Delmonico’s

It was time. I’d postponed Delmonico’s for too many decades.

Now the stars had aligned: the brunch.org website had re-launched the day before, I was in NYC with a rare day to myself, the facade of the restaurant looked less intimidating than it did when I was in my 20s, and brunch.org’s operational budget was somewhat larger than it had been in the early 2000s when I was a freelance designer.

Monday at 1 pm was an improbable time for eggs Benedict, but there it was under the over-apostrophed “ENTREE’S” on Delmonico’s lunch menu: The Original Eggs Benedict, a pointed reference to the two competing Benedict origin stories. The menu listed “Poached Pasture Eggs, Toasted Brioche, Applewood Smoked Ham, Bearnaise” for $37. I wasn’t leaving without trying their potatoes, so I added $17 for french fries with mustard aioli.

This was the first eggs Benedict I’ve tried where I felt the chef had a vision. Eggs Benedict tends to hunker down on the plate, pressing down on the English muffin and doused with Hollandaise.

Not today. Every component of Delmonico’s version was designed and engineered to be light and airy. The toasted brioche lifted the egg skyward, like a raised offering to an ancient sun god. The almost perfectly prepared egg was marred by the slightest taste of water and a small watery clump. The smoked ham was thin cut and folded to give it volume. The Béarnaise — which (apart from the greenery) I would have had trouble distinguishing from a perfect Hollandaise — was so light and delicate that it felt aerated. Even the french fries were light and airy and pointing to the sky.

This was a stunning performance, confident and delicate. It made me regret that I hadn’t tried Delmonico’s 20 years ago, so I would have a baseline to see how and if it has changed.

I pulled out a blank 1999 brunch review card, took a sip of my deliciously tart Arnold Palmer, and marked a nearly unbroken series of 7s.

I asked one of the waiters a leading question, was Delmonico’s truly the origin of eggs Benedict?

He replied “Yes, it’s still the original recipe. But the chef has all these moves — I don’t even know.”

The Benedict arrived with a basket of two types of soft bread, which were put to use in mopping up the last traces of Béarnaise.

Hours later, I wondered how one might improve on near perfection. Perhaps a few more seconds of toasting would give the brioche a hint of a crunch? Perhaps a thick and crustless English muffin would keep the same airiness with a touch more solidity? Perhaps shaving a few millimeters from the french fry dimensions might allow them to remain airy while giving them a touch more crispness? (The smaller bits were perfection, the larger ones were dipped just slightly below the line.)

But all of this was fantasy and speculation. After only one day, the reborn brunch.org had a new leader, with the highest score ever given to an eggs Benedict.