Review: Pricci

Do you remember why you fell in love with restaurants in the first place? I’d like to say that for me, it was the philosophy behind the care and respect for organic vegetables, or the realization that an inspired dish of food could nourish the soul. But I’d be lying. In reality, my love affair started at my best friend’s 10th birthday. Her father took us to a fancy restaurant — it was the first one I’d ever been to. I remember my awe at the dining room’s mirrors and soft lighting, the waiters in tuxedos, the sound of glasses clinking and people talking and laughing. It was like magic, a fantasy, a place where the entire purpose of its existence was to create relaxation and joy.

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The first time I entered Pricci I was reminded of that original experience. After devoting so much time to thinking and writing about the new breed of restaurant, where casual hipsterdom and the ethics of produce are the main selling points, Pricci seemed like a welcome reminder of upscale dining’s original intent.

Waiters in white tuxedos glide around a room that’s almost comically clichéd, the Disney version of an Italian restaurant, with mirrors on the walls, Art Deco-inspired decorative touches, and clubby, circular booths. If it’s a bit silly, it’s in equal measure pure fun, an unabashed homage to the idea that dining out is (and should be) a form of entertainment.

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(Photo by James Camp)__