Pulino's, the new venture of the New York restauranteur, Keith McNally, failed to impress me tonight. After much buzz from NY Mag and Vogue, I expected to be dazzled by memorable bursting flavors inventive of the pizza genre. After all, that is the core of Pulino's schtick (and apparently making you wait two weeks to get in).
We ordered the Burrata appetizer, the sunchoke-cabbage with oranges and pancetta salad, and the Polpettini pizza (with added salame piccante). While the Burrata was a rather snooze-fest of flavor, the sunchoke salad did prove to be worth its chops (fortunately for Pulino's, sunchokes are in season and have had rave reviews for their in-city freshness). But the greatest disappointment was the pizza itself: an emaciated version of true Italian fare (for those seeking a more accurate departure to Napoli, may I suggest Il Mattone in Tribeca?).
The only upside to my night was the new "too racy for public viewing" billboards of east Soho. I was confronted with ironic advertising real estate: on North Houston, a half-naked Kellan Lutz sporting Calvin Klein and on South Houston, an inflated portrait of Kirstie Alley enjoying a whipped cream clown nose. I found myself in the midst of a large scale debate. The CK ad snarking at me for attempting pizza and Kirstie Alley egging me on.
This sort of bipolarity has defined Soho today - a mix of high and low, indulgent and superficial, fulfilling and empty. Prada sits next to American Eagle, Kellan Lutz faces off with Kirstie Alley, and now Balthazar competes against Pulino's.
Take away of the night: Although Pulino's will leave you hungry, Soho's oddly juxtaposed billboards will keep you quite satisfied.
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