For entrées, burgers were served cold on stale, untoasted buns. A barbecued pork po' boy was sugary and tough, served cold on a different shape of cold, stale bun, and it was far worse than food you'd find in cafeterias. The dill-cucumber salad was old and full of shriveled cucumber half-moons topped with dried-out dill and accompanied by rock-hard grilled bread. The "weeds" salad of various greens needed dressing. The "Fenway" salad was loaded with old, plastic-straw-tough slivers of date. At dinner, meatloaf came with metallic-tasting gravy that brought food-service cans to mind. The ravioli tasted tough and old.
By the time desserts came, anyone who had ordered anything but steak, or the pretty good grilled salmon, was still starving. But even then the un-creamy, sugary tiramisu met with disapproval, as did the refrigerator-odor-tainted crème brûlée and the dull chocolate cake.
What says sexy and fun more than archival newspapers?
The nicest thing I can think to say about the News Room--besides the fact that it's gorgeously insane--is that the travesty could perhaps be laid at the door of the menu designer. And if that person were made to fall on a sword, perhaps something could be salvaged. The menu is absurdly, preposterously, comically ambitious--a dozen to sixteen each of pastas, salads, appetizers, and fish or meat entrées. Look at the menu too long and you begin to see that it encompasses American comfort foods as well as dishes originating in the Caribbean, Indonesia, China, Thailand, the American Southwest, Japan, Portugal, Italy, maybe even Greece. Again, it's like they filled up a thousand notepads with a thousand dishes, and charged the kitchen with executing them all. Nutty. Just expecting a kitchen to move all those foods through reliably enough to keep them all fresh is wacky.
But, you know, I hear Dorothy Parker was pretty well unhinged, too. Sometimes wit and genius and madness are overlapping attributes--though, admittedly, not often in restaurants. So, I say, Go now: Plenty of restaurants serve food, but this is the only one on Earth serving this particular sort of brain-exploding chaos, so, somebody, stop the presses--please!