". . . As the establishment cracks and institutions crumble, it is no wonder we reach out to ice cream. It is a link to innocence and security, the last of the eternal verities. Or is it? . . ."

Chef Franklin Becker inherited a dysfunctional work-in-progress when Gary Robins vanished from Sheridan Square.

The crowd skews young at Delicatessen, a new ­comfort-food initiative from the folks at Cafeteria.

Michael White and partner Chris Cannon bolted the door at L’Impero for two weeks and invented Convivio.

Clearly, Jean-Georges Vongerichten is betting our town’s noodleheads will be moved by Matsugen.

There is no mule tethered to a lamppost out front of Hundred Acres.

Faux smoke and grime above Wildwood’s bar want to suggest that barbecue belongs to the city.

Alain Ducasse’s need to be embraced by New York has a real chance for fulfillment at Benoit once he whips the kitchen up a bit.

I was put off by an old-fashioned lack of focus in an early visit to Padre Figlio.

Tet is the most ambitious effort yet from Saigon-born Steven Duong.