If I could travel back in time to see any concert, I would probably catch a show at the Fillmore East. An intimate venue with superb sound, the Church of Rock ’n’ Roll saw legendary performances from a pantheon of rock gods. Hendrix, Janis, Lennon, the Doors—the roster reads like a Who’s Who of classic rock. The Allman Brothers recorded their finest live album, At Fillmore East, at the East Village venue.
Alas, I am not Doc Brown from Back to the Future. I was born a generation too late for the golden age of rock, and the Fillmore East closed its doors in 1971. My rock ’n’ roll heroes may have shed their mortal coils, but I can toast their ghosts at Cathédrale, a restaurant just a few blocks from where the hallowed stage once stood.
I am the awaking of the youth /
I’m still carried on by a precious few /
And when I’m gone, what will you do? /
Because above all else I am the truth.
—Whiskey Myers, “Rock N Roll”
I took my girlfriend there for dinner on one of our first dates. A rare creature among Gen Z, she’s more into Siouxsie Sioux and Lou Reed than Taylor Swift and Drake. She also has something of a rock pedigree herself: her mom was an It Girl in the ’90s grunge scene, and her dad played guitar with the New York Dolls. I figured if any restaurant would aid in the wooing, it was Cathédrale.
The rock gods must have smiled from on high, because it proved to be a splendid date restaurant. With Romanesque archways framing the dining room, soft lighting, and a humming open kitchen, the ambiance is austere but sexy. The soaring ceiling, crowned by a colossal wire-mesh chandelier, softens the salon’s lively din to a dull roar. If you want to keep the evening alive after dinner, head upstairs to The Ready Cantina, a rooftop bar, or downstairs to Little Sister Lounge, a subterranean nightclub.
Southern France by way of Greece and Italy anchors chef Jason Hall’s cuisine, and every plate he dreams up is playful and decadent. Even our salad—fresh spring peas and shaved Parmesan perfumed with olive oil and mint—felt like a luxurious treat. The Potato Chip Omelette is topped with arugula, caviar, and crème fraîche, and the omelette itself is so flawless that the Culinary Institute of America should make it required study. I’m fairly certain it’s the reason I landed a subsequent date.
As for libations, the Lemmy Caution, a whiskey elixir infused with tobacco essence and chocolate mole, was a standout—dark, meditative, and almost savory.
If you snag a reservation in the next few weeks, order from the summer bistro menu. The three-course prix fixe menu highlights fresh fish, treasures from the raw bar, and chef Hall’s vegetarian delicacies. Each course comes with a suggested wine pairing—a delightful way to dive into France’s regional wines.
As dessert arrived—Parmesan gelato drizzled with fragrant EVOO—I heard Neil Young, maybe through the speakers, maybe just in my head. “Hey, hey, my my, rock ’n’ roll will never die.” The night was still young, and so were we. What would Ozzy do at such a juncture? I ordered us another round of espresso martinis.
