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The Smith: Ever wonder why über-restaurateur, Keith McNally (The Odeon, Balthazar, Schiller's), never staked his claim in the East Village? A visit to The Smith should end all speculation. The de rigeur elements of your typical faux-French bistro are in place—black and white photos, perfectly-worn tile, and wrap-around booth seating do their best to hide the space's former incarnation as a Pizzeria Uno. Yet despite its best endeavors (we'll give an "A" for effort), one can't help but feel that the ghosts of Midwestern mediocrity haven't been entirely exorcised. The bill of fare—a mish-mash of classics, comfort food, and culinary contortionism—offers more in the way of novelty than gustatory satisfaction. And don't let the cocktail menu's siren-song descriptions fool you (Traveling Brit or Hungry Teacher, anyone?)—these drinks are more tricked out than a Three 6 Mafia video and taste even worse. In a pinch The Smith might do, but in a neighborhood so deep-dish with bars that they've virtually stopped issuing liquor licenses, we can't help but ask, "Why bother?" |
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