ART DECO CENTURY / DELMONICO'S

Delmonico’s: 

Where American Fine Dining Was Born 

Long before Manhattan was marbled with Michelin stars, before the white tablecloth became a standard, and before steak could be branded “Delmonico-style,” there was Delmonico’s. 

Opened in 1827 by Swiss immigrants Giovanni and Pietro Delmonico, the restaurant began humbly as a pastry shop on William Street. But within a decade, it morphed into the nation’s first true fine dining establishment—a New World experiment in European luxury. 

It became the first restaurant in America to offer a printed menu, private dining rooms, and a wine list curated with imported vintages. 

Even the concept of tipping was introduced to the U.S. by way of Delmonico’s—and with it, the art of gracious, attentive service. 

56 Beaver Street

A Stage for Power and Appetite 

The iconic building at 56 Beaver Street, with its curved entrance and Corinthian columns, opened in 1891 and remains the most enduring symbol of the Delmonico dynasty. 

This was where the Gilded Age’s power players came to dine: J.P. Morgan held court in a private room, Charles Dickens stopped by on his American tour, and Mark Twain once celebrated the end of his “round-the-world” trip with a dinner of oysters, terrapin, and Champagne. 

Abraham Lincoln, invited to dine here before his Cooper Union speech, reportedly declined the opulence, but his legacy lingers in the mahogany-paneled rooms. 

Inventing American Cuisine

One Dish at a Time Delmonico’s isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a test kitchen for history. It is credited with the creation of Lobster Newberg, Eggs Benedict, and the eponymous Delmonico Steak—a boneless cut from the ribeye, broiled and basted with butter. 

The kitchen, under legendary chef Charles Ranhofer, produced a 1,000-page cookbook (The Epicurean, 1894) that set the gold standard for fine dining in America. Even today, the menu honors its past. 

Order the Lobster Newberg and you’ll taste 1876; opt for the Baked Alaska, flambéed with ceremony, and you’re partaking in a dessert that once closed banquets for Napoleon III. 

Anecdotes That Still Sizzle 

In 1860, the Prince of Wales dined at Delmonico’s and was so pleased he insisted on tipping every waiter personally—setting a precedent that American diners have loved and loathed ever since. 

Oscar Wilde, when dining at Delmonico’s, reportedly ordered a course of only strawberries and Champagne, declaring, “I have a simple taste. I am always satisfied with the best.” 

Truman Capote, in his Black and White Ball planning stages, flirted with the idea of Delmonico’s as a venue. He eventually chose the Plaza—but rumor has it, his decision was swayed by a less-than-favorable cocktail served during a quiet lunch. 

Still a Table Worth Claiming 

After temporary closures and revivals, Delmonico’s continues to endure. The kitchen has updated, of course, and the clientele now includes Wall Street analysts alongside literary dreamers. But walk through its arching doors and you still feel it: the hush of history, the murmur of scandal and celebration, the scent of butter on charred beef. 

Delmonico’s is not just a restaurant. It is a culinary cathedral—timeless, theatrical, and always worth dressing up for. 

 

The Mural 

The painting on the far wall of Delmonico’s Grand Salon is a contemporary mural titled “The Banquet of the Medici” by Vincent Maragliotti, a 20th-century American muralist known for his lush, theatrical compositions. Unlike traditional Renaissance works that the title might evoke, Maragliotti’s piece at Delmonico’s reimagines the spirit of a grand banquet in a modern idiom. 

Painted in the 1920s during the restaurant's Art Deco-era revival, the mural depicts a glamorous, high-society dinner scene—elegantly dressed men and women dining, conversing, and engaging in quiet flirtation. 

It evokes a timelessness that bridges the Medici courts of Florence with the Gilded Age of New York, casting the diners as both audience and actors in a centuries-old tradition of indulgence, intellect, and intrigue. 

Maragliotti, who also created murals for the Waldorf Astoria and Radio City Music Hall, specialized in these grand tableaux that celebrated cultural refinement and opulence. 

The work at Delmonico’s acts as both historical homage and subtle theater set—reminding guests that at this table, they too are part of a larger performance.