Welcome to Ten11 Lounge & Bar in NoMad, a velvet-lined rabbit hole tucked beneath the city’s pulse, where glowing slabs of onyx coax you down a staircase of wicked anticipation. Turkish marble flashes under candlelight like a coy grin, while slick stone arches whisper, “Stay awhile, beautiful—your secrets are safe here.”
Slip past the draped entrance and gasp, darling: the room glows molten gold, equal parts speakeasy and boudoir. Cocktails parade by like mischievous accessories—chief among them the “Eyes Wide Shut,” a ruby-stained elixir that arrives with its own satin mask. One sip, and suddenly every stranger looks dangerously familiar. Flirtation has never worn its intentions so honestly.
The menu reads like a black-tie confession. Wagyu, marbled with obscene luxury, slides onto petite buns that drip umami promises. Sushi rolls shimmer with the restraint of a whispered dare. Then the showstopper glides in: Champagne, Caviar & Chips. Three pearlescent scoops of Kaluga perch atop house-made crisps, while a flute of icy bubbles stands sentinel. It is decadent minimalism—refined, unfussy, resolutely photogenic, as though Gatsby himself hired a stylist with a wicked sense of humor.
Evening deepens, and the lounge sheds its polite smile for a sultry smirk. Music throbs softly against the onyx, shadows dance across Turkish veining, and the air crackles with stories that will never see daylight. Lovers plot rendezvous over second rounds. Power brokers ink hush-hush deals between bites of caviar. A waft of truffle collides with citrus mist, and suddenly the world outside feels impossibly square.
Those in search of spectacle can keep their rooftop fireworks. Real thrill lives here, underground, where stone glows like embers and indulgence has perfected the art of the slow burn. Consider this your invitation: don the mask, raise the flute, and let the night write its own scandalous footnote—signed in caviar, sealed with champagne.
Visit ten11nomad.com for reservations you will not regret.
