The wily but well-heeled 14th-century poet Francesco Petrarca would feel right at home among his namesake wine bar’s mix of Italian cognoscenti and le tout Tribeca. Unlike the altruistic bard, the immaculate space (formerly the Baby Doll Lounge strip club) clearly has benefactors: Namely sibling restaurant Arqua and the Tribeca Grand Hotel, whose moneyed guests pop in and out of the would-be hotspot for hearty Musella Valpolicella Superiorre 2000 nightcaps, Pecorino cheese plates and piatto rusticos— charcuteries of proscuitto, salami and culatello. Fresh-cut tulips and R. Croft stemware lay atop deep-burgundy marble-inlay tables while hurricane globes flicker in nearby alcoves. Though the international if somewhat Italo-centric wine selection lends sophistication to the otherwise stark atmosphere, the WB-inspired soundtrack is lost on the quasi-conservative crowd, proving that poetry doesn’t come easy to everyone in the restaurant game.

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