The Tin Building Has Everything (Except a Purpose)

Jean-Georges Vongerichten's lovely but lifeless $200 million food hall.

- ADAM PLATT

"THIS FEELS LIKE a restaurant in one of the finer, more empty hotels in Dallas," my discerning friend muttered as we settled down at Shikku, the sushi-and-sake bar at the Tin Building, Jean-Georges Vongerichten's new food bazaar at the South Street Seaport. Was this entirely fair? It was the middle of January, when most of gourmet New York is still sunk in a deep postholiday slumber; it was lunchtime, not a prime hour for the haute toro set; and it wasn't even clear if my friend, a regular at the trendy sushi dens of Tokyo, had spent much time in the grand hotels of northern Texas. But peering around the room, you could see what he meant.

The bar is constructed of black marble and layers of pine, and each empty seat was set, as if from some connect-the-dots sushi manual, with a paper place mat and chopsticks propped on a small black stone. Decorative sake bottles and tea sets were arranged along the walls, and the same jaunty mall tunes that were being piped over the pastry stands and candy shops outside played softly. As each piece of nodoguro and slightly over-refrigerated shrimp followed the next, it felt as though we were being transported from the bustle of Manhattan into that frictionless White Lotus dimension of gleaming hotel lobbies and first-class airport lounges.

This is familiar territory for Vongerichten. With 60 restaurants scattered around the globe in upscale department stores, hotel lobbies, and holiday destinations, he has long been the most adaptable and ingenious of New York's star chefs. During his eclectic career, he has pioneered lasting culinary trends, such as Asian fusion and the dreaded molten chocolate cake, and perfected many more. Now comes the food court, which is possibly the most challenging genre of all.