There were a few glimmers, no doubt, that harked back to the culinary wit and deft technique that won Stern praise at his past restaurants. His deconstructed veal stew, a favorite from Gayle, remains a masterful modern ode to the anti-P.C. meat, a montage of parts - seared, braised, ground to meat loaf - posed over a hash of tongue and sweetbreads glazed in dark gravy. His mini Reubens, an inventive whimsy from Rae that has evolved into bite-size packages of house-corned beef and kraut wrapped in rye cracker dough, should become a classic on the cocktail-party circuit.
Unfortunately, those highlights didn't appear nearly often enough over the course of my meals - especially with entrée prices drifting into the high $30s and above. Add in a service staff that was comically disorganized and frazzled at my first dinner, and it's clear that something is amiss. I'd suggest, at least, that everyone double-check their bills.
It was bad enough to be charged $90 for wine and beer I didn't drink on the first check. It was infuriating to then be overcharged on the "corrected" tab for drinks I did have, with two prices marked higher than the printed wine list.
"It's unacceptable," the manager who served our table sheepishly conceded, before fixing it.
It would be a shame for the R2L story to end on such a low. Because when it comes to soaring ambition and promise, there's nothing quite like it in the city.
