I’ve had too many wonderful meals to recount in New York, but tonight’s Beatrice Inn dinner just might be one of my favorites. It’s certainly one of the few meals in recent history that I actually feel inspired to write about.
What did I love so much about the experience? Just about everything.
It’s a meat lover’s paradise. In all seriousness, if you’re vegan, vegetarian, or not a fan of delicious proteins, don’t even bother. Once you step foot into this basement-level den of indulgence, you will lose all ability to self-regulate.
The restaurant has a storied history as a speak easy, celebrity hangout spot, and in recent years, a somewhat lackluster chophouse. When I heard Angie Mar, former sous-chef at the Spotted Pig, was taking over, I had high hopes for what she’d do. Take a look at her Instagram.
The woman is a mistress of meat and my new favorite lady boss (she’s Executive Chef AND owner).
The space is basement level and everything you’d expect out of a West Village dining experience – fireplaces, low lighting, and a New Yorker’s definition of the word cozy, a narrow bar in the entrance where late twenty somethings accidentally dry hump each other over post-work drinks.
When you read through the menu, the chef’s voice comes through loud and clear. “I’m a raging carnivore who loves dead animals and by the end of this meal you will too.” As a foodie who usually eyes the 2-3 “must-haves” almost instantaneously, I was dazed and confused. Do I order the 60 day dry-aged cote de boeuf with prawn butter, the braised oxtail, game pie, milk braised pork shoulder, duck flambe, 45 day dry aged burger, or perhaps lose my mind and go for the 127 DAY WHISKY AGED TOMAHAWK RIBEYE?! The menu is audacious, the most indulgent in your face menu I’ve looked at in a long time.
We actually did go crazy and attempted to order the ribeye and then the waitress said, “Tonight’s market price is $679”. LOL. Here’s the deal. I’m actually one of those people who would order this, but I have to mentally prep myself first. I’ve spent obscene amounts of money on food and drink, but it always feels like this internal battle with myself to rationalize the decision. You can book a direct nonstop flight to Hawaii for $679! You could also go to McDonald’s and get a delicious box of 20 chicken nuggets with the most perfect sweet and sour sauce ever created for $5! One whiskey aged tomahawk ribeye = 2,716 chicken nuggets!
We bailed on the ribeye and opted for the roast duck flambe instead.
You can go through all the photos below where I captured every magical mouthful.
When the meal starts with your waiter saying, “You can add white truffle to anything” you know shit just got real.
First “oh em gee” moment: gold foil on my white truffle gin (!!!) and yuzu cocktail.
We’re in the mecca of meat lovers so we had to work in *some* greens.
Um, more truffle. This yellowtail carpaccio had porcini and truffle preserves with a touch of citrus.
Why the hell not at this point? Yes, more truffle please.
Shaved truffle on the tartefette with onions and sage.
Can we talk about this silver platter situation for a second? Everything about this place screams, “This is a little over the top, but get used to it.”
Okay. Here’s where I lose it. Bone Marrow creme brulee. WUT.
Cheese on a massive silver platter that could double as a gladiator shield.
And finally, a smoked Manhattan served to me on yes… a silver platter.
I’m full. I’m inspired. I’m in love with Angie Mar’s West Village meat den and I can’t wait to go back with a group and devour that ribeye.