Things I hate in life: overcooked meat, under seasoned anything, popped collars, and men who sport better coiffures than I do. That last one made my first steps into the posh, 5th avenue Armani especially hard to bear. Here was a blond man opening the door, blond like Sasha Baron Cohen’s Bruno and seemingly as critical as a mix of Tim Gunn and Miranda Priestly of Devil Wears Prada fame. The only thing remotely fashionable I had was my True Religion duffel…
Enter the world of haute couture, for food.
That’s right ladies and gentlemen: my baby was a denim brand duffel lost in a world of high fashion clutches and pre-recession briefcases.
In combination with the rain, which I trekked through for 2 hours, I looked as fabulous as any out of state tourist. Let me tell you friends—that would place me somewhere between the janitor and the cheapest hankie if there were an attractiveness scale in that store.
I scurried past all the merchandise as fast as my too-short-to-model legs would take me. The elevator itself was a dark box of a thing, with crimson lights contributing a blood thirsty and eerie glow. But he’s Armani, he can do anything he damn well pleases. If he said the next trend was sequins and glitter on MC Hammer pants. Do it. I would.
The restaurant on the third floor was as sleek as their suits, with a sliding wall of a door to serve as entrance to the kitchen. The bar was packed with people that could afford to leave work at 5 or 6PM. The floor of the restaurant was quite a bit emptier. These are tough times, tough enough to downgrade from Giorgio to Exchange? I don’t think so.
Service was warmer than when I was near their precious clothing. For fashion I probably wasn’t their type, but a person my size, meaning normal, would have more ordering and eating potential than most size 0′s.
Three of four of us got the Giorgio Armani Preferite, a fancy way of saying prix-fixe. I wanted to be original and got their homemade pasta with shrimp and mullet. My ordering a la carte meant no appetizer, no desert, and no Italian espresso at the end.
My mother’s prosciutto and melon was typical Italian, but really too salty for the average diner I would say. But swine flu or not, prosciutto is absolutely my favorite pig derivative. My brother got some kind of soup thing that I don’t remember, so I guess it’s not worth mentioning. The veggie dish was the most innovative. It was well presented and the mix of very sharp cheese and reddish slices.
Notice how the soft pork drapes over the melon in a very organic form....
The mysterious blend of cheese and reddish flakes.
The entrees were more memorable, especially my brother’s steak. It was sliced maybe a quarter inch thin and fanned out on the plate. There was some green stuff next to it too, but the bitter salad paled in comparison to the meat, which was tender, flavorful, and delicate to enjoy. The draw back, as always, is that they designed the dish like they do their clothes: for thin, minimalist individuals whose daily calorie intake is significantly lower than that of normal human beings.
Them Italians sure know how to make steak....wait, what?...
My pasta was a bit disappointing; the homemade noodles were too tender and had no bite to it. The mullet, despite being a sea fish, had a bit of a fishy taste and was chopped so fine along with the shrimp that really, both drowned in the pasta.
Seafood pasta, fishy fishy....
The flat pasta however with beef was not too shabby. Being thicker and wider it had the texture and consistency that my plate lacked and was probably the most filling thing there.
mushroom pasta
The deserts were typical Italian deserts, good, but not spectacular. Fair sized portions and easy on the eyes. Along with the espresso, it was a good way to finish off the meal.
nothing to write home about here..
Overall, the food was slightly above average. Since Armani is indeed, not in the business of feeding people, it is understandable that what you eat there is not going to be the pasta to end all pastas. The atmosphere is definitely quintessential New York: exclusive, high-end, and if you’re well dressed you will feel like a housewife on a bravo show. Surrounded by good looking people, Armani Casa furniture, and LED lights that soundlessly glide across your window, the halo effect will enhance the flavor of your food, unless, of course, you have to write a blog later that day.
Jessie
Rating: 
717 5th Ave
New York, NY 10022
(212) 207-1902
