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At any hour of the night, Les Trois Chevaux looks immaculate. The downtown New York restaurant’s tables are draped in impeccably-crisped white linen cloths that dangle just so, and is bathed in a warm glow from the ornate 1930s Waldorf Astoria crystal chandelier that hangs above. Its menu began as a pre-fixe when chef Angie Mar first opened in July 2021, but has since graduated to encompass impressive à la carte with high-concept dishes competing for—and stealing—attention from the artworks that hang on her wall, several-figure pieces from the likes of Pablo Picasso and Banksy. But over the last few days, Les Trois Chevaux has had its windows curtained closed and its doors locked tight, with an unlit neon sign offering the only clue to its next chapter: “Beatrice Inn,” it reads.
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Like any New York institution worth remembering, the Beatrice Inn has a storied past, marked by its wildly different owners—including Graydon Carter, who notably sold the establishment to Mar, and Paul Sevigny, whom the ex-Vanity Fair EIC bought the restaurant from in the first place—with plenty of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll (and flaming duck) along the way. Mar took over the infamous haunt for four years, transforming it into a restaurant before temporarily shutting it down to move locations in 2020. Then, the pandemic happened. She retained ownership of the name, but the Beatrice never fully returned. “It’s not the original,” Mar says, nodding towards the neon sign. The chef is in the dual process of packing the final pieces of Les Trois Chevaux into storage before the fine dining concept reopens next year on the Upper East Side (“a better location for our core clientele,” she explains) and setting up Le B., which officially opens next week.
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Mar hired Patrick Nash, who serviced the original facade for decades, to create a replica—and like the sign hanging as part of it, the restaurant both is and is not the old Beatrice Inn. That was exactly the point. “This year is the 100th anniversary of the Beatrice Inn,” explains Mar. “I wanted to celebrate the centennial of such an iconic New York restaurant by channeling the spirit of it in a new way.” Mar’s new restaurant has the exact same layout as its dinner jacket-only predecessor, and many of the same team and vendors, including Christian Siriano, who made the uniforms, Marcello Bavora, who created bespoke woodwork and framings, and Raul Avila, who designed the florals. But with the formalities of fine dining lifted, the vibe feels totally different. There’s a sense of whimsy—and even sexiness—to Le B.
As with Les Trois Cheavux, Mar enlisted Brenda Bello and Joel Medina of the architectural firm BWArchitects to bring the interiors to life. They repainted their original off-white paneled walls a deep navy to complement the custom antique mirrors from Walter’s Mirrors and curved velvet banquettes, in a rich midnight blue. (Mar’s Picasso will remain somewhere, and it will also be joined by a Jacques Pépin painting called Women Gathering 1 and a 1957 lithograph by Marc Chagall entitled Le Joueur de Flute.) A large crystal chandelier from Brooklyn Prospect Hall has replaced its Waldorf predecessor. It’s from the ’80s, the decade in which Mar spent her adolescence in the suburbs of Seattle, and which—in addition to the spirit of the original Beatrice Inn—came to influence her menu at Le B.
“It’s continental cuisine,” Mar adds, offering me a rose-tinted vintage Mikasa Belle Epoque crystal bowl filled with a cultivated onion-herb dip, topped with a dollop of osetra caviar and featuring crispy strands of pommes soufflés sticking out. It’s named after the Lipton concoctions her mother, Nancy, would make for her as a child. “Executed with a bit of French technique, of course,” she continues, “and translated for the modern diner.” Much of Le B.’s food has a feminine touch, Mar explains, and also nods to her Chinese heritage.
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There’s a deviled egg with its yolks extracted and turned into a creamy filling, then piped back into the speckled shell and finished with a touch of gold leaf, and a rabbit stuffed with savoy cabbage, chamomile, and many of the garden vegetables it would have eaten over its lifetime. One “Chinese” salad is actually meatless, and boasts extracted flavors of roasted chicken via its drippings that form a “lace tuile.” A more personal choice for the owner is her sturgeon charlemagne, named after Charles the Great, which she describes as if Lady M crêpes and Russ Daughters had a baby: it features lavish layers of smoked sturgeon, whipped creme fraiche, and obsidian caviar—because, why not. Another favorite (Mar has many) is her flambéd oyster, which is served tableside with manzanilla sherry and light sauce mornay. “It’s a hallmark of my cooking style and a nod to the original Beatrice,” Mar adds.
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Speaking of which, you can’t talk about the Beatrice without talking about meat. “At one point we had eight cuts of steak on the menu,” remembers the chef, who ended up opting for two cuts at Le. B: a simple ribeye steak served in Mar’s preferred style from her youth—with Dijon sauce and fried potatoes—and a fancier prime rib prepared via trolly service and completed with wild rice, au jus, and horseradish. For early diners and Beatrice devotees, Mar also has a special surprise: the Beatrice Inn’s original 45-day dry-aged burger is back in action, but only in a very limited capacity. Each night, it’ll be available at the bar with only one order per seat and for walk-ins only. Those who miss their chance will be met with a menu of updated Beatrice classic cocktails, and can try again another day.
With its caviar-infused vodkas and ’80s tunes playing overhead, the bar is where it hits you: Le B. is very much in the sweet spot between Les Trois Chevaux and the Beatrice Inn. Which is exactly where Mar wants you to be. If she got the chance to bring back her beloved haunt of the Beatrice Inn back—really back—would she? “The world has changed a lot,” says Mar, admitting the right space is everything. “But if I found that, then yes, totally. Wouldn’t you?”
