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Eleven Madison Park


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I've been a couple of times before and although perfectly ok I found it pretty ho hum; neither as exciting as a top tier restaurant (the Danny Meyer effect) nor as satisfying as a decent bistro. But a

I look forward to the next iteration, when he transforms it into the first NFT restaurant, with menus of Non-Food Tokens for 500 Ethereum. You sit at a table and look at pictures of food and wine bott

EMP Miami 🤣

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What is this place even for if we're not going to engage in groundless speculation regarding the cause of this split? :P

 

The Eater analysis suggests the ascending arc of Eleven Madison Park since the Great Recession is now concluded, and Make It Nice perhaps stagnant [or at least no longer infallible]. I suppose one could argue Guidara's talents and skill set are more portable than Humm's, in the sense that the present incarnation of EMP probably could not exist without the chef.

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No. Per Se was as good as ever in 2009.

 

I would think that most New Yorkers think of Per Se and Humm-era EMP as contemporaries.

Orik’s right man. Per Se was born a fully formed, grown man, perhaps already on the wrong side of 40.

 

Not sure about the statement that they were “contemporaries”. I tend to think of EMP as being in its final form and the successor to Per Se as The Best Restaurant in New York in the post-2010 years. It only got its 3 stars in 2011 and its nyt 4 was, iirc, controversial in 2009.

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Speaking of 11 Mad, I was speaking recently with a longtime friend who lives in NYC. A married man married to a lovely lady and I plan to see said couple when I pass through the city next month. I knew the hubbie first … known him now for over 20 years … we initially bonded by beaching it and bbq-ing fresh swordfish and sweet corn on shooting-star-infested nights on Martha’s Vineyard at the very end of the prior millennium … a long time ago on a farm far far away. He was one of the original “farm friends” … a group of us who rented an awesome property on the island each summer. In fact, he was the sole NYer involved, professing to be a professor, as everyone else was Boston based at the time. And I distinctly remember first meeting his now-wife … but we need to roll the clock forward a handful of years … I’m now in NY after a stint in Paris and me and my farm friend are hanging out from time to time, checking out the hot chicks. He asks me if I want to go on a double date … he’s gone out with this highly-accomplished, Ivy-trained medical gal a couple of times and she has a doctor friend who is “in the market” as we say. He asks if I’m game and I say as long as the market participant isn’t a psycho or a psychiatrist then I could be a part of this. Next thing you know, we’re knocking back cocktails at the Pegu Club til late. Let’s cut to the chase – he married his babe and I didn’t marry mine. He’s raising a family and I’m still wandering in the wilderness. She thought I was a psycho and needed immediate psychiatric treatment. Being a relatively self-aware individual, I didn’t debate any of this, knowing that I would be on the wrong side of the argument, and I simply told her that she seemed like an extremely intelligent and highly perceptive being and that maybe we would meet up in an ensuing dimension in the not too distant future. She said that sounds good and likely, so we hugged and that was that. Truth be told, although we actively chatted, I wasn’t actively attracted to her.

 

 

 

Why the long, boring, navel-gazing (mine, not hers) story ?

 

 

 

Frankly I have no idea why …

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Okay … just joking … I mention the story a) because I enjoy rambling on and on and on … and on and b) because I also distinctly remember the four of us chatting about 11 Mad that evening and discussing the room, the décor and the food along with other less important subjects. Even way back then, well before Humm’s rise to total world domination, the resto was a point of common experience between us all. It was I who had originally invited our illustrious professor to explore the pleasures of this gastronomic Park.

 

 

So with that as context, let’s fast forward the clock to 2 days ago.

 

 

I hadn’t talked to my “farm friend” in quite a while. I’m now touching base to see if they are in town when I’m in town and there are, hence very good news. I’m updating him on my goings-on, he’s updating me on his and then he mentions that it just so happens that it’s his lovely bride’s birthday today and they are going to ….

 

 

And they are going to where ?

 

Take a guess ! Take a wild guess !!

 

If you guess correctly, I’ll finish the story tomorrow because it’s unbelievably late for me, I had no idea I was going to waste all this time writing this garbage and I have a very important rendez-vous at the Centro Niemeyer in the morning, followed by lunch at the excellent Restaurante Gunea, followed by beaching it at either Playa Salinas or the more dramatic, but further away, Playa del Silencio … or maybe an option in between …

 

 

To be continued …

 

 

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I find it very efficient to date psychotherapists. Nobody enjoys anything more than telling the person she’s going out with what’s wrong with him. So she gets to enjoy herself, and I get all this free professional advice/analysis. Win/win.

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