Nestled near the gurgling spray of City Hall Park's fountain...
...and tucked within the confines of Gilded-Age office buildings,
...is a revitalized sanctuary named 5 Beeckman Street.
Don't confuse it with Beekman Place, which is in NYC's Turtle Bay neighborhood by the United Nations. Both were named in honor of Wihelmus Beekman, an affluent Dutchman who immigrated to Manhattan island in 1647, when it was New Amsterdam. After the British conquered it, he remained and served as its Deputy Mayor and then Mayor. As a prominent landowner, his cattle-path was so significant that it became Beekman Street.
Beekman Street is in an old part of the city. It is near the onramp of traffic going to the Brooklyn Bridge.
It runs parallel to Spruce Street (originally named George Street to honor King George but altered after the Revolution). It is in proximity to St. Paul's Chapel, the city's oldest church, built in 1766 on land granted by Queen Anne. A pew exists where George Washington prayed for two years, while NYC was the capital of the USA.
Lewis and I were excited to enter #5 Beekman. We had reservations at a restaurant named Temple Court, within the 5-star Beekman Hotel. Another highlight was starting our night in the adjoining Bar Room... full of sumptuousness and vintage flair.
The building's construction began in 1881, and it's designed in the Queen Anne style. It faces Nassau Street, which is named after the Dutch royal family's House of Orange-Nassau (commemorating when Manhattan was colonized by the Dutch).
The redbrick building got a new skyscraper addition, as a revenue booster. Entering the ground floor of the historic structure puts you in a wondrous oasis of vintage ambiance, spiffy staff, and correct service.
Like the curved vestibule at the historic Cartier Mansion, their entrance welcomes you, cradles you, and transports you to The Bar Room.
What a space! Centered by the entrance is the Host desk, staffed by five. Despite the modernly edgy soundtrack, the space is classy. Clusters of seating areas dot the rest of the grandly-sized room. Each set of chairs is unique: shape, material, height, and style! It's as if Ernest Hemingway, Dorothy Parker, the Earl of Downton Abbey, Jane Austen, and Edith Wharton donated pieces at the same time.
A gracefully long bar runs along one wall.
I adored the 1920s-looking lamps affixed to the bar, running the entire length.
Lampshades add "a touch of class" and remind you to keep your chatter at a polite level.
I admired the corked cruets, the shapely array of stemware, and how bottles of aperitifs & digestifs are kept behind glass doors of curio hutches... instead of out in the open with liquors.
The bar curves at both ends, and is bookended with bouquets of flowers. In traditional style, a brass foot rail runs parallel with a wooden hand rail (seen below), keeping you from leaning on the bar.
Seeing their extensive apéritif menu (the beverage menu was 10 pages!), I asked the young bearded bartender for Uncouth Vermouth, made in Kings County (a.k.a. Brooklyn). (Kings County is named for England's King Charles II). Most people aren't aware of the brand, but the bartender quickly recognized its name and poured me a portion. He served it in shorter stem glass, used for aperitifs and cordials.
Here's an admirable blurb from Uncouth's website, which also reflects the restaurant's attitude:
"All ingredients are either foraged from untouched areas or purchased from farmers that do not succumb to modification. We will never sacrifice the integrity of our vermouth to sell more product. This is a food meant to be enjoyed in good conscience because this is what we are worth."
Above, a wall of illuminated double-glass bookcases (viewable through both sides) hides the elevator banks.
You might think that the designer went antique shopping, but all of the furniture is new! Floor lamps, Persian rugs, fringed velvet armchairs, fringed lampshades, and magazine caddys (seen below) are all crafted to "look the part".
The floor marquetry seems original--distressed in places.
Even the numerated elevator dials look vintage, as does the hotel Front Desk, near the elevators.
Brocaded counters, tiled flooring, and Edwardian-era fringed lamps welcome international guests.
The lobby furniture blends a bit of tony contemporary appeal, as seen below, next to my vermouth.
The Beekman is a Thompson Hotel, and here are pictures of a typical room (to satisfy your curiosity).
In any event, the staff let me wander the ground floor with my glass of vermouth.
Desiring a chair, I approached the Host, who looked quite "country chic". Nattily attired in denim shirt and tweed sport coat, he collected my name and phone number. I received the following texts, ten minutes apart...
Nestled by a bronze-cornered pillar, I admired the checkered, candlelit table: a deuce. Around me, happy people chatted and laughed: international hotel guests, Chinese tourists, office workers, politicians, college boys from nearby Pace University, cliques of ladies, men it suits with paperwork, SoHo bois in tight-fitting polo shirts, and a few families. The staff's behavior was always correct: presenting bottles before pouring, one hand behind their backs (tray or not), refilling water goblets, and noticing anytime I picked up the menu to ask if I needed something.
You can just beckon anybody, and they promptly come over. None of "I'll find your waiter" stuff.
With a tab open at the bar, I sauntered to the same bartender (1 of 5). He was rhythmically shaking a cocktail, but he promptly made eye contact and leaned in. I ordered something else new: a glass of Cynar from Italy. He also immediately knew of it, opened a cabinet door, fished out the bottle, used a tulip-shaped glass and handed it (from the base so I could grasp the stem).
From behind, I heard a voice. A hostess saw me go to the bar and apologized, "Did you need something, sir? We can take the order and bring it to your table."
Nestled in my chair, I took a delectable sip: it reminds me of Campari. The hostess appeared and--after first confirming the pronunciation of my last name--notified me that they'd transferred the bill from the bar to my table. She returned my credit card to me with a smile.
It was perfect timing, because Lewis and my friends, Chris and Yvonne arrived to join me.
Around an Art Deco tabletop, they ordered a round of cocktails... and "oooed-and-aaahed" at the ceiling.
Originally called Temple Court in the 19th-century, the office building has a delightful atrium, offering sunlight and moonlight. Those offices are now hotel rooms & suites.
Thankfully, the developers preserved the ironwork railings, mosaic floors, and rafters.
The Beekman Residences condominiums occupy a skyscraper built behind the hotel, giving access to all the hotel's and restaurant's services. The penthouse costs $12 million.
Through a grandly tall, rounded doorway, the restaurant beckoned us. Called Temple Court, it is the latest creation of celebrity chef Tom Colicchio. Previously, he worked at Danny Meyer's Gramercy Tavern!
The waiter station, seen above, is a helpful touch--found in the classiest eateries.
Oven-fresh bread and a dollop of spreadable butter arrived via a wicker tray (with tongs). Butter knives adorned our bread plates.
I selected the Foie Gras Torchon as a savory appetizer. It came with sliced baguette wrapped in crisp linen to keep it warm.
Dinner was a sizable slab of breaded Trout with haricot verts, pole beans, brown butter, and lemon. Scrumptious!
Lewis enjoyed Pork Wellington, which was a tad small.
To accompany our meal, I selected a grand Prosecco Superiore, Doro Nature Valdobbiadene.
For dessert, I enjoyed Baked Alaska, which rested on Pecan Cake amid a pool of chocolate sauce.
Lewis tried their deconstructed version of Millefeuille with vanilla gelato, which was disappointing (especially since it lacks the many layers that the name implies).
As a nightcap, Lewis and I ordered a glass of fortified wine: Cardamaro. It was delicious! I highly recommend it--even as a before-dinner drink.
As their menu says, this place was designed to coddle relaxation and raise cheerfulness!
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