Peacock Inn

This Eighteenth century mansion had long been a beloved Princeton landmark, counting among its guests such luminaries as Albert Einstein and F. Scott Fitzgerald. But in recent times, its outdated, cramped guest rooms had lost their charm—as did the dated décor and stodgy French cuisine of its restaurant. After a multimillion dollar, three-plus-year, top-to-bottom renovation, the Peacock Inn was reborn in January as a sixteen-room luxury boutique hotel with a totally reimagined restaurant, which opened in May.

“This was in my own backyard,” says real estate professional Barry Sussman of his motivation to rescue the Peacock. The inn is co-owned by Sussman, his wife, Elaine, and another partner. For executive chef, the Sussmans chose Manuel Perez, whose résumé includes Le Bernardin and two stints at Restaurant Nicholas in Red Bank, one of NJM’s Top 25 restaurants. Perez, who grew up in Harrison as the son of a factory worker, jumped at the opportunity to upgrade from chef de cuisine positions. “This gives me the chance to grow and do my own style of cooking,” he says.

Perez, 38, puts his stamp on a seasonal, modern-American menu that incorporates popular international flavors. As a result, the interest level of green salad tossed in sherry vinaigrette is upped by the addition of salty, gooey, crisp-skinned manchego croquettes. Compressed watermelon and watermelon gazpacho add color and zing to softshell crab, and smoked potato pierogi pair brilliantly with roasted Maine lobster.

The restaurant’s three dining rooms manage to make the most of the inn’s old bones while incorporating sophisticated modern design. Walls are wrapped in warm gray (the color is called “pashmina,” I’m told) offset by substantial white moldings running along high ceilings. Soft lighting is provided by art moderne sconces and lights hidden under soffits. The back room has a maroon ceiling embedded with what appear to be tiny stars but are actually fiber-optic lights.

A substantial mural is mounted above each room’s original (but non-functioning) fireplace. These were discovered hidden behind a wall in the basement, which is now a private dining room. They date to the building’s days as a speakeasy and depict breezy subjects of the era, including one of mathematician John Von Neumann driving a car while reading a book. These treasures are supplemented by artwork from the Sussmans’ personal collection, including Picasso prints and Ben Shahn lithographs. Tables are remarkably well spaced—in fact, the current configuration seats 67, although the restaurant is approved for 90. Since the inn’s twelve-seat bar is across the hall, conversation levels are kept to a pleasant hum. Along with uncommonly comfortable upholstered chairs, these elements practically demand lingering.

Which is good, because the pace of service is leisurely, but not to the point of becoming problematic. Just as you start to wonder when the next course will arrive, it does. Set down simultaneously, all dishes are placed in front of the right diner. Service is under the careful eye of manager Chris Macartney, another Nicholas alum, who sets the tone for attentive, polite service that manages to exude relaxation—a nice trick. Macartney also developed the wine list in consultation with Barry Sussman. It has a refreshing number of moderately priced wines, such as 2003 Tom Eddy “Elodian” Napa Valley cabernet at $55—barely above retail.

That Perez spent time at Nicholas is evident in many ways, not least in the menu structure, which features à la carte choices, a five-course tasting menu with optional wine pairings, and a three-course vegetarian menu. There is even a riff on Nicholas’s signature dish (which Nicholas itself has adopted): braised suckling pig. Both restaurants feature moist, shreddable pork, but, whereas his mentor tilts a bit more to Europe for flavor enhancements, Perez favors Latin America. Hence, his pork is mojo braised, sits in a pool of guava gastrique, and is accompanied by diced papaya and batons of crispy yucca (think fries gone wild).

Perhaps it’s Perez’s time at Le Bernardin, or perhaps it’s simply his own talent and skill, but fish and seafood shine consistently. Wild king salmon, sides wrapped in puff pastry, is terrific even when cooked well-done, as one tablemate requested. Seared Atlantic halibut remained a favorite over several visits. For this, two fat, sassy grilled shrimp sit atop a meaty hunk of fish, which itself sits in a pool of fingerling potato chowder studded with nubs of chorizo and piquillo pepper.

Even chicken stands out. A bone-in breast is brined before roasting to silky splendor. Thighs are confited in chicken fat and then crisped with skin and fat attached, causing one tablemate to liken them, swooning, to gribenes. Vegetarians can (and do) swoon here, too, over, for example, ricotta gnocchi with asparagus, tomato confit, and portobello-Parmesan butter. But another vegetarian dish provided one of the few disappointments: Steamed spaghetti squash proved bland despite its spring vegetable ragoût and romesco sauce. (It is no longer on the menu.) In the restaurant’s early days, some dishes were inconsistent, like lamb carpaccio that, on one visit, evinced lamby goodness but on the next was indistinguishable from any other red meat.

Everything is carefully thought out. Breads from Eli’s in New York are served with French butter. Presentations are stunning. The amuse-bouche is never a throwaway. (Pray that yours is the lobster bisque.) The post-dessert chocolate French macarons, one-bite wonders, come courtesy of pastry chef Christina Diekewicz, who was previously at Marc Vetri’s Amis in Philadelphia. Desserts hew more to the traditional than does the rest of the menu, offering, for example, milk chocolate-peanut butter mousse and lemon-meringue tart with blueberry compote and blueberry sorbet. But execution is flawless. And molten Valrhona chocolate cake does manage to encompass a delicious surprise: dulce de leche at its center. Like the restaurant itself, it is a reinvigorated classic.