If you’re one of those sad, obsessive souls who spend their evenings wandering the city from one hot new restaurant to the next, the Great Bust of the late aughts was, in certain respects, a golden time. Prices were down all over town, formerly imperious waiters turned suitably groveling, and if you wanted a decent table at an exclusive restaurant, you were usually in luck. But there have been signs recently that this halcyon era is coming to an end. Downtown demigods like David Chang and April Bloomfield are opening ambitious new ventures farther uptown (Má Pêche, in the Chambers Hotel, and the Breslin, at the Ace), and for the first time in years, Danny Meyer is rolling out an ambitious upscale restaurant (Maialino, in the Gramercy Park Hotel) instead of a burger joint. And when I called to book a table at Le Caprice, the new high-end bistro at the Pierre, the uninterested voice on the other end of the line informed me that their tables were booked for the week. “What about next week?” I asked plaintively. “I’m sorry, sir,” said the voice. “That’s full up, too.”
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