"The Lymbar feels like quicksand. At this Midtown restaurant, the harder you fight, the longer you’re there. It’s underwhelming, more confusing, and somehow more expensive than you could ever anticipate. The dining room of The Lymbar feels like a chain hotel lobby that was "inspired by the French Quarter of New Orleans," with slouchy couches that make it impossible to both recline and eat your food—you’re either sacrificing your back or your shirt. And neither sacrifice is worth it, because most of the menu is riddled with pretentious dishes, like truffle twinkies filled with a custard that mostly tastes like runny egg yolk. Or, the smoked lamb chops—with the primary flavor of burnt oil—that come out well done, regardless of how you ask for them to be cooked. With everything slowly getting worse the more you experience it, the only time you should go to The Lymbar is if you're in the Ion building and literally all of the other food options are closed." - Gianni Greene
