Michael Anthony - The Gramercy Tavern Cookbook

FROM TOP LEFT, clockwise: John Patterson, Ahasan Sokrul, Micah Fredman, Roberta Bendavid, Ramon Tavera, and Juliette Pope.

by Danny Meyer

Gramercy Tavern seems so inevitable now, as if it has always been there. But after Union Square Cafe opened in 1985, I was never going to open a second restaurant. Period. I was viscerally afraid of expanding because of the mistakes I watched my father make as I grew up. He expanded his business in a major way twice. And he went bankrupt. Twice.

I had always felt like an imposter with Union Square Cafe. I knew it worked because we exceeded expectations, gave great value, made it personal, served good American foodmuch of it from the Greenmarket a half a block away. But I knew, too, that none of those ideas were originally mine. And there was nothing especially innovative about any of them. I was convinced that it was just luck. I could hardly believe it when Bryan Miller, restaurant critic at the New York Times, gave Union Square three stars in 1989, deeming it a paragon among a new breed of restaurants that might be called international bistros.

Gramercy would never have come about had Tom Colicchio not approached me when Mondrian, his first restaurant, closed, saying, I really want to do a restaurant with you. I respected him as a chef and admired his philanthropic valueswed met through charity events for Share Our Strengths Taste of the Nation. It took someone whose outlook on food and the restaurant experience felt so comfortable and consistent with mine to make me go for it, to make me feel that it was a compelling enough opportunity. Gramercy Tavern was such a big dream, such a big vision, and everyone involved at the highest levels was at a point in their career where they had something important to prove. Tom had just closed Mondrian in Midtown. He had something to prove. The architects Bentel & Bentel had never designed a restaurant. Our first wine and service director, Steve Olson, had been praised in Food & Wine but had never worked in New York City. And I had to prove that I was not a one-hit wonder.

FROM LEFT: At an extraordinary dinner honoring Taillevent at Gramercy Tavern in 1994, with my mentor, Jean-Claude Vrinat; the inviting dining room at Taillevent in Paris

But what would this new restaurant be? I started to think, What if Union Square Cafe and Taillevent in Paris (the only three-star Michelin restaurant with a sense of humor I had ever been to in my life) could have a baby? What if you could take the ebullient local spirit of Union Square Cafe and make it prettier and a lot more refined? And what if you could take Taillevent, with its exquisite service and refined dining, and make it a lot more rustic? I became obsessed with this notion of combining the two. Between Taillevents owner, the late Jean-Claude Vrinat, who became my mentor, and Jean-Marie Ancher, now the director, their clockwork service always had a twinkle in its eye. That was a revelation, because for me, dining in a luxe restaurant had always meant enduring some level of self-reverential pretension. That made sense to Tom, too, because his idea of Mondrian had been to make it sort of a junior version of Taillevent.

There are very few restaurants in the world where just knowing you have plans to go there that night is incredibly exciting. Taillevent is one of those places. The experience begins with heading toward the Place de lEtoile and finding your way to the little side street called rue Lamennais. And then you see the tiny awning over the door (Gramercys awning is rounder, but equally small). Its not a big-statement awningits just a gesture that says youre here, and youre welcome. You walk into a very generous, gracious foyer and are shown to a dining room thats broken into smaller episodes (exactly what we did at Gramercy Tavern). And you feel like youve arrivedlike theyve been expecting you, like theyre excited youre here. Youre one of the small handful of special people who actually got this golden ticket. At Taillevent, things happen when youre not looking. Before you even realize you need more water, your glass is filled. And then really good food and wine begin to appearand theres a lot of smiling. Before Taillevent, I had never been to such a fancy restaurant that was so down-to-earth, so serious and yet so winsome. Of course, the charm wouldnt matter if the food wasnt sensational. You can find equally fine food in a half dozen other places in Parisbut no one puts all the pieces together the way they do. I could go on about the seafood sausage, the foie gras torchon, the rack of lamb, and the wine list. I could definitely go on about the Cognac, but what I love most about that is they arrive at your table with a bottle and just put it down. Its a gesture that says, Help yourself to as much as you like! You used to see that generosity in family trattorias in Italygenerosity that means more than the quality of the Cognac, but the fact that its exquisite Cognac is part of what makes Taillevent a peerless restaurant.