After an 18-month closure, the dining room of the beloved Central Park Boathouse reopened under new management six weeks ago. It wasn’t worth the wait.
The redesigned lakeside restaurant from Legends Hospitality, which runs the food concessions at Yankee Stadium and atop the World Trade Center, is more spirit-crushing than a three-pitch strikeout.
It’s an insult to Central Park and to New Yorkers who hoped the Parks Department would choose a decent successor to former operator Dean Poll. He ran a tight ship but walked away over what he said was an unaffordable union contract.
Under Poll, the Boathouse was far from perfect but it delivered a reliably good product — well-seasoned, competently prepared American dishes worthy of the location. But, sadly, that boat sailed.
On Saturday night, I had the most atrocious restaurant experience I’ve had since a dining room fire at the Russian Tea Room last year smoked our chicken Kiev.
That horror show at least produced an entertaining video. The Boathouse just left us hungry and angry — with a $511.63 bill for four.
The “fun” started when they gave us a terrible table that faced a dark outdoor storage area. When we asked for a better one, they moved us to a different table — but then an officious, tablet-toting manager came over to tell us we couldn’t stay there because it was “reserved.”
They did find us an acceptable alternative. But the table from which we were booted remained empty all night.
Our drinks took 35 minutes to arrive on a slow night — service hardly worthy of the 20% automatic gratuity.
Among our refreshments was the first Arnold Palmer in history that needed to be sent back because the iced tea-and-lemonade no-brainer tasted too strange to risk.
The “continental” menu opened with a complimentary “relish” tray — a straight-from-the-fridge affair involving a single tiny radish, a few black olives and diminutive endive and radicchio leaves. The bottom halves of Parker House rolls ($8, there’s no free bread) were cold.
“Hidden Fjord” (a brand name) salmon belly crudo was a standard, single $12 sashimi sliver that you might find a at any sushi joint — except that it was $22.
“Sicilian” swordfish ($40), rolled in Italian bread crumbs and herbs and broiled, was promising at first taste. But it swiftly cooled into something like frozen fish cakes, mealy-textured and flavorless except for sundried tomato dressing.
My friend, a restaurant business professional, reasoned before she ordered, “You can’t go wrong with chicken Milanese.”
Wrong! The leathery, sinewy breaded meat ($32) under a heap of arugula might have come from a hot-food vending machine.
Heritage baked fresh $38 “ham” was worse. A near-inedible, deep-brown — no pink here — slab of uncured pork barely yielded to the knife much less to human teeth. Spicy mustard glaze was no help.
The reasonably flavorful and juicy prime rib ($64) with a small popover was more successful, as were lunch basics such as penne pomodoro and a passable fish and chips.
As for the ambiance: Legends, a joint venture of Yankee Global Enterprises and Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones, spent a reported $3.25 million on capital upgrades that have turned the once handsome dining room tacky.
They wisely kept white tablecloths, but turned over much of the previously gracious floor to tiny tables-for-two lined up like those in a cheap commissary.
A seriously unswept floor around the bar made a dismal sight at dinner.
The baby-blue ceiling is supposed to suggest Central Park birdlife but instead evokes a toddler’s nursery. A half-open dividing wall between the main room and a smaller “Fireside” eating area resembles a build-it-yourself kit.
If you must go to the Boathouse, wait for warmer weather when they plan to open the lakeside windows.
David Pasternack, the fine chef who first popularized crudo in New York at Esca and is a “consulting” chef at the Boathouse, ought to reconsider his involvement before it ruins his reputation.
(Adam Fiscus, who previously worked at the New Jersey Performing Arts Center, is the executive chef.)
The menu might improve with Central Park’s change of seasons. But it’s scraping bottom after six weeks. It will take a miracle to float this boat again.
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