Fabulous fledgling
The Nest in Schenectady offers enticing plates in a singular setting./
The short story is that The Nest in Schenectady is putting out smashing food. Order liberally — and let’s hope you do, since life is short and shutdowns loom — and your table will be a smorgasbord of floral and gilded vintage plates bright with flavor, clever in composition and pretty as hell.
I’m talking about charred carrots over thick tzatziki with shaved garlic chips, juicy pomegranate arils and a lick of Nashville hot in a sneak attack against the carrots’ natural roasted sweetness. Or Brussels sprouts caramelized to the point of chewy in citrus molasses, and so addictive they’re gone — whoosh — in seconds, the sweet-saltiness subtly Asian, the benne seeds for valuable added crunch.
Now the Southern belle: a squad of fried green tomatoes topped in pimento cheese and buttermilk, like a funky, chunky Thousand Island sauce. Seasonal delicata squash, a workhorse simply roasted in crescents with smoked maplebourbon dressing, has a festive upgrade in sliced orange, cranberries and snowwhite ricotta salata curls and a pumpkin seed-benne brittle broken on top. Order it here, order it for home. It’s a literal smash.
I could tell you to go for the looks across two floors, including a to-theceiling dried flower display, fabulously loungey vintage velvet chairs in a mezzanine overlook and hanging bird cage chandeliers. I'd recommend it as your go-to pre-theater dining, given its prime location on State Street, a scamper from Proctors, which, COVID willing, will reopen some day soon. I will obsess over the corn microshoots decorating plates in long yellowy strands that taste like the most concentrated version of sweet corn you’ve ever had.
Even now, as most restaurant critics look for the positives and upsides in an industry trying to survive, The Nest stands up and shouts, “Look at me!” As the latest dining concept from Devin and Kaytrin Ziemann, owners of The Cuckoo’s Nest and Crave Burgers and Fro-yo in Albany, it seems 2020 didn’t so much dampen spirits as stoke a creative fire.
Though The Nest’s opening was on hold for several months, including delays for wallpaper shipped from Europe, they were neck deep in a pivot to cocktails to go, family meals and town delivery drops before pulling the trigger on The Nest, version 2.0.
Highlights start at the bar with cocktails and creme-fraiche deviled eggs, whipped to a cloud and punchy with Dijon and Champagne vinegar. If eggs aren’t your bar snack of choice, a house biscuit with honey butter will ensure you remain food compliant and seated while awaiting your table It’s from these chatty bartenders that we learn about and preemptively commit to a cherry-topped, spiced rum-root beer float that, when it comes, nails the line between booze and dessert. The bartenders are adept at reminding guests to stay masked or seated between the clear dividers and brilliantly convince us that the Copper Lantern cocktail, with its honey-coated Champagne flute, lime, prosecco and orange liquor will not be too sweet. It’s not. It’s quirky but balanced, and while I don’t know why the lime works, it does.
You could follow it with a Porch Sling from The Cuckoo’s Nest, a blackberry bourbon smash transformed by fragrant cardamom, but leave room for the spiced maple or banana walnut Old-fashioned. Just lock in an Uber or Falcon town car for your squiffy-eyed ride home.
There’s something brave in not resting on laurels. Across menus are classics from The Cuckoo’s Nest, each asterisked like a guest star not handed the full show. The Ziemanns wanted to distinguish The Nest from the original to give Chef de Cuisine Justin Tran and the kitchen room to create rather than replicate. Think sibling, not clone. So, when you spot your favorite shrimp and grits — a Cuckoo’s Nest bestseller — it might be tweaked here with Tasso ham and fireroasted salsa rioja, instead of the Albany original’s salsa verde and chipotle cream.
From the mains, scallops seared plump and gold are gilded in finely chopped bacon as jammy as meat fonds at the bottom of a roasting pan. But we have to talk turkey. Or rather, chicken and fluffy waffles that arrive Instagram-ready, bone-in and finger-licking good in shaggy, seasoned batter. You’d imagine this is where they’d stick to the recipe for what
Above, Chicken and waffles at The Nest in Schenectady, a sibling of The Cuckoo’s Nest in Albany.
Below, Delicata squash appetizer at The Nest.
At right, Devin and Kaytrin Ziemann, owners of The Nest in Schenectady and The Cuckoo’s Nest in Albany.
works. But no. Devin’s new toy — a pressure fryer that batch-cooks chicken in 16 to 18 minutes — means they can fry almost to order, and a built-in filtration system delivers clean fryer oil every time. Since the natural sugars in their usual buttermilk-soaked chicken would caramelize at this heat and burn, The Nest’s pressure fried chicken is juicy from locked-in heat and entirely dairy free.
Downstairs, the vibe is casual, with noise from the bar and open floor. Barnwood and tile walls angle urban Dolly Parton while upstairs purrs Eartha Kitt in restrained, glammy style: dark navy walls, framed art and a curtained private library stuffed with mirrors and kitsch. Instead of relegating overflow to the second floor, upstairs is the opera box with downstairs as the orchestra.
There are other secret weapons: A kitchen smoker for heavenly smoked carrots like a riff on bonfire potatoes and a smoked whole beet, glossy in a red wine-truffle glaze, that bleeds concentrated, sugary betalain pigments as a lush, meaty stand-in for steak. Hen of the woods shows up on two plates, a treat any time in any form. And it turns out that General Manager Mark Lifite, who gently steers us from bar to table and unobtrusively checks in, is on loan from his regular gig as assistant food and beverage director at a Four Seasons hotel in Manhattan.".
Of course, Kaytrin’s biscuits with honey butter were as warm and comforting as a PRE-COVID hug, but — oh, lord — we’re spoons deep in banana pudding with whipped cream and caramelized banana, and a whopping s’mores bread pudding, too. Why not? We’re in fullblown caloric denial, as if tomorrow will never come.