In Tent is such a hokey name for a restaurant but the main dining room indeed has a removable tent made of rust-colored silk fabric because zoning regulations do not allow a permanent roof to cover a garden (vacated by Bot Restaurant).
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There were four of us for dinner at InTent, Francois Payard’s new Moroccan and Mediterranean bistro in Nolita. Two prolific book authors, a wine guru and me. I arrived first. The air outside that night was hot, dark, and thick, like sticky molasses simmering on a stove. It was still near 100 degrees at 8:30 and was about to storm. I was wiped out from the heat. I checked in with the hostess, and since I was the first to arrive—and seating an incomplete party is a restaurant’s cardinal sin—the hostess asked me to have a seat at the bar to wait for the rest of my party. I did as she instructed. I sat, but the bar was about two feet too high for the stool, so my chin was about the level of the counter. This was not comfortable. I felt like a small child. But I tried to make it work.
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A couple of weeks ago Wife informed me that we were invited to the opening party for InTent restaurant by a friend of hers that works for their PR firm. I had been looking forward to eating there and reporting my feelings on it for a while, but that visit did not exactly fit the bill. Those parties are fun but they are distractingly social, and although you have the chance to sample food there is too much going on to assess it properly or fairly. At the end of the party I left very well entertained, appreciative, and interested in returning but had learned little more than a couple of things about the place:
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