Last night Joanne Trattoria, the new Upper West Side restaurant from Art Smith and Lady Gaga's papa, opened its doors to the public (and, apparently, Tony Bennet). And though it was supposed to be a no-press affair, the Post's resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, popped in for "a 2 1/2-hour meal that seemed like as many days." Pop star parents or no, the Cuozz was not amused. And Gaga was not to be seen.
"Forget the Edge of Glory," he starts "on opening night, 'Lady Gaga restaurant' Joanne on West 68th Street was close to the edge of collapse." What was wrong? Let's cue up some bullet points!
- There was "acrid-smelling burnt vinegar wafting intermittently through the raucous dining room."
- It is "a brick-walled affair of the sort considered cozy in certain Brooklyn neighborhoods, but which in these parts registers as plain cramped (and loud as an avalanche)." This is a Cuozzo review, remember.
- "Much of the staff, including the crew toiling in the open kitchen, seemed plucked from the ’burbs. Clueless busboys wandered the floor, performing no other function than to pour tap water into sparkling."
- The food took ages and when it came, well: "Grilled calamari with bitter greens and radicchio were the worst I’ve had in a lifetime of squid-mongering, the salad unseasoned and the calamari like leather."
- And that's not all! "One-note orecchiette with shellfish recalled the flaccid pasta commonly doled out along Long Island’s Jericho Turnpike—or at 35,000 feet."
Meanwhile, "Joe Germanotta—a fellow so large, Lady Gaga could fit inside one leg—prowled the narrow aisles" and at one point Art Smith, who used to be the personal chef to no less than Oprah, was seen bussing tables. Including the Cuozz's. Eek! Not an auspicious start.
Still, give Gaga's Little Monsters some time to fill up Joanne's Yelp page (no reviews!) and we're sure the critic's opinions won't matter a lick. Just because a restaurant was born this way, doesn't mean it can't better itself. Right?
