Cipriani Club 55

The Cipriani clan’s ninth NYC outpost is as glamorous as the others—a man in a top hat greets you at the door, and the genteel dining room is lined with leatherbound books—but the uneven fare fails to impress. Lovely appetizers (a mound of gorgeously marbled speck, a pristine swordfish carpaccio) gave way to middling entrées, like a mushy, poorly seasoned spaghetti all’amatriciana. An impressive hunk of layer cake topped with pillowy vanilla meringue was almost redemptive, but for our money, we’d have preferred the falafel cart two blocks away.