Closing the Deal With Coconut Shrimp

The Grill is too expensive. Bobby Van's is dead. But the business lunch is thriving at midtown's Tommy Bahama, of all places.

- BY CHRIS CROWLEY

ON A TUESDAY AFTERNOON a week and a half before Christmas, the sharks are swimming at the Marlin Bar. Sharp winds whip down Fifth Avenue, but the scene inside the Tommy Bahama Restaurant on the corner of 45th Street is far more serene, Frank Sinatra playing softly over a low murmur of mergers and acquisitions. By the entrance, just past a beached log and some dangling strings of seashells, a traffic jam of customers tries to sneak in before rushing back to the office. The Morton's steakhouse up the block is half full. Tommy Bahama, as it is nearly every weekday, is slammed.

“I made my reservation last week— I wouldn't leave it up to chance,” one guest says as he waits to check in. He explains that he works in finance but doesn’t want to share any other details because he “can’t talk to the press.” Scanning the room, it isn’t hard to identify other diners’ employers. Company logos are everywhere: an Ernst & Young jacket here, a VARS cybersecurity puffer there, branded Patagonia vests all over the room.