Latest news with #Jean-Georges
Scottish Sun
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Scottish Sun
Luxury hotel is a hidden gem in city famous for its hospitality
You can fit a lot into a short trip to the city with a stay at The Leinster DUBLIN DOWN Luxury hotel is a hidden gem in city famous for its hospitality YOU can fit a hell of a lot of Dublin into 36 hours. Learn to pour a pint of Guinness and get the certificate to prove it. Make your own jewellery over a glass of prosecco. 10 Bridge over the River Liffey, Dublin Credit: Getty - Contributor 10 The Leinster has lovely rooms, a fabulous restaurant and cracking cocktail bar 10 It also has hi-tech loos Stroll around St Stephen's Green checking out the pavement artists, window shop on Grafton Street serenaded by a festival of buskers. There's a mass of museums and libraries and churches to ogle, a castle to explore, endless green spaces to stroll around and sunbathe in, gigs to see, statues to selfie with. Or, alternatively, you could stay in your room and be captivated by your new favourite toy. An electronic toilet. This was my dilemma on a flying visit to The Leinster, a wonderful, welcoming hotel in the heart of the Irish capital's Georgian district. Because trust me, for all there's a spectacular restaurant on the roof, a top-notch gym in the basement and a stunning cocktail bar in between, you really could get so hooked on this this piece of lavatorial magnificence that next thing half your weekend's disappeared down the U-bend of time. No? Is it just me? Surely not THIRTY SIX HOURS IN DUBLIN GO: DUBLIN For the best rate on rooms at the 4* The Leinster see Actually, I'd judge anyone who DIDN'T get excited, when their first step into a bathroom automatically made the loo's lid swish up, especially when they then spied a remote control on the wall that pre-heats the seat, freshens you up with a little scoosh of water, then wafts warm air to gently dry off one's nether regions. However, let's be honest here. That judgement wouldn't be half as harsh as the one meted out on the visitor who DID sit there all weekend, rather than wringing every bit of enjoyment out of a hotel that is a gem of an addition to one of my favourite cities on earth. From the moment East Kilbride-born general manager Melanie Nocher met us at the front door with smiles and hugs on a sunny Friday morning, it felt like home. Ten minutes later, ordering breakfast in that rooftop Jean-Georges restaurant (with Ireland's deputy prime minister Simon Harris, no less, having his poached eggs at the next table) the feeling of relaxation was all-consuming. 10 Beautiful interiors of the Jean-Georges restaurant 10 Lively Grafton Street in Dublin Credit: Getty And so began a stay that was all too brief but oh so much fun. I love walking in Dublin, so after exploring the room – and, yes, faffing fascinatedly with the lavvy for half an hour – it was off along Fitzwilliam Street, Merrion Square, St Stephen's and down to Grafton, resisting the magnetic temptation of O'Donaghues and Foley's and Bruxelles and so many bars besides in the knowledge that on my return we'd be heading to the Temple Of Stout. First time I went to the Guinness Storehouse, twenty-odd years back, it was pretty much just a working brewery you could tour then get a fresh pint from before leaving. Now, it's this multi-storeyed, multi-coloured, snaking-queued, interactive theme park with two panoramic bars on its roof, a full afternoon out from which we re-emerged into the sunlight clutching proof of our ability to create a masterpiece of the Black Stuff (though, trivia buffs, it's technically ruby red) and just enough of a taste to want some more. 10 Guinness storehouse Dublin Credit: Alamy 10 The Collins Club at the Leinster Cue a visit to The Leinster's pride and joy…The Collins Club. Named in tribute to Dublin-born architect David Collins, it's a classy, relaxed bar and diner, drenched in crimson light, with the grand piano tinkling by day and a DJ on the decks into the small hours. It's also where they have some unique and bafflingly scientific takes on preparing cocktails; let's just say the movie wouldn't so much star Tom Cruise as Professor Brian Cox. A couple of quite extraordinarily good Negronis later, we were back on the rooftop for dinner à la Jean-George, an experience excellent enough for the food alone. 10 Bill and pals dine outdoors at the rooftop restaurant at The Leinster 10 Gorgeous food at hotel's Jean- Georges Rooftop Restaurant My octopus starter followed by paccheri pasta with meatballs were outstanding – but one which goes to a whole new level on an evening when the sun bleeds into the horizon beyond your table as if the maitre d' himself had ordered it. Nightcap back in the Collins anyone? Don't mind if we do. Next morning, after an hour on a bike in the gym followed by breakfast back on the roof, we went down to Silver Works, a craft studio where we did something I never thought would be added to my CV - we made our own rings! Apart from the soldering, done by an in-house grown-up, you do the lot, from measuring your finger to cutting a strip of silver to fit, bending it into a C-shape, knocking it into something close to a circle ready for the ends to be welded together, then rinsing and cooling and hammering until it's the right size and you're ready to add a final pattern that makes you think "I might have a wee side hustle going here". 10 The ring Bill made There's a real joy in creating something you can keep forever, in doing something you never thought you'd be able to, a proper sense of achievement. So much that you really do owe yourself a celebratory Guinness on the way back to base, followed by a cocktail or two in the Collins Club before uber-grudgingly jumping in a cab to the airport for the last flight home. Though not before one last play with your very own robot toilet from the future. Santa, if you're reading this…
Extra.ie
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Extra.ie
Stars step out for the launch of Taste of Dublin 2025
Taste of Dublin is back for 2025, with a whole host of Irish celebs gathering to celebrate the most delicious weekend of the year. The exclusive launch of Taste of Dublin 2025, in association with JYSK, took place in Jean-Georges restaurant at The Leinster, with the evening themed around the 20th anniversary of the iconic festival. Today's top videos STORY CONTINUES BELOW The evening gave the star studded guests a sneak peak of what to expect at this year's event, as it makes its return to Dublin's Merrion Square from June 12 to 15. Bláthnaid Treacy at the exclusive Taste of Dublin 20th anniversary themed launch party in Jean-Georges at The Leinster. Pic: Brian McEvoy Those in attendance enjoyed bespoke Taste of Dublin Glendalough Distillery gin summer drinks and enjoyed an array of signature dishes from Taste of Dublin restaurants Shaku Maku, Parrilla and Dosa Dosa. Broadcaster, Bláthnaid Treacy, radio host, Thomas Crosse; celebrity stylist, Corina Gaffey; TV Chef, Erica Drum; Norah Casey and Two Michelin Star chef and Compass Ireland, Best in Taste Award judge Kevin Thornton were just some of the big names enjoying a bite. Taste of Dublin, CEO, Jo Mathews, welcomed guests while sharing some exciting details around the 2025 special birthday festival programme. Kevin Thornton and Shay Kendrick (Compass Ireland) present second place winners Parrilla with their prestigious Best Dish Award as part of the Compass Ireland Best in Taste Awards at the exclusive Taste of Dublin 20th anniversary themed launch party in Jean-Georges at The Leinster. Pic: Brian McEvoy 'Our 20th anniversary festival programme really does represent an eclectic mix of food connoisseurs, the very best of Irish and international chefs, wonderful pop-up restaurants serving flavour-packed dishes, incredible demos, inspiring masterclasses, fun musical acts and some extra special birthday surprises,' said Mathews Shay Kendrick, Compass Ireland, was also on hand to exclusively reveal the 'Best Dish' 1st, 2nd and 3rd place winners of 2025 as part of the Compass Ireland Best in Taste Awards. The main accolade went to Shaku Maku, with Parilla and Dosa Dosa coming in a close second and third. Kevin Thornton and Shay Kendrick congratulated all the winners complimenting the diversity and creativity of all three mouthwatering signature dishes which are sure to prove a huge hit among festival goers. For more information on The Taste of Dublin 2025 visit
New York Post
30-04-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Post
Marcella Raneri bought a $36.5M home on Billionaires' Row
'Dancing Queen' Marcella Raneri just purchased a $36.5 million home on Manhattan's Billionaires' Row — the very same month she bought a $40 million Miami Beach mansion, Gimme Shelter can reveal. The former Dallas Mavericks dancer, choreographer, and star of Netflix's 'Dancing Queens' and 'So You Think You Can Dance' just closed on the smashing residence at swanky 220 Central Park South with her tech mogul fiancé Daniel Nutkis. The New York purchase was an off-market, all-cash deal — and the couple closed within three months of seeing the dwelling, sources said. 5 Marcella Raneri and Daniel Nutkis. Alex Bramall 5 The Central Park South limestone tower comes with a private Jean-Georges restaurant, and is home to money and power. Matthew McDermott 5 Billionaires' Row is marked by super-tall towers that line Central Park South. Christopher Sadowski 'We both enjoy the culture, arts and fine dining [that the Big Apple offers], but I especially wanted to spend more time with others in the dance community, which is world class in the city,' Raneri told Gimme. 'It has been a dream of mine since I was young to live in New York City, and that has never changed. I am just so happy that I get to do it part-time now,' she added. 5 The building was designed by celebrated architect Robert A.M. Stern. stefano giovannini Dallas, however, will continue to be the couple's primary base. That's where, earlier this month, the couple celebrated their engagement with a bang-out bash decorated with 200,000 flowers for 300 people, as Page Six reported. The 200 Central Park South apartment is a 3,043-square-foot behemoth, with three bedrooms and 3.5 baths on the 44th floor — and full views of Central Park. At the moment, it's empty and devoid of furniture, but that will change soon, sources said, as Raneri and Nutkis can't wait to add their own style to the condo. 5 Greenery adds warmth to the building. Matthew McDermott The Billionaires' Row tower, designed by Robert A.M. Stern, is home to billionaires like Ken Griffin and A-listers like Sting. 'Marcella and Dan weren't looking for a Manhattan home, but they love the building. A unit like this is rare and when they heard it was for sale — off market — they jumped,' a friend said. Raneri told Gimme that she and Nutkis love the building's 'location, views, amenities and services.' Those include a private restaurant by Jean-Georges Vongerichten, for those who don't feel like walking across Columbus Circle to Jean-Georges, at Trump International Hotel and Tower. 'After considering other options, we limited our search only to [220 Central Park South], and then it was securing the unit with the size and views we desired,' Raneri said. Despite New York's challenges, from 9/11 and the 2008 recession to the pandemic, the city keeps defying naysayers' claims that it is 'over.' 'Both Dan and I feel that New York City is, and will continue to be, a great city and [220 Central Park South] is a world-class building — so when the opportunity became available, we didn't think twice,' she said.
Japan Times
31-03-2025
- Japan Times
Michelin awards stars to 172 restaurants in Kyoto and Osaka
Announced on March 27, the latest Michelin Guide for Kyoto and Osaka is full of rising stars and a historic first. While there was no movement among the eight restaurants previously awarded three stars, the second-highest echelon saw three establishments join the ranks. In Kyoto, Kodaiji Jugyuan and Sanso Kyoyamato are the newest two-starred restaurants in Japan's ancient capital, while in Osaka, the hyper-seasonal cuisine of Oimatsu Hisano helped chef owner Masamitsu Hisano further bolster the fine-dining chops of Japan's street food mecca. Overall, the two Kansai cities are now home to 27 two-starred restaurants, with 16 in Kyoto and 11 in Osaka. The cities' one-starred restaurants now count 137 thanks to 10 new additions. At Kyoto's Jean-Georges at The Shinmonzen, 29-year-old head chef Hana Yoon continues to impress with her culinary acumen and commitment to inclusive staff training that can be in short supply in Japan's fine-dining kitchens. In Osaka, chef Willy Monroy has made history, earning Japan's first Michelin star for Mexican food at Milpa. It's an achievement Michelin International Director Gwendal Poullennec described as an example of how the region's gourmands are 'embracing new concepts.' Aside from Michelin's traditional stars, two restaurants committed to 'eco-friendly driven initiatives' warranted the guide's attention with Green Stars. Already recognized as a Bib Gourmand location, Vegan Ramen Uzu has become the first ramen eatery in the world with a Green Star, and Ristorante Dono earned the same honor for its menu of self-cultivated, grown and harvested ingredients. In total, 469 restaurants across Kyoto and Osaka are recommended in the 2025 guide.
The Guardian
27-02-2025
- General
- The Guardian
‘I told him to stop': the elite restaurant culture that consumed me
I was working at Jean-Georges, the petite and bourgeois restaurant tucked into Trump's building on Columbus Circle, just off Central Park, where the sounds and smells of New York faded into the austere dining room. It was a room of extravagances small and large. There's no pleasure in a four-star dining room, no joviality. You can't be jocular with your fellow servers. There's no room for error. A server is not permitted to do the following: wear colored nail polish; cross hands in front of the body; slouch; speak on the floor; carry a glass from the bar to the table without a tray; show visible tattoos; wear hair in an inappropriate manner (this can be at the discretion of a manager); touch a glass by any part except the stem; pour wine in the incorrect order; spill; laugh. One of the more arresting displays took place when Philippe Vongerichten, the restaurant's general manager and brother of its executive chef, came through with a pineapple. There, in the gray light, Philippe would pierce the end of the fruit with two forks and hoist it into the air, carving ravines into its sides before setting it ablaze with kirsch. This was the kind of performative act that looked better than it tasted. It was, after all, just a very expensive pineapple, and that's how I felt about most of the food at the restaurant: it was pretty, if a little uninteresting. I had landed a two-week stage as a sommelier, and hoped the job would lead to a full-time gig at the group's downtown restaurant, Perry St, a cooler, more chic spot that very much felt like a place where I would fit in. But here, the mood was stodgy. In the dining room: no leaning. Business was conducted at a whisper. If a guest got up to use the restroom, one did not fold a napkin in absentia, as was protocol in nearly every other restaurant in fine dining. Instead, that napkin was removed. This dirty thing! A new one appeared, folded beside the plate, as if by magic, before the guest re-emerged. There is a difference between restaurants that receive two or three stars from the New York Times and restaurants that receive four. At restaurants that receive four, like Jean-Georges, waiting tables is a career because the money allows it. The job was demanding, but it offered rewards in return. This was not an entry-level restaurant job, and people in the industry understood the level of discipline and professionalism required. If you're used to working in fine dining, like I was, the transition to top-tier can be brutal. But if you love service – or are, as I was, addicted to the inherent charms of restaurants – you couldn't help but love this one, with its old school customs and extreme technique. To enter the dining room was to enter another world, which is, at its core, what fine dining is all about: transportive experience. To be in there, among the most expensive wines in the world, with the carts and tableside plating, the French-style service and the whisper-quiet, was to be in elite company. Jean-Georges Vongerichten, the critically acclaimed Alsatian chef responsible for the restaurant, was himself a perfectionist. Had I ever seen another place like this, where food was produced, yes, but where, in truth, there was no grimy proof of it, no accidental leak of ketchup, no grease trap overflowing on occasion, no tipping over of a tray or sticky floor that betrayed months – if not years – of old food? There was no cacophony, no clang of pots, no shouting or anger or indication of the stress that comes when the printer is operating on overdrive. For all its formality, Jean-Georges set its pastry chef, Johnny Iuzzini, loose in the final course. The Dover sole was still deboned, plated and sauced tableside. But the dessert? It flew off in a million directions, a weird symphony of flavor and colors. It was always a surprise when it was plated on a square vessel with four quadrants, the most avant-garde part of the meal. Sometimes these quadrants were ingredient-themed, and other times they were seasonally inspired. Consider a rumination on rhubarb: in one quadrant, a birch beer soft-serve ice cream, served in a tiny glass with carbonated strawberry-rhubarb consommé. In another, a rhubarb panna cotta with dried rhubarb powder. Then, a jade green matcha cake, surrounded by hibiscus and red wine–poached rhubarb. Finally, an orb of crispy rhubarb cheesecake, topped with a dollop of raspberry puree. Guests lost their minds over these desserts. New York Magazine's profile fawned over the chef, who admitted to such an aggressive sugar addiction that, by 2003, he had worn down his teeth and was replacing his veneers every year; he was only 29 at the time. Unlike the straitlaced servers on the floor, he was slick, with a gelled pompadour, a Ducati and a gig spinning as a DJ downtown. Johnny Iuzzini began his career at Jean-Georges in 2002 after working under François Payard for several years at Daniel and Café Boulud. A year after beginning at Jean-Georges, Iuzzini won the James Beard award for outstanding pastry chef. Two years later, he would publish his first book, called Dessert FourPlay: Sweet Quartets from a Four-Star Pastry Chef. That was one year after I met him in the basement of the restaurant, where he operated a glossy pastry kitchen, as well as a fully refrigerated chocolate locker, where he created the final tastes of the evening: handcrafted chocolates. On the first or second day of my stage, I had been sent downstairs to meet with him by the director of operations to learn more about the restaurant's pastry program, down to the bowels of the seemingly endless restaurant. The prep kitchen, pastry kitchen, chocolate unit, employee dining cafe and lockers constitute an underground maze, never-ending passageways of hidden spaces that hide staff from guests. In the chocolate room, I was meant to learn about the procedure of making the tiny petits fours that go out to guests as the final gift each evening. Instead, in the room so cool that my breath took on the condensed look of smoke, I stood statue-still as Johnny grabbed me from behind. Maybe I didn't mind. 'Come downtown with me,' he said. Chocolate must be kept cool because it is such a shapeshifter. Chocolate-making involves rules. It involves process. You have to temper chocolate. If you fail to control chocolate, it will turn chalky. It will lose its texture and sheen, break prematurely, turn grainy. Such a delicate material, chocolate, far more delicate than pastry, or even pastry cream. That Johnny had chosen chocolate, this most temperamental of ingredients, as his passion project, felt meaningful. Why choose the thing that is hardest, I wondered? It must take a patient person – a person with delicate hands and constitution – to choose to work with something so infinitely fickle. Here was an artist, I thought. Here was someone who had chosen such a difficult medium. And he wanted me to accompany him into his secret, private life, away from the restaurant. How could I possibly decline? 'We have to go separately,' he said. 'No one can see us.' That should have been my first red flag. All employees at Jean-Georges leave through a separate entrance, so that the guests don't have to mingle with them; this is another rule of fine dining. When service has ended, and you are in your plain clothes, you must disappear into the night, through a porter's entrance or side door, a performer who has played the role. No one can see you in this real life of yours, this city life, where you wear jeans and sweaters and carry a backpack or purse. Outside, it was spring, or maybe early summer. Johnny got on his Ducati, a fast bike that would beat me downtown. I hailed a cab on Central Park West, and headed into the velvet night. The invitation felt precious, and I felt unworthy. In his East Village apartment, Johnny talked about his mother, who had died the year before at 56. I would think about this later, from time to time, about what it had meant for him to lose her, about whether it made him a sympathetic character in the wake of my own loss. My own father died at 57 from ALS. Johnny led me into his bedroom. There were things that I agreed to and things that I did not agree to. What I agreed to: sex. What I did not agree to: the camera that appeared out of nowhere. There was no permission to grant. Johnny had already started filming. I looked up from the bed and was greeted by the cold, blank stare of a camera, and not of a partner. I told him to stop. In my head, I thought about the things that I could do, or the things that I could say, about the obvious betrayal. I thought about how disgusting it was, about how I could end up on the internet, about how I could never run for president, and about how ridiculous that thought was, since I had never planned to run for president in the first place. My brain ran on hyperdrive, firing at a million thoughts a second, and my mouth ran dry. 'Stop' came out, a pathetic, one-syllable word. You can feel two things at once, and I did, pulled in two directions, like a dog toy that has been ripped at the seams until it barely exists anymore. Stop. Don't stop. Stop this, but stay here, with me, because, please, I do not want to be alone. 'If you don't want your face in it, you can put a pillowcase over your head,' he said. He didn't put the camera down. He was staring at me from above, holding the camera in one hand and holding his hair back with another. He wasn't exactly standing upright; it was more of a kneel. Still, he could have pinned me down if he wanted. I wasn't free to leave, the position said. This image is mine, the position said. I didn't agree to the pillowcase, either. I didn't want to be a floating sphere, a headless apparition. His foreplay was a woman without a head, appearing in his bed without a face. A bag over my head. I don't know why, but I didn't leave. I felt like I couldn't somehow, like I was pinned by an invisible hand. Johnny didn't press the issue of the pillowcase again, but his face twisted up, and the version of him that had been with me until then – the chocolatier who was fun and pleasant and who missed his mom – had vanished. It didn't feel like any ancient betrayal, being photographed without consent. It felt like the same thing as always, just another person whom I had trusted who had let me down a little. Johnny was another power imbalance to negotiate, another calculated loss. I often think that I stayed in restaurants because restaurants were the natural place for a person like me, a person who was constantly seeking affection in places where affection was simply unavailable. The morning after my night with Johnny, I went back to my apartment to change before work. The subway cars, they looked very, very clean, and I felt very, very dirty, a situational crisis that I realized was not exactly my fault – or was it? I had to wonder if I had put myself in a position of vulnerability. It's not just trauma that walks with you in the haunting moments after a night like this. The true feeling, if I were to pinpoint it, is shame, and the best way to overcome deep shame is to make yourself believe that it was always your idea: the sex, the drinks, that you had agency, that you were the one who wanted it in the first place. Somehow, that feels less shameful than the truth. At work the next day, I told a server that we had been out at the club together – nothing about the apartment, the sex, the camera, the pillowcase. Later, Johnny pulled me into the chocolate room, seething. 'You weren't supposed to tell anyone we went out,' he said. Something about his wrath made me feel even worse. Was it not my fault that I had been treated like garbage by this celebrity chef, after all? I had gone to his apartment of my own volition. I had made the choice to commingle work and pleasure. Johnny had not coerced me or taken advantage of me in any real way. I could have put the pillowcase over my head. It would have made no difference. There was a fundamental part of me that felt turned upside-down. Was it wrong to be grabbed by a chef during work hours in a chocolate room, even if I liked it? Was it wrong, in the aftermath, for him to have requested my silence and complicity, for him to have issued blame, claiming that if I had said anything that I would be jeopardizing his career? And surely it was wrong for him to have asked me to put a pillowcase over my head, even if it was only some infantile execution of his male fantasy? The truth – I would learn later – was that Johnny Iuzzini had a long-term girlfriend, and the casualty, in all of this, was me. When he suggested that I put a pillowcase over my head, he really did not want to see my face, the reality of me, the person behind the sex. I was just a girl in a basement who looked good in a uniform. I was just a girl at a bar after a shift. I was just a girl on a couch listening at the right time. I was just a girl whom he could ask to put a bag over her head. I was just a girl. There were other girls, too. In 2017, four women came forward to say that they had been sexually harassed by Iuzzini at work. It wasn't just me; it was any girl. Every girl. It was my friend, Tia, whom he had propositioned at her midtown restaurant, even though she was dating his co-worker. It was a woman from work, who claimed that he stuck his tongue down her throat without permission. It was probably women who hadn't come forward, too, or women like me who were not quite sure if there had been a violation or not, but who had spent years thinking that something about it had felt wrong. Johnny wasn't an artist. He was something more twisted, more grotesque. Deep within me, there was a black, hardened tree, the branches of which had been growing almost my entire life, the angry scars of mistreatment. There it was: anger. I was so fucking angry. Angry in the way that women are not permitted to be. Why be afraid to say it, anyway? Probably because a public figure – that's who Johnny was – can make your life a living hell if you dare betray your own humanity. Probably because a woman isn't allowed to be angry if she was a part-willing participant. I should have been thankful for the attention, thankful to be temporarily on the arm of such a hot commodity. He took me downtown, into his weird, little world. That should have been enough for me, but it wasn't. I should have been grateful, but I wasn't. Instead, I was seething, a roiling pot, ready to overflow. Good chocolate, I think, is both bitter and sweet, at least the way that I prefer it. I don't know whether or not Johnny loved the ingredient for this quality, but it's what I like about it – that it can be two things at once, that it can straddle the palate and remind us of how high a dessert can climb. The artistry that people found so obsessive when it came to Johnny – that he could stew over an ingredient and turn it into four composed desserts – is exactly what I find uninteresting. In the end, those desserts didn't actually taste that good. They were bombastic, and they were visual, and they drew you in. They were tricky and manipulative, the way that restaurants and the people in them can be. But they weren't the kind of desserts that keep you up at night, pierced with longing. We never needed those four desserts, not any of us. Cellar Rat: My Life in the Restaurant Underbelly, by Hannah Selinger, is out now Information and support for anyone affected by rape or sexual abuse issues is available from the following organisations. In the US, Rainn offers support on 800-656-4673. In the UK, Rape Crisis offers support on 0808 500 2222. In Australia, support is available at 1800Respect (1800 737 732). Other international helplines can be found at
