Park Avenue Club: Winter 08'

My friends and I are kind of a big deal. We go to fancy NY restaurants, and are treated like VIP. At Park Avenue Winter, the Maitre d’ offers his personal opinions of what to order, makes sure our Champagne flutes never dry, serves us ¾ of the dessert menu (with Prosecco), and ensures that sipping shots of Bailey’s round out the evening’s indulgence. No, we’re not socialites; we simply like good food, and this one good restaurant we frequent, noticed. Oh, and our friend Loren, one of the members of the Park Avenue Club (see below) knows the Maitre d’ well.

The Park Avenue Café changed the concept of its restaurant last summer. Before becoming a seasonal spot, whose menu and decoration change with each season, it was a season-less restaurant, a good restaurant with an AWESOME semi-secret Pay-your-age lunch and dinner plan, where, if you’re under say 60, you’d benefit from the pay-your-age plus $5 price for three courses. I was twenty-two all the times that I went to the Park Avenue Café, so I made out like a bandit paying $27 dollars for three courses, of which the entrée itself, the halibut most-times, cost $32. For someone who’s carded 80 percent of the time I’m at a restaurant ordering a drink, it wasn’t new to have to show the waiter my card, what was new, was that they were verifying that my age was in fact what I said it was, not older.

Summer of 2006 began Park Avenue’s transition to a seasonal restaurant- literally called Park Avenue Summer in summer, P.A. Winter in winter, and so on. Between each season, the restaurant is closed for two weeks to undergo an extreme makeover into a space that embodies the essence of the next season. Summer made you feel that you were sitting on the veranda of an Antebellum mansion on the marshes of Savannah. The lighting was low, and didn’t flicker, but with a little bit of imagination could have come from a Citronella candle. Tall grass and cat-tails sprung from planters, and while the soundtrack didn’t actually feature crickets and frogs, it was as though the faint hum of the marshlands could be heard behind the pop music that was playing.

It was at the Park Avenue Summer dinner that the Park Avenue Club was formed. Myself, Jenna, Kirstin, Sarah, Meghan, and Loren agreed to adjourn this dinner until next season, when we would return for another meeting. Our Fall meeting was a success, mushrooms and Winter squash were highlighted on the menu, mahogany and turning leaves featured in the space.

At Park Avenue Winter, we were greeted by an all-white space, with a white marble bust of a Ram presiding over restaurant as though it were perched triumphant on the Matterhorn. Aside from a few shiny accents, white fur wall panels, bare branches and planters growing pale green herbs, the setting was very neutral. Yea, it was white, and yes, snow is white, but other than that and the bare branches, there was little connection to winter. Unlike summer, whose ethereal spirit was captured beautifully in the space, winter just made you feel like you were in a posh white restaurant, whose idea of festivity was switching out fresh flowers for bare branches.

The food, while I wouldn’t call it festive, was more inspired than the setting. I arrived a few minutes late, so by the time I got to the table, the girls were munching on delicious arancini (fried risotto balls) served in a brown paper bags with herb aioli on the side. Crunchy on the outside, the interior was soft, warm, and aromatic.


The five of us ordered an appetizer and entrée each, and we did so collaboratively, so that we can sample the maximum number of items on the menu. To ensure that no one should miss anything, we passed our dishes to the left after taking (and briefly savoring) a bite.

There were the prawns, my order, and my least favorite of the five appetizers I tried. They were sautéed, and served on a citrus (grapefruit) and herb (elder flower) salad, and topped with very crispy noodles frayed on top. Beautifully plated, but too summer-y for a winter menu, leaving a lot to be desired:

Then, the ravioli with porcinis, swiss chard, and gorgonzola sauce. These sumptuous little pillows filled with warm ultra seasonal ingredients were wonderful. Totally delightful, and comforting as they were, Kirstin ordered very well:


My favorite was the open-faced scallop sandwich, brought to our table because the food-wise and ever-adventurous Jenna ordered it. The scallops were cut into about quarter-inch thick slices, seared, and generously layered on a buttery slice of bread. Scallops on bread? Such an unlikely but incredibly delicious pairing, I savored my bite as best as I could despite the swiftness with which it dissolved in my mouth after taking it.


There were other appetizers, but the above were the memorable ones. Now, for my entrée, I ordered the cornbread crusted red snapper, served on top of a citrus salad. Sound like my appetizer much? Well, it was, but better, different, satisfying. The cornbread was patted on the top side and crisped, becoming the perfect compliment to the succulent snapper.


The citrus salad under the snapper was fresh and complex. It had oranges, grapefruit, fennel and herbs, and balanced the sweet corn bread snapper wonderfully.


The five desserts we shared warrant their own entry, and I’m afraid I won’t be getting to it. Let the following pictures suffice:



…They were fabulous, and so were we.