British and Indian is not a combination I would have put money on before walking into Elder. On paper it sounds like a fusion restaurant having an identity crisis. In practice it works better than it has any right to. Solo visit, no real expectations walking in beyond curiosity and my usual willingness to eat whatever is put in front of me, and I left thinking about it for days.
The Space
Brand new build, and it shows in the best way. Gorgeous room, genuinely clean lines, the kind of place that photographs well without trying too hard, which is more than I can say for myself on any given Tuesday. There is a separate lounge next to the bar and a dining space beyond it, which means you can start a date in the lounge and either move into dinner if things are going well or call it a night right there without the awkward transition. Smart layout. Someone thought about how people actually use a restaurant before they built it, which honestly should not be as rare a concept as it is.
The London Fog
I sat solo and let the cocktail list lead the way, which is a phrase I use to make ordering two drinks alone sound more sophisticated than it is. I had one or two, and I genuinely wish I remembered every name, but the London Fog is the one that stuck. Earl Grey tea infused gin, a touch of vanilla, and somehow you do not taste the gin at all. It sneaks up on you nicely, smooth in a way that makes ordering a second one feel like a completely reasonable decision at the time and a slightly less reasonable one the next morning.
Quail Scotch Eggs
Tiny Scotch eggs, quail sized, which means they are basically bite sized apology notes for how much of everything else I was about to eat. Genuinely one of the more interesting flavor profiles I have run into lately, a little hint of spice running through them, enough to notice without taking over. Small bite, big impression, gone before I could take a proper photo of it.
The Tomato Plum Salad
Thinly sliced tomatoes and plums, paper thin, both of them, which is a detail I found almost unreasonable given how good it looked on the plate. Someone in that kitchen owns a very sharp knife and clearly has more patience than I do. I do not remember the sauce, and I will blame the London Fog for that, but the dish itself was spectacular. Every plate at Elder seems built to be both a photograph and a meal at the same time, which is a lot of pressure to put on a salad, and it held up.
The Filet Mignon
Here is where I need to be honest about something that is entirely a me problem. The filet came covered in fried potato sticks and a sauce I could not name, and the sauce itself was genuinely excellent. I am not usually someone who wants sauce touching my steak. Call it a small OCD flare up, call it a control issue, call it the same reason I organize my fridge like it is being inspected, I want my meat tasting like meat first. That said, the quality underneath the sauce was undeniable, and I would order it again in a heartbeat. My one ask, put the sauce on the side and let a grown man make his own choices.
The fries alongside it were a separate victory entirely. Super crisp, dusted in some kind of seasoning powder I could not stop picking at even after I told myself I was full, which is a lie I tell at every single meal and nobody has called me on it yet. Order these without hesitation.
Strawberry Eton Mess
Strawberry Eton Mess with elderflower and oat crumble closed out the meal, and it landed exactly where a dessert should, sweet without tipping over, a little tart, a little floral from the elderflower. A clean, well balanced way to end a meal that had already done a lot of heavy lifting, mostly onto my plate and then directly into my mouth.
Final Verdict
Elder earns a strong recommend, and I am already thinking about the return trip, possibly with backup this time so I am not the only one defending the honor of that filet. The British Indian angle sounds like it should not work on paper, but the execution erases any doubt fast. My only real note is the sauce on the filet, and that is a personal preference more than a critique of the kitchen. The meat quality speaks for itself either way, sauce or no sauce, dignity intact or otherwise.
As always, what do I know? I am just a fat guy from Brooklyn trying to survive the week, one martini at a time.
Looking for more NYC restaurant reviews? Check out my Best Steakhouses in NYC, Best Burgers in NYC, and Best Restaurants in NYC lists.