Per Se — New York
October 2026.
Walking along Central Park, I could finally feel a hint of autumn in the air.
I was on my way to Per Se, a three-Michelin-star restaurant I had wanted to visit for quite some time.
Per Se consistently appears near the top of New York restaurant rankings, and countless YouTubers have sung its praises. It would have been difficult not to have high expectations.
Two Chairs by the Window
We were shown to a table with two chairs placed side by side.
Interestingly, both chairs faced the dining room, with Central Park behind us.
In a city where so many restaurants make a point of showcasing their views, I found that a little surprising.
Perhaps the restaurant preferred to let its food speak for itself rather than rely on the view.
The thought only raised my expectations further.
My chair, however, was so close to the large window that I couldn't approach it from the left. I had to maneuver myself into the seat rather awkwardly from the right.
A little later, someone who appeared to be the sommelier brought over the drinks menu.
On an iPad.
I've become used to seeing those in casual restaurants, but at a three-Michelin-star establishment? That caught me off guard.
Then again, perhaps I'm simply old-fashioned.
I decided not to dwell on it.
The Little Things About Service
Before the meal began, I went to the restroom.
When I returned, my napkin had been neatly refolded and placed on the table.
But no one came to pull out my chair.
At a restaurant of this caliber, I had always expected a staff member to appear almost out of nowhere and discreetly help me back into my seat.
There seemed to be relatively few staff members for the number of guests. Perhaps they simply couldn't attend to every detail. Or perhaps this is just how things are done in America.
It may seem like a very small thing.
But to me, these little gestures are part of the pleasure of dining out.
From the Very First Bite
We began with three amuse-bouches.
Two were very good.
The salmon tartare was served in a tiny cone resembling an ice cream cone. It was as charming to look at as it was delicious.
And then there was the third.
It was something resembling sushi, with rice placed on top of Wagyu beef.
I really didn't care for it.
We exchanged a look.
Wagyu?
It reminded me more of Spam.
And the rice was dry and crumbly. How does rice even end up like that?
I had decided that if our server asked what I thought, I would tell her.
But she never asked.
Next came one of Per Se's signature dishes: oysters and caviar.
Now this was excellent.
The saltiness of the caviar and the creaminess of the oyster-based sauce were beautifully balanced. It was the kind of dish that made me stop and savor every bite.
Now this was what I had come for.
The dishes that followed were good, too.
Just not particularly memorable.
The Main Course
For the main course, there was lamb, or Wagyu for an additional charge.
I chose the lamb.
I put my knife to the meat.
Not a good sign.
It was difficult to cut.
I took a bite.
Hmm?
Was something wrong with my taste buds?
Another bite.
No. Something was definitely off.
After a third bite, I glanced across at my dining companion.
The expression I saw said it all.
There was almost no salt.
And the meat was tough.
Neither the quality of the meat nor the seasoning came close to what I expected.
“It tastes like business-class airline food…”
My dining companion had found exactly the right words.
On a business-class flight, I would have been perfectly happy with it.
But we weren't on an airplane.
When our server came to clear the plates, she finally asked how everything had been. Perhaps because it was the last savory course.
I told her what I thought.
She offered to bring us something else.
“Would you like to try the Wagyu?”
With dessert still to come, I politely declined.
Then, with a huge smile, she said:
“OKAY! AS LONG AS YOU ARE HAPPY AND FULL!”
Wait.
Happy and full?
As long as I'm full, that's what matters?
If all I wanted was to fill my stomach, I could go to the neighborhood pizza place and buy 100 slices of $4.25 Margherita pizza.
Exactly $425.
The price of my tasting menu.
Not that I could actually eat 100 slices.
I wasn't paying $425 simply to satisfy my hunger.
I was paying for the food, of course, but also for the atmosphere, the service, and the pleasure of spending a few hours somewhere outside my everyday life.
What disappointed me most was that no one ever asked what, specifically, I hadn't liked about the dish.
I appreciated the offer to bring something else.
But wasn't anyone curious about why a guest had been unhappy with the food?
I had hoped to feel a greater sense of responsibility for what was being served.
A Mixed Ending
There were three desserts.
The chocolate was outstanding.
The coffee semifreddo was also delicious.
The almond gelato, however, was so salty that I wondered whether someone had used salted almonds by mistake.
I rarely leave food unfinished.
This time, I did.
Coffee and petits fours followed.
Incidentally, you don't have to finish all the petits fours at the table. The restaurant can pack them up for you, and they'll be handed to you along with a box of cookies as you leave.
I only wish someone had mentioned that a little earlier.
What I Look for in Three Stars
Food wasn't the only thing I had been looking forward to that evening.
My parents were particular about their tableware. Growing up surrounded by beautiful plates and dishes, I naturally learned to notice not just the food, but what it was served on.
At restaurants of this caliber, I sometimes come across a plate so beautiful that I'm tempted to turn it over to see who made it.
Of course, I never actually do.
But nothing about the tableware or cutlery at Per Se particularly caught my eye.
I had also been looking forward to a sense of occasion.
That feeling of stepping outside everyday life, with just enough formality to make you sit a little straighter.
There were plenty of beautifully dressed guests and lovely families enjoying their evening.
But the Rolling Stones were playing, and the overlapping conversations made the dining room feel a little noisy.
In comparable restaurants in Europe and Japan, people tend to lower their voices slightly without anyone having to ask. The result is a certain composure, a quiet sense of occasion, and just a touch of pleasant tension.
That was the atmosphere I had hoped for.
Per Se was my third three-Michelin-star French restaurant in New York.
I had hoped the third time would be the charm.
Instead, I found myself thinking of a Japanese saying: Even Buddha's patience has its limits.
Sorry, Buddha.
Perhaps it's time for me to stop chasing Michelin stars in New York.
At least for now.
M at the Table — My Take
Would M sit at this table again?
No.
Would M feel comfortable dining alone?
Absolutely. I wouldn't feel the least bit out of place dining here on my own.
Better alone or with company?
Either. Both would be equally enjoyable.
How much food?
Even as a middle-aged woman, I was able to finish the meal. Taking the petits fours home makes it easier still.
Was it worth the price?
The tasting menu was $425. Given the location and the restaurant's standing, I think the price itself is reasonable.
Gratuity is included, so there's no need to leave anything extra. Although there is a space for an additional tip on the receipt.
How noisy was it?
Relatively quiet by American restaurant standards, but noticeably livelier than comparable restaurants I've visited in Europe and Japan.
Observations, not scores.
Not how many stars a restaurant has, but how it made me feel.
That's what I want to remember at M at the Table.
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