Ever since Fleur de Lis closed downtown, I have been searching for a restaurant of equal caliber that makes me need to lie flat in my car with my pants unzipped for at least thirty minutes before I can move again. Last night, I finally found it. The space is exactly as odd and uninviting as everyone has mentioned, but you couldn’t care less where you are once you start eating. My friend and I ordered the calamari and the fried olives to start. We had a funny rapport going with our insanely quirky and lovable waiter, and he brought us out two extra appetizers. Thank god he did or I wouldn’t have been able to taste the best prosciutto with goat cheese that has ever had the privilege of entering my belly: that impenetrable cavern where I am convinced a mouse lives who constantly runs for his life on the wheel that is my metabolism.
I ordered two entrees: unbelievably gluttonous, I know, but don’t ever ask me to choose between lobster risotto and a 4 ounce lamb shank. Both were mind-blowing. Sometimes I marvel that it is illegal to marry an inanimate object, especially one that is so creamy and topped with lobster.
For dessert, we had a honeysuckle gelati and an espresso chocolate with fried doughnuty goodness. My soul was filled with the holy spirit. The waiter also mistakenly brought us out a pine nut cake with unpasteurized vanilla ice cream. Mistake, miracle, whatever you want to call it. It rocked.
During dinner, our waiter informed us that the chef, Bruce Logue, hand makes every single dish. Anything that is imbued with that much love and care, deserves that you try it at least once. Personally, I am a newly converted soon-to-be regular.