The urge not to share this place was strong, dear readers. Pure self-preservation, really, because I'd love to keep snagging a table without a fight. But that would be wrong, because everyone deserves to know about the new gem on Hope Street. And honestly, I want these kids with a dream to make it.
There are two entrances. The door on the right leads to a classic bar with a handful of tables. Lively , warm, and comfortingly old-school.
The door on the left opens into a charming dining room: white linens, intimate twos and fours, and one larger table in the corner. You know the one. The Sinatra table. That was ours. We were supposed to be five, but one person bowed out at the last minute. His loss, the dummy.
From start to finish, the evening was perfection. The service, the care, the pacing. The cocktails were spot-on (mean martinis, both sweet and savory). The wine list had smart options at every price point. We settled on a friendly Brunello, perfect for a chilly night.
Starters
* Crispy artichokes: two plump, marinated hearts, cloaked in airy, golden batter and set over a creamy sauce, with lightly dressed arugula to brighten the plate.
* Fritti misto: a yummy pile of tempura-light calamari, zucchini and eggplant slices, and pepper rings. We were practically fighting over the last crumbs.
Mains
Portions were generous and everything was beautifully executed.
* Linguine with clams: tender pasta in a deeply flavorful seafood brothy sauce.
* Veal: four perfectly tender, sautéed cutlets with delicately delicious pureed potatoes.
* Alfredo with a choice of chicken: I opted for a crispy cutlet crowned with a buttery mound of ribbons.
* Ribeye: the undisputed star among our the choices, cooked exactly right, served with perfectly roasted potatoes, and impossible not to share bites of.
The background music was on point, the atmosphere warmly welcoming, and no one rushed us. Lingering felt encouraged. We loved every second.
Wishing this family-run spot all the success in the world. We're already planning our next visit... right after I hit "post." Ha read more