Versatility is key for a dining spot.
You need a place where you can hatch big plans over steak.
Where you can sufficiently woo a date.
Where you can get a decent root beer float...
Introducing Prandial, a grand expanse of wood, cast iron and leather that speaks the language of pork chop, now open in Flatiron.
A Sunday schoolhouse for power lunches. No, an old saloon for a date. That’s not exactly it, either. Got it—an ocean liner... where you’ll meet the parents... and that’s headed up by a guy who earned a Michelin star in France. Okay, this place is a little bit of all that. All that and a plate of grilled octopus with white beans washed down with a bottle of bordeaux. Oh, and a brook trout that’ll have you Googling “brooks in Manhattan.”
Walk in. “America” is the word you’re looking for. Old-school America. As in a mahogany bar from the 1860s, a chandelier handmade from Edison bulbs and a wagon wheel, a wall of clocks... and tufted, marigold leather banquettes like Dad used to eat in.
It’s a lot to process, so just relax, eat your smoked pork chop and take delight. There’s a floor globe and a huge private dining room in back where a chalkboard hides a television. There are church pews.
In case the pork chop gods need be summoned.
You need a place where you can hatch big plans over steak.
Where you can sufficiently woo a date.
Where you can get a decent root beer float...
Introducing Prandial, a grand expanse of wood, cast iron and leather that speaks the language of pork chop, now open in Flatiron.
A Sunday schoolhouse for power lunches. No, an old saloon for a date. That’s not exactly it, either. Got it—an ocean liner... where you’ll meet the parents... and that’s headed up by a guy who earned a Michelin star in France. Okay, this place is a little bit of all that. All that and a plate of grilled octopus with white beans washed down with a bottle of bordeaux. Oh, and a brook trout that’ll have you Googling “brooks in Manhattan.”
Walk in. “America” is the word you’re looking for. Old-school America. As in a mahogany bar from the 1860s, a chandelier handmade from Edison bulbs and a wagon wheel, a wall of clocks... and tufted, marigold leather banquettes like Dad used to eat in.
It’s a lot to process, so just relax, eat your smoked pork chop and take delight. There’s a floor globe and a huge private dining room in back where a chalkboard hides a television. There are church pews.
In case the pork chop gods need be summoned.
