Dear Friends and Family,      
   
    There are telltale signs a restaurant is in extremis. HRI Consulting Group should know. It keeps track of restaurant openings, past due accounts, collection action and closings. Recently its weekly Observer Report listed "10 Signs a Restaurant Is Dying," Letterman style.  

  10. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday reservations are cancelled to save staff costs because traffic is scant.

    9. The goose egg from the Times. "A zero star can be a real curse." Xiao Ye and Choptank closed, claiming other reasons. Also Gus&Gabriel's, Kobe Club and Ago.  

    8. There's a sudden concept switch. "Consider high-concept Permanent Brunch morphed into a steak-frites joint, then closed just a month after slapping a drawing of a cow on the window."

    7. Restaurant turns into a Nightclub/Lounge. "For some, like Mercato 55, it's a quick trip from restaurant to club-land to closed."

    6. Mysteriously long vacations. "Last summer Alegretti, Anthos, Cru and the Village Tart all went on holiday and never returned."

    5. The restaurant space is on the market. Brokers are shopping the space. "At Scuderia, Allen & Delancy and The Eldridge the marketing went on for several months."

    4. The restaurant gets Sexed Up. If a serious restaurant (not a club or bar) introduces "the Japanese art of erotic rope bondage," it's got one foot in the grave.

    3. Insane deals. "The bigger the discount, the more desperate the restaurant is to get butts in the seats." Other warning signs: insane all-you-can-eat specials.

    2. A consulting chef is brought on. "Sometimes when a place is tanking, management brings on a big name consultant. It's almost always a sign of impending doom."

    1. A cheaper restaurant opens within an expensive restaurant: "In theory, serving a down-scale menu in your fine-dining restaurant is a great way to attract customers who want to try your place. It's a move that failed at Craftsteak, Anthos, Country and even Tabla."  

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24 Hour Coppelia  

   Just couldn't wait to try chef Julian Medina's new round-the-clock diner Coppelia, named not for the ballet, but a popular Havana bar. If I hadn't been strolling down Fourteenth Street looking for #207, I would have been drawn by the sunshine cheery yellow exterior anyway. Oops! Seems we've arrived on the first day. That explains the deserted counter, empty tables and so many available leather booths. We start studying the placemat menu with its breakfast any hour of the day and extensive Latino offerings. I want everything. So does my friend Fred.

   We start with guacamole and macaroni and chicharron to sustain us while wrestling with innate gluttony so we an order with reason. A classic guac, it comes with sweet potato, cassava and yucca chips and crisp triangles of corn tortilla. The salty macaroni cries out for more pasta and less cheese and doesn't really need the pork belly and crisps of skin, well, maybe pork, definitely not skin. But chicharron is a theme of this winning spot. Chocolate-covered chicharrones come on the house sundae with cajeta - Mexican butterscotch - designed by the sweets consultant here, Pichet Ong, whose fabulous desserts are still a hit at Spice Market.

    By nine the place has filled and the kitchen slowed. Clearly Coppelia is still easing kinks. Some of the servers seem almost drunk on how wonderful it is to be there. That makes me giggle. Both Tuesday's special enchiladas suizas and the flaky arepa with roast chicken, avocado and chipotle salsa impress. This feels like a hit about to explode. 204 West 14th Street between 7th and 8th Avenues.    

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    I have a love-hate relationship with Café Fiorello. It's my neighborhood easy drop-in before or after a movie. It used to be a once-a-week affair a dozen years ago when the Road Food Warrior and I would split an antipasto plate - seven items for $11.95 - and divide a $25 steak with fried onions and a salad on the side.

    Now this well-preserved standby - old fashioned, a bit too bright - across from Lincoln Center has become rather, sort of, how shall I put it? Okay, here goes. Expensive! Six antipasti are $26, entrées $28 to $50. Clearly it doesn't matter if I feel priced out from time to time when I scan the right side of the menu before consulting the left side. Fiorello is almost always bustling at any hour -- before theater, after, in between. Lunch goes on all day. Certainly they don't need us.

    The truth is, the two of us have been eating at Fiorello recently for less than $80 dollars. That's with a mini-carafe of Nero d'Avola and a non-alcoholic beer, tip included. One February night we got out the door for $58: a burger, the fine, rustic ribollita and red clam spaghetti. With the bread basket crisps and the antipasto freebie from the manager who knows us and two or three chunks of chocolate from the covered cake dish at the door, it seemed the perfect supper. Fiorello is full of delicious surprise. Click here to discover them with me.   

              
Fork Play copyright Gael Greene 2011.