Il Mulino resembles an Upper East Side fine-dining establishment—dark, cramped and filled with formally dressed diners. Swooping down on you, gruff servers arrive bearing cheese, meat, marinated zucchini, tomatoes and three kinds of bread. They proceed to rattle off dozens of specials. (Pick one of those; the menu is nearly illegible.) The wine list starts at $45 or so, and you may be up-sold to something “better.” Even so, the food is magnificent and the portions gargantuan. A ravioli appetizer could pass as an entrée; the osso buco—nearly falling off the bone and surrounded by mounds of creamy risotto—is too hefty to finish. You won’t have room for dessert, but the waiter will describe something (mascarpone cheesecake, perhaps), and you’ll order it anyway and eat half, at best. When the bill comes, you’ll really understand the meaning of big.