Lukewarm On The Tongue

Before it got sealed a year ago, Olive was the kind of restaurant you would take the NRI uncle to. The food was so-so, the service tardy, but the ambience made up somewhat. Now that Olive is back, it’s time to see what’s changed—and what hasn’t. Located within the age-old Hotel Diplomat, the restaurant looks good. Our meal coincides with its launch party, and all seems well—white walls, tinny music, dim lighting and hair kissing (yes, go figure).

Warmed by the buzz, we get down to our meal. For starters, the seared foie gras is nondescript, though the crostini platter is competently done. For the main course, I go against our excellent waiter’s advice to avoid the Duck 4 Ways. I should have listened: the duck leg is scrawny, though the breast is succulent, the accompanying ravioli too crisp (it appears to be fried), and the pudding cloyingly cheesy. The king prawns from the grill come without the promised prosciutto. But both desserts—lemon mascarpone and hazelnut semifreddo—are superb. In sum, Olive scores on service, and has moved from casual to sophisticated chic. If only the food had kept up.