the dinner, as each subsequent course feels more and more disappointing. The filet mignon offered is hardly up to par for a restaurant that claims to be a steakhouse. And the dessert menu is unimpressive, with the exception of the aforementioned Baked Alaska. Indeed, the desserts seem to follow tradition—cheesecake, brownies, pumpkin pie. Nothing creative whatsoever. Settling for “Idiazabal Cheesecake,” a diner finds that the most extraordinary part of this treat is the name—it is simply a New York cheesecake in disguise.

After spending a good amount of money, students will leave less than satisfied by the food and the service. Perhaps the outcome would be different if an “adult” were brought along in order to buffer the apparent ageism. Delmonico’s may offer a legend of excellence, but it is nothing more than a myth.