Plenty of British conventions have been readily transferred to the States, starting with English, na mean? Betting the same holds for tony grubbing, Le Caprice, accepting reservations now
Caprice is a chicly monochromatic, loftily open dining room laden with polished chrome and dark wooden accents, black lacquer and mosaic mirrors, Art Deco chandeliers, a 14-seat bar, a black and white floor, and understated dark banquettes/white tablecloths that keep the spotlight on the iconic b&w photos of 60s Brit swinger Jean Shrimpton, all intended as a faithful reproduction of the venerable London brasserie that for years has served as the playground for the city's beautiful people, aka Susan Boyle. Much of the menu's the same, including salads from endive with pear/shaved fennel to watercress'd crispy duck, plus steak tartare, wild mushroom risotto, and sauteed foie gras with caramelized apples; there are some modifications, however, with yellowtail -- in London prepared as sashimi w/ tempura squid and ponzu -- becoming a carpaccio with ginger and lime, and a staple ragu flipping from veal papardelle to rigatoni w/ wild swine (call it "pigatoni", but just don't call it boaring). Mains pay an oceany homage, with across-the-pond faves like salmon fishcakes w/ buttered spinach and sorrel sauce, grilled squid topped with pimento salsa, deep-fried haddock sauced with a minted pea puree, and Thai-baked sea bass with fragrant rice; turf-wise, they're doing up chicken alla Milanese, grilled calf's liver rocking colcannon/crispy bacon, and a ground rump steak preparation called Chopped Steak Americaine, which would be insulting if we weren't so damned delicious
Fully breaking with tradition's the addition of breakfast, including waffles with berries, corned beef hash w/ double fried egg, and soft-boiled eggs with asparagus "soldiers", which are actually food, showing us that it doesn't take Americans to screw up the English language.