There’s an old saying: you never step in the same river twice. The river changes. You change. I learned that the hard way at The Palm.
Here’s how I got there. My first attempt at Brasserie Boulud didn’t work out. No seats. Saturday night. Lincoln Center. Rookie move. So I needed somewhere to eat, and I ended up at The Palm in Times Square.
The Palm and Me: A Love Story
I have history with The Palm. Years ago, back when I was working at the embassy, I used to go to the original Palm on Second Avenue. It was one of my favorite places in the city. The size of the lobsters. The caricatures on the walls. Sawdust on the floor. It was loud, it was fun, it was New York. I met some of my closest friends there. Great meals. Great nights.
The original closed years ago, but the memories didn’t. So when I found myself near The Palm in Midtown, especially during its 100th year, I had to go in.
The Music Is a Real Reason to Go
Let’s start with what I loved. The Palm has live music pretty often, and the night I went, the singer had a great voice and played a pretty decent mix. You’re not getting a Jay-Z “Empire State of Mind” moment. You’re getting classic steakhouse music. Chill vibes. The kind of soundtrack that makes a martini taste better.
The Bar Seat Report
As always, I sat at the bar. You know me. Give me a bar seat and I’ll find somebody to talk to. This time it was a couple from Ohio, or one of the flyover states, arguing about not taking her to any expensive restaurants. At a steakhouse. Wrap your head around that one. Free entertainment, and they didn’t even charge a cover.
The Drinks: A Century in a Glass
I got the normal batch of drinks. The 100 Years of The Palm martini, to toast the centennial. The Steakhouse Martini. And an espresso martini to close. All good. The bar knows what it’s doing.
The Food: Good, Just Not What I Remembered
I ordered my usual lineup. Filet mignon, the steakhouse wedge, the fritto misto, fries, and the tiramisu.
And here’s the thing. Nothing was bad. Nothing. But almost everything was just a little underwhelming.
The filet mignon was a solid cut with a good sear. Just a little under seasoned.
The steakhouse wedge was good. Just a little under seasoned.
The fritto misto was fine. Just a little underwhelming.
The french fries? Just a little underwhelming.
You see the pattern. It’s like listening to your favorite song on a cheap speaker. All the notes are there. The magic isn’t.
The Tiramisu Is Still Crack
Except for the tiramisu. The tiramisu is still crack. Popping. Exactly how I remembered. If there’s one thing at The Palm that stepped into the same river twice and came out perfect, it’s this.
So What Changed? Me or The Palm?
This is where I’ve been stuck since I left.
Did The Palm change? Restaurants change. Ownership changes, chefs change, menus get tweaked, everybody’s been chasing costs since COVID. But this much?
Or did I change? Maybe my palate grew up. I eat at a lot of steakhouses now. A LOT. Maybe the bar moved and The Palm stayed put. And trust me, it’s not because I’ve developed as a person. We all know I’m the same petty little man who started this whole blog over a $5 bet. A bet that has since cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars in food and martinis. Best worst decision I ever made.
Or maybe I put The Palm in a trophy case. Polished it up. Gave it awards it never won. Maybe the memory was never just the food. It was the friends, the sawdust, the age I was, the night it was. You can’t order that off a menu.
Or maybe the kitchen just had an off night. It happens to everybody. Even the legends.
Honestly? It’s probably a little bit of all of it. But it broke half of my little black heart either way.
The Verdict
The Palm is still packed, the quality of the ingredients is clearly there, the music is great, the bar is fun, and the tiramisu is a must. I’d go back for drinks, music, and dessert. For a full steakhouse dinner, though, it’s not the place I remember.
Now I want to hear from you. Have you gone back to an old favorite and felt the same way? Is it me? Is it The Palm? Did the kitchen just have an off night? Am I officially one of those “back in my day” guys? Tell me in the comments. Be gentle. Or don’t.
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.