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December 31, 2008


For some foolhardy reason I had my heart set on eating my birthday dinner in Chinatown, knowing full well that any dining option would not measure up to the one place I really want to try – Chef Mavro – and that we would be left with little time to enjoy the First Friday festivities.

Still, I plunged ahead, misgivings be damned, and settled on a gauche-looking place up the street from Indigo called Epic.

Epic. That’s one helluva name to live up to. It conjures up anticipation of something on par with the Moulin Rouge. And, in fact, the decor is not too far off in delivering.

But it all falls apart at the table. The wine was good, but the salad and appetizers were not put together with much care. The rack of lamb I had for my entree was a little skimpy, but juiced with a caramelized sweet glaze. Unfortunately the gnocchi and asparagus were an afterthought – bland, overcooked, and tossed in a bowl on the side of the plate. The chocolate decadence cake, a little too decadent for me – just too rich and dense, an issue I rarely have when it comes to chocolate cake.

The verdict: skip the meal and pop in for drinks and a quick blast of extreme ambience.

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