"On the ground floor and mezzanine of Henry Hall, an upmarket apartment building between Tenth and Eleventh where a recording studio once stood, there’s even a restaurant: Legacy Records, the latest from the hospitality group behind the hot spots Charlie Bird and Pasquale Jones, in SoHo and Nolita, respectively. Though its affiliations have made it a genuinely buzzy destination, anyone expecting the same cool factor may be disappointed: both the building and the dining room have the sprawling, swanky, but slightly sterile vibe of a luxury hotel in a blander city. The food, which is vaguely Italian, reads like a careful primer on current trends, well executed if obligatory. There are craft cocktails, listed on a card tucked tweely into a pocket inside the menu, as though it’s a library book; tiny portions of crudo; and a seven-dollar bread plate with rosemary lardo. I hoped the San Daniele prosciutto topped with fresh shaved horseradish would taste like being let in on a secret (“Bet you’d never guess these two things go so well together!”), but it was more akin to a game of Telephone. An appealingly enormous, rectangular raviolo, with a line of meaty morels, peas, and chervil down its middle, brought to mind a high-rise, as on theme as a Mickey Mouse pancake at Disneyland. Among the entrées—heritage chicken, grilled branzino, spring lamb—the only surprise was the duck for two. The whole dry-aged bird—its honey-lacquered skin nearly blackened and coated in fennel seeds and chili flakes, glittering like a Judith Leiber clutch—was presented tableside, then whisked away to be carved and plated. The breast was served in striking wedges, each with strata of crispy skin, luscious fat, and tender meat, as rich and gamy as foie gras. But where were the legs? Because their flavor is “super funky,” a waiter explained, they’re not usually served; we were welcome to try them if we liked. We did. Significantly humbler, they fell apart into messy shreds, but were no less delicious. In a huge, cushy booth nearby, three heavily coiffed women posed for a series of selfies. At another table, an investment banker ordered the duck for two, for one." - Hannah Goldfield
