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In Midtown’s Iroquois Hotel, an ambitious but uneven menu attracts moneyed tourists on their way to Broadway shows. The deceptively small dining area seems larger, with well-placed mirrors and a handful of generously spaced tables. A private tete-a-tete seems entirely possible, though the chilly, stark white walls and cool lighting cast an anti-intime chill. The menu here would do Escoffier proud; rich stocks and cream sauces enrich most dishes, with distinctly mixed modern interpretations. Scallops bathed in foie gras butter are packed with flavor, which trumps their overcooked texture. Sweetbreads, seared into oblivion, overpower the refined veal reduction with which they’re served. Far better are traditional mains like baked sole roulade, stuffed with a decadent salmon-shellfish mousse, drenched in lemony hollandaise, and grandly presented on a platform of asparagus. Vive la France, and never mind the cholesterol. — Benjamin Kneen

Baked sole, $29