When a New York City import — a corporate-backed New York City import — comes to town and takes over a high-profile restaurant space, there's an expectation that it won't just meet the bare minimum standard of service, decor and food, but exceed it. I mean, those deep pockets need to be good for something, right? That was certainly the hope at Park Avenue Tavern, the restaurant operated by IGC Hospitality that supplanted the long-standing Dexter's in Hannibal Square.
The moody, dark-wood-and-leather vibes at the original Park Avenue Tavern near Grand Central Station are very much present at the Winter Park locale, and the menus are all but identical, too. Now, I haven't been to the Manhattan gastropub that's been slaking and feeding the folks at 99 Park Ave. since 2010, but if it's anything like its sister resto at 558 New England Ave., I don't think it's necessary. Sure, it looks nice, but behind this pretty face stood a disinterested greeter, a server who tended to us with the alacrity of Zootopia's Flash the Sloth, and a kitchen content to dish out uninspired plates of meh.
The server-recommended burrata ($17), topped with toasted hazelnuts and sided with five curled slivers of cantaloupe and two pieces of bread, didn't look anything like the dull dish it turned out to be. The culprit: bland burrata that wasn't the creamy, rich and salty cheese ball we hoped for. Then there was the prosciutto flatbread ($18). The menu neglected to state that it had a base of fig jam, but no biggie. Figs and prosciutto go together like dates and bacon, after all. But this jam wasn't just cloying, it was unpleasantly concentrated with balsamic, and the prosciutto was charred to a crisp as well. "Do you like the flatbread?" asked our reluctant server. "Hmmm, not really," we replied. "Aww, that's too bad," said Flash, and shuffled away.
A few hours later (just kidding, it was 25 minutes), a plate of fish and chips ($25) was set before us, comprising one small, sad fillet of beer-battered cod that yielded absolutely no crisp. "Why is it so soggy?" asked one of my dining comrades. "This looks like it was frozen, not fresh," said another.
But not everything we sampled failed to live up to expectations — some, like the photo-worthy burger ($16), lived in the realm of passability, while the pastrami reuben ($19) with gruyère, sauerkraut and Russian dressing on marble rye is a sandwich I'd come back for anytime along with a pint of Guinness. Can't say the same about the $12 chocolate mousse, an ending we settled on after being told they were out of the brown sugar cheesecake ($12). The mousse had clearly been sitting in the fridge for too long — the overly set texture and condensation on the glass cup said as much.
I had hoped that the Park Avenue Tavern (or PAT, as the marketing whizzes at IGC have dubbed it) would make a positive contribution to the city's dining scene, but, as it stands, PAT is the restaurant equivalent of a warm body. Some would argue a warm body is better than no body at all, and that's fair — especially for those who haunt Hannibal Square to exercise their Pradas, not their palates. So, if you opt to give Park Avenue Tavern a try, it might be best to go in with lowered expectations.
