It's not Martin's absence that makes the restaurant feel forlorn, however. That comes from the lack of foot traffic outside a luxury hotel/residence on the waterfront in the middle of a freezing winter and economy. On a recent Saturday night, the dining room is nearly empty; it's not likely to get any fuller until the restaurant gets better signage. (Does anyone know where Sensing is who hasn't deliberately set out to find it?)
When there are a few large parties in the dining room, the kitchen seems overwhelmed. On several occasions we're asked to wait at the bar, though we can plainly see empty tables. At first, it seems the restaurant is out to gouge us with cocktails, and as gouging goes, these can do real damage. On one visit, the most expensive, a French 75, was $20 (it's now $19). It appears to simply be a lovely, perfectly balanced mix of Champagne, gin, and lemon. Is it worth the price? No. Is any cocktail?
On further observation, it seems the kitchen may simply be in the weeds. (The tip-off: overhearing one staffer tell another, "We're in the weeds.") It's faintly comical given the lack of bustle in the dining room, yet one feels a real pang of sympathy: How can a restaurant get a sense of staffing needs when business is so erratic? Many restaurants are trying to negotiate these waters; it's trickier for a new one, not to mention a new one with minimal signage.
The pang deepens when you realize there is talent here. This is particularly the case when it comes to hospitality. The general manager, a towering man with a fabulous accent, is solicitous and watchful. The bartenders are skilled (the Sensing martini is excellent). The waiters are knowledgeable, and just nice people. And on its best nights, the kitchen shows flashes of brilliance.
Therefore, it's all the more annoying when it doesn't.
