Hotel Chantelle

Brunch is the king meal of the week, eat it as often as humanly possible. It’s the exalted span when savory and sweet are allowed to coexist, the time that you can literally put an egg on anything and if you’re not drinking, you don’t belong here.  Hotel Chantelle, despite the name, is not a hotel at all but is certainly one of the champion brunch locales on the Lower East Side. With 97¢ vodka, lemon, and prosecco drinks how could you say no?

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Burrata with balsamic vinegar pearls, pecorino romano, and basil crumble.

I used to roll my eyes at the gastro chefs, persnickety and too precise for my liking, but gastronomy may be my new favorite thing. Burrata is a creamy gooey mozzarella purse too gluttonous to be turned away.  The cheese was too wispy for any real application or taste, but the crunchy basil was a welcome accompaniment. As always, the balsamic vinegar stole my heart and the show, the tiny bursting beads offered the perfect acidic punch, I only wish I had more.


A Brunch Burger for the Ages

Everything levitates between the fluffy brioche bun halves and if you’re on the wrong side of a hangover, it’s a damn miracle. Bleu cheese, sauteed onions, mushrooms, and two sunny side up eggs to rain liquid gold down upon the miraculous stack. Always order your meat medium-rare or medium if you’re a quitter but for fucks sake don’t order anything well done. Just eat your shoe or wallet instead, it will be more flavorful.

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Lobster Roll

It isn’t trendy if you don’t garnish with micro greens, right? But seriously, this roll, served taco style between two butter toasted halves of Texas Toast, was my new Cajun bayou lover. Jalapeno, celery, tomato, and a sprinkle of Cajun seasoning on top and this lobster sandwich made me sing. Not literally, no one wants that, but you get the point.


Skate Fish and Chips

This is what happens when Americans do Fish and Chips. We’re a showy bunch, but I’ll be damned if this wasn’t delicious. The fish was skate (get the presentation pun) and the batter was slightly sweet, but lead to a sinfully flaky crust in the end. I’m never a huge fan of large potatoes, give me frites or give me death, but I was too full by the end to care about them anyways.

If you’d like a rooftop appointment, be sure to make reservations or be willing to wait. If not, the inside downstairs is generally always open (but you want to get a rooftop spot, the live swing band will assure you of that themselves).

Reserve a table here.



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