Hollywood types.
Really, you have nothing against them.
These people are out there doing good. Adopting babies. Saving Sudan. Accepting People’s Choice Awards.
And every so often, they do you the solid of opening a glamorous hotbed of pasta and Negronis.
One stellar example: RPM Italian, a new product from the fecund minds of Style Network stars Bill and Giuliana Rancic and an assorted cast of Melman siblings, opening very, very soon.
After passing the big spotlights under the awning, you’ll look around approvingly. Handsome, yet understated—as you’d expect when one of the principals is a red-carpet reporter. A few gauzy drapes billowing in the dining room. Plenty of slate-gray mohair booths prepared to receive your entourage. There’s even a private “Board Room” decked out with a crystal chandelier ready for your next wrap party. And nary a swan dress in sight.
If you’re keeping the evening light, we suggest hanging in the bar. Chief mixologist Paul McGee (late of the Whistler) is shaking your Lower Door (his gin-soaked spin on the Corpse Reviver), and Doug Psaltis (he of French Laundry et al—and the P in the RPM) is whipping up a menu of lobster caprese, prime beef meatballs and duck agnolotti will be at your disposal.
But there’s one intriguing wild card: a six-seat amaro bar, basically an altar where the Negroni is worshipped as a god. Bow down and tremble before the most complete array of aperitivos and digestivos in town: Fernet-Branca. Aperol. Campari.
Just don’t let TMZ catch you afterward.
Really, you have nothing against them.
These people are out there doing good. Adopting babies. Saving Sudan. Accepting People’s Choice Awards.
And every so often, they do you the solid of opening a glamorous hotbed of pasta and Negronis.
One stellar example: RPM Italian, a new product from the fecund minds of Style Network stars Bill and Giuliana Rancic and an assorted cast of Melman siblings, opening very, very soon.
After passing the big spotlights under the awning, you’ll look around approvingly. Handsome, yet understated—as you’d expect when one of the principals is a red-carpet reporter. A few gauzy drapes billowing in the dining room. Plenty of slate-gray mohair booths prepared to receive your entourage. There’s even a private “Board Room” decked out with a crystal chandelier ready for your next wrap party. And nary a swan dress in sight.
If you’re keeping the evening light, we suggest hanging in the bar. Chief mixologist Paul McGee (late of the Whistler) is shaking your Lower Door (his gin-soaked spin on the Corpse Reviver), and Doug Psaltis (he of French Laundry et al—and the P in the RPM) is whipping up a menu of lobster caprese, prime beef meatballs and duck agnolotti will be at your disposal.
But there’s one intriguing wild card: a six-seat amaro bar, basically an altar where the Negroni is worshipped as a god. Bow down and tremble before the most complete array of aperitivos and digestivos in town: Fernet-Branca. Aperol. Campari.
Just don’t let TMZ catch you afterward.
