Mike Peed at The New Yorker pens a reliably amusing review of The Standard Grill, where he is not amused: "At the Grill, witticisms proliferate...The Deal Closer, a dessert in the form of a vat of chocolate mousse, presumably refers to a subject more stimulating than real estate. When the waiters, dressed in matching plaid pants and waistcoats, forget to take your drink order, dally with bringing the bread, and generally dematerialize, this is known as a Standardelay... Counterintuitively, the food here isn’t a postscript, though the chef, Dan Silverman, misses as often as he hits."

"Brand-building chefs tend to do less actual cooking as their empires expand, and that’s been the case with [Tom] Colicchio," writes New York's Adam Platt. "But now he’s returned to the kitchen with Colicchio & Sons, a venture that has its roots in the big-box Vegas period (it occupies the cavernous former Craftsteak space on Tenth Avenue) but attempts to recapture the spare, folksy magic of the farm-to-table boom, which he helped create during the Craft period... But like the retro trendy name, those touches don’t muffle the uneasy sense that with this restaurant, Colicchio and his talented cohort of cooks are behind the curve, battling to catch up."

And Time Out's Jay Cheshes is also meh on Choptank, where, "oddest of all, the restaurant’s most theme-appropriate fare is also its most poorly executed. Hard-shell clams in a potent garlic-soaked broth arrive steamed until rubbery. A fillet of pink ocean trout, in an austere entrée, is artfully draped over a bed of bacon-studded French lentils with flaccid skin and overcooked, mealy flesh."