A warning: don't come here…read more
If you come here, your expectations for any future plate of expertly and carefully prepared crudo will be extinguished forever in the aftermath--the afterlife--of a crudo so delicate, so beautifully presented that few plates could compare. There was life before this crudo plate, and there is life afterward.
Burrata? You haven't *tasted* burrata. A plump burrata seeming to bloom amongst hefty slices of speck resting on a bed of some of the sweetest peaches I've ever eaten, grains of oil-kissed mustard seed divinely adorning its crown. I'm light-headed writing this. My queendom for burrata of this caliber.
Now, the service. Exquisite, warm, intelligent.
Lindsey (Lindsay? Please tell me how to spell thy name!) was incredible. From the moment we walked in, to the moment we left, we felt genuinely welcomed and cared for throughout our dining experience. I was merely passing through on my way back home to Claremont from Monterey (on a research trip; you didn't ask, dear reader, but this context is essential as research takes its toll on one's nervous system and sometimes only a glass of wine and delightful aperitivos will do to calm thyself) and decided to stop here on a whim.
Don't come here, lest you find some excuse to drive 2.5 hours out of your way from the Inland Empire to Santa Barbara to taste not only these delights again, but to feel welcomed so wholesomely into a space where it is clear (from service to food prep) that the art of the aperitivo is not lost, not shallowly puppeteered for an unknowing diner, but ALIVE, and vibrantly so. Thank you to everyone there for one of the best dining experiences of my life. I will be back.
Don't come. Turn away. Do not embrace the internal shifting of one's sense of self. Like Stephen King warns his Constant Reader at the end of The Dark Tower:
"Should you go on, you will surely be disappointed, perhaps even heartbroken...Endings are heartless. Ending is just another word for goodbye. Would you still? Very well, then, come. (Do you hear me sigh?) Here is the Dark Tower, at the end of End-World. See it, I beg. See it very well. Here is the Dark Tower at sunset."
Here, at Aperitivo, is a materialized sunset that you can taste in every bite. Like many, I read beyond Stephen King's warning to see the truth of what lay at the culmination of his most famous series. I want the truth, however painful it may be. If you are strong enough to embrace a shift in what a truly special dining experience *can* be, then come, at your own peril.
Oh, and they have txakoli. Long days and pleasant nights, dear reader.
