Le Bernardin

Everything was superb! Black cod and sole perfectly cooked. Service was top notch! They kept in mind my gluten free, dairy free preference. I interacted with several servers and they all know my preference, as if I had it posted on my forehead. These type of exceptional experiences spoil me, I will be back! Also, the prices were not bad.

We did chefs course with wine pairings. Excellent. They accommodated for gluten free and dairy as well.

From a food lover lens’s …Le Bernardin, its very name whispered in reverent tones, a veritable shrine to haute cuisine, a temple of transcendent taste. With three Michelin stars emblazoned on its reputation promising exceptional cuisine and unforgettable dishes, one would expect a journey nothing short of a culinary pilgrimage. So, what did we find? Well, let’s just say it was less of a divine revelation and more of a seafood soirée with a distinctly retro twist. As they say, ‘price is what you pay, and value is what you get.’ This place was no exception. Landing a summer reservation here was like scoring a backstage pass to culinary nirvana, no small feat for mere mortals. But finally, against all odds, we snagged a table to mark my birthday in true 3 star style and as we stepped inside, we were greeted by decor that seems blissfully unaware the 90s ever ended. The drinks and mocktails? Here’s the caveat: as much as I adore wine, having recently given birth, I was looking for a non-alcoholic option to toast my birthday while staying baby friendly. But back to the cocktails, absolutely divine, a true testament to what a talented bartender can create when blessed with top shelf spirits and carte blanche. But then, the curious discovery: no non-alcoholic wine, not even sparkling. It’s certainly not mandatory for a Michelin 3-star establishment, but for a temple to all things fine? It felt a touch limiting. And the bread…oh, the bread. My gluten free option arrived with all the allure of cardboard and the moisture level of a desert breeze, somehow managing to taste both stale and uninspired. I even dared to ask if it could be warmed up. My husband’s bread, cold and faintly reminiscent of forgotten pantry shelves, fared no better. Perhaps this was some clever reverse psychology: start with underwhelming bread, and the main courses might dazzle by comparison. Then came the parade of courses, a carefully curated journey that promised enchantment yet delivered a symphony of … subtlety. I have no doubt each dish was crafted with painstaking precision, but the result felt less like a ‘sea of flavors’ and more like a ‘pond at low tide.’ Elegant? Certainly. But where was the thrill, the crescendo, the elusive aha moment one expects at this level (and price)? In the end, Le Bernardin felt less like a world-renowned dining experience and more like a blind date with someone who looked dazzling on paper but just couldn’t find the spark. Michelin stars or not, this left me craving a touch more … well, magic.