Just when you thought SoHo had reached maximum capacity for cozy spots that’ll serve you Tartare de Bœf, The Little Prince sauntered in, sidled up to the bar, and ordered a double – and I’m glad they did.
“The space isn’t quite at 100% yet,” food and beverage consultant (and former GrandLifer) Aron Kelly explained as I tucked into an expertly poured dirty martini; “I’m waiting on the delivery of this poster from Prince’s Under the Cherry Moon – it’s purple, silver, and huge.” As I ogled the empty stretch of wall where the appropriately chosen 1986 print would soon live, my first course arrived, a wonderfully tart Frisée aux Lardons, the least healthy salad on the planet.
Two bites in I queried Mr. Kelly on the man behind the greens who would give Lynn Wagenknecht a run for her money: “It’s always a treat to work with a chef who you have total confidence in. Food, beverage and front of house can and will always be tweaked, but unless you start with strong fundamentals you’ll ultimately end up with a product you’re not proud of. That’s not the case here; Paul Denamiel knows what he’s doing.” Before he could finish I found myself licking the plate, eyes wide at the prospect of my next course – Tartare de Bœf, a dish for which I had honed my appetite at a young age under the fatty tutelage of my gourmet mother.
Now some will say it’s sacrilege to serve the tartare with the traditional quail egg already removed from its shell, but frankly I think those people are purist imbeciles who have nothing better to do with their time. Little Prince serves it smack on top of the delicate dish, and I couldn’t be happier. This, I can safely say, is one of the best tartares I’ve tasted in my life. I didn’t have enough room to try the French Onion Soup Burger, I did however watch the gentleman to my right nearly expire when he realized he’d reached his last bite.
Do try Little Prince. You won’t be sorry.
199 Prince St, New York, NY