The once culinary-barren triangle of Chelsea-meets the Flower District-meets Herald Square is now ripe with bewitching food venues. Newcomer L’Amico, housed in the Eventi Hotel, is a glamorous stunner from Chef Laurent Tourondel serving modern American fare with Italian touches. A soaring ceiling, an open kitchen and contemporary decor create both a jubilant and sophisticated ambiance. It’s a much-welcomed beauty in this gritty part of town.

Of course, beauty often comes with a price. To dine at L’Amico, one must shell out quite the number of clams. Even for lunch, main entrees are listed in the $20 range and even most of the antipasti dishes are peddled in the double digits. The posh menu certainly caters to the office set of this neighborhood. Drop in for brunch, however, and the costs are easier to swallow. You can still nab some urbane plates like lemon ricotta pancakes for $12 or an “Uova Besciamella,” that’s a prosciutto cotto with homemade focaccacia for $13. Or lovely savory pies like smoked ham and smoked salmon are yours for somewhere in the teens.

The advertising agency I work for is just a few blocks away and yet when I worked onsite I never really clamored to feast at L’Amico. Now that I work remotely and return to Manhattan as a visitor, suddenly the restaurants I felt indifferently toward are now a novelty to me. My mom and I brunched here on a mid-Sunday afternoon, daunted yet enchanted by L’Amico’s tony structure and interior. The place felt very downtown with the presence of lanky models and the chatter heard among all these power brunchers.

We kicked off our brunch with a vivacious salad composed of heirloom tomatoes, lush watermelon and triangles of ricotta salata, all trimmed with palate-popping basil and spicy arugula. Every piece tasted so fresh and vibrant. Just a drizzle of olive oil and sprinkling of salt and pepper lifted up the flavors without sacrificing the native, authentic tastes. At least judging from our brunch experience, L’Amico is surprisingly charitable with its portions. And yet, the quality of our meals remained refined and delectable. My mom’s order of pie emerged as a bubbly, giant frisbee flaunting generous cuts of fennel sausage, scrambled eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella. Anticipating something flat and puny to be plunked down in front of me, I was shocked to be served  rather sizable and robust layers of prosciutto, mortadella and artichoke between slices of rustic bread. A slather of olive spread, sprigs of mint and feathery arugula delicately complemented the hearty meats and artichoke. And the fries! Ooooh la la the fries! Perfectly  svelte spuds speckled with herbs came served with dollops of mayonnaise and roasted red pepper sauce.

One could idly sit at L’Amico for hours, nibbling away and sipping endless cups of coffee in the midst of this sultry atmosphere. It’s hard to fathom that just steps away are the stampedes of tourists, burly men hawking faux designer handbags and dizzying Penn Station bursting at the seams.