This time around, fusion has been removed from the menu and added to the d‚cor. Angelina is Stephen Starr's attempt to revitalize Blue Angel, the French bistro that fell flat. The precise cause of its demise is unclear -- was it the pricey entr‚es or just a culture clash?
Regardless, with a mere switch of the palette, Stephen Starr has brilliantly transformed the dying caf‚ into a novel Italian eatery. The cool blue tones of Blue Angel's ambiance have been replaced by hot walls of scarlet, complete with a wine wall behind the bar, each bottle individually propped and accentuated by a ruby hue. Perfect for any romantic - or alcoholic for that matter.
Yet a few steps more, and this fiery lounge is subdued by conservative Italian design. A mural-size Renaissance painting complements the red and white tapestries, making you feel as though you've left the lounge of love and entered a classy joint in the motherland herself. Perhaps this separates the boys from the men -- only those with wallets are permitted to continue.
The selection of Italian cuisine novelties is impressive, to say the least. Christopher Painter, former chef at Starr's Tangerine, adds gourmet twists to classic dishes, as he rolls out an array of succulent selections. Homemade pastas and gnocchi, simmered with flavorful and light sauces, cover most of the menu. Thin-crust shrimp pizza and lobster spaghetti - among the more unusual options - may at first sound a bit tawdry, but are presented as elegant and delicious spin-offs of usual favorites. Vegetarian items are limited. Leave room for dessert -- the frozen tiramisu is rich and tasty, a perfect end to a delightful meal.
Although the food was fabulous, I felt cheated after noticing Blue Angel furnishings, such as the distinctive blue mosaic ceiling, that weren't renovated. Had my Stephen Starr forgotten such details, and let me dine in an imperfect paradise? Sadly enough, I expect more from this restaurant connoisseur, who has bombarded me with a mismatched slew of Italian styles, while stirring up the transient memory of my dear old French favorite. New is not always better. For now, find yourself a quaint, authentic Italian den, and stay far from this Starr.
