Dining as Theater: Lautrec Reopens at Nemcolin

PHOTO COURTESY NEMACOLIN

At Lautrec, dinner unfolds like a performance — choreographed, theatrical and built for spectacle from the first course to the last.

This July, Lautrec — Nemacolin’s storied French fine-dining destination — reopens its doors for an exciting new chapter, one that reimagines not just the menu but the entire architecture of the evening.

At the helm is new Chef de Cuisine Eduardo Galarza, who has taken over the celebrated kitchen alongside the resort’s vice president of food and beverage, Sean O’Connell. Together, they’ve set out to do something rarer than a great meal: a great production. Lautrec has long held Forbes Five-Star status; this reopening builds on that foundation, sharpening the experience rather than starting over.

I was one of a small group of writers invited to preview the new Lautrec ahead of its public debut, and from the first course, it was clear this would be unlike any tasting menu I’d experienced. The dining room itself sets the tone: a dramatic, Moulin Rouge-inspired space awash in jewel tones and gilded detail, anchored by six original lithographs by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and a series of new oils, many of them starring the artist’s most famous muse, cabaret dancer Jane Avril.

More on her — and on Toulouse-Lautrec himself — later. First, the meal.

PHOTO COURTESY NEMACOLIN

The evening opened with an amuse-bouche of Kaluga Huso Petrossian Caviar, presented tableside via a dedicated Caviar Cart — reason enough on its own to book a table. Service included both Beluga and Kaluga selections, set on an eye-catching, cascading glass dish. The classic accompaniments were all here: seaweed blini, crème fraîche, minced shallot and red onion, sieved egg yolk and white, chives and capers, each offered for build-your-own bites. Work through the combinations, or simply let the caviar speak for itself.

Visually arresting, the Spring Beetroot Composition arrived like a piece of edible stained glass — thin, glistening layers of beet fanned into a jewel-toned rectangle, dotted with carrot purée, beet glass and a 10-year aged balsamic pearl. Pecan goat cheese and Sicilian pistachios added richness and crunch, topped by delicate herb tips and microgreens. This is a dish as much about color and craft as flavor.

PHOTO COURTESY NEMACOLIN

Next came the Ora King Salmon Confit, its richness balanced by Puy lentils, crisp leeks and a bright white balsamic reduction finished with vanilla olive oil. The Hudson Valley Foie Gras Torchon followed, paired with lingonberry-poached pear, frisée, and buttered brioche — a classic combination elevated by Grand Marnier liqueur and a tangy banyuls gastrique.

Together, the courses struck a thoughtful balance: one delicate and citrus-bright, the other indulgent and deeply layered.

The Poached Dover Sole, paired with a delicate shellfish mousse, snow peas sauté and finished with a savory fumet sauce, struck a perfect balance of crisp, clean flavors. A palate-cleansing intermezzo followed: yuzu sorbet doused in local ice wine, fizzy and effervescent, offering a bright, citrus-forward pause before the courses ahead.

The room itself became part of the performance. As we were a table of five, five members of the waitstaff emerged bearing each course in a single-line parade, trays held high, processing through the dining room before fanning out behind each of us. Plates were set down simultaneously in a beautifully choreographed sweep service, a ballet of timing and grace. It’s worth noting that the three lead servers at Lautrec share a combined tenure of nearly 100 years at Nemacolin — an institutional knowledge apparent in the precision of every gesture.

A taste shared by a generous tablemate offered a glimpse of the Wagyu strip loin, served with truffle potato purée, porcini mushroom, veal demi-glace and a banyuls herb salad. Indescribably tender and rich, it was the kind of bite that lingers — a brief but memorable detour from my own plate, and proof that even a few forkfuls can leave a lasting impression.

The meal appeared to close with Rhubarb Fraise — a delicate composition of French meringue, rhubarb compote, vanilla Chantilly and rhubarb ice cream, finished with a bright strawberry sauce poured tableside. Light and delicious, it offered a fitting, fruit-forward conclusion to a meal defined by richness and depth.

But the meal wasn’t quite finished. A candy cart arrived to close things out — a playful nod to both the young and the young at heart, stocked with a dizzying selection of both nostalgic and sophisticated sweets: five flavors of macarons, fruit gels, buckeyes, even candy cigarettes. It was a whimsical, unexpected finish to a delightful meal.

By the time dessert carts cleared, I thought back to the man whose name graces the restaurant.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec spent his short, prolific career chronicling the nightlife of Montmartre — the dancers, the cabaret singers, the electric, unguarded energy of fin-de-siècle Paris. Jane Avril, perhaps his most enduring subject, appears throughout the restaurant in both lithograph and oil; a fragile, magnetic performer Toulouse-Lautrec returned to again and again, capturing her not just as a star of the Moulin Rouge stage but as a friend, observed with unusual tenderness for an artist so often associated with spectacle.

That tension — between spectacle and intimacy, performance and craft — is, fittingly, exactly what the new Lautrec has built its reopening around. The waitstaff parade, the caviar cascade, the stained-glass beauty of a beet salad: each is a small performance. Be sure to ask your server for the art tour after your meal. It’s a quiet final bow to an evening that, much like Toulouse-Lautrec’s Paris, draws back the red curtain and puts you on stage.