The room is breathtaking. In one corner: the kitchen, separated from guests only by a slate countertop—cooks buzz up and down the line like busy worker bees, fittingly dressed in black and yellow. Perpendicular to it is the bar, where foam-topped Negronis and orange wine flow like water. Diners fill every crevice of the room, sharing roasted-and-glazed duck, ravioli, and crispy-skinned branzino. A two-seat chef’s counter looks directly over the kitchen. One look around is all it takes. This restaurant is different—especially for Bergen County.
Adelaide opened in Woodcliff Lake back in March, absent the typical restaurant marketing strategy. There was no big countdown to their first night of service. No inorganic barrage of influencers. There wasn’t even a grand announcement. Instead, a simple post read: “Reservations are now available.” And that was that. That was all Adelaide needed.
Chef and Owner Jack O’Connor doesn’t want the spotlight. He prefers his food to do the talking. And it does. Along with his wife Annie, the couple has established a travel-worthy outpost in Upper Bergen County.
When I first dined at Adelaide, I found it hard to believe a space so gorgeous could exist in Bergen County. The kitchen is the centerpiece of the room—the steaks, vegetables, and pastas that bounce around it are the decor. Dozens of metal containers scatter the counter, plastered with green tape identifying which garnish each holds. Glossy maroon bricks backdrop it. No matter where you sit, the kitchen is always in view. It screams: “This is what we do, and we want you to see how we do it.”
The menu changes daily depending on what O’Connor and crew get in. Right now, the options tend to represent the spring bounty. Pea shoots come quickly charred. The tender leaves shrivel up into a crisp, while the stems remain crunchy and verdant. Underneath it is a creamy bean puree, while crunchy allium cascades over top. A zingy vinegar wakes the whole plate up. Sous Chef Jay Monroy handles each vegetable that comes out of the Adelaide kitchen with the utmost care and detail.
It’s more of a format than a single dish. A seasonal vegetable, a simple cook, and the remaining bits and pieces that let it shine. It might be pea shoots today, but it can just as easily be broccoli or caulini tomorrow.
The same philosophy carries through the remainder of the menu.
The focaccia is a must. It shines with a lacquered, golden outer crust—noticeably darker than typical versions. Hiding beneath it is a pillowy center with huge pockets of air. All breads are baked by Sous Chef Aaron Anderson. It pairs well with stracciatella, which comes in a bowl, doused in fragrant olive oil, and decorated with ribbons of country ham—a dry-cured pork product that eats similarly to Prosciutto, albeit a bit drier. And if you ask me, better too.
Pasta is a huge focus of the Adelaide menu. After stints at the late James Kent’s Crown Shy and Saga, O’Connor took his talents to Chef Missy Robbins Brooklyn restaurant, Misi, where he fell in love with sheeted pasta.
The ravioli is a constant on the menu—and for good reason. Like the starters before it, they keep it utterly simple. Hand-made pasta dough is filled with creamy ricotta impastata. Due to an intensive whipping process, the cheese is ridiculously smooth and free of grit. Seven ravioli sit in the dish—each one coated in Calabrian chili. O’Connor grates nutty 24-month Parmigiano Reggiano over top right before the plate heads to the table. The ravioli oozes cheese, bursting with a fresh cream flavor. The chili balances it out. Calabrian chili brings good heat with it, but also a fruitiness that helps establish depth. There are a lot of cheese raviolis in New Jersey. This is among the best.
Beside it is another filled pasta—this time, agnolotti. The dumplings come stuffed with tender braised short rib and coated with bordelaise, a sauce made from reducing red wine, aromatics, and beef stock. The syrupy, unctuous sauce perfectly dresses each morsel of pasta with a glossy shine. The visuals are otherwise unassuming. It looks like pasta. It’s prepared like pasta. But it eats more akin to a Sunday roast. It’s the sort of visual trick that separates good chefs from great ones. But there are no secrets—it’s just good technique, executed with precision.
Between courses, the drink program holds its own. Beverage Director Matt Colvin has put together a list that dances between new-school technique and classic bartending. The house negroni arrives with a dense cap of orange foam that dissipates slowly—it’s stirred, cold, and bitter. A citrusy rum punch comes clarified. The wine list covers a lot of ground, with some skin-contact options that complement the kitchen’s seasonal sensibility. Berry-hued Gamay and dry Riesling to boot. Knowledgeable sommeliers will guide you through it. I didn’t need to pick up a wine list all night.
The kitchen, however, always pulls you back.
The roast chicken glistens. I watch as they sear it on a ripping hot plancha to crisp the skin, then transfer it to an oven to finish through. The fat renders, the meat stays moist and juicy. Simple seasoning allows the bird—which they get from a few miles down the road at Goffle Road Poultry—to sing. O’Connor places it carved on the plate, spooning a meaty reduced chicken jus over top. It’s sticky and unctuous in all of the best ways.
To cut through some of that heft are crunchy leaves of castelfranco lettuce, dressed in a punchy rose vinaigrette. It brings brightness into the equation, teetering your palate between the brisk final weeks of winter and the warm breeze of early spring.
Roast chicken remains my favorite food in the world. Adelaide’s is superb.
Sticking to the hearty roast dinner theme is a glazed duck crown for two. It’s a great example of what an off-menu special might look like on the weekend. Duck breast is slowly roasted on the carcass—the skin lightly scored with a sharp knife to create ridges that aid its rendering. The result is a meat that’s wall-to-wall pink, with a sliver of rendered, crispy skin encasing it.
The meat is carved and plated in a large-format platter. It’s sauced with a vibrant jus, scattered with dried orange slices, and plated alongside charred cabbage. Think: Duck à l’orange at the top of its game. The platonic ideal of an age-old French classic.
But without a doubt, the standout bite of my visit to Adelaide came with the branzino. It’s butterflied and cooked almost entirely on the skin side, which breaks down into a shattering crisp—without a doubt the crispiest, glassiest fish skin I’ve ever had. O’Connor explains that they lightly cure the branzino and run multiple fans in the walk-in fridge to help aid the drying process. It creates a skin that’s free of moisture. In other words, the perfect environment to build real-deal crunch.
The branzino gets brushed with an umami-rich sauce that the kitchen simply refers to as “fish glaze.” Fresh chickpeas—green and vegetal—top it. Smooth chickpea puree sits underneath it. It’s one of the most technically sound dishes I’ve had in quite some time—perfect execution from the fish butchery all the way down to the plating. This is what great restaurants do. And they do it consistently.
To cap your meal: something sweet. A layered chocolate cake is my pick. Slabs of moist, rich chocolate cake, separated by a spackle of fennel frosting. A quenelle of chantilly cream crowns the slice—offering a lightly sweet and creamy contrast to the cake’s decadence. Like the savory bites before it, it’s carried out with precision. No notes.
The room is just as gorgeous on the way out. The kitchen still buzzes. The bar still flows. Some restaurants earn their reputation over years. But Adelaide earned it in weeks.
Adelaide is New Jersey’s best new restaurant. The team has built something that Bergen County—and frankly, the entire state—didn’t know it was missing.
It’s the kind of place you leave already planning your return. I know I am.
Peter Candia is the Food + Drink Editor at New Jersey Digest. A graduate of The Culinary Institute of America, Peter found a passion for writing midway through school and never looked back. He is a former line cook, server and bartender at top-rated restaurants in the tri-state area. In addition to food, Peter enjoys politics, music, sports and anything New Jersey.
