Dressed in sleek black garments that can only be described as drapey, the hosts were all warm smiles and nods as I approached. It isn’t hard to imagine them sporting those same smiles, those same warm eyes as they tell you that there is simply no way you are eating in their restaurant tonight. “I’m loved and hated,” the maître d’ jauntily told me as she led me to the bar to wait for my table.
If you can’t stomach waiting in line, allow me to describe the Ambassadors Clubhouse experience for you. The lengthy menu is an exploration of Punjabi cuisine. You can enjoy it upstairs among the dark lacquered walls, the curtains drawn against the early evening sun, or down the thick-banistered staircase in the subterranean dining room ringed with semi-private tables, each framed by thick, tiger print curtains. Your server might be eager to recommend a slew of delicious-sounding dishes, including the $120 caviar service. The dal, if you order it, will be profoundly buttery. The chili cheese pakode, should you ask for them, will provide a satisfying cheese pull. A braised lamb shoulder will shred into tender, spiced nirvana at the slightest prod.
While I worked my way through the menu, I thought of the couple I’d met while I briefly waited at the bar. They were there to celebrate her birthday. “She flew in from LA,” he told me. “This is the one thing she really wanted to do.” After unsuccessfully chasing reservations online (“8:15 am is when [reservations open] so I woke up at 5:15 LA time,” she said bashfully), they made sure they’d be the first in line. “We lined up at 3:20,” she said.
Was waiting in line for nearly two hours on her birthday worth it? “A hundred percent.”
Some patrons wait months for a chance to order from Ambassadors Clubhouse’s menu
The ultra-stretchy Chili Cheese Pakode
Lines have long been a part of restaurant culture, but in recent months something has shifted in our cycle of hype and waiting.
