One word comes to mind when recalling my dinner at Pulino’s, Keith McNally's newest restaurant specializing in wood-fired pizzas by chef Nate Appleman of A-16 in San Francisco. That word would be, well, chaos.

The experience is positively drenched in it, from the moment you enter, behind a haphazard queue of doe-eyed male models, bronzed twenty-somethings in leggings, long skinny tanks, and gladiator sandals, sunglassed throngs of European tourists, and the occasional happy toddler with overtired parents if you are there before 6:30 (Free pizza is given to all kids from 5-6:30pm). Finding the host to check in with is the first problem. Handsome men with impossibly high cheekbones and fantastically smooth skin man the door in plain gray t-shirts, but these are not hosts. These boys are just here for show and to alert you to the fact that there is a host, and that he will be with you shortly or as soon as he returns, whichever comes first. The host, who actually did arrive in good time, is a tall, equally handsome and distinguished man with a graying mane of dreadlocks tied back neatly, who does seem to have some ability to rein in and control the chaos. Impressive. He will eventually seat you. As to where you will be seated, well, that would be in the midst of chaos yet again.

Tables are jammed together like they were trying to make the last lifeboat off the Titanic and the hodgepodge of metal chairs paired with them are cold, hard, and down right mean. They are not made to be lingered in. What’s worse is that the din of noise in the dining room makes sitting outside on the Bowery seem like an oasis of calm. Dining on the 4-train platform during rush hour might be less stressful. Every sentence we uttered that night was punctuated by “What? I can’t hear you. Can you say that again?” A friend was talking about her great deck. All I heard was mention of a great dick. I was confused. Not good. But look around the place and the noise level is really not all surprising. With the signature McNally subway tiles, distressed mirrors, and raw weathered brick on the walls, black and white linoleum tiles on the floors, and tin ceilings above, the place is a recipe for noise on the level of a jet engine. It delivers, and then some.

Chaos is not only in the air at Pulino’s; it’s on the plate, too. Food is practically tossed out of the open kitchen with the force of a javelin. Our first course included two salads and some crispy pork belly. The first salad ($12) was composed of lola rossa greens, roasted beets (mushy), green olives (bland and hard), hazelnuts (fine), and feta (invisible), with a dressing of such high acidity it threatened to burn a hole through my stomach. A second salad, one titled “snap pea and hen of the woods mushrooms” ($13) arrived missing the snap peas. When we alerted a server by flagging him down (there is little in the way of follow up service once plates are ceremoniously dropped by runners), he apologized and said the kitchen must have forgotten to put them on the salad. These were not croutons. This was an essential element of the salad. They forgot? Appleman is manning the pass at the open kitchen where chefs drink espressos and chat. Presumably, he inspects the food as it is served. Presumably. Those snap peas are sort of a big thing to miss. But to the server’s credit, he re-fired the dish and brought us a fresh salad, this one with the snap peas. Honestly, though, they could have kept it. Flavors were muddy and dull, and the vegetables were overcooked. Gong. Crispy pork belly ($8) was equally disappointing, so crispy that it turned to a sort of pig toffee, which stuck to my teeth and had me wondering if my dentist would have to remove it with some sort of sharp metal instrument. It was dreadful.

In addition to salads and starters the menu includes a list of entrees from the oven like a steak with roasted potatoes and rosemary with anchovy butter (M/P) and goat meatballs with honey, black pepper and almonds ($25). We had the Bowery Sausage, a long, thin coiled link served in a cast-iron pan with picked cauliflower, fennel and smoked olives ($19). It’s a fine sausage, if a bit overcooked, but seems to be missing some other element with it, some potatoes perhaps? A wedge of crusty bread?  An egg? Both?

But the place is supposed to be about pizza, so I waited and prayed the pies would fare better than the salads and appetizers. There are a dozen handmade pies to choose from, ranging in price from $13 for the Bianca (a white pie with black pepper and pork) to the Polpettine ($19) with beef meatballs, tomato, pickled chiles, mozzarella and basil. We ordered the Funghi ($19) and the prosciutto and arugula ($18). After eating at Motorino earlier in the week (the best pies in the city in my humble opinion), I must say, these pizzas are disappointments. It might be like having a romantic night with George Clooney followed by one with Aziz Ansari.
To be sure, the pies are fine. But are they great? No. The crusts are lifeless and are too thin for the toppings, and the toppings don’t really make all that much of an impression, at least not in our case. I did think the sauce was very nicely seasoned. But the pies are a bit overcooked, so instead of getting a pie topped with puddles of melting, stretching cheese, you get a pie topped with chewy cheese. It’s all very average. Attention must be paid.

Desserts are not worth the calories or the extra 10 minutes that it will keep you in that chamber of deafening noise. The hazelnut torte has somehow been turned into carrot cake. How does that happen? It’s all just a mess.  

As you can probably tell, I was very disappointed in my experience at Pulino’s. I have never met a Keith McNally restaurant I didn’t like. It seems to me that he suffers when he strays from his core team of chefs, Riad Nasr and Lee Hanson. While I liked Morandi, which was opened by Jodi Williams, most critics took him to school for the food. And here at Pulino’s, he has again hired a chef from the outside and in my estimation is also struggling. The service he is known for in his other restaurants is strained in this chaotic environment. While they do their best, in particular the barmen who seem to have eyes in the back, front and sides of their head and make excellent cocktails (for $12 each, they should), the pace of the service erodes any sort of dining experience.

Even at places like Balthazar and Schiller’s, which are still quite busy, there is a better sense of control and a better product on the plate. Step into Minetta Tavern and you get great service and terrific food as well. It’s a model he has nurtured over the years. McNally is a perfectionist, and a seasoned restaurateur with more skill and know-how in his left pinky than 85% of the folks operating restaurants in NYC. I respect him and that’s why I’d be surprised if he didn’t think he had work to do on Pulino’s. I hope he spends some time there working with the staff and tweaking the recipes in the kitchen. The place needs him. For now, it's chaos.

Pulino’s is located at 282 Bowery, corner of Houston, 212-226-1966.

Andrea Strong