Raymond McCourt
Google
This place is wildly overrated. It could have been fine if it didn’t take itself so seriously. A quick note: if you’re going to seat guests at 10:30, maybe don’t come over at 10:44 to announce the kitchen is closing. Either adjust your reservation cutoff or—at the very least—graciously explain this upfront and take the full order right away.
Ambiance? Beautiful. The space is stunning. But once the food and service come into play, the veneer falls apart. Dishes look elegant, but the execution doesn’t match the presentation or the price point.
The arancini? Three tiny rice balls for nearly $20, decent but forgettable. The octopus? Fine if you already love octopus, but nothing about it elevated the dish for those who don’t—which is what separates good food from great. Burrata was just that: burrata on a plate, dressed up without delivering anything new. After a few appetizers, I found myself wondering if this was really the same place everyone hypes up on Instagram.
The TIMBR pizza arrived in an uncoordinated manner; prior to getting it a staff member, not our server, wandered over asking, “hey, did you guys order a pizza or something?” Not exactly a confidence builder. Flavor-wise, it was good, not great—short rib, béchamel, a nice drizzle—yet it still evoked “pizza is pizza” rather than “wow, this is special.”
Service didn’t redeem things either. Our server, Brianna, swooped in to collect menus and implied we were finished, which was jarring. Only then did we learn the kitchen closed at 11. Not a huge issue in itself—but why not communicate that when seating us at 10:34? Instead, we scrambled to throw in a late order: a gamey lamb dish and a short rib ragu with oddly flavored whipped ricotta, both underwhelming finishes to an already uneven night. The place also felt unwelcoming, with small annoyances piling up—like being presented with a check, handing over my card, and then receiving the card back already run with additional charges tacked on that the server had forgotten and never even mentioned. That alone makes this an absolute skip.
Much like the sparkling water they were out of at the beginning of our meal, the s’mores dessert we wanted was also unavailable. Pressed for time, we ended up with the strawberry shortcake and the galaxy. The galaxy, to its credit, was the most redeeming part of the evening—striking, creative, and exactly the kind of thing that photographs well. The shortcake, on the other hand, was laughable: fried donut balls with a scoop of ice cream, dressed up as something refined. Embarrassing for a place with this much pretense.
In short: gorgeous setting, but once you scratch the surface, the food, service, and value don’t live up to the pretense.