This local tavern is like a crossroads of Korean soul and Western comfort. The deviled eggs arrive nestled in an escargot vessel, stained in a nanban marinade of soy and mirin, holding a creamy heart of Kewpie mayo yolk that balances a rich, savory tang. It's a bite that finds its crescendo in the garnish: a scatter of scallions, fried onions and shards of chicken skin, fried to a fragrant, shattering crisp for a burst of umami. The beef tartare brings out a rustic feel by far, coarsely chopped and dressed in a bold, salivating cloak of soy and sesame oil. It leans into a salt-forward profile, softened by dollops of perilla mayo and egg yolk gel that provide a refreshing, citrusy yang and creamy depth. A topping of micro-shoestring potatoes adds a delicate crunch and nuttiness, while roasted seaweed provides a fragrant vessel for every scoop.
Then, there's a magnetic pull to the rigatoni, each piece of pasta cooked to a bounce that lingers just past al dente, is enrobed in a sauce that feels both classic and inventive. The familiar tang of cream and vodka is deepened by the fermented, piquant heat of gochujang, finished with a generous snowfall of Pecorino that anchors the dish in a salty, addictive umami. The katsu parm promised greatness with its grand presentation. Thin and overcooked, its exterior breadcrumb crunch tipping into acrid bitterness, its center dry. The accompanying sauce tried to fill in the void with a powerful sweetness and acidity. Despite this, the sweet griddled cornbread truly captures the tavern's heart. The bread is soft and moist, hiding kernels of sweet corn within a deeply browned, caramelized exterior that carries a mesmerizing Maillard aroma. Topped with a melting scoop of vanilla ice cream and drizzled with floral honey and sweet caramel, it is a warm, golden finale that plays with temperature and sweetness in equal measure. read more