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This conventional hotel canteen, a dining annex in Frederick Lesort's eurotrashy Opia lounge, churns out competent Parisian standards suitable for weary travelers, plus a few incongruous dishes—from the comfort food canon, decadent mac and cheese; from Japan, sushi. The food, like the white tablecloth setting, is inoffensive but forgettable: rich, chewy hanger steak with rosemary-truffle fries, flakey roasted cod smothered in fennel and black olives. Though jet-lagged tourists may find sustenance at André's, in restaurant-saturated midtown, you can certainly do better.