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Over the course of the past year, Allen & Delancey became synonymous with not just an intersection but what happens when great expectations are punctured by the rather deflating realities of the restaurant business. Last winter, the restaurant was all set to open with Craftbar’s Akhtar Nawab at the helm. Then disaster struck when a gun-shy investor pulled out of the venture. The restaurant’s opening was postponed indefinitely, Nawab decamped to E.U., and the northwest corner of Delancey fell quiet once again.

Fast-forward to March. Uptown at the even more anticipated Gordon Ramsay at the London, Ramsay was sacking his chef and longtime collaborator Neil Ferguson, allegedly for being too nice to the kitchen staff. Four months later, Ferguson was recruited to be the executive chef at a posh Westchester inn owned by one Richard H. Friedberg. Friedberg also happened to own Allen & Delancey. And so, voila. Allen & Delancey has finally arrived, this time with Neil Ferguson at its helm.

It’s appropriate that Allen & Delancey comes with a history of its own, given its attempts to pay homage—however superfically—to that of the Lower East Side. Everything about its dining rooms, in fact, seems designed to invoke a remembrance of things past: the dark walnut paneling, the exposed brick walls, the dim—though inviting—lighting, the artwork that, according to the restaurant’s Web site, “speaks of the Lower East Side.”

Never mind that, despite an incongruous, unnecessary soundtrack featuring bands like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the White Stripes, it feels more like a gentlemen’s club or the scrupulously well-appointed dining room of an English country inn. Everything about the restaurant seems new, from the faint smell of varnish still clinging to the paneling to the conditions that enabled its very existence. No matter how much Allen & Delancey may claim to pay homage to its neighborhood, the idea of a “modern American” restaurant peddling $29 plates of cabbage, beef and onions on a dingy corner of Delancey Street would have more than a few bubbes doing backflips in their graves.

That said, there is much to like about Allen & Delancey, and that, specifically, is what comes out of the kitchen. The fun begins with the two hot, savory rolls that are plunked down alongside a knob of sweet butter. Here it should be mentioned that this is categorically not a restaurant for vegetarians: beginning with the rolls, one of which is studded with bacon, everything on the menu features some kind of animal protein. There are no token salad or pasta offerings to be found; whatever you decide to eat here, chances are it once had eyes.

Ferguson’s classical European training is on proud display from the get-go: caramelized bone marrow is partnered unexpectedly with caviar and pureed shallots, while truffled fingerlings and prosciutto shavings accompany leeks vinagrette. One of the menu’s highlights is the appetizer of perfectly seared sea scallops, which come with braised cippolini onions, a dollop of celery root cream and a verjus whose subtle sweetness lends the dish a surprising and nuanced contrast. On the other hand, the appetizer of skin roasted Spanish mackerel was a disappointment: the fish was, well, fishy, and didn’t pair well with the bacon gnocchi and apple vinaigrette that shared its plate (though the gnocchi itself was delicious).

If Ferguson’s approach to meats and fish skews toward the familiar and traditional—Moulard duck magret, lamb chop persillade—his attitude toward their accompaniments is that of an inspired seasonalist. The duck, for example, comes with turnip confit and buttered radishes, and the fillet of cod with fennel, artichokes and peppers. Sometimes these pairings are harmonious: The deep, smoky flavor of the roasted dorade went beautifully with a silky onion marjoram stew and golden eggplant puree. And sometimes they don’t: The slow-roasted pork belly managed to be both fatty and dry, and was easily outshined by the pickled pear, parsnips and fenugreek syrup that came with it.

Desserts also reflect a seasonal mentality, with sauteed fall fruits and a slow roasted Gala apple taking center stage. The apple, encased with puff pastry and served with a scoop of rum raisin ice cream, is one of the menu’s great triumphs, a dish that comfort-food fever dreams are made of. The same can be said of the milk chocolate cremeux, a cylinder of thick chocolate mousse served with a warm pistachio cake and olive oil ice cream. Although the olive oil ice cream tasted more vanilla than anything else, the cremeux was the sort of stodgy yet refined offering that spoke of Allen & Delancey’s true roots: The restaurant may reside squarely in the gut of the Lower East Side, but its heart remains across the Atlantic, in England’s inns and France’s kitchens.

The net results: what people are saying online

[New York Magazine]: “Ferguson is a fussy classicist at heart, and he labors mightily to introduce a sense of posh, even delicate Britishness to his new hipster milieu. More often than not, he succeeds, especially when serving fancified versions of old English favorites.”

[New York Observer] ”It was a pleasure...to sit down to a three-course meal, especially with food of this caliber...the cod is sensational. How does Ferguson do it?”

[NYC Foodie] “If you are looking for a sexy dining experience, with good food with unique flavors, Allen & Delancey would be a very good choice.”

[Zagat] “At long-awaited Lower Eastsider Allen & Delancey, chef Neil Ferguson...presents sophisticated, pricey New American dishes that reflect his formal European training and include a curve ball or two.”

Allen & Delancey
115 Allen St. at Delancey St.
212-253-5400
Mon.-Sun. 5 p.m.-12 a.m.

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