For every profession there's an address that announces ultimate success; banks have Wall Street, tailors Savile Row, and for hotels, Boardwalk, bitches! Announcing their ascension within the halls of the Time Warner Center, A Voce Columbus.
Planting a new operation in NYC's culinary Olympus, Voce's unleashing novel takes on their multi-starred contemporary Italian to celebrate their arrival in an airy, spartanly upscale, vista-windowed modern-Milanese dining room, bolstered by a slightly elevated lounge whose light wood bar's sided with ornately patterned dark brown leather reminiscent of the Necronomicon...Collector's Edition. Aside from a select few antipasti and dolci the chow's entirely new, kicking off with veggie bites like grilled zucchini w/ mint & firm ricotta, pickled baby fennel, and summer shelling beans w/ rapini pesto, plus a painstakingly sourced array of salumi, with Italian imports like translucent lardo, tuna prosciutto drizzled in olive oil, and a spreadable, spicy Calabrian salami called nduja rounded out by homegrowns wild boar cacciatorini from NYC's own Salumeria Biellese, and organic coppa from Iowa that would be delicious Hayden Fry'd. Antipasti's highlighted by crispy homemade salt cod w/ olives/raisins/pinenuts, as well as Madison Sq-holdover fried dough stuffed with Swiss chard & cresenza cheese and plated w/ prosciutto; carb-crushing Primi range from hand-crafted spaghetti smothered in crab, leeks, & lemon sea urchin butter, to orecchiette laden w/ roasted pork jowl/soffritto/arugula, and Secondi move from branzino w/ heirloom tomatoes & caper pesto, to grilled lamb chops w/ lamb sausage and Umbrian lentils, to a fennel/chili marinated brick chicken, who's 36-24-36 figure once served as a lusty muse for the Commodores.
The cascade of daddy juice starts with a mind-bending 3000+ wines, digestivs including amaros and limencello, and cocktails like lavender gimlets, the "New Fashioned" (Bulleit/Angostura & orange bitters/Concord grape juice/brandied cherries), and the Jameson/amaretto/Sprite "Irish Italiano" -- 'cause no matter your national address, you've still got to obey your thirst, bitches!