Bridges

A perfect meal, and the pleasure of not quite understanding it

9 Chatham Sq. | Chinatown, Manhattan

A week after Bridges got its Michelin star—barely a year old—I got a text from one of my oldest friends asking if I’d like to eat there. She had recently worked with the chef, Sam Lawrence, and his girlfriend, the writer Eliza Dumais, which meant no effort required to get in. I generally prefer to wait for a restaurant’s hype cycle to pass, to check in once the arduous work of longtime greatness begins, but I always leap at a dinner plan I did not have to make. So, on a Friday night we slid into a dim banquette ready to have our socks blown off.

I can confidently say they were. But when I drill down on why, certainty evaporates. Odd aesthetics. Curious choices. There’s a fine line between mystery and confusion, and I was thoroughly intrigued.

Each dish at Bridges manages a captivating routine, where ingredients present themselves individually. Composed dishes come to you in their inspired combinations, but flavors sneak to your palate one by one, as if you were standing in the middle of a warm room with ingredients occupying separate corners to keep turning toward. Cured tuna, dates, spring onion—each flavor staring at you confidently.