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The surroundings at this subterranean hotel eatery might be described as Park Avenue drab: muted walls with wood and brick -- classy but with little flair. The food looks good, but in many cases flavors fail to cohere. A baby romaine salad turns out to be little more than lettuce, though a tomato salad gets a dose of nice creaminess and crunch from cresenza cheese and oversize focaccia breadcrumbs, while frito misto contains the intriguing addition of fried olives. Charred octopus has the right bite and a traditional pairing of potatoes, but veers into oddball territory when topped with pureed lemon and jalapenos. Similarly, a lardo pizza, purportedly the star of the list, is bizarrely overloaded with a mishmash of toppings (radish, egg, ricotta, pickled peppers) that never quite achieve harmony. While the look of this place is an exercise in minimalism, there’s a nagging sense that in the kitchen, somebody’s trying too a little too hard. — Jenny Miller