Dining at Swifty's

Swifty's, located on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, is a restaurant that excites a passionate response from most New Yorkers who've eaten there, and from many who have not.  While the average Joe may never have heard of it, in certain of the better zip codes of Manhattan one comes across people who either love Swifty's or dismiss it, with surprisingly few in the middle ground.  Even though Swifty's has legions of admirers—Reggie among them—for some reason it also has numerous detractors, and in some circles it is considered a bit of a parlor game to disparage it.  "Oh," you hear people say, "it's too stuffy," or the clientele is "too old," or the food is "too boring."  A frequent complaint heard is that it is "too clubby," or "too WASPy," and that it is exorbitantly overpriced, at least for the quality of its food.

Reggie doesn't agree with these naysayers one bit.  Because Reggie adores Swifty's.

Swifty's, looking up Lexington Avenue
Image courtesy of ZagatBuzz

Reggie believes the people who complain about Swifty's are being disingenuous.  He thinks it has more to do with their own self-images than it does with the restaurant, the food it serves, or its clientele.  For  Reggie suspects that many of Swifty's detractors feel deep down inside that they don't "belong" there and are uncomfortable in its rooms because they don't feel they measure up to their conception of it, or to its press for that matter.  In short, they're intimidated.

Looking in to Swifty's from Lexington Avenue
Image courtesy of ZagatBuzz

But they would never admit it, Reggie thinks, except perhaps in the privacy of their therapists' offices at $250 an hour.  So they bluster away, disparaging the restaurant, and—in so doing—imply that they are much too cool and far too au courant to go there, relegating it to the ancient, time-locked fogeys that it is supposedly known for.

Reggie thinks the lady doth protest too much.  In fact, he knows she does.  Because how could anyone of taste and appreciation not like Swifty's?

The charming cover of Swifty's menu
Courtesy of same

I've been going to Swifty's on and off since shortly after it opened in 1998.  But I first went to its predecessor, Mortimer's, which was located only several blocks north on Lexington Avenue, on the site of what is now Orsay.  I didn't go to Mortimer's all that much, though, as I still lived downtown when it was in full throttle, and I would mainly go there later in the evening, and only infrequently, to meet up with some of my louche prep-school and college friends who hung out at the restaurant's bar smoking cigarettes and drinking cocktails after its more mature dinner patrons had left for the evening.  Reggie would occasionally meet UES friends there for brunch on weekends, too, since it was a delicious and effective place to nurse the hangover he could be assured of sporting from his previous late night's doings, wherever they took place.  It was always so reassuring to go to Mortimer's for brunch in the next morning's light of day, since it was familiar (unlike some of the dives that Reggie likely had found himself in the night before) and people like one's parents and friends ate there.  In fact, Reggie now realizes that he is around the same age his father was the last time he dined at Mortimer's with him, in the mid-1980s, when FD took Reggie and his brother, Frecky, there for brunch on a visit to New York.

A Swifty's postcard, showing its trademark wallpaper
Courtesy of same

More recently, since Reggie moved back to the Upper East Side more than a decade ago (Home again, at last!), he's become a sometime regular at Swifty's.  No, he's not in the restaurant's inner circle of patrons who eat there all the time, but rather he is someone who goes there often enough—maybe once a month or so—that he is not altogether unknown to the waitstaff and those in charge of the room—usually either Robert Caravaggi, a co-owner, or Romana.  We enjoy eating dinner there on Sunday nights, after returning to the city from Darlington House, and occasionally during the week, too.  Boy eats there more regularly than Reggie does, since it is easier for him to get away for a lunch at Swifty's during the week than it is for Reggie, who is more often than not chained to his desk at the Investment Bank where he works.  Having lunch at Swifty's is a treat for Reggie, as it only happens when he is (infrequently) off from work and finds himself in the city on a weekday instead of in the country, a rarity indeed.

The Swifty's dessert menu cover
Courtesy of same

Swifty's serves classic, deliciously prepared American food, of the sort that would have sent MD into dreamy reveries of memorable meals out in New York when she and my father would visit the city in the 1960s for weekends of theater, shopping, and eating in swell restaurants.  The menu is a mix of stalwarts from that era that MD would recognize, updated for today's palates and preferences, and more recent offerings that will be among the classics of tomorrow.

There are so many wonderful choices on Swifty's menu that it's hard to decide what to order, since everything is so appealing.  Some of Reggie's favorite appetizers include Swifty's divine corn fritters with salmon roe and crème fraiche, a perfectly made iceberg lettuce and blue cheese salad, and a tuna carpaccio that bring tears of joy to this grown man's eyes.  Entrees worthy of repeat visits include a transcendent goat cheese and truffle soufflé, Bill Blass's legitimately famous baked meatloaf (he was a regular there), and some of the tastiest lump crab cakes I've eaten.  One can't go wrong, either, with Swifty's Twinburgers—a house signature dish—or its excellent Angus strip steak.  Some might call this all glorified nursery food, since much of it is "light, fluffy, and easy to eat"—to quote Ruth Draper's The Italian Lesson.  If so, then this is a nursery that Reggie is quite happy to find himself returning to again and again, long after he has given up his childish ways.

The front room at Swifty's
Image courtesy of New York Magazine

But one doesn't go to Swifty's just for the food.  Part of the fun of going there is to see who else is there, too, for it is a favorite gathering place of a well-heeled, well-connected, and well-cared-for crowd.  One regularly sees faces there that are recognizable from photographs that appear (or that once appeared) in society pages and in places like New York Social Diary, whose author, David Patrick Columbia, is a Swifty's regular.

Depending on when one is there, Swifty's can be rather a scene and packed to the gills with patrons who at any one time might include an international playboy dining with an aging society gal, a contender to a middle-European throne supping with a well-known fashion designer, an author or two, a hedge fund wizard deep in intimate conversation with his heiress girlfriend, what's left of the ladies who lunch, and a high-toned interior decorator entertaining an oscar-winning actress client.  How about that!

Many of Swifty's more frequent regulars are what MD used to refer to as "of a certain age."  But it is a well-preserved and very well-kept crowd, beautifully dressed and expensively turned out, often accompanied by a sprinkling of younger offspring and friends.  At night, most men dining at Swifty's wear jackets and ties.  Women who eat there dress like ladies, for the most part.  Although somewhat more casual during the day, this is most definitely not a restaurant for the cargo-short-and-tee-shirt crowd.

The back room at Swifty's
Image courtesy of ZagatBuzz

Swifty's is a cosy place and is attractively decorated in a traditional, upper-class style by Mario Buatta and Anne Eisenhower—a decor reminiscent of a well-appointed country house in Litchfield County, Connecticut.  It seats only around sixty people when full, with a long, narrow room in the front and a modestly sized square room at the back that is sometimes used for private parties.  Not surprisingly, there is a seating hierarchy.  During the day the plum table is the one in the window, right next to the entrance, and at night many of the restaurant's regulars are seated in the room at the back, a sort of inner sanctum.  Although Reggie is occasionally seated in the back room, he is happiest sitting in the front room, day or night, on one of the banquettes, because it gives him a front-row seat to take in the scene, much aided by the large bistro mirrors that line the room's prettily papered walls.

But one needn't be a media darling, tycoon, or society swell to be treated well at Swifty's, for the restaurant also welcomes mere mortals such as Reggie and Boy, too.  Swifty's reputation for being a bit frosty to newcomers is unmerited, at least from Reggie's observation, but he advises those who are dining there for the first time to arrive appropriately dressed—this is a grown-up place after all—and to behave discretely (and don't stare at the other patrons).  It is true that one cannot always procure a last-minute reservation at Swifty's, as the restaurant's tables often fill with appreciative regulars.  But that's not surprising, on two counts: first, there aren't all that many tables in the place to begin with, and, second, restaurants such as Swifty's depend on repeat customers and need to take care of them, as they should.  I've only rarely been turned away, and that's only when I've attempted to get in on the spur of a moment on a busy night, without a reservation.

Swifty's is one of Reggie's favorite restaurants in Manhattan and one of only a handful that he looks forward to returning to regularly for as long as he is able.  That's because he knows that when dining at Swifty's he will be assured of delicious food, attentive service, attractive surroundings, and interesting people watching—the four attributes that Reggie looks for when he dines in a swell restaurant.  Should you find yourself in New York, Dear Reader, Reggie recommends that you find your way there for a meal or two.  You won't regret it.

Oh, and tell them that Reggie sent you.
   

Swifty's
1007 Lexington Avenue
New York, NY 10021
(212) 535-6000
www.swiftysny.com

Please note, Reggie has received nothing in return for this review, nor does he expect to.  He has written it solely for the pleasure of his readers—and the fun he has had in writing it.