Babb-Oh No!...Air Conditioning

Guilt: the self-reproach for supposed inadequacy or wrongdoing. This is the feeling I get when I send somebody to one of my favorite restaurants in the city and they come back less than satisfied. Thank you, BYOWino, for your time and efforts to share this horrendous, nightmarish experience with the eaters of New York City.

BYOWino reports:

Babbo is Mario Batali's culinary baby. According to Zagat, it is Manhattan's top Italian restaurant (ranked 4th best overall). The reviews, accolades and chef star power would entice any tourist or New Yorker looking for a remarkable dining experience. Naturally, per Mona's suggestion, I decided to purchase my parents a Babbo gift certificate for their 35th wedding anniversary in November.

Since reserving a table at Babbo requires planning, patience, persistence and a bit of luck (call at 10 a.m. exactly one month before your desired date), my parents still hadn't used their gift at the onset of summer. They decided to make their trip to Babbo a family affair to celebrate both my father's birthday and mine in mid-July. With a bit of good fortune, we successfully made a reservation for Friday, July 18th.

Cut to the 18th. NYC was in the middle of a heat wave with a "feels like" temperature hovering around 100 degrees. Aside from the fact that it'd be a little warm outside walking to the 110 Waverly Place location no matter your mode of transportation, I didn't think much of it.

I walked into Babbo several minutes before our 5:45 p.m. reservation, and my mom, dad and aunt were waiting for me at the bar with drinks in hand. Perfect. The restaurant was relatively empty and the temperature was nice and cool at the bar. The maitre d' escorted us up the stairs to the second level of the restaurant, or as I prefer to call it -- The Solarium.

Before I summited the flight of stairs to the Solarium, I noticed that the air was warmer, thicker and rather uncomfortable. "Maybe they just turned on the air conditioner," I wondered. "Maybe it'll get cooler as the sun goes down," I thought. Hoping that the thermostat would quickly adjust, I turned my attention to more important issues -- the food selection.

Despite recommendations from friends to try some of Babbo's best dishes -- mint love letters, for instance-- my family and I decided to go for a tour of Babbo with the meat and pasta tasting menu along with the wine pairings. Boy, were we in for a treat...or so I thought.

By the time we had our first dish, the Solarium had filled up and there wasn't an empty seat. Unfortunately, with more bodies crowded in the Solarium, the moderately bearable temperature became "don't move too much or I'll start sweating profusely." I started to get nervous as we had seven more dishes and glasses of wine ahead of us, and I didn't know how much longer we could last. We finally asked the waiter if he could turn up the air conditioner, but he said it hadn't been working properly and he would see what he could do.

Nada.

With each warm dish coupled with another glass of wine, we were being pushed to and over our threshold. Although the food was, indeed, quite tasty, our dining experience was turning into a disaster. By the time we were on our fourth dish, my mother was fanning herself and began feeling dizzy and nauseous. (Of course, rich foods and alcohol played a role in her condition, but I'm quite sure it wouldn't have escalated so fast and so hard if the Solarium was at a cool and comfortable temperature.) As the sixth and seventh dishes arrived, all we could talk about was the heat as my mom propped herself on the wall as if she was about to faint. At this point, the objective went from celebrating the birthdays over a nice savory meal to finishing as fast as we could in order to get to a more comfortable environment and avoid having my mom get sick at the table. As quickly as the waiters brought out our last dish-- the desserts with birthday candles for me and my Dad-- we asked them for the check. It was not the way we wanted to end the celebration.

Overall, the food was good and the wine selection was quite nice. The service was disappointing (though I think the heat was affecting them too). The plating and decor was unimpressive. Ultimately though, the uncomfortable temperature made for a terrible dining experience. For a top NYC restaurant, this was unacceptable. Not once did anyone from Babbo's staff apologize for the temperature or offer anything to make up for the poor conditions. After months of waiting and several attempts at reservations, my family and I couldn't fully enjoy what Batali had to offer.

For anyone looking to try Babbo this summer, I'd call ahead and ask if the a/c is working. And for those of you wondering what happened to my mother, she made it out of Babbo OK. Don't ask how she fared at home. That's a different story...