There’s a common theme with The Grand Tavern. Despite being a relatively niche, if-you-know-you-know type of spot, those who have been, rarely have a bad word to say. In fact, nearly everyone I talk to—from highly respected Chefs to NJ food obsessives—rates it as one of the best in the state. That’s why no matter the night you dine at the Neptune City converted tavern, it’s usually booked and busy.
Locals and traveling diners alike flock to Grand Tavern for Executive Chef and Owner Paul Holzheimer’s simple approach—which places a heavy emphasis on the basics of cooking. This, to me, is Grand Tavern’s greatest strength. Holzheimer’s ability to turn a simple ingredient into something extraordinary with little more than some salt, fat and acid is what cooking should be all about. And while the convoluted approach to fine dining—emphasized by fluid gels and foams—is something I do hold near and dear to my heart, sometimes all you need is an excellent dish that doesn’t require a lesson to enjoy.
“Talk Dir-Tea to Me,” an earl grey-infused gin sour
Whether it’s the food or cocktail program, Grand Tavern’s mission seems to be one that is defined by technique. Perfectly seared pieces of fish slathered in classic French sauces, peach-flavored mint juleps, picturesque cheeseburgers, earl-gray-infused gin sours—you get the picture. It starts with an understanding of the basics of cooking and bartending. Then, the fun begins. It’s a no-brainer, and yet, something that has become somewhat of a lost art in dining.
What happened to simple food, done perfectly? Nothing, really. You just have to go to Neptune City to find it.
When you walk into Grand Tavern, you realize how fitting that name truly is. The space still has the bones of the tavern that sat there before it. A wrap-around, dark-wood bar and a fluorescent-lit sign that reads “TAVERN” above the front door to state the obvious. The decor is simple, but makes sense. Vintage paintings in assorted frames, mixed wallpaper, entree plates with a fluted edge and fun, florally anointed pieces of antique china. It’s a place where you’re equally welcome for a romantic date night—complete with three courses—or a simple appetizer and a beer at the bar. It’s a true neighborhood restaurant, but with a quality that exceeds many of NJ’s most-prized fine dining institutions.
Crispy fried pork belly with watermelon, fennel and citrus-chili
It’s always the first bites at Grand Tavern that remind me why it garners such high praise. For my recent visit, that took the form of succulent, fried pieces of pork belly tossed in an orange-chili vinaigrette with juicy watermelon and shaved fennel—torn pieces of basil and mint to finish. The chunks of pork belly are crispy on the outside, with a warm and melty interior. It’s a lesson in flavor building, to put it plainly, with its slightly spicy vinaigrette and chorus of sweet and anise-y flavors. When combined with the understandably rich pork belly, everything mellows out a tad. And you will thank whomever you pray to for that torn mint and basil that’s cascaded over the top. No chiffonade. No infused oil. Just herbs in their natural form. Real cooking, so to speak.
You’ll enjoy crisp gem lettuces tossed in punchy caesar dressing and garlicky breadcrumbs, too. Salad is something I think 95% of restaurants get wrong—often presenting itself as a wilted mess that solely exists for those who think the only way to be healthy is to eat shitty lettuces, dressed in nightmarishly boring vinaigrettes. I reserve my less-than five salads a year for restaurants like Grand Tavern, though—where the lettuce is the star—and the components work in service of it. And, if you’re smart, maybe you’ll snack on chorizo-stuffed broiled oysters or creamy burrata with a symphony of seasonal produce, too.
While I definitely do not associate pasta with Grand Tavern, it doesn’t shock me that it’s understandably great. Large rings of paccheri tossed in a sugo made from simple braised short rib and tomato were a welcome addition to the table.
Seared fluke with pomme purée and sauce vierge
It’s a league of their own when it comes to plated entrées, though. The burger has become somewhat legendary in the area for good reason. Sweet scallops with creamed corn and fried pork chops showered with buttermilk-dressed cabbage show off Holzheimer’s ability to weave through the seasons with ease. But, it’s the seared fluke that bewilders me with its excellence.
Two thick pieces of summer flounder—seared hard in butter. Despite the lack of skin, you still get that crisp exterior from the textbook sear. Below it is a bed of creamy, lump-free pomme purée. On top, a canopy of sauce vierge—a French condiment containing diced tomato, olive oil, acid and chopped herbs. In one dish, you have three separate displays of perfect technique coming together as one. It shows a true understanding of cooking that looks to sideline the gimmicks in favor of objectively good food.
The lone dessert on the menu—at least right now—is a strawberry shortcake, and don’t you dare skip it. A beautiful slice of loaf cake, macerated strawberries and their syrup, lemon zest and a deliciously simple cream cheese whip. What’s not to like?
Strawberry shortcake, it’s what’s for dessert
In a world where dining is constantly evolving, The Grand Tavern is a steady reminder that morphing along with the trends isn’t always necessary. In fact, they prove that the trendiest thing you can do is serve consistently excellent food and drink. There’s a reason why nearly every chef I know praises Grand Tavern. It’s Holzheimer’s approach that is so wooing—his lack of care for what’s considered in. Instead, he favors cooking in a way that every chef dreams of. Valuing simplicity and technique over the complex and gaudy: protein, starch, veg, acid, fat, heat. The cocktails follow a simple formula, using classics as their inspiration. It’s this return to the basics of cooking and bartending—without ever coming off as boring—that is so addicting.
That’s why The Grand Tavern is one of the best restaurants in New Jersey. There are no tricks up their sleeve. There aren’t any Osetra caviar or truffle add-ons. No spherification or avant-garde plating. How about just simple, good cooking?
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About the Author/s
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.
