It begins, as all love affairs do, with a flicker of seduction—an aroma curled like perfume in the air, a table glistening like a diplomatic envoy’s private salon, and a cocktail menu that reads more like a volume of Baudelaire than a standard list of libations. This, darling, is The Consulate—a temple to taste, a siren song to the senses, and perhaps the only place in Manhattan where brunch feels like an act of international diplomacy.
Rooted in the philosophy of interconnectedness, The Consulate is less a restaurant and more a meditation on refinement—wrapped in European sophistication, kissed by American edge, and delivered with the kind of poise that makes even the salt feel special. Conceived by the twin tastemakers Kiril and Metodija Mihajlov, the space is as curated as a Parisian salon and as welcoming as your chicest friend’s living room (if said friend moonlighted as a Michelin judge).
From the moment you step inside—be it the uptown hum of the Upper West Side or the metropolitan dazzle of Midtown—you are met not just with service, but with style. The Mihajlov brothers, seasoned in the dance of hospitality, have created a setting where every detail—light, linen, laughter—is choreographed with cinematic precision. It is an atmosphere that says: stay awhile, order champagne, tell me your secrets.
Then comes the food. Oh, the food.
Executive Chef Alan Vargas, whose pedigree includes time at the hallowed, three-Michelin-starred Masa, orchestrates a menu that is both luscious and lyrical. His plates speak fluently in the languages of indulgence and restraint. Start with the Tuna Tartare—a symphony of clean, oceanic brightness—or the Escargots, elegantly reimagined and seductively swirled in butter and grace. The Bone Marrow, resplendent and regal, could rouse even the most jaded appetites from slumber.
For mains, the Roasted Branzino arrives like a love letter from the Mediterranean, and the Short Rib Cavatelli melts with the type of slow-cooked gravitas reserved for family secrets and winter romances. Vegetarian? The Mushroom Gnocchi is a velvet poem in truffle and earth. And if your night requires drama (and when doesn’t it?), the Tomahawk Steak or 14oz Ribeye will steal the show—bold, brash, and unrepentantly luxurious.
Do not, under any circumstances, forgo dessert. The Chocolate Lava Cake is a dark and delirious affair. The Pineapple Upside Down Cake, on the other hand, is what Gatsby might have served at a jazz brunch—decadent, nostalgic, sun-soaked.
To drink is to dream. Beverage Director Jelena Maksimovic has composed a cocktail list that dances on the tongue and tiptoes across the globe. The Oui Mademoiselle is pure elegance in a coupe: blackberry, vodka, bubbles, and suggestion. The Three Shades of Green feels like spring incarnate, and the Rising Sun—with hibiscus, lavender, and vodka—is an elixir fit for the dawn of an empire. For purists, the Consulate Old Fashioned broods with all the sophistication of a film noir hero in bespoke tailoring.
Even the non-alcoholic offerings sing—Voulez Vous and Green Garden proving that sobriety need not lack seduction. The wine list? As worldly and refined as the room itself.
The Consulate is not a meal. It is a movement. A whispered suggestion that life is not meant to be rushed, but savored—preferably with truffle fries, beneath soft lighting, beside someone worth discussing poetry and politics with. Whether you are brunching in silk or slipping in for an impromptu rendezvous before the curtain rises at the theatre, this is the place where stories unfold and diplomacy is served by the glass.
@theconsulateuws | @theconsulatemidtown
Open daily. Closed to mediocrity.
