Cooking Viennese food is no easy business. For one thing, to the average western diner, it can be hard to define in basic terms—likened to southwest Europe, no shortage of dairy, light starches, small portioned proteins...nothing too out of the ordinary in terms of spice, dimension, re-invention. But the Viennese clearly worship at the culinary alter of simplicity, and chef Markus Glocker and his new restaurant Koloman at the Ace Hotel on west 29th Street in NoMad achieves this in a way that elegantly places the cuisine’s flavors and technique squarely on New York’s food map with new definition.
Glocker, who has an impressive CV as a chef at (the now closed) Bâtard and for Gordon Ramsay at Claridge’s London, set out to achieve a bold hybrid—take Austrian rustic comfort flavors and marry them with French technique and presentation. Click here to check out our Inspectors take, and below, get ready to tantalize your taste buds.
The restaurant opened in late 2022, taking over the space previously occupied by April Broomfield’s The Breslin, a mahogany-on-mahogany, pub style, meat-heavy menu (which served, in full disclosure, what I considered to be the best lamb burger in the city, so I frequented the place pretty regularly). Alas, a causality of Covid, I was sad to see it go the way of the Dodo like many others, but walking into the revived Koloman space was in and of itself a welcome delight: freshly oxygenated, the bar strikingly lit, with touches of Vienna throughout, from hand etched glass dividers, to the light fixtures, to eye-catching geometric wallpaper.
Chef Glocker wisely maintains the pre-exisiting open kitchen, but now instead of denim apron clad line cooks head-dodging the oil spray of heavy steaks hitting a flat top, there is a calibrated assembly line of white shirts, diligently laying finishing touches at the pass, onlookers delighted to observe a process not unlike watching the exposed gears of a clock. So if you’re lucky enough to sit in the back half of the main dinning room, you get a bit of master class dinner theater.
The menu walks in lockstep with this visceral experience; constructed minimally, it is divided into three sections: small bites, a middle course what could in basic terms be traditional appetizer, and then the entrées.
The first thing I ordered was a vodka martini, which, trade secret, I almost always get at any noteworthy establishment, because I find it to be the ultimate litmus test for what is to come—every bar worth its salt should be able to make a good one. If they get it right, it’s a good sign. If not, I worry. Thankfully what arrived was a perfect martini: size conscious delicate glassware, evenly chilled, not too wet, not too dry, smooth without bite, and zesty clean with a twist of lemon.
We started on food with the Gourgeres, freshly baked bread, and the lobster burger, all good, but not without notes. For one thing, whenever I see “freshly baked” I rightly or wrongly read “warm", which it was not. The Gougeres puffs were light and airy, but steered clear of buttery rich decadence for their scale, and the lobster burger contained not sizable chunks of meat but rather a minced version, which could just as easily been mistaken as a ‘fish burger’.
Up next we had the Marchfeld white asparagus (spargel), with ramp sabayon, red endive, sourdough crips...all the flavors married brilliantly, with the sabayon in particular bringing the dish to life. I’ll even go so far as to say I could contentedly eat an old piece of newspaper with this sauce on it. The agnolotti with morels was beautifully prepared in brodo with just enough punch of salination and umami while still maintaining tenuity.
For the mains I couldn’t pass up their most instagrammed dish (and probably most recommended by the waitstaff), the Salmon en Croûte, which at first glance struck me as much a scientific marvel as it is a perfect salmon entrée. The buttery sear of the razor thin crust, the parsley and scallop mousse lining sealing in a perfectly cooked cut of fish (not too rare, not too cooked through) is without a doubt the Mona Lisa of this menu. From the first bite you know the dish isn’t all hype. Or let me put it another way: if you are a salmon lover, this dish is your Graceland, and alone, well worth the pilgrimage.
My dining companion had the Cheese Shuffle with mushroom jam from pastry chef Emiko Chisholm, and the soufflé did not disappoint—it hits every note of what a savory soufflé should be, replete with a uniquely mountainous top crust—the glutton in me would have welcomed more cheese, but her approach was really flawless, and of course the mushroom jam was the delightful earthy kicker.
For dessert, we went with the apple strudel (you can’t not), an everything you’d expect item, which of course is most likely the kitchen’s intention; flaky, light, no dearth of apple-y goodness. The show-stopper however was the Spargle (German white asparagus) ice cream with rhubarb compote and almond florentines. I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve eaten a great many desserts in my 46 years, but white asparagus ice cream was a first...and hopefully not my last. The depth of invention, flavor, and finesse of this beauty made up for it being a tad high on the sugary spectrum.
There’s no opacity to the fact that chef Glocker has his heart in this menu. Whether that’s his mother’s dessert recipe or the French-meets-Viennese technique and scholarship, there’s a sense of organic comfort in the food, in addition to its elevated elegance. My belief has always been a seasoned diner can intrinsically tell a chef’s personally vested in the creations—and that’s not to say that all chefs aren’t, but some dive squarely within, and do something deeply personal, which comes through with beams and bells at Koloman.
