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The Art of Simplicity Tuscan Style
 By
LINDEN GROSS, Author, Writing Coach, Editor & Publisher
Trattoria Sbandati doesn’t
serve the Italian food you grew up on. This is not the place to go if
you’re looking for dozens of pastas or entrées oozing with sauce. But
if you want a truly authentic taste of Tuscany—from the food to the
dining experience—you won’t want to miss this new Bend hot spot. Owners
Juri and Kinley Sbandati moved to Bend sight unseen from Florence, Italy
five years ago.
At the time, Juri,
who holds a doctorate of history with a focus on the history of food,
didn’t speak a word of English. Even so, Bend quickly became home. They
started Sbandati Personal Chef Services, and word of mouth about Juri’s
culinary talents spread as easily as softened butter. Opening Trattoria
Sbandati was the next logical step for a chef looking to share his culinary
vision. “We wanted to create a real Italian restaurant that focused
on the history of Italian food and how things are done traditionally,”
says Kinley. “We also focus on local produce that’s in season.”
Trattoria Sbandati’s
limited lunch menu, which includes daily fresh pasta as well as meatballs
that Juri’s grandma used to make, is supplemented with three to seven
specials. Dinner, however, is where Trattoria Sbandati sets itself apart
from the competition and really shines. The restaurant offers a single
weekly $50 four-course prix-fixe menu (available online at www.trattoriasbandati.com)
paired with Italian wines. Instead of pouring over a menu and worrying
about what you’re going to order, the evening starts with an offering
from the chef, which on the evening my companion and I dined consisted
of lovely, imported Italian prosciutto and mortadella, accompanied by
housemade Schiaciatta bread brushed with olive oil.
Our official starter,
Sfromato alla Gorgonzola, was my idea of heaven: a silky gorgonzola
flan topped with micro greens served atop a gorgonzola cream sauce.
A three-ounce glass of Vernaccia di San Gimigniano-Fontaleoni, a full-bodied
white wine considered to be one of Tuscany’s oldest and finest, accompanied
the starter.
Though handmade pasta
most often stars as the next course, our meal featured a rustic winter
bread stew pureed with cannellini beans, thyme, kale and other vegetables.
My dining companion loved this traditional Tuscan dish, set off nicely
by a small glass of light yet flavorful red wine. I’m still savoring
(at least mentally) our main dish—succulent pork tenderloin wrapped
in bacon and encrusted in a golden brown baguette. The tender pork contrasted
delightfully with the crunch of the crusty bread surrounding it. And
the intense flavors of ground juniper berries, rosemary and thyme played
off the salt of the bacon and the sweetness of the meat and dots of
port wine reduction.
The big black cherry
fruit in the accompanying half-glass of Barbera wine tied it all together.
A fluffy, tart Italian-style lemon mousse, topped with fresh lemon zest
and served with a slightly sweet sparkling rosé, provided a perfectly
splendid ending to a meal marked as much by the simplicity of its delicious
food as by the family-style warmth of those who cooked and served it.
I can’t wait to go back.
Baltazar's Seafood Extravaganza
 by
LINDEN GROSS, A&E Feature Writer
Amigo! Amiga! Como esta? It’s good to see you,” exclaims Baltazar Chavez,
owner and head chef of the restaurant that bears his name, to patron
after patron. Most are clearly regulars, the rest regulars in the making.
In the three and a half years since Baltazar opened his upscale Mexican
seafood restaurant, he has clearly garnered devoted fans.
The couple eating the
Molcajete Mixto — a grilled seafood platter with prawns, halibut, marlin
and a lobster tail — at a bar-side table comes twice a week. Seafood
fans will understand why. “I grew up in Mazatlan, where I ate tons of
seafood,” says Baltazar. “I still love it.” An appetizer special called
La Concha, which he’ll make upon request, shows off the stars of his
menu. Jumbo prawns, scallops and octopus are sautéed with mushrooms,
al dente red and green bell peppers and Bermuda onions and then topped
with Chihuahua cheese and broiled. Wow!
“These prawns are fresh,
leaping off the plate,” says my dining companion. The scallops are tender
and lovely. Even the octopus, which I don’t usually care for, is killer.
The dish oozes butter, as if Julia Child had learned her craft in Mexico
instead of Paris. On the entrée front, the Plato Mazatlan—creamy enchiladas,
one stuffed with prawns, the next with Dungeness crab and the third
with lobster—is a crowd favorite.
But my father can’t
resist the Camarones al Mojo de Ajo, with its oversized prawns and mushrooms
sautéed in butter, garlic and mild spices. That’s my choice as well,
unless my carnivorous side kicks in. Then the Carne Asada, char-grilled
seasoned skirt steak, lives up to every expectation and then some. Of
course, there’s always the mole, which Baltazar’s mother Irma Chavez
makes for the restaurant. The dishes, which are served with rice and
black beans, may just be the largest in town. “People leave here in
a food coma,” says bartender Tammy Johnson.
My life partner and
frequent dining companion regularly split an entrée if we can agree
on our order, or take home enough for lunch the next day. “We want to
know that you get what you pay for,” says Baltazar. That’s an understatement.
The restaurant also offers fourteen early bird specials from 4:30 to
6pm priced at just $14, as well as lunch when most entrees cost $10
to $11. Baltazar, who cooked with his mom as a child, shows off his
passion for the sea as much with his menu as with his décor.
Loft-like ceilings,
exposed duct work, and chocolate walls showcase an array of large bronze
sculptures of sea creatures and palm trees. But that seafood focus is
about to expand. Baltazar is planning a new menu—along with a new restaurant
in an undisclosed city. All he’ll say about plans for his Bend establishment
is that a streamlined menu will offer less expensive beef, pork, chicken,
vegetable and, yes, seafood dishes that showcase the recent cooking
classes he took in Mexico. “It’ll blow your mind,” he promises. I can’t
wait.
Ariana: A Love
Fest For the Senses and the Palate
 by
LINDEN GROSS, A&E Feature Writer
As young chefs Andres and
Ariana Fernandez fell in love in the kitchen. Perhaps that—along with
their prodigious talents—explains why so many have fallen in love with
the Westside restaurant the couple co-owns with Ariana’s parents. Ariana
Restaurant is so lovely that it’s hard not to be seduced before you
even start eating.
The four owners overhauled
the spot when they purchased it in December 2004, replacing the prior
establishment’s décor with rich burgundy walls, a wide U-shaped bar,
a fireplace, picture windows, and a back patio for dining al fresco
during summer months. Turn down the lights and add in the gentle tones
of Billie Holiday or Bossa Nova, and you’ve got one of the more intimate
restaurants in town. And then there’s the Mediterranean inspired cuisine.
Great chefs don’t just cook.
They prepare a feast
for the senses, playing with flavors, textures, temperatures and making
the food look like art. My dining companion and I would quickly find
out that we were in the hands of such masters. We started with the Seared
Beef Carpaccio. The delicate, wafer thin slices of raw beef tenderloin
that covered the large square plate had been topped with truffle oil,
grated Parmegiano Reggiano, scallions, and thin parallel lines of crème
fraiche laced with horseradish.
The dish smelled as
good as it looked, with the bouquet coming through in layers like a
rich wine. My first bite confirmed just how well I’d chosen. In contrast
to the crunchy bits of scallion and the crispy baquette toast points,
the beef was so tender, it almost dissolved without chewing, while the
truffle oil provided an earthy counterpoint to the bite of the horseradish.
My companion ordered
the beet salad—another winner in which the sweetness of the chilled
organic ruby and golden roasted beets marinated in a roasted shallot
vinaigrette stood out against the peppery flavors of the watercress
and the warm creaminess of the broiled Cypress goat cheese medallion
on top.
Our main courses were
equally outstanding. Though the bacon-wrapped wild king salmon was calling
my name, I succumbed to the lure of the carmelized diver sea scallops
over a risotto of wild prawns, Dungeness crab and calamari. Three crusty
scallops, each larger than a golf ball and still translucent inside,
rested on risotto that is my new definition of five-star comfort food.
“Oh my God,” my companion murmured when I shared a bite. Luckily, he
was too entranced with his herb crusted rack of lamb to want too much
more.
Who could blame him?
Each bite of lamb, depending on whether eaten alone or coupled with
one of the accompaniments, was like venturing off on a whole new taste
journey. A bite with the fire roasted pepper salad sent me to Santa
Fe. Or was it Baja? The next bite with the olive tapenade had me in
Provence. Dessert brought me right back home.
The pumpkin crème brulée
tasted like a cross between rich custard, pumpkin pie and gingerbread.
But the Chocolate Almond Bread Pudding stole my heart. The warm artisan
chocolate custard-soaked bread was topped with so many sliced almonds
that each bite provided gooey crunchiness. Add in the amaretto crème
anglaise, and, in the words of my dining companion, “it’s orgasmic.”
Marz Attack
by LINDEN GROSS
A&E Feature Writer
Marz Bistro is the kind of place that’s easy to overlook if you’re not
in the know. That’s a mistake. Marz may appear—and sound—like a bar,
but its food tells the tale: it’s one of Bend’s top restaurants and
one of the best deals in town. I can still taste the swordfish special
I enjoyed there five months ago—it was twice as thick and tender as
the portion served by a nearby tony restaurant and less expensive. My
most recent trip to Marz was equally gratifying. After tasting my Prickly
Pear margarita made with fresh fruit puree instead of syrup or juice,
I wasn’t surprised to hear a young woman at the bar declare that she
had spent the day thinking about Marz’ pomegranate margarita.
I’m sure it was every
bit as tasty as mine. Before we even contemplated ordering our main
course, my dining companion and I split a napoleon of tender grilled
shrimp, fried wonton and Napa cabbage bean sprout slaw that marries
sweetness with a mild horseradish burn of wasabi soy vinaigrette. Wow!
We decided to pass
on the meaty Asian Baby Back Ribs since we’d just had those at a party
catered by Marz. Instead we snacked on an appetizer special of arepas—finely
ground cornmeal cakes stuffed with jack cheese, pan seared and topped
with tomatillo sauce, applewood smoked bacon, cilantro and queso fresco.
From our perch at the bar, we watched other diners’ entrees leave the
kitchen and made notes of the dishes we’d be returning to sample.
Topping the list: the
Rib Eye topped with the compound butter du jour, the monster-sized pan
seared halibut rubbed in coriander and brown sugar, and the Churrasco
Steak. To be honest, the chicken and waffles dish didn’t tempt me, but
my dining companion sure was intrigued. By the time our Seafood Stir
Fry arrived, I was ready to dive in. Served in a bowl the size of a
pith helmet, scallops, shrimp, salmon, halibut, bok choy and pieces
of pineapple swam in a red curry coconut milk broth spicy enough to
make my nose run. In a town where fish and seafood are routinely overcooked,
these were simply perfect and perfectly delicious.
We rounded out dinner
with a small plate of beef tenderloin and thick cut bacon topped with
gorgonzola—three of my favorite things—served with micro greens, tomato
caper relish and crostini. We didn’t need the extra food, but I’m sure
glad we indulged. Though Marz has been around for ten years, Matt Davis—a
caterer from Philadelphia with zero restaurant experience and an itch
to snowboard and mountain bike—bought it just three years ago.
The restaurant’s longtime
chef, Rich Hall, continues to add new dishes every three months when
he revises the menu, but Marz’ style remains unchanged. “Marz has been
around ten years. We’re a culinary mainstay in downtown Bend,” says
Davis. “The worst thing I could do was try to gum it up.” He sure hasn’t
done that. Whether visiting an old favorite or discovering Marz for
the first time, get ready for a taste treat that’s out of this world.
CHOW Time
by LINDEN GROSS
A&E Feature Writer
Most top restaurants focus their menus around a food philosophy. Chow
focuses its food around a life philosophy. “CHOW is simply about food
and wine,” says chef and owner David Touvell, who started working in a
sustainable organic bakery when he was just nine years old and has since
worked for Mobile 5-star and James Beard award-winning restaurants, and
as a consultant for over thirty more eateries.
“We are a sustainable
business and our approach to food, wine, business, and most importantly,
our community is the same—keep it simple and let true and intense flavors
show simply.”
What does that mean?
Walk through CHOW’s front door, look to your left, and you’ll see a blackboard
listing all the local farms and businesses Touvell buys from. That means
that in addition to supporting our Central Oregon community, his ingredients
are delivered fresh daily. Indeed, that’s what CHOW—and its food—is all
about.
My lunch companion and
I started our meal on the restaurant’s outside deck with a refreshing
sampler of drinks, including Hibiscus soda, Kombucha (a probiotic health
tea from Townshend’s) that they served plain, as well as infused with
pomegranate, and a light and downright quaffable Lime Rickey made with
local gin, key lime juice and soda.
That last one gave me
new fodder for my summer cocktail arsenal. Then the feast hit. I had wanted
to try a variety of CHOW’s offerings, and boy did they accommodate. Since
CHOW serves breakfast and lunch, we started with eggs and one pumpkin,
ginger and fresh blueberry pancake. The pancake was delicious, and I don’t
even like pancakes that much. The eggs were even better, perfectly poached
and served three ways—over crispy herb polenta with spinach and roasted
pepper hollandaise, over a corn cake topped with avocado, roasted jalapeño,
hollandaise sauce and queso fresco, and my hands down favorite, over a
pan-fried tomato rolled in corn meal and topped with sautéed spinach,
bacon and béarnaise sauce.
“Oh my god, that’s good!”
I exclaimed. The delicate micro greens on each dish, which this time included
tender and slightly peppery pea shoots, capped the taste parade. We moved
on to lunch with an appetizer of heirloom tomatoes over melted fresh mozzarella
served on flatbread crostini and drizzled with a balsamic reduction. The
pasta of the day followed—cappelletti tossed with mitake, shitaki and
button cap mushrooms from the farmer’s market, garlic, green onions, queso
fresco, lemon zest and extra virgin olive oil. Yum! It never even crossed
my mind to ask for parmesan, which has to be a first.
We sampled two more
offerings from the lunch menu, along with a virgin Bloody Mary that’s
lighter—and even healthier—than usual due to freshly squeezed carrot,
celery, garlic, jalapeno and tomato juices. The stuffed red pepper with
rice, almonds, feta, raisins and herbs made me feel like we had suddenly
jumped from the middle of Oregon to the Middle East. The combination of
textures and sweet and salty flavors makes the dish a standout. But the
salad with fried queso fresco, pumpkin seeds, grapes dressed in smoked
chili vinaigrette really knocked my socks off.
By then we had eaten
so much fabulous food that I figured one or two refreshing bites of salad
would be plenty. I love salads, but really, just how memorable could one
be. Pretty darn memorable, it turns out. My lunch date and I ate every
last field green (picked fresh every morning). “That’s excellent,” said
my companion, a spicy food aficionado. I agreed wholeheartedly. We ran
out of time—and room—for dessert, so naturally I took one home. The almond
cake topped with sage and orange cream challenged all my assumptions about
sweets. I’m happy to say, I still have a few bites left. I could write
that I’m sorry I can’t share my leftover dessert with you, but I’d be
lying.
Joolz a Gem in
the Fine Art of Supreme Cuisine
by Linden Gross, A&E
Feature Writer
Welcome to Joolz. Walk in the door and you’ll immediately be struck by
the cumin and coriander laced aromas emanating from the kitchen. Close
your eyes and you could fool yourself into thinking that you’ve been transported
halfway around the world to Lebanon. You couldn’t possibly be in Bend
anymore, where diversity is defined as the color of your Subaru.
That feeling is confirmed on my first bite of the Cyprus prawn appetizer
– three perfectly cooked tail-on prawns served in a citrus, saffron and
lightly spiced tomato broth, layered with a hint of smokiness from roasted
peppers and salty creaminess from the feta crumbled on top. The roasted
cauliflower appetizer served with a lemony tahini sauce had my dinner
companion, a lifelong cooked cauliflower hater, reaching for thirds, fourths
and beyond. He also snagged a second helping of the seared Halloumi cheese,
served with sun dried tomato and olive caponata, fried capers and a fig
balsamic reduction.
“You get the sense that this is the real deal,” he said between bites.
“This is authentic.” That proved just the start of Joolz’s jewels. This
welcome addition to the local culinary scene does more than bring high-end
Middle Eastern cuisine to town—it gives it a high desert twist, witness
the elk hummus appetizer, a traditional plate of hummus and pita topped
with delicious pieces of roasted elk.
“I could inhale these starters if I didn’t know that more was coming,”
my companion said. Good thing he held back. More did come, in the shape
of chicken kebabs marinated in sumac, lemon and garlic, and lamb kebabs
marinated in fresh herbs and pomegranate vinaigrette. Both define the
words tender and tasty. The hands down winner of the evening, however,
was a weekly special that deserves a starring nightly role on the menu—braised
leg of lamb atop white bean cassoulet served with minted yogurt sauce
and toasted almonds. The mélange of East and West flavors still has me
guessing … and wondering how soon I can go back for more.
Ditto for scrumptious desserts, which are all made in-house. Joolz’s East-meets-West
theme is carried out in the restaurant’s décor, which reveals both warmth
and a sense of humor. In the welcoming entrance, you’ll find a set of
deer antlers draped with a traditional Arabic scarf and wood carvings
of camels. Move into the restaurant adorned with bright lengths of cloth
and traditional Lebanese hanging lanterns, and you’ll notice on your right
paintings that include a cowboy plate of spaghetti (an ode to the spaghetti
western I’m guessing), a cow and a revolver, which contrast mightily with
the traditional Lebanese artifacts to your left.
The restaurant’s interior reflects the casual friendliness and skilled
background of its owners. Ramsey Hamdan, who taught at Portland’s Western
Culinary Institute for 12 years before fleeing to Bend in search of some
sun, was born and raised in Lebanon until the age of 21. He and his wife
Julie opened the renowned Jackalope Grill in 2001 before selling it three
years ago and started their Barking Squirrel catering company, which they
still operate. The professionalism gained during those years is reflected
in this new restaurant’s service. Our servers made us feel like they had
all the time in the world for us even though the place was packed. By
the time we left, we felt like we had become part of the Joolz family.
“This is thrilling,” my dinner companion said as we ended our gastronomic
adventure. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
From A to Zydeco, This Restaurant Rocks
by LINDEN GROSS, A&E
Feature Writer
A restaurant’s success
gets scary when growth potentially threatens to undermine what made it
great in the first place. So it was with excitement and some trepidation
that I heard of five-year-old Zydeco’s relocation to the spot on Bond
Street recently vacated by the ill-conceived Volo. For starters, there’s
a lot of there there, especially compared to Zydeco’s former modest, boxy
digs adjacent to a car dealer lot. And then there’s the cold look that
so defined Volo.
But what a difference
a little (okay, a lot) of sweat equity and vision can make. In a matter
of weeks, Zydeco owners Cheri and Steve Helt put their unmistakable stamp
on their new space. They stripped the tables and wainscoting that had
been painted black back to the natural wood. The upholstery and fabric
wall panels now sport earth browns and greens, and natural accents further
help the transformation from urban industrial to warm, comfortable chic.
So far so good, I thought. But could Zydeco’s friendly, solicitous service
measure up in this larger restaurant? It did. The staff acted as if they’d
been in the space for years instead of weeks, with not even a hiccup displayed.
I began to gain confidence.
The true test, of course,
would be the food. So my companion and I ordered our favorite appetizer—the
Barbecue Shrimp—along with a house “calling card” we’d never tried. The
Acadian Flatbread came out first, and was nothing like I expected from
its name. Flatbread to me means dry Swedish crackers—I love them at home,
but they wouldn’t be what I’d order in a restaurant. This flatbread, however,
is comprised of all the best parts of a pizza without all that dough.
For our three ingredients
that would top the hand-rolled cracker-break and Monterey jack cheese,
we chose sugar-cured bacon, roasted onions and olives. All I can say is
wow! The sweet and salty flavors hit my palate, rolled around with the
melted cheese, and had me rolling my eyes in sheer pleasure. The honey
tones in the Evolution Sokol Blosser chardonnay that Cheri had selected
to go with the appetizer only added to the enjoyment.
The smoky Barbecue Shrimp
lived up to its predecessors, with a sauce that still has me guessing.
“It’s like a spicy Cajun caramel,” said my companion. I’m not sure I agree,
but I don’t have a better description. “So is your homemade Worcestershire
sauce in there?” I asked Cheri, trying to weasel even a little information
out of her. “There are a lot of homemade sauces in there,” she countered.
She’s probably one heck of a poker player. Our main courses met the high
bar set by the appetizers and then some.
Though the sesame-encrusted
Ahi served over citrus coconut sticky rice special sounded great, I went
for the Grilled Redfish after a debate that proved just as difficult as
usual. Though I’m quite the carnivore in most restaurants, at Zydeco I
always debate between the Pan-Roasted Steelhead with the lemon-caper sauce
and the Grilled Redfish topped with Zydeco sauce and Dungeness crab meat.
If I could order both, I would. Unfortunately for me, my dinner companion’s
entrée—the charred Rustic Ribeye, rubbed in the restaurant’s own housemade
spice blend and served with grilled shrimp—was just as heavenly as my
fish. “Top ten steaks of my life,” said my mate.
I had to agree. Yup,
decision-making at Zydeco has just gotten more challenging. As we savored
our meals, along with the Share Cropper Pinot and Educated Guess Cabernet
that Cheri had selected for our respective dishes, we couldn’t help looking
over at the table next to ours where the Roasted Wild Mushroom Tenderloin
had just been served. I prevented myself from asking for a bite (not exactly
kosher with strangers). “This is fantastic,” she raved when she spotted
our less than subtle gazes. “But do you ever come here on weekends?
They usually have a wild
boar special that’s unbelievable!” With only half our entrées eaten, we
finally gave up any pretense of finishing our dishes and asked to have
them boxed (but only after I’d carefully spooned the remaining sauce onto
my fish so not a drop would be wasted). Since we were celebrating a birthday,
we had to order dessert. The dense cake, made with French chocolate (Callebaut
for all you super foodies), was served with dried cherries macerated in
brandy and a variety of spices. Lovely. Delighted that one of my favorite
restaurants was going stronger than ever in its new incarnation, I asked
Cheri why she, a Michigan native and her New Yorker husband, Steve, had
decided to open a Cajun restaurant. “They’re passionate about their food
and so are we,” she replied. “And we’re not afraid to season.”
Mighty, Mighty Brickhouse
by LINDEN GROSS, A&E
Feature Writer
I settled onto my barstool
at Redmond’s Brickhouse, ordered a glass of wine from the seventeen available
options, and glanced at the person to my right. He was eating the Filet
Mignon wrapped in bacon, which is served with béarnaise sauce. “I’m trying
to restrain myself from jumping you for your steak,” I said. “You’d jump
me for a steak?” he asked with unmistakable surprise. That’s when I realized
that I had misspoken. I wasn’t interested in jumping him in the least.
I just wanted to jump his meal. To grab it and run. Instead, I watched
as bite by bite, he finished what has to be the best steak in the Bend
area. If you’re drawn to good food and good wine, the Brickhouse should
be front and center on your restaurant radar. My recent sampling of the
restaurant’s offerings will make my case.
My culinary tour started
with large pan-roasted mussels blanketed in a spicy, sweet red curry,
coconut milk, ginger and lemongrass sauce. Divine. I would have licked
the bowl had I not been in public. The seared sahimi grade Ahi, crusted
with black and white sesame seeds and served with a wasabi vinaigrette
and ponzu sauce, rated just as highly. The tuna tasted as if it had just
come off the fishing boat. That’s probably because owner Jeff Porad insists
on small, daily seafood and fish deliveries.
“I want to make sure
we run out every night,” he says, admitting that being a stickler on that
front probably stems from his ten years working in some of seafood hub
Seattle’s top restaurants. My gastronomic journey continued with a simple
Caprese Salad. On a day when falling rain was about to turn to snow, the
tri-color (yellow, green and red) heirloom tomatoes layered atop fresh
mozzarella and basil gave me a welcome taste of summer.
The Colossal Sea Scallop
that came next was like nothing I’d ever experienced. For starters, it
was three times the size of a regular scallop and at least ten times the
size of a bay scallop. Pan seared and then oven roasted, it was served
translucent in a beurre blanc (butter and white wine) sauce. Though the
entrée, which features three of these giants, isn’t on the menu, it’s
featured as a special most nights. The Brickhouse may have a reputation
for great steaks and chops, but the star power of this restaurant’s fish
and seafood had become crystal clear. But why choose between land and
sea when you can opt for the ultimate surf-and-turf champion—the Filet
Oscar.
Think beef tenderloin
that you can almost cut with your fork, topped with big chunks of Dungeness
crab, al dente asparagus, and béarnaise sauce, all on a bed of perfectly
sautéed spinach. No wonder it’s the restaurant’s top seller. Talk about
a party in your mouth! My feast had rendered me immovable, but I didn’t
care. The Brickhouse is one of those rare places that makes me just want
to sit back and relax. Maybe it’s the exposed brick walls that remind
me of Merenda’s minus the din. Or the wine cellar that earned the Award
of Excellence from the Wine Spectator magazine in 2008 and this year’s
Award of Unique Distinction from the Wine Enthusiast magazine.
You’ve got to love a
place with a wine list thirty pages long, which still highlights thirty-eight
options for wines under $30. As a former bar manager, I know I’m drawn
to the bar toward the back of the restaurant, with its rolling library
ladder for reaching bottles on open shelves as high as the restaurant’s
fourteen-foot ceiling. But maybe, just maybe, what makes the restaurant
work so well in addition to its stellar food is the unpretentious, warm
atmosphere, and an owner and staff who manage to be as professional as
they are friendly.
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