An axiom of summer dining in New York City is that restaurants in the most idyllic outdoor settings, like Tavern on the Green and the Boathouse in Central Park, squander their atmospheric advantages by offering substandard cuisine at outrageous prices. From a commercial perspective, this approach is understandable, if infuriating. Why bother with the food when a romanticized notion of sipping cocktails under the stars will keep the crowds coming?
To its credit, Luna Park, the seasonal restaurant at the north end of Union Square, attempts to defy this convention by recreating its menu each summer under the direction of a “celebrity” chef. Past recruits include Scott Conant of Alto and Joseph Fortunato of Extra Virgin. Taking the helm this year is Louis Gonzalez of nearby Coffee Shop. In Luna Park’s pre-summer press release, Gonzalez pledged to create an Italian trattoria “where people can enjoy dishes paired with a variety of wines or other beverages in a beautiful setting.” The irony is that, while many of Gonzalez’s dishes are appealing, it’s Luna Park’s setting that ultimately comes up short.
Two friends and I visited Luna Park on a recent Wednesday evening, just in time for the confluence of the tail end of happy hour and the 8 p.m. rush. The first thing that strikes me as we approach the restaurant through the Park is the smell: Not the scents of the kitchen, mind you, but the odor of bodies and sweat emanating from the adjacent bar. Descending the steps into the restaurant’s sunken dining area, I had the sense of entering a crowded echo chamber or a rave in a drained Olympic-sized swimming pool. Luna Park draws an excitable mix of twenty- and thirtysomethings, all eager to share the day’s dramas, and the simultaneous exclamations of “Oh my god!” and “No way!” merge into a dull roar, punctuated by the clinking of Corona bottles. This conviviality is the point, I suppose, but it makes it difficult to enjoy a date or an intimate dinner with friends.
Other aspects of the restaurant’s set-up also undermine the pleasures of a dinner outdoors. The décor is spare and uninspired: dull white tables and chairs, smudged glass votives and, over each table, red and white umbrellas that screen against the sun during the day but block views of the trees and city lights at night. Rows of flowerboxes are a nice touch, but a nearby planting was dead, its leaves wilted. More disturbing was a sign attached to the fence above our table: “Caution. This area has been baited for pest prevention and control.” During our long wait for a waiter, the bushes rustled ominously and small shadows flitted about.
What a surprise, then, to discover that the food at Luna Park, a modest array of antipasto, insalata, pizza and pasta, is quite good. It was hard to assess the calamari ($9), fried and served with strings of zucchini. The waiter took so long to deliver our order, and we were so hungry by the time it arrived, that our napkins dipped in the accompanying marinara sauce would have tasted as good. The rest of our appetizers, however, were unequivocally satisfying. The vegetables in the antipasto misto ($12), including grilled onions and asparagus, were fresh and nicely seasoned. And the insalate verdure ($10), a crowded amalgam of field greens, carrots, beets, cannelloni beans, red onion, tomatoes, zucchini and shaved parmesan cheese, was hearty but not heavy.
The main courses were also rewarding. The pizza bianca ($13), topped with a blend of mozzarella, ricotta and parmesan cheeses, had an exceptionally delicate crust, and a dusting of thyme and black pepper gave it an extra kick. My friend Sara raved about her rigatoni alla buttera ($13), a tube shaped pasta with Italian sausage, sweet peas, tomato sauce and cream. And the pasta in the cavatelli alle verdure ($11) was perfectly cooked, with each vegetable in the caponata (including eggplant, tomatoes and yellow and green squash), holding its own.
Luna Park has a relatively small wine list (a dozen or so Italians at $28-$40 per bottle). Our experience with the rest of the bar was mixed. One mojito was overpowering, like a shot of mint; another, almost virgin, like minty ice water.
After polishing our plates and downing a few cocktails, my friends and I were beginning to appreciate the evening outdoors. The pandemonium at the bar had eased, and the air temperature was just about perfect. But a trip to the bathroom jolted me out of my reverie. It was absolutely filthy, and when I finished my business and exited the stall, another diner had to zip up prematurely and back away from the urinal to let me out the door. Back in the dining area, two rats were terrorizing a cluster of smokers who’d gathered on the steps near our table. Time to go.
The food at Luna Park this summer may be good, but unless you’re looking to re-live that crazy week in Cancun, ask for it in a doggie bag and find a more peaceful corner of the park, where the experience of dining outdoors can be better appreciated.
To its credit, Luna Park, the seasonal restaurant at the north end of Union Square, attempts to defy this convention by recreating its menu each summer under the direction of a “celebrity” chef. Past recruits include Scott Conant of Alto and Joseph Fortunato of Extra Virgin. Taking the helm this year is Louis Gonzalez of nearby Coffee Shop. In Luna Park’s pre-summer press release, Gonzalez pledged to create an Italian trattoria “where people can enjoy dishes paired with a variety of wines or other beverages in a beautiful setting.” The irony is that, while many of Gonzalez’s dishes are appealing, it’s Luna Park’s setting that ultimately comes up short.
Two friends and I visited Luna Park on a recent Wednesday evening, just in time for the confluence of the tail end of happy hour and the 8 p.m. rush. The first thing that strikes me as we approach the restaurant through the Park is the smell: Not the scents of the kitchen, mind you, but the odor of bodies and sweat emanating from the adjacent bar. Descending the steps into the restaurant’s sunken dining area, I had the sense of entering a crowded echo chamber or a rave in a drained Olympic-sized swimming pool. Luna Park draws an excitable mix of twenty- and thirtysomethings, all eager to share the day’s dramas, and the simultaneous exclamations of “Oh my god!” and “No way!” merge into a dull roar, punctuated by the clinking of Corona bottles. This conviviality is the point, I suppose, but it makes it difficult to enjoy a date or an intimate dinner with friends.
Other aspects of the restaurant’s set-up also undermine the pleasures of a dinner outdoors. The décor is spare and uninspired: dull white tables and chairs, smudged glass votives and, over each table, red and white umbrellas that screen against the sun during the day but block views of the trees and city lights at night. Rows of flowerboxes are a nice touch, but a nearby planting was dead, its leaves wilted. More disturbing was a sign attached to the fence above our table: “Caution. This area has been baited for pest prevention and control.” During our long wait for a waiter, the bushes rustled ominously and small shadows flitted about.
What a surprise, then, to discover that the food at Luna Park, a modest array of antipasto, insalata, pizza and pasta, is quite good. It was hard to assess the calamari ($9), fried and served with strings of zucchini. The waiter took so long to deliver our order, and we were so hungry by the time it arrived, that our napkins dipped in the accompanying marinara sauce would have tasted as good. The rest of our appetizers, however, were unequivocally satisfying. The vegetables in the antipasto misto ($12), including grilled onions and asparagus, were fresh and nicely seasoned. And the insalate verdure ($10), a crowded amalgam of field greens, carrots, beets, cannelloni beans, red onion, tomatoes, zucchini and shaved parmesan cheese, was hearty but not heavy.
The main courses were also rewarding. The pizza bianca ($13), topped with a blend of mozzarella, ricotta and parmesan cheeses, had an exceptionally delicate crust, and a dusting of thyme and black pepper gave it an extra kick. My friend Sara raved about her rigatoni alla buttera ($13), a tube shaped pasta with Italian sausage, sweet peas, tomato sauce and cream. And the pasta in the cavatelli alle verdure ($11) was perfectly cooked, with each vegetable in the caponata (including eggplant, tomatoes and yellow and green squash), holding its own.
Luna Park has a relatively small wine list (a dozen or so Italians at $28-$40 per bottle). Our experience with the rest of the bar was mixed. One mojito was overpowering, like a shot of mint; another, almost virgin, like minty ice water.
After polishing our plates and downing a few cocktails, my friends and I were beginning to appreciate the evening outdoors. The pandemonium at the bar had eased, and the air temperature was just about perfect. But a trip to the bathroom jolted me out of my reverie. It was absolutely filthy, and when I finished my business and exited the stall, another diner had to zip up prematurely and back away from the urinal to let me out the door. Back in the dining area, two rats were terrorizing a cluster of smokers who’d gathered on the steps near our table. Time to go.
The food at Luna Park this summer may be good, but unless you’re looking to re-live that crazy week in Cancun, ask for it in a doggie bag and find a more peaceful corner of the park, where the experience of dining outdoors can be better appreciated.
