The NoMad NYC

I’m just adding to the chorus because it’s not as though you haven’t heard that the chicken for two at the NoMad is delightful. But let me tell you about it anyway.

First off, the space is just about as decadent as the chicken itself. Dark with ruby toned furniture, it conjures up hotels and clubs of yore. Also, there is actually space. Unlike many New York restaurants you can’t hear every word from the table next to you because it’s three inches away.

So you’re in gorgeous surroundings; you’re comfortable. You decide to order crudité. It is more beautiful than any crudité you’ve had before. It’s fresh, crisp, just what you want out of raw vegetables (though you wouldn’t mind some more). They bring you radishes coated in butter. You happen to love radishes in butter. As you sip champagne you wonder how they manage to coat them so you can do it for your next dinner party.


Then you look at the menu again. Starters are all appealing. You settle on the bone marrow gratinee with parsley shallots and anchovy. You try to ignore the other entrees on the menu because you know you came for the chicken. When the appetizer comes you wish you’d ordered your neighbor’s king crab tagliatelle because your marrow is just kind of fishy breadcrumbs and the pasta is delicate and redolent of crab. But that’s okay, you have that chicken coming.


And it does. First they bring it by to show it off in all its glory. Then they take it away and bring you and your dining companion each a breast with crispy skin covering that foie gras and black truffly goodness. Oh and they bring back a dish of the dark meat swimming in a mushroom and truffle cream (that’s where it’s at). It’s delightful. Really rich, as you’d of course expect. But somehow the chicken doesn’t get lost. You’re even pleased you gave up your champagne for the dark slightly bitter beer that’s been brewed especially to serve with this little bird.


Again you wallow in the decadence of the place. It makes you order a cheese plate. That’s good too. After a multiple hour meal you wonder how you’re going to make it home and wish you’d booked a room at the NoMad Hotel but are forced to wander out into the chilly winter night. At least you’re totally sated.


Yeah so go there and eat the chicken.


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