We met at Ai Fiori to discuss art and business, a perfectly respectable agenda that proved vulnerable to lobster knuckles swimming in garlic butter. There was, of course, plenty to talk about. Yet somewhere between the jazz, the caviar-topped tagliatelle, and a dessert finale that thoroughly compromised my usual indifference to sweets, our professional intentions acquired a more indulgent complexion. I am not even a dessert person. Apparently, this conviction had simply never been sufficiently challenged.
Situated on the second floor of The Langham at 400 Fifth Avenue, the restaurant takes its culinary bearings from the French and Italian Rivieras. Its name translates to “among the flowers,” although the attractions extend well beyond anything horticultural. Handmade pasta, seafood, and a decidedly swanky bar provide ample encouragement to make an evening of it. This is a place to arrive with something interesting to discuss and remain receptive to competing interests.
Bar Fiori lends the proceedings a particularly seductive setting. Its design draws inspiration from the Beaufort Bar at London’s Savoy and the Fumoir at Claridge’s, with accented lighting and bespoke floral wall coverings. Those references have an appealing social intelligence: the great hotel lounge offers somewhere to conduct a conversation while enjoying the possibility of a little intrigue. One need not be traveling to appreciate the temporary freedom of behaving as though tomorrow belongs to somebody else.
Live jazz adds another dimension to that proposition. The music gives the room a sense of occasion, an invitation to settle into the company rather than hurry toward the next commitment. For a meeting about the arts, the accompaniment felt especially appropriate. There is something gratifying about discussing creative enterprise in surroundings that understand atmosphere as part of the experience. Even the most practical exchange benefits from a measure of enchantment.
The cocktail list offers its own diversions. Royal Blush combines vodka, mint, lime, morello cherry, and Champagne; the Violetta Negroni brings together gin, Dolin Blanc, viola bitter, Campari, and lemon. A martini would be entirely at home here, too. Such surroundings encourage the civilized ritual of choosing a drink one actually wishes to savor, then giving both the glass and the person opposite some proper attention.
Nevertheless, those lobster knuckles deserve their own place in the minutes. Maine lobster meets garlic butter, lemon, and a pastry crisp in an appetizer that makes moderation seem a rather joyless negotiating position. The shellfish is positively swimming, with citrus supplying a counterpoint to all that richness. Art and commerce may have brought us together, but this was a more immediate demonstration of why certain pleasures require very little explanation.
Then came the tagliatelle, topped with caviar, carrying the discussion into altogether more extravagant territory. Ai Fiori’s Tagliatelle Royale brings lobster and sea urchin into the pasta repertoire, with those precious pearls supplying a suitably aristocratic flourish. The attraction is more than visual: salinity gives the sumptuousness a sharper edge. Ribbons of dough become an occasion in themselves, making an excellent argument for allowing appetite a vote in the evening’s decisions.
Elsewhere, executive chef Lauren DeSteno’s menu includes squid-ink trofie with Ligurian crustacean ragù and spaghetti with blue crab, lemon, Calabrian chili, and bottarga. These offerings establish a coastal sensibility through particular ingredients rather than a vague promise of Mediterranean escapism. Pasta accommodates both precision and generosity beautifully; it can be ambitious while retaining the deeply familiar satisfaction of a forkful. That balance has considerable charm.
Dessert, however, was where my position became untenable. I generally have little difficulty declining something sweet; here, the finale became one of the evening’s principal attractions. Executive pastry chef Katie Conklin’s menu includes tiramisu with mascarpone mousse, espresso-soaked ladyfingers, and cocoa, alongside chocolate cake with dark chocolate ganache, pistachio, and orange. An affogato brings vanilla gelato, espresso, and Ramazzotti amaro into play. My usual devotion to the savory had met an entirely delicious objection, and, for once, I was delighted to concede.
By then, our meeting had become the kind of occasion that reminds me why doing business over dinner remains such an enduring pleasure. Art supplied the introduction; the table gave us reasons to linger. Ai Fiori accommodates both the serious conversation and the happy digression, allowing an evening to expand beyond its original purpose. We had come to discuss our work. We also discovered that, quite unexpectedly, the most persuasive argument in the room arrives with a dessert spoon.
