Where Were Eating: Granite Hill
Stephen Starr’s catering arm has recently taken over the Art Museum’s stodgy dining operations and injected them with some modernity. And while it’s not quite as modern as, say, a Damien Hirst shark immersed in formaldehyde, the white-tablecloth Granite Hill now offers a menu with international flair: a respectably crisp chicken schnitzel; pretty ladies-who-lunch salads; fried oysters nestled atop a fragrant curry rémoulade. There’s also a welcome dose of dadaist wit — like “Le Haute Dog,” which is no wiener, but rather a D’Angelo Bros. sausage, topped with gruyère, in a toasted brioche roll. Duchamp would be proud.