Mario Batali's acclaimed restaurant is being sued by 27 current and former workers, The Wall Street Journal reports. The employees alleged today in federal court that management hoarded an undeserved portion of wine tips and did not pay the full amount agreed upon for private banquets. 

The words "Del Posto" became stuck on foodies' tongues last month when Sam Sifton at The Times bestowed upon the spot a rare four-star review, making it the first Italian restaurant in the city to earn the designation since 1974.

There will be a protest today at 6:00 p.m. outside the Chelsea-based gastronomical mecca, organized by the Restaurant Opportunities Center. Are you a world-class gourmand with both an ultra-refined palette and a strong populist bent? If so, this is right up your alley!

It's a shame the employees hadn't taken a hint from Del Posto co-owner Joseph Bastianich's vigorous endorsement of the fawned-over kid-approved delicacy, the spaghetti taco. You bring that kind of magic into the kitchen, and all conflict goes away. 

nfreeman@observer.com

Twitter: @NFreeman1234

“We’re shooting to make Del Posto a four-star restaurant in New York City,” he said in the deliberate, teacherly tone he has perfected as a television chef, preparing the footage that would serve as an introduction to Mario, Full Boil, a documentary special for the Food Network about his latest restaurant venture.

It had never been done before, he explained, because Italian food was regarded as too simple. But with Frank Bruni as The New York Times’ new restaurant critic (and therefore arbiter of the fates of even Manhattan’s most powerful chefs), he must have reasoned that he had a chance. The paper’s former Rome bureau chief had become a connoisseur of Italian cuisine during his time abroad.

And yet the food itself was not all. The design of the restaurant, which occupied a choice spot in the huge old Nabisco factory building on 10th Avenue between 15th and 16th streets, would also be an important factor in getting Mr. Bruni’s approval. Del Posto, the documentary seems to suggest, was built for Mr. Bruni.

By 8 p.m. on Feb. 28, they had their answer: three stars, not four. To be sure, a very, very positive review, batting away ambient chatter that the restaurant was an overambitious folly (“Dishtar” was Mr. Bruni’s coinage). And the build-out? Spacious, but it “can seem a bit like a hotel lobby,” Mr. Bruni declared.

But nine days before he got to reveal his ambition to television viewers on Feb. 18, when the documentary aired, Mr. Batali had found that someone else entirely might hold the fate of his restaurant in his hands when his landlord slapped an eviction notice on the restaurant’s door.

Last July, the private equity firm Somerset Partners dropped $294 million on the 11-story building while Del Posto was under construction. According to Mr. Batali, Keith Rubenstein, a director of equity investments at Somerset Partners, called him five months later, as the restaurant opened, to complain that elements of the restaurant’s construction—documented heavily in the Food Network program—violated the terms of the restaurant’s lease, which had been signed with the building’s previous owners, Chelsea Market founder Irwin Cohen and his partners at Angelo Gordon & Company.

“Right when we opened the restaurant, they called and talked to us about a few things,” Mr. Batali said. “We didn’t understand what they were talking about, so we just said, ‘Yeah, we’ll talk to you after we get this baby opened.’”

Mr. Rubenstein wasn’t satisfied with that, and on Feb. 9, he filed court papers to initiate eviction proceedings against Del Posto.

“I’ve never been in a battle like this,” Mr. Batali said.

A “celebrity chef gone wild,” the court papers filed by Somerset Partners call Mr. Batali, whose unflattering attributes allegedly include “buccaneering conduct” and “swashbuckling disregard” for other tenants.

“We weren’t malicious or swashbuckling or buccaneering,” said Mr. Batali, dismissing “all that pirate stuff.

“In the end, we have a 25-year lease. We’re going to be their tenants for a long time.”

In the neighborhood’s recent boom, Mr. Batali understands that his $140,000-a-month lease is a bargain.

“It’s undervalued, which is why they’re so focused on it right now,” said Mr. Batali. “When we signed that lease three years ago, there were crack junkies and very little else on that block. That’s why we got a deal. People didn’t think it was such a great neighborhood. Now, it’s all of a sudden looking really shiny.”

In the papers, Somerset Partners allege that there is illegal duct work; the use of a sidewalk vault space to store the restaurant’s HVAC and various equipment without a permit; the distribution of fliers on the sidewalk for the restaurant’s $29 valet parking, also without permission; and the placement of exterior light fixtures in such a way as to obstruct security cameras.

“The previous landlord had granted us that stuff verbally, but never really wrote it down,” said Mr. Batali. “I’m sure this is just a minor and temporary thing. Whatever Irwin [Cohen] told them is exactly what he told us, and they’ll figure it out.”

Mr. Batali’s optimism has its bases. There is indeed a Yellowstone injunction staying the eviction proceedings. What’s more, extensive video footage of the construction of the space—a major focus of the Food Network special—shows his previous landlord touring the construction site and conferring with Mr. Batali, his partners Lidia and Joseph Bastianich, and his architect on modifications to the space. Mr. Bastianich thinks this footage will show that a verbal agreement was in place with Mr. Batali’s old landlord to make the modifications to the space.

“We have an incredible amount of footage of the prior owners walking through the space, directing things to be done,” said Mr. Bastianich. “They effectively did the project with us.”

Although Mr. Cohen declined several calls for comment from The Observer, he may eventually have to tell it to a judge.

“We’re going to subpoena him,” said Mr. Bastianich.

Mr. Rubenstein isn’t so sure that Mr. Cohen’s testimony—or the footage from the documentary—will make a difference.

“When we bought the building, they signed an estoppel certificate saying that there are no oral agreements and that the lease is in effect,” said Mr. Rubenstein. Mr. Bastianich admits to signing an estoppel agreement, but claims there is a revised one with his comments on it that should be used.

Mr. Batali accepts that an agreement was signed, but he also brushes off the incident by saying that “somehow my partner Joe’s signature got on a piece of paper that maybe he hadn’t looked at.”

IN MARIO: FULL BOIL, THERE IS MUCH FOOTAGE of Mr. Batali in his signature orange clogs, hopping onto his Vespa and driving to his several restaurants, book signings, kitchen-product roll-outs, food tastings and meetings with investors.

That’s when he’s not filming one of his three television shows.

But much of the film documents the construction of Del Posto in the bottom of an old factory in a once-gritty corner of West Chelsea. Through much of this portion of the film, Mr. Cohen and his partners are seen riding along with Mr. Batali as the construction progresses. In the documentary, several calamities arise and are overcome—at one point, the Hudson River flows inside and holds up work on the foundation, potentially jeopardizing the whole building—but none of them arise from disputes with Mr. Cohen.

“We have documented footage of Irwin [Cohen] walking through—not these Somerset guys,” said Mr. Batali. “Everyone is walking through, and everyone knows what is going on. It’s not like there’s some Pink Panther music and I’m sneaking through the night, stealing some ductwork space. It’s pretty straightforward.”

So it is to Mr. Rubenstein as well.

“This is like the tail wagging the dog,” said Mr. Rubenstein as he stood outside his 11-story building.

Construction was already underway in the space next-door to Del Posto, originally sought by another celeb-de-cuisine, Tom Colicchio, for one of his ’wichcraft chain of restaurants. (He is now holding off on plans to build the high-end sandwich shop in the retail space next to Del Posto, according to reports in the New York Post, until the two sides reach a settlement. However, Mr. Colicchio’s much-hyped Craftsteak is still scheduled to open in the building by May.)

The would-be Colicchio space, Mr. Rubenstein alleges, is just one of the neighboring spaces suffering from Mr. Batali’s lease infringements—and not by any means even the most important.

“On the other side of this wall is Del Posto,” said Mr. Rubenstein, standing inside the retail space next-door. “This boxed-in duct is their duct that houses their air conditioning or heat. The reason they put it here was they didn’t want to put it on the other side of the wall. They realized if they had to run their duct—it’s a big duct—they would lose their mezzanine. At some point in time, they decided to do it here.”

“It’s as if someone rents an apartment on the seventh floor and decides they want to put their kitchen on the eighth floor,” he said later.

“This is a major building with major tenants,” continued Mr. Rubenstein. “As long as we’re the owners, they’re going to abide by their lease.”

Indeed, there are some major tenants, including Moët Hennessey U.S.A., College Sports Television, Level 3 Communications, the New York State Police, various mysterious federal-government agencies which occupy the top four floors, and Lehman Brothers.

It was to cater to Lehman that Somerset invited its most recent confrontation with Mr. Batali and his partners.

In order to clean out concrete dust in the electrical room, the building’s power was shut down on a recent Saturday night—obviously, the busiest for any restaurant.

Mr. Rubenstein claims that Del Posto was given advance notice in case they wanted to bring in back-up generators.

“The reason it was done on a Saturday was because Lehman Brothers requested it,” said Mr. Rubenstein. “It was better for them to arrange for their backup generation, and to have all of their consultants here to make sure they didn’t wipe out all their data. It was Del Posto’s cause, and it was done for the convenience of the 590,000 square feet in the building.”

“They had to upgrade the electrical thing,” said Mr. Batali. Although upset with the decision to do it on a Saturday, Mr. Batali also accepts that Somerset Partners own the building and have a right to make changes. “They had to do what they had to do.”

As the recriminatory back-and-forth continues, the March 9 court date, which could decide the fate of Mr. Batali’s new restaurant, is starting to seem inevitable.

Indeed, while it would seem to make sense to patch things up amicably without prolonged litigation, the two sides have not come together to play nicely.

Certainly, the two sides haven’t met around a table at Del Posto to sort things out over a nice bottle of Costamagna Dolcetto.

In fact, Mr. Rubenstein has never eaten there, though he has eaten at Babbo and Lupa, both before and after becoming Mr. Batali’s landlord.

Mr. Bastianich claims that Mr. Rubenstein, and his partners, were treated well at various restaurants, with “three months of getting them reservations at Babbo, buying free deserts [and] free wine.”

“We have all documentation on this—reservation requests here, there, for their parties,” said Mr. Bastianich. “I was like their concierge. Then came the requests for unlimited access to all the restaurants—not just Del Posto, but an across-the-board 40 percent discount.”

“We’ve heard different variations of that before,” said Warren Estis, a lawyer for Somerset Partners. “Basically, there’s no truth to it. [Mr. Rubenstein] never asked, but even at a 40 percent discount he’d be overpaying.

“It’s totally ludicrous to think that all this stems from [the fact that] he didn’t get a discount,” Mr. Estis continued. “Meanwhile, they’re violating the lease right and left.”

“After a $12 million investment [and] three years of my life, I have a 25-year lease,” said Mr. Bastianich. “This is the restaurant that I was supposed to ride into the sunset on. I’m not going anywhere.”

IF MR. BATALI AND HIS PARTNERS WERE naïve to let so much of their understanding with their previous landlord go undocumented, Somerset Partners also seems to be operating one star above their previous operations.

Managing relationships with their tenants, even when their needs conflict, is a big part of being a commercial property owner in Manhattan. And that’s something that’s pretty new to Somerset Partners.

The Nabisco building purchase—which, adding up the historical significance, extensive technological improvements and, most importantly, the sought-after location (which includes rezoning for luxury residential units, trendy meatpacking-district clubs, other celebrity-chef-run restaurants, and adjacency to the soon-to-be-glammed-up High Line)—was astute, to be sure; it is also their first-ever purchase in Manhattan.

Last July, when Somerset Partners completed the all-cash purchase of the building, the company’s real-estate portfolio was composed of a few thousand apartments, scattered far from Gotham, in smaller cities like Atlanta, Little Rock, Ark., and Wichita, Kan. Subsequently, they made one more big Northeast purchase, acquiring a commercial building on K Street in Washington, D.C.

With Somerset Partners and Del Posto having an office in the same building, one might assume that the feuding sides could get together outside the courtroom. Apparently, one meeting was cancelled, and a second was either cancelled or never confirmed. It depends on whom you ask.

“We had a meeting set up in which the lawyers and the clients would be present,” said Mr. Estis. “It was a 2 o’clock meeting. At approximately 10 after 2, we get a phone call from the attorneys, when we’re all here—Keith changed his vacation plans [and] I rearranged court appearances—to tell us they are not showing up.

“To say the least, we were all furious,” Mr. Estis added. “It’s a continuing arrogance on their part. I don’t even think [Mr. Batali] knows what’s going on. He’s so busy running from one TV studio to the other.”

According to Mr. Estis, they never called to reschedule, but Mr. Batali claims that they did, for March 3.

“We had set up a meeting with one of our investors, Henry Kravis, and the main guys at Somerset, Keith [Rubenstein] and his partner,” said Mr. Batali. “They just cancelled it. They said they wanted us to send them a game plan of what we wanted to achieve in that meeting.”

The clock is running out on them: If the two sides reach the court date and Mr. Batali loses, the restaurant will have to be shut down for major renovations, none of which is likely to add to the place’s design. The reopening will be as tough as the opening.

But then, three stars, at least, from Mr. Bruni will already be lining their pockets.

Maybe a redesign would give them another stab at a fourth?

“We’re ecstatic,” said Mr. Bastianich. “We’re going to spend another year working to try and get four. It’s an opportunity and a responsibility.”

“We’re shooting to make Del Posto a four-star restaurant in New York City,” he said in the deliberate, teacherly tone he has perfected as a television chef, preparing the footage that would serve as an introduction to Mario, Full Boil, a documentary special for the Food Network about his latest restaurant venture.

It had never been done before, he explained, because Italian food was regarded as too simple. But with Frank Bruni as The New York Times’ new restaurant critic (and therefore arbiter of the fates of even Manhattan’s most powerful chefs), he must have reasoned that he had a chance. The paper’s former Rome bureau chief had become a connoisseur of Italian cuisine during his time abroad.

And yet the food itself was not all. The design of the restaurant, which occupied a choice spot in the huge old Nabisco factory building on 10th Avenue between 15th and 16th streets, would also be an important factor in getting Mr. Bruni’s approval. Del Posto, the documentary seems to suggest, was built for Mr. Bruni.

By 8 p.m. on Feb. 28, they had their answer: three stars, not four. To be sure, a very, very positive review, batting away ambient chatter that the restaurant was an overambitious folly (“Dishtar” was Mr. Bruni’s coinage). And the build-out? Spacious, but it “can seem a bit like a hotel lobby,” Mr. Bruni declared.

But nine days before he got to reveal his ambition to television viewers on Feb. 18, when the documentary aired, Mr. Batali had found that someone else entirely might hold the fate of his restaurant in his hands when his landlord slapped an eviction notice on the restaurant’s door.

Last July, the private equity firm Somerset Partners dropped $294 million on the 11-story building while Del Posto was under construction. According to Mr. Batali, Keith Rubenstein, a director of equity investments at Somerset Partners, called him five months later, as the restaurant opened, to complain that elements of the restaurant’s construction—documented heavily in the Food Network program—violated the terms of the restaurant’s lease, which had been signed with the building’s previous owners, Chelsea Market founder Irwin Cohen and his partners at Angelo Gordon & Company.

“Right when we opened the restaurant, they called and talked to us about a few things,” Mr. Batali said. “We didn’t understand what they were talking about, so we just said, ‘Yeah, we’ll talk to you after we get this baby opened.’”

Mr. Rubenstein wasn’t satisfied with that, and on Feb. 9, he filed court papers to initiate eviction proceedings against Del Posto.

“I’ve never been in a battle like this,” Mr. Batali said.

A “celebrity chef gone wild,” the court papers filed by Somerset Partners call Mr. Batali, whose unflattering attributes allegedly include “buccaneering conduct” and “swashbuckling disregard” for other tenants.

“We weren’t malicious or swashbuckling or buccaneering,” said Mr. Batali, dismissing “all that pirate stuff.

“In the end, we have a 25-year lease. We’re going to be their tenants for a long time.”

In the neighborhood’s recent boom, Mr. Batali understands that his $140,000-a-month lease is a bargain.

“It’s undervalued, which is why they’re so focused on it right now,” said Mr. Batali. “When we signed that lease three years ago, there were crack junkies and very little else on that block. That’s why we got a deal. People didn’t think it was such a great neighborhood. Now, it’s all of a sudden looking really shiny.”

In the papers, Somerset Partners allege that there is illegal duct work; the use of a sidewalk vault space to store the restaurant’s HVAC and various equipment without a permit; the distribution of fliers on the sidewalk for the restaurant’s $29 valet parking, also without permission; and the placement of exterior light fixtures in such a way as to obstruct security cameras.

“The previous landlord had granted us that stuff verbally, but never really wrote it down,” said Mr. Batali. “I’m sure this is just a minor and temporary thing. Whatever Irwin [Cohen] told them is exactly what he told us, and they’ll figure it out.”

Mr. Batali’s optimism has its bases. There is indeed a Yellowstone injunction staying the eviction proceedings. What’s more, extensive video footage of the construction of the space—a major focus of the Food Network special—shows his previous landlord touring the construction site and conferring with Mr. Batali, his partners Lidia and Joseph Bastianich, and his architect on modifications to the space. Mr. Bastianich thinks this footage will show that a verbal agreement was in place with Mr. Batali’s old landlord to make the modifications to the space.

“We have an incredible amount of footage of the prior owners walking through the space, directing things to be done,” said Mr. Bastianich. “They effectively did the project with us.”

Although Mr. Cohen declined several calls for comment from The Observer, he may eventually have to tell it to a judge.

“We’re going to subpoena him,” said Mr. Bastianich.

Mr. Rubenstein isn’t so sure that Mr. Cohen’s testimony—or the footage from the documentary—will make a difference.

“When we bought the building, they signed an estoppel certificate saying that there are no oral agreements and that the lease is in effect,” said Mr. Rubenstein. Mr. Bastianich admits to signing an estoppel agreement, but claims there is a revised one with his comments on it that should be used.

Mr. Batali accepts that an agreement was signed, but he also brushes off the incident by saying that “somehow my partner Joe’s signature got on a piece of paper that maybe he hadn’t looked at.”

IN MARIO: FULL BOIL, THERE IS MUCH FOOTAGE of Mr. Batali in his signature orange clogs, hopping onto his Vespa and driving to his several restaurants, book signings, kitchen-product roll-outs, food tastings and meetings with investors.

That’s when he’s not filming one of his three television shows.

But much of the film documents the construction of Del Posto in the bottom of an old factory in a once-gritty corner of West Chelsea. Through much of this portion of the film, Mr. Cohen and his partners are seen riding along with Mr. Batali as the construction progresses. In the documentary, several calamities arise and are overcome—at one point, the Hudson River flows inside and holds up work on the foundation, potentially jeopardizing the whole building—but none of them arise from disputes with Mr. Cohen.

“We have documented footage of Irwin [Cohen] walking through—not these Somerset guys,” said Mr. Batali. “Everyone is walking through, and everyone knows what is going on. It’s not like there’s some Pink Panther music and I’m sneaking through the night, stealing some ductwork space. It’s pretty straightforward.”

So it is to Mr. Rubenstein as well.

“This is like the tail wagging the dog,” said Mr. Rubenstein as he stood outside his 11-story building.

Construction was already underway in the space next-door to Del Posto, originally sought by another celeb-de-cuisine, Tom Colicchio, for one of his ’wichcraft chain of restaurants. (He is now holding off on plans to build the high-end sandwich shop in the retail space next to Del Posto, according to reports in the New York Post, until the two sides reach a settlement. However, Mr. Colicchio’s much-hyped Craftsteak is still scheduled to open in the building by May.)

The would-be Colicchio space, Mr. Rubenstein alleges, is just one of the neighboring spaces suffering from Mr. Batali’s lease infringements—and not by any means even the most important.

“On the other side of this wall is Del Posto,” said Mr. Rubenstein, standing inside the retail space next-door. “This boxed-in duct is their duct that houses their air conditioning or heat. The reason they put it here was they didn’t want to put it on the other side of the wall. They realized if they had to run their duct—it’s a big duct—they would lose their mezzanine. At some point in time, they decided to do it here.”

“It’s as if someone rents an apartment on the seventh floor and decides they want to put their kitchen on the eighth floor,” he said later.

“This is a major building with major tenants,” continued Mr. Rubenstein. “As long as we’re the owners, they’re going to abide by their lease.”

Indeed, there are some major tenants, including Moët Hennessey U.S.A., College Sports Television, Level 3 Communications, the New York State Police, various mysterious federal-government agencies which occupy the top four floors, and Lehman Brothers.

It was to cater to Lehman that Somerset invited its most recent confrontation with Mr. Batali and his partners.

In order to clean out concrete dust in the electrical room, the building’s power was shut down on a recent Saturday night—obviously, the busiest for any restaurant.

Mr. Rubenstein claims that Del Posto was given advance notice in case they wanted to bring in back-up generators.

“The reason it was done on a Saturday was because Lehman Brothers requested it,” said Mr. Rubenstein. “It was better for them to arrange for their backup generation, and to have all of their consultants here to make sure they didn’t wipe out all their data. It was Del Posto’s cause, and it was done for the convenience of the 590,000 square feet in the building.”

“They had to upgrade the electrical thing,” said Mr. Batali. Although upset with the decision to do it on a Saturday, Mr. Batali also accepts that Somerset Partners own the building and have a right to make changes. “They had to do what they had to do.”

As the recriminatory back-and-forth continues, the March 9 court date, which could decide the fate of Mr. Batali’s new restaurant, is starting to seem inevitable.

Indeed, while it would seem to make sense to patch things up amicably without prolonged litigation, the two sides have not come together to play nicely.

Certainly, the two sides haven’t met around a table at Del Posto to sort things out over a nice bottle of Costamagna Dolcetto.

In fact, Mr. Rubenstein has never eaten there, though he has eaten at Babbo and Lupa, both before and after becoming Mr. Batali’s landlord.

Mr. Bastianich claims that Mr. Rubenstein, and his partners, were treated well at various restaurants, with “three months of getting them reservations at Babbo, buying free deserts [and] free wine.”

“We have all documentation on this—reservation requests here, there, for their parties,” said Mr. Bastianich. “I was like their concierge. Then came the requests for unlimited access to all the restaurants—not just Del Posto, but an across-the-board 40 percent discount.”

“We’ve heard different variations of that before,” said Warren Estis, a lawyer for Somerset Partners. “Basically, there’s no truth to it. [Mr. Rubenstein] never asked, but even at a 40 percent discount he’d be overpaying.

“It’s totally ludicrous to think that all this stems from [the fact that] he didn’t get a discount,” Mr. Estis continued. “Meanwhile, they’re violating the lease right and left.”

“After a $12 million investment [and] three years of my life, I have a 25-year lease,” said Mr. Bastianich. “This is the restaurant that I was supposed to ride into the sunset on. I’m not going anywhere.”

IF MR. BATALI AND HIS PARTNERS WERE naïve to let so much of their understanding with their previous landlord go undocumented, Somerset Partners also seems to be operating one star above their previous operations.

Managing relationships with their tenants, even when their needs conflict, is a big part of being a commercial property owner in Manhattan. And that’s something that’s pretty new to Somerset Partners.

The Nabisco building purchase—which, adding up the historical significance, extensive technological improvements and, most importantly, the sought-after location (which includes rezoning for luxury residential units, trendy meatpacking-district clubs, other celebrity-chef-run restaurants, and adjacency to the soon-to-be-glammed-up High Line)—was astute, to be sure; it is also their first-ever purchase in Manhattan.

Last July, when Somerset Partners completed the all-cash purchase of the building, the company’s real-estate portfolio was composed of a few thousand apartments, scattered far from Gotham, in smaller cities like Atlanta, Little Rock, Ark., and Wichita, Kan. Subsequently, they made one more big Northeast purchase, acquiring a commercial building on K Street in Washington, D.C.

With Somerset Partners and Del Posto having an office in the same building, one might assume that the feuding sides could get together outside the courtroom. Apparently, one meeting was cancelled, and a second was either cancelled or never confirmed. It depends on whom you ask.

“We had a meeting set up in which the lawyers and the clients would be present,” said Mr. Estis. “It was a 2 o’clock meeting. At approximately 10 after 2, we get a phone call from the attorneys, when we’re all here—Keith changed his vacation plans [and] I rearranged court appearances—to tell us they are not showing up.

“To say the least, we were all furious,” Mr. Estis added. “It’s a continuing arrogance on their part. I don’t even think [Mr. Batali] knows what’s going on. He’s so busy running from one TV studio to the other.”

According to Mr. Estis, they never called to reschedule, but Mr. Batali claims that they did, for March 3.

“We had set up a meeting with one of our investors, Henry Kravis, and the main guys at Somerset, Keith [Rubenstein] and his partner,” said Mr. Batali. “They just cancelled it. They said they wanted us to send them a game plan of what we wanted to achieve in that meeting.”

The clock is running out on them: If the two sides reach the court date and Mr. Batali loses, the restaurant will have to be shut down for major renovations, none of which is likely to add to the place’s design. The reopening will be as tough as the opening.

But then, three stars, at least, from Mr. Bruni will already be lining their pockets.

Maybe a redesign would give them another stab at a fourth?

“We’re ecstatic,” said Mr. Bastianich. “We’re going to spend another year working to try and get four. It’s an opportunity and a responsibility.”

While we waited for our dinner, the staff scurried around a nearby table, where a food writer had been recognized. As plates went back and forth next-door, we waited. And waited. Forty minutes went by between the time we ordered our first courses and the time they arrived.

Not that the staff wasn't friendly. They couldn't have been nicer, and that night they even did something about the lighting: They turned it down.

Lighting can work magic, as anyone who has ever been to La Grenouille can testify. At Bistro du Vent, whoever decided to install bright pinpoints in the ceiling that beam down mercilessly onto bald spots and thinning hair, casting deep, unhappy furrows on the faces of the people underneath, must be a sadist.

The restaurant, named after a windy stretch of 42nd Street between Ninth and 10th avenues- du vent in French means "of wind"-looks as though it was done on the cheap and in a hurry, as if its designers lost interest halfway through, installing some red leather banquettes with high padded backs, slapping some cream paint on the walls, hanging a few wine racks, and placing 25 bare wooden tables set with votive candles around the L-shaped room (not an easy space). Overall, the dining room is as characterless as a hotel-chain.

Bistro du Vent is on the other side of the block from Esca, which is a great seafood restaurant, also owned by Messrs. Pasternack, Batali and Bastianich (the latter two opened Casa Mono just over a year ago and this year plan to add a new Italian restaurant, Del Posto, to their empire). If you put a door in the back wall of the bistro, you could probably walk right into Esca's kitchen, which would be convenient for Mr. Pasternack, since he's dividing his time between the two restaurants.

Before Esca, he worked at Picholine, but his French cuisine here is simpler-traditional bistro food, with classic dishes such as onion soup, oysters, charcuterie, steak frites, rotisserie meat and poultry. The menu is inexpensive, too, with most main courses $20 or less, and it will certainly appeal to people wanting to drop in for a casual meal before or after the theater.

The excellent wine list is long and varied. It's also exclusively French, including many interesting and unusual wines under $40. The sommelier is extremely helpful at giving good recommendations-in our case, on the cheaper wines.

Mr. Pasternack gives familiar bistro dishes a new twist. A delicate prosciutto is made not from ham but from lamb, served with cranberry confiture (Mr. Batali's father's recipe). Warm house-smoked sturgeon comes with blood orange, fennel and watercress. Braised leeks are topped, curiously, with salmon caviar (house-cured) and crème fraîche. The eggs have a pleasantly gentle, salty pop when you bite down, but I'm not convinced they do much for the leeks.

Much of the food I tasted at Bistro du Vent was, alas, surprisingly mediocre. I was hard-pressed to find much evidence of artichokes in the "salade tiede." A special salad of haricots verts and wax beans with fromage blanc was bland. But the frisée salad with lardons, on the other hand, was first-rate, in a mustardy dressing. It came topped with a perfectly poached farm-raised egg with a deep, orange yolk that oozed satisfactorily over the salad when you put in your fork. Another good salad was made with chopped greens on diced red and yellow beets tossed in a pleasant, vinegary gribiche dressing and shaped in a round mold.

The kitchen hasn't yet mastered the rotisserie that turns out many of the main dishes. I ordered "classic" duck, and the hostess explained that it would come out well-done, which was fine. Magret rare is one thing; Long Island duck rare is another. But I hadn't expected it to arrive with a pitch-black skin (the sugars in the glaze had burned) that sat like a damp raincoat over mushy, seriously overcooked duck. You'd think someone in the kitchen would have noticed. The rotisserie pork-which was, as my companion put it, "beautifully romanced" with cloves-was a better choice, but a little dry, and it came with burned endive.

The lamb shank seasoned with Moroccan spices was dry, too, as was the rotisserie chicken, redolent of black truffles, which had crisp, well-seasoned golden skin. The daube de boeuf came in a lovely, rich Provençal sauce made with olives and orange and topped with fried onions. Another Provençal dish, bourride, was made with several kinds of fish simmered in a mild-mannered sauce made with pounded almond aioli, fennel and dill. The garlic was barely discernible.

Desserts were terrific, however, ending the meal on a high note. My favorites were the tarte au citron with whipped crème fraîche, and the pot de crème that was served with a slice of nut-covered praline. Spit-roasted pineapple was paired with a pink peppercorn ice cream, and prune almond cake, topped with crumbled blue cheese, with sautéed apples. The profiteroles-filled with praline ice cream-dripped with bittersweet chocolate, and the tarte tatin had a wonderfully soft, powdery crust and was served warm with crème anglaise.

When Bistro du Vent opened just two months ago, the kitchen probably felt as though it had been hit by a windstorm, given the number of customers that piled into the restaurant from the start. A chef as talented as Mr. Pasternack will surely get the kitchen under control before long. As far as the lighting is concerned, it could be fixed in an afternoon: Just go across the street and take a look at Chez Josephine.

Batali Slings Pizza, 5th Ave.–Style

If you come for dinner at Otto, Mario Batali's new pizzeria and wine bar in Greenwich Village, expect to wait at least an hour for your table, maybe even two. Two hours for a pizza? Only a superstar chef on the top rung of superstardom, with his own TV show, best-selling cookbook and recipes in the Dining In/Out section (and who is co-owner, with Joseph Bastianich, of Babbo, Lupa and Esca), would dare.

When you walk into Otto, a hostess hands you a card with the name of an Italian town, such as Salerno or Rimini, printed on it. The name will eventually be chalked up on a blackboard by the desk when your table is ready. "Have a drink while you're waiting," the hostess said, motioning to the front room, which is given over to a long bar dominated by a clock that had stopped (perhaps happily so, taking patrons' minds off the minutes or hours ticking by as they wait to be seated).

Marble counters, like the ones you see in Italian railway stations, are placed about the room, which at night is as jammed as a rush-hour platform when the train is late. But instead of cursing the transport system, the crowd here is whiling away the time over pitchers of wine and plates of antipasti. They look hip and interesting, like the sort of people who used to come to 1 Fifth Avenue in its heyday (can that have been 25 years ago?), and the energy is high. One evening, an Eminem clone in a wool hat was sitting at a counter sharing a crock of eggplant caponata with a friend who was dressed the same. Maybe it was Eminem. Nearby, a Japanese woman with waist-length hair was wearing only a strapless white cotton tunic and jeans. On this freezing night, her bare shoulders looked out of place next to those of her date, who had kept on his overcoat. The bar at Otto is a scene, destined to become the neighborhood's new singles hangout. It's probably a great place to pick someone up-if you can make yourself heard above the din. I've read that noisy restaurants make people drink more. Otto must be selling a great deal of wine. And why not? The wine list is excellent. Messrs. Batali and Bastianich have put together a selection of close to 500 regional Italian wines. Interesting choices are also offered by the "quartino," pitchers equal to about a third of a bottle, and many bottles are priced between $20 and $50.

Otto is a casual restaurant, and the décor of the dining room, which seats 150, is minimal. The room has a low ceiling and black marble floors. The walls, which are painted brick-red, are lined with racks of wine. It's like the Spartan dining room of a modern hotel. During the day, sunlight pours through the windows (alas, making the room oppressively hot). If you arrive early for lunch, you don't have to wait for a table, and it's more of a family restaurant on weekends during the day.

Sir Michael Caine, who used to be a restaurateur on the side, once said that if you started customers off with good bread and gave them good coffee to finish, they'd forget what they'd had in between. At Otto, (apart from the bread and the coffee, which are fine), you start off with great vegetables and finish with great gelato. The pizza that comes in the middle is incidental. This is a surprise; after all, Mr. Batali got his start slinging pizza.

But first, the antipasti. The bru-schetta changes daily. Toppings include garlicky white beans seasoned with balsamic vinegar, or a spread of eggplant with chili and mint. On Saturday, the special is "lilies" (named after one of the owner's children, not the flower), a pungent mix of stewed leeks, onions and garlic. Lardo-cured salt-pork fatback-comes as a topping on bruschetta and pizza. You can feel the cholesterol coursing through your veins as you eat it. I'm not sure I want a whole pizza with this smoky white bacon, but it's great as a bruschetta. The pickled vegetables, which are served in ceramic ramekins, are also exceptional: sweet-and-sour eggplant caponata with olives and artichokes tossed in olive oil with whole almonds in their skins, caramelized salsify with "saba" (wine must), and cauliflower alla Siciliana.

Salads include beets with goat cheese, red onion slivers tossed with romaine lettuce, and a lovely winter mix of celery root cut into matchsticks and served with red and white grapefruit and celery leaves-a signature Batali touch. In addition to platters of the sort of first-rate salumeria that made Lupa and Babbo famous, you can order crocks of marinated seafood such as swordfish poached in olive oil, octopus in tomato sauce, scungilli or mussels. The panelle-squares of fried mashed chickpeas-are also very good. On Fridays, you can get my favorite: fried whitebait with fried sage and parsley.

And now to the pizzas: They're the size of a large plate and cooked on the griddle. There are 20 to choose from, including a special of the day, and the list is divided between trendy and conservative. Conservative folk (and children) can stick to pizza margherita, pepperoni or even pizza topped with nothing but olive oil and sea salt. On the more ambitious side, there's a choice of fennel and bottarga (gray mullet roe), clams with chilis and garlic, or chard with goat cheese. One day I tried a special of prosciutto with balsamic vinegar and olive oil; another night I had one topped with tiny meatballs. But I found the crusts a disappointment: not quite thin enough, not quite light and crispy enough. Not, in fact, as good as those at Gonzo a few blocks away.

For $4 apiece, you can finish the meal with cheese paired with fruit or a sweet, such as Parmigana Reggiano with saba, pecorino with honey, or gorgonzola dolce with sour cherries. These are nice to have with a glass of wine.

Otto makes its own gelati, and they're the best I've had anywhere-even in Italy. If you've never tasted olive oil gelato (and I bet you haven't), don't miss it: It's a wonderful, rich, smooth concoction sprinkled with crystals of Malden sea salt and served with blood oranges. The creamy risotto gelato topped with bits of praline is also great, as is the ricotta with walnuts and figs. As with the pizzas, you can opt for more conventional flavors, and they're equally good-for example, chocolate with the texture of a creamy mousse, hazelnut and lemon.

Otto is lively, noisy and fun. The fact that people are willing to wait so long for a table is less a comment on the pizza than on Mr. Batali's reputation. Begin your meal with his incredible vegetables and end with the ice cream, and you won't care what came in between.