Graham Elliot. Surely you know him. Big fella. On TV. Makes one hell of a pastrami Reuben. G.E.B.—his newest culinary temple on Randolph—debuted
Monday as a marriage of vintage rock, whitewashed brick, Catholicism and buttermilk chicken. Here are the
key points.
You may have to wait for a table. That’s okay.
Stand at the bar, where a bartender/DJ will hand you a vodka punch, shake up a gin-and-smoked-pineapple Old Tommy Cool Hands and drop some old Tribe Called Quest on a turntable from the classic vinyl collection behind him.
Your menu is best played at 33 1/3 revolutions per second...
When you do sit down, you’ll receive an LP cover. Pretenders II, for instance. Inside: the album. Taped to the album: exec chef Jacob Saben’s menu. Each section—Cold, Hot, Pasta, Sea, Land, Sweet—has three options. Most options have three primary ingredients. Or save some time: just order the steak.
But remember, Morrissey is watching you eat that steak.
Mexican devotional candles around the perimeter feature patron saints of tortured souls (Moz), dirty minds (Prince) and taking care of mother-effing business (Rahm).
If you really feel guilty, pretend you’re in a confessional.
The place is trimmed in confessional-booth mesh. You’ll be sitting on a reclaimed church pew. The waiter will be wearing a rosary. Basically, it’s dinner in a Madonna video.
You may have to wait for a table. That’s okay.
Stand at the bar, where a bartender/DJ will hand you a vodka punch, shake up a gin-and-smoked-pineapple Old Tommy Cool Hands and drop some old Tribe Called Quest on a turntable from the classic vinyl collection behind him.
Your menu is best played at 33 1/3 revolutions per second...
When you do sit down, you’ll receive an LP cover. Pretenders II, for instance. Inside: the album. Taped to the album: exec chef Jacob Saben’s menu. Each section—Cold, Hot, Pasta, Sea, Land, Sweet—has three options. Most options have three primary ingredients. Or save some time: just order the steak.
But remember, Morrissey is watching you eat that steak.
Mexican devotional candles around the perimeter feature patron saints of tortured souls (Moz), dirty minds (Prince) and taking care of mother-effing business (Rahm).
If you really feel guilty, pretend you’re in a confessional.
The place is trimmed in confessional-booth mesh. You’ll be sitting on a reclaimed church pew. The waiter will be wearing a rosary. Basically, it’s dinner in a Madonna video.
