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Fred's is smartly perched up on the ninth floor in a warm and woody setting, and has transformed what was once an occasionally overbearing henhouse into a respectably buzzy place for ladies (or women) who lunch, as well as the men who love (or walk) them. Normally, the morsels served in department-store eateries are the gastronomic equivalent of the final clearance bin. Fred's, however, is as rare as that Gucci pullover you saw on four marked down to $895. How fortunate that you can eat here for a little less. Its menu-a Rorschach of the Barneys shopper's alimentary desires-shows what a savvy chef Mark Strausman is. An amalgam of au courant Italian (lovely pasta), guilt-ridden dietetic (chicken soup rendered fatless), and size-6-be-damned deli (chicken livers and pot roast to plotz from), it's almost as satisfying as snatching up an irregular with no pulled threads. Ah, there's one more thing. After the shoppers have made their merry way home, Fred's becomes quite the cashmere-quiet hideaway. So should you find yourself in the market for some spot to have a clandestine, cradle-robbing, or corporate-raiding dinner . . . Don't you just love a perfect fit? — Hal Rubenstein

Delivery is available outside of the normal boundaries for a surcharge.

Chicken soup, $10

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• Battle of the Department-Store Salads (6/11/07)
• New York City's In-Store Canteens (12/11/06)

Recipes at Fred's at Barneys New York

• Sliced-Steak Salad (2003)