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Bouley's ex-home now Italian with a dash of French. Lemony walls, vaulted ceilings, and plush carpeting that muffles the sting of stilettos. Romantic enough to play footsie under the tablecloths while dreaming of Roma. Prix fixe menu with solidly awesome choices like pignoli-crusted salmon, New Zealand langoustines, and a bad-ass veal chop that'll put hair on your chest just like Tony's.
Named for owner Sergio Acappella, not grating collegiate chorale groups. Tuscan charm runs from mahogany wooden bar to huge painting of Duke Federico da Montefebre of Urbino. Polenta con portobello... read more
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