Okay I was wrong

Entrees are good

I’m mostly too stubborn to double back on a take, but, uh, I think entrees are back. The restaurant ordering pendulum is shifting, informed by creative kitchen execution and diner demand.

A year ago, I decried ordering entrees, a long held belief for about a decade:

If you pass the sandwiches and pasta sections of menus — very much not entrees — you end up paying between $40-$120 for some fairly predictable preparations. There are the steak frites. The au poivre with a nontraditional protein. The roast duck. A butter poached fish. A large maitake or lion’s mane mushroom presented like a chicken. Something, somehow, still being topped with bone marrow. A return to simple cooking framed as a transgressive act.

In his review of Horses for Taste, Jason Stewart has my favorite, recent recounting of entree slander:

I admire how Horses pays homage to an era of cooking that was popular when many of the kitchen staff were likely in diapers, such as with the aforementioned veal sweetbreads or pork rillettes with cornichon and grain mustard. But not their Cornish hen, a dish I never reach for in restaurants, as I roast a weekly chicken myself. Mine is not better than their poultry playbook, but when I drop $250 on a Wednesday dinner, I want to eat things I don’t cook at home.

And just last Sunday, I watched as a couple next to me at Chez Ma Tante each ordered the pancakes. One of them also got the breakfast sandwich and bacon. (I don’t think any post-brunch sex was had). I rolled my eyes. One entree per person, and especially the same entree, is an insane way to approach a meal. It’s even worse on a date. As the regular orderer at the table, I’ve typically strung together meals by rounding up the very best dishes from the top and middle of the menu, and then only conceded an entree or two if the table size and hunger level requires it. That, simply, was just how it’s done.

But, man, I think things are changing. I had a lovely dinner in the West Village on Thursday night at Crevette, the new spot from the team behind Dame. Friends recommended a few small bites that I had to get. More than anything, though, I kept hearing about the entrees. So as I was putting together the order for our four top, I told the waiter:

“I kind of want the bouillabaisse, the rice and the chicken. Is that crazy?”

He paused.

“You mean, like, just for you?”

They arrived after some clarification, plus a stellar mix of raw bar snacks and a couple smaller dishes.

The seafood rice with razor clams and lobster rivals the fried arroz negro at Estela. The sauce and fish work in the bouillabaisse is perfect. And the chicken frites … simply the best chicken dish I’ve had in New York. If I had filled us up on 12 small iterations of chilled mussels and octopus skewers, it would have objectively been a worse meal. It’s also feeling like a less fun way to dine.

When I’m at Penny in the East Village, I’ve started finishing every meal with their 1.5 pound Maine lobster, cooked impeccably and simply with butter and herbs. I’ve never gone to Torrisi and not ordered the duck. When I look back on my favorite meals in the past year, I’m surprised at how much I think of entrees:

• The duck and potatoes at Bridges

• Fried catfish with blue crab rice at Olamaie

• Snapper in mushroom sauce at Birdie’s

• Lobster au poivre and fluke with a sauce meunière at Demo

• Tuna frites at Queen St.

• Sichuan filet mignon at Mission Chinese

These dishes don’t give me that disappointment Jason referenced of, “Oh, I can basically cook this at home.” They remind me of why I’m so obsessed with restaurants when they reach great heights. Perhaps one reason LA is in a bit of a dining out funk is that it’s still too deep in being small plates or Hillstone-pilled. I’m sensing something different in New York. These entrees stand out for a few reasons:

• The quality of the protein is incredibly high, and you can taste it.

  ryan sutton
  has a great breakdown of how chef Ed Szymanski prepared the Pennsylvania Sasso chickens at Crevette here.

• The sauces are magical.

• The presentation is exciting but not stupidly inventive or cheffed up.

• The goodies deliver, often in the form of fries, rice or well seasoned vegetables that round out the dish.

Friends have started to look at me funny as I lean more entree-heavy in my dinner orders, but I’m enjoying this shift. It makes dining out feel special again. And it’s a good vehicle for chef creativity that isn’t rooted in tweezers or TikTok-baiting gimmicks. I’m headed to Cervo’s soon, where I’ll house the fried skate wing and the lamb burger. And as I peak at the menu at Le Veau d'Or ahead of my first visit before leaving town, my eyes keep gravitating to the bottom of the page. Duck magret aux cerises. Homard macédoine. Onglet frites. Gigot of lamb coco beans. Yes, please. Bring it on.