Apropos, Acqua concentrates on all things pelagic. This over-lit, vaguely nautical space is routinely filled with tourists, suits and their well-tended assistants, whether lunchtime or happy hour.

The Manhattan-style bar and restaurant is really two large spaces, and today both are packed to the hilt. From the look of the hyper-white-collar crowd waiting at the bar, one would expect Acqua to be brandish a pleb-directed cold-shoulder, but no; this not-quite-hidden-in-the-mall eatery is relatively fun, and laid back. The crowd that fills the room at lunch hour, day after day, seems to feel that way, too.

Like Ahab, this revolving door of a restaurant is obsessed with the wet - lobster cakes, a mean lobster bisque, seafood risotto and crispy whitefish - though Acqua makes a conciliatory nod to land lovers, offering filet mignon with lobster medallions and portabella mushroom sauce.

The Chilean sea bass, lightly crispy, heartbreakingly moist, and topped with herbs, fish sauce, and fresh herbs, may seem pricey, especially without accompaniments, but this straightforward preparation results in the most perfect piece of fish you'll ever eat. Dessert isn't a priority, but wine is. Acqua has an oddly vast array of labels to suit most wine lovers.

There's nothing particularly bad about Acqua, but there's nothing particularly interesting about it either; it just exists, trapped in tourist-restaurant purgatory. It has all the stuff a good restaurant needs - a long shiny bar, classical music, a collection of over 250 vintages, two spacious rooms - but it has no character; maybe that’s the point.