There’s a shelf life.
Within eight months, they’re shifting the restaurant operation around the corner and expanding it. So it still looks pretty much like La Gazzetta, minus the chandeliers.
The food’s got some impressive lineage.
Foie gras roulade with chipotle peanut butter. Short rib topped with scallion ash. It all sounds a little... ambitious. Until you learn it’s from a chef who did stints at the French Laundry and El Bulli. Decent joints, those.
It’s a conduit for more traditional Meatpacking-y things.
Grab dinner. Bring a date. By all means, sit and have sage daiquiris (and hold on to summer for dear life). But if you wander upstairs, you’ll find Opus, a wood-and-brick spot with oversize Vogue and Vanity Fair covers on the wall. Downstairs, you’ve got the Raven, a Poe-ish Gothic lounge. Both’ll be great for rhythmic gyration and fashion week friend-making.
The moral here: look for stairs.