It begins the moment I step through the door—a low hum of conversation, the gentle clink of drinks, and the scent of something caramelizing. Entering the restaurant feels like stepping into a jewelry box, its emerald-hued interior wrapping around me like silk.
I’m met with a curving reception desk painted deep spruce and a towering organic floral arrangement. Overhead, a sculptural mesh chandelier casts a golden glow, blending industrial chic with delicate artistry.
I’m, of course, talking about Patron Saint, the latest jewel in the crown of SCN Hospitality, the team behind Velvet Belly, the Revelry, and numerous other hot spots. This sophisticated newcomer neighbors its sister restaurant, Branca, in the heart of Midtown, steps from Parcel 5.
Once I check in for my reservation, I’m escorted to the bar—a gleaming centerpiece in its own right—complete with fluted paneling and a top that gleams like polished onyx. Admittedly, it takes a moment to snag the bartender’s attention, but who’s in a rush? The scene is magnetic, and a parade of impeccably dressed patrons makes people watching feel like a sport.
Still, I find myself observing from a careful distance. For all its grandeur, could this place really live up to the hype?
After a while, a petite cooler of crushed ice materializes, cradling a martini ($15) in a delicate carafe. Two plump olives stuffed with bleu cheese rest on a sleek skewer. I pour the first splash of my gin cocktail into the frosted glass, and, just like that, the show begins.
The flair for presentation is a trademark of Patron Saint. Owner Joshua Miles, alongside director of hospitality Sohaib Siddiquifg, seeks to bring back the theatrical art of tableside service.
At the bar, the bartender places a glass dome filled with swirling smoke before my dining partner. Moments later, the bartender lifts it, releasing a hickory scented cloud that lingers in the air. The Manhattan ($16) that follows is infused with a deep richness that enhances the Iron Smoke whiskey.
In the heart of the dining room, Siddiqui is spotted gracefully deboning a whole Dover sole ($51) for a lively table of buttoned-up diners. The group, clearly on an office outing, watches intently as he transforms the task into a display of precision and poise.
Soon, the duo plans to introduce a rolling cart where guests can pick their ideal cut of Wagyu and watch it carved tableside with a samurai sword before it’s whisked to the kitchen.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
After some sips at the bar, I’m led to my table in the main dining room. At its center stands a tree with branches sprawling upward as if plucked from a dream.
I learn later that the tree —and the whole establishment—was created in tribute to local entrepreneurs and philanthropists Jane and Larry Glazer, who died a little over a decade ago. Revered as the “Patron Saint” of Rochester, which inspired the restaurant’s name, Larry was also a botanist with a dream of transforming this very corner of Midtown into “The Grove.” Their son Ken asked Miles to create this project in honor of his parents.
The menu nods to classic chophouses with a refined twist, offering a curated selection of prime cuts. Choose from a petite six-ounce filet ($36) to a showstopping twenty-eight-ounce bone-in ribeye ($89) that channels Flintstoneslevel decadence. Each cut is accompanied by a sauce of your choice, from red wine demi-glacé and herbaceous chimichurri to the timeless béarnaise and creamy horseradish.
Small plates and starters have a bit of a French tilt with beef tartare ($21), caviar and crispy potato chips (market price), oysters on the half shell ($24 for six), and a very peculiar dish pairing roasted bone marrow with buttery escargot ($23).
Sensing the vibes of the room, I opt for a salad and a starter. It feels out-of-place to penny-pinch here. In fact, indulgence is the whole point.
“We want to ensure our quality is unparalleled,” says Miles, noting that Patron Saint offers premium prime cuts while others offer choice (the next level down in quality). “While we’re not aiming to provide an inexpensive meal, it’s important that guests feel they’re getting real value. This restaurant represents the pinnacle of our group, which is why we spared no expense on details like tableware, glassware, and china.”
I begin with the chop salad ($15) crowned with crispy leeks. This isn’t your standard, utilitarian chop salad. This one flirts with Mediterranean vibes thanks to its vibrant mix of tomato, fennel, marinated cucumber, feta, sunflower seeds, and avocado.
Then a trio of seared scallops ($29) makes its entrance. Each golden, buttery puck rests in a velvety pool of roasted cauliflower cream topped with a tangle of fennel. The menu promised blue crab, but the lumps of shellfish are more of an accessory to the flawlessly cooked scallops.
Next arrives the bone-in prime strip ($62), and while the taste doesn’t disappoint, I can’t help but feel a twinge of letdown by the presentation. I’d envisioned thick, perfectly sliced cuts, à la Peter Luger or Delmonico’s, with their edges charred just-so and elegantly fanned across the plate.
Instead, my strip is one solid piece. While the meat is undeniably tender, cooked to a perfect medium-rare, and easy to cut, it’s different from what I expected. Note to the reader: The ribeye is served fanned. Lesson learned.
A surprise star is the hasselback ($12), a decadent masterpiece of molten cheese, crispy bacon, and vibrant chives cascading over an accordion-cut potato. I had ordered a creamy horseradish sauce ($3) for my steak, but the pairing with that decadent spud is too good to pass up. It beats a side of regular roasted potatoes any day.
For those leaning toward vegetables— or simply looking for a fleeting moment of balance in this indulgent affair—the smoked carrots ($12) are an unexpected delight. I’ll admit, I was skeptical at first because, come on, they’re carrots, but these heirloom beauties proved worthy of the spotlight. They come in a pool of spiced yogurt and adorned with tangy pear and crunchy pumpkin seeds. Their jewel-like hues alone could rival any starter on the menu.
When my server comes by to ask about dessert, I’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Despite feeling stuffed, I can’t resist ordering the dark chocolate mousse cake ($14) and the coffee bourbon float ($14). If I recall correctly, Rachel Patall-David—also the pastry chef behind Velvet Belly—crafts all the ice cream in-house. The two desserts together form a boozy ice cream cake float extravaganza in my memory, the Armagnac ice cream from the mousse cake amplifying the richness of the cold-brew-infused float. Pure decadence, served à la mode.
I began the evening with the faintest whisper of restraint, unsure if I’d lean into the hedonism Patron Saint so clearly invites. But as I linger over my final sip of float, I know I’ve surrendered. Sometimes, you’ve just got to live a little.
Patron Saint
260 E. Broad St., Suite
120 270-5918
This article originally appeared in the March/April 2025 issue of (585).
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