A bird of a different feather, the Finch is shiny, pretty, and noisy (no loud music, but hard surfaces don’t absorb the increasingly shrill chatter as the room fills). And don’t expect any casual, inexpensive meals here—the Finch is a date-night, expense-account kind of place. We really liked our starter, a blue crab dip with smoked-trout caviar, house pickles, and crispy Yukon potato “waffles.” French onion soup with melted Swiss and Havarti was a winner, but it arrived just as the main courses did; service on our visit was more eager than experienced. Crispy striped bass with Parmesan risotto and asparagus was good, if not memorable. A dry-aged pork porterhouse arrived sliced, tender, and nicely seasoned, as did the New York strip for steak frites. Ricotta tortellini with spicy tomato vodka sauce was good, but the added Italian sausage lacked oomph. Everyone liked the rum cake with ice cream and mixed berries for dessert.