Posto a Fine Addition to Somerville Dining Scene

Posto, which opened to wide acclaim in 2009 in Somerville’s Davis Square neighborhood (and was named one of Boston Magazine’s Top 50 restaurants in 2011), is an upscale wood fired Italian restaurant and pizza parlor that, for the most part, manages to achieve decent marks.


Three years after its opening, the lengthy lines forming outside at 9:30 in the evening are indicative of this bustling bistro’s ever-growing popularity. Posto’s floor plan works marvelously, including a sleek bar to the back left of the room with black wine racks adorning the walls, which give way to a most impressive site: a giant open kitchen where diners can view their meals being prepared by a team of chefs. The kitchen’s piece de resistance is an Italian wood burning oven in which neopolitan pizzas are cooked in excess of 850 degrees (Posto’s pies are the only ones locally with the distinction of being certified by the Verace Pizza Napoletana or VPN). There’s also a more private backroom area adjacent to the kitchen. Posto’s cathedral ceilings and acoustics however, make for a rather loud setting and challenging conversation (although our friends insist that Posto’s owners’ newer establishment, Painted Burro, is far worse in terms of noise level).

Appetizers open strong. While the Crisp Calamari ($7) are more soggy than crispy in texture and come with a disappointingly bland pine nut romesco sauce, the rosemary sea salt bread ($2.5), baked to order, is divine, salty-doughy goodness. My favorite dish of the evening consisted of a quartet of tender lamb meatballs ($6), the meat swimming in a unique goat cheese crema, sweetened by apricot mostarda and mint gremolata, and which packed a surprising, yet welcomed touch of heat which, our server responded when questioned, originated from a dash of chili flakes.

Entrees were also noteworthy, particularly Posto’s pasta dishes. I could easily have devoured the ultra-tender beef short rib with potato gnocchi, soaked in port wine and parmesan crema ($23), for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It came highly recommended by our server, and it was superb. Also impressive was the crab toretellini ($22) with squash puree. Like the aforementioned short rib dish, Posto does not skimp on meat or seafood when incorporating them into their pasta dishes. The Posto Steak Burger ($15) has been recognized on many critics’ lists as one of Boston’s best burgers, and the sandwich deserves such merit. The uber-tender meat, which has a nice char and is a juicy served medium rear, consists of a unique blend of quality meat - archer form short rib and sirloin. Plopped on a warm, buttery brioche bun and served with crispy sea salt fries, it’s upscale comfort food at its finest. Most disappointing, however, was Posto’s much hyped pizza. The porchetta ($18) pie consisted of San Marzano, fior di latte, Swiss chard, slow roasted pork, roasted garlic, and red onion. What sounded like a meat-lover’s paradise fell far short of expectations as a result of an overly doughy, chewy pizza with a limp base that made lifting/eating slices virtually impossible. The pork was also excessively dry. The pizza might be VPN certified, but perhaps Posto needs a Neopolitan chef to properly cook Neopolitan-quality pies in its oven?

Inventive cocktails were exceptionally prepared, particularly pumpkin spiced sangria ($8), which was light, refreshing, and just potent enough. Our server, upon ordering it, beamed, “It’s terrific. The owner actually ferments the pumpkin right here in our basement.” Other seasonal concoctions included a spiced apple martini with local apple cider ($9). Posto’s beer selection is narrow, yet interesting, ranging from a Peroni Nastro Azzuro from Milan, Italy ($5.50) to more local brews such as Somerville’s Happy Sol ($5.95). Posto’s wine selection is far more extensive, and it is refreshing to see an eatery offer these not only by the glass or bottle, but also by carafe (Posto also offers up entrees in half-portions as well).

While desserts were not as complex as the beverages, they did deliver intense flavor. An enormous slice of tiramisu blended with Taza chocolate is every bit as richly indulgent as it sounds, while a chocolate cherry torta (think of a really dense, slightly fudgy brownie) topped with Vin Santo soaked cherries is akin to eating a giant chocolate covered cherry cordial. It’s fantastic.

Service was excellent. Our waitress was extremely friendly (she instantly recognized the couple we dined with as regulars), polished (nary a wine or water glass was left unfilled), and knowledgeable of the menu (oh, how I wished I had taken her recommendation of the short rib dish over the pizza!).

Posto doesn’t knock all of its dishes out of the park, but for its reasonably priced cuisine, its hip, relaxed ambience, and great service, it’s definitely worth recommending.

Trattoria Della Nonna is a Restaurant any Grandmother Would Love

Mansfield, home of the Comast Center, has always been a frequent destination for concertgoers, but the town has seldom been associated with fine dining. Trattoria La Cucina Della Nonna (Kitchen from my Grandmother) should put Mansfield back on the culinary map with its rustic, well executed Calabrian-inspired (Southern Italian) cuisine. Chef Kenny DeFazio opened his well-regarded eatery in 2000, with his wife, Yvonne, and locals have flocked there ever since.


Walking into the DeFazios’ establishment, the room certainly resembles Grandma’s kitchen in a comforting, traditional sense. The small dining room is intimate, with dimmed lighting and even lighter music playing overhead. Exposed brick walls surround the room, and the kitchen staff can be seen meticulously preparing meals towards the front. Towards the rear of the restaurant, a recently added, sleek martini bar/lounge area appears lively, demonstrating that even Nonna has a contemporary side to her.

For starters, Calamari-Sicilian ($9) are prepared in an innovative way, slow cooked and grilled (not fried), served with pine nuts and sweet currants in a slightly spicy tomato sauce over bruschetta. From the contrast in texture (rubbery calamari against the crunchiness of the bread, which sopped up the insanely good tomato sauce) to the balance of flavors (the heat of the sauce with the sweetness of the sweet currants), the dish was a hit with everyone at our table.

Entrees also impressed. Clams and linguine ($18) was served in either a traditional (tomato sauce) or spicy version. We select the latter option. I find the amount of chili flakes and accompanying heat a tad high to my liking, but others at the table disagree. Paired with a perfect amount of garlic, and with a generous serving of well-cooked clams, however, we all agree that overall, the dish is solid. Grilled rosemary lamb chops ($32) are beautifully cooked medium rare, whose flavor is enhanced by a sweet, yet surprisingly light fresh garden tomato sauce. I wonder if Nonna would be willing to share her recipe for that wonderful sauce? Tuna ($25) was yet another winning, unique Italian re-invention of a traditionally Asian dish, served sushi grade (interestingly enough, our waitress served this entrée last, stating that the chef was sensitive to the amount of time he let rare tuna sit on a plate), yet served over creamed Genoa tuna, peas and potato, and drizzled with pesto. The lone misfire of the evening was the Green pasta and eggplant ($18), consisting of taglierini, garlic, basil leaves, baby arugula, and a shade too much salt.

Desserts were also superb. Sicilian almond cake, plated with fresh berries and powdered sugar, was simple in stature, yet simply delicious in terms of its light texture and subtle sweetness. A concoction resembling a blueberry tiramisu was also pleasantly light and a creative take on the more traditional, coffee-tinged version. Most memorable, however, evoking several oohs and ahhs across the table, was the decadent English toffee cake pudding, baked in brown sugar, toffee sauce, and served with a small dollop of vanilla gelato. What’s most startling, however, was the dish’s pasta-like presentation of the cake, which was broken out into what appeared to be three pieces of toffee covered ravioli. It was a stunning dish to behold.

Service, with the exception of what felt like a slightly extended break between our appetizer and entrée, was well-paced and superb throughout the evening. Our server was genial, patient, extremely knowledgeable of the menu, and made us feel at home, as if we were in fact sitting tableside along with Nonna herself.

With reasonable price points, commendable service, and noteworthy cuisine, this is a Trattoria any Nonna would be proud of.

Oro Goes for Culinary ‘Gold’

Oro is the Spanish word for gold, and if it’s a treasure trove of culinary goodness you seek, head down to Scituate harbor, where Chef/Owner Robin King creates some of the most innovative, delectable dishes south of Boston. Robin and his wife/co-owner, Jill have taken their extensive experience in the restaurant business (Robin, having worked under Chef Kevin Long at nearby Tosca in Hingham, revered Chef Jamie Mammano at Mistral, and later with Chef Evan Deluty at Stella; Jill, at Top of the Hub and Aquitaine; both of whom ran Kevin Costner’s Epiphany restaurant in Santa Barbara, CA) and translated it closer to home (King hails from Marshfield) into their very own establishment. The restaurant prides itself on sourcing produce from small farms and fresh seafood from local fishing boats that are docked directly behind Oro in Scituate Harbor (the Kings’ boat resides there as well).


Appetizers, entrees, and desserts are playfully labeled on the menu as Beginnings, Focus and Sweet Tooth. For starters, the Misto del Mar ($15) consists of a massive tartare of tuna, salmon, avocado, and ginger vinaigrette. One of our dining companions shares with me that one of his friends once ordered it as an appetizer, entrée, and dessert. While I certainly wouldn’t go to such extremes, I agree that the dish is quite delicious, especially when the tartare can be scooped onto house-made potato chips. The saltiness and crispiness of the chips, beautifully stacked atop the tartare, are a wonderful contrast against the smooth, subtle fish, although I would have preferred a hint more of the ginger vinaigrette for additional spiciness and sweetness. Other enticing appetizers included a heaping bowl of rich, smoky, creamy sweet corn chowder with littleneck clams and Berkshire bacon ($10) and another dish I’m looking forward to trying at a later date, spiced lamb carpaccio with crispy fennel and pomegranate syrup ($11).

Entrees were equally impressive, particularly the crispy Scituate lobster cake (market price), garnished with spinach and grilled onion and topped with lobster crema. Like most of King’s creations, it’s lovely to look at and even lovelier to eat. It’s rich, but not extensively so, and the perfectly fried cake balls are generous stuffed with juicy lobster, a testament to the chef’s flair for experimentation, intricate cooking technique and execution. Also quite tasty is a dish that utilizes what is typically considered one of the least impressive parts of the pig, porky belly ($24). Here, the pork belly, in all its fatty goodness, has a crispy glazed exterior, and a succulent interior, cooked perfectly, and it’s lip-smackingly delicious. It is accompanied by unique accoutrements such as chive dumplings, spring onion, and shitake broth which only enhance the meat’s moist flavor. Other dishes, while good, do not resonate as strongly. My wife’s spicy cioppino ($24) is unapologetically non-traditional, served over a saffron risotto in lieu of broth, and contains shellfish and calamari. The fish and risotto are cooked nicely enough, but the dish possesses little of the spiciness it promises to deliver. The grass fed Bavette steak, served with confit potato, creamed spinach, and sauce au poivre, is also flavored well but is served lukewarm. The truffle fries ($6) are also flavorful but aren’t crispy enough for my liking. Chef King has always showcased his talent for pasta, particularly at Stella (his seemingly simple, yet deceptively complex spaghetti with toasted garlic, olive oil, and parmesan still resonates with me years later). His linguine aglio ($18) with wild mushroom, black truffle butter and farm egg sounded highly appealing, particularly when viewing a customer devouring it at a nearby table. This carbonara-inspired dish, however, will just have to wait until my next visit.

Desserts (all a steal at only $6) were a fine conclusion to a wonderful meal. A nicely plated caramelized pineapple right-side up cake was moist and decadent, served with mini fresh pineapple chunks, vanilla ice cream, and vivid paint strokes of pineapple sauce adorning the plate. Also delightful was the warm chocolate pudding cake with salted caramel sauce and coffee ice cream. Chef King also sent us a complimentary concoction, four Cookie Sandwiches (house-made chocolate chip), filled with vanilla ice cream and accompanied by whopper heath bar crumble.

Service was good, but not bend-over-backwards great. Our server knew every minute detail of the menu, but strangely, offered no recommendations when asked.

An extensive, well thought-out wine selection includes several bottles of reds and whites, of which a half dozen options are by the glass ($11-12). Oro’s creative libations include a unique take on the Whiskey Sour called the Scituate Sour ($10), which incorporates Malbec red wine and port-soaked cherries. It’s subtly sweet, light, and a perfect late summer drink.

Overall, Oro would earn a gold medal, had it not been for the god-awful acoustics in the restaurant. Conversation was virtually impossible. There are a limited amount of tables to the left of the entrance, but the hustle and bustle emanating from the busy bar area overwhelms all sound. It’s a shame that this detracts from an otherwise memorable fine dining experience. Otherwise, with its reasonable prices, innovative fare, seaside location, contemporary ambience, and a chef/owner with an obvious passion for food, Oro earns a well-deserved silver medal.

Oro Goes for Culinary ‘Gold’

Oro is the Spanish word for gold, and if it’s a treasure trove of culinary goodness you seek, head down to Scituate harbor, where Chef/Owner Robin King creates some of the most innovative, delectable dishes south of Boston. Robin and his wife/co-owner, Jill have taken their extensive experience in the restaurant business (Robin, having worked under Chef Kevin Long at nearby Tosca in Hingham, revered Chef Jamie Mammano at Mistral, and later with Chef Evan Deluty at Stella; Jill, at Top of the Hub and Aquitaine; both of whom ran Kevin Costner’s Epiphany restaurant in Santa Barbara, CA) and translated it closer to home (King hails from Marshfield) into their very own establishment. The restaurant prides itself on sourcing produce from small farms and fresh seafood from local fishing boats that are docked directly behind Oro in Scituate Harbor (the Kings’ boat resides there as well).




Appetizers, entrees, and desserts are playfully labeled on the menu as Beginnings, Focus and Sweet Tooth. For starters, the Misto del Mar ($15) consists of a massive tartare of tuna, salmon, avocado, and ginger vinaigrette. One of our dining companions shares with me that one of his friends once ordered it as an appetizer, entrée, and dessert. While I certainly wouldn’t go to such extremes, I agree that the dish is quite delicious, especially when the tartare can be scooped onto house-made potato chips. The saltiness and crispiness of the chips, beautifully stacked atop the tartare, are a wonderful contrast against the smooth, subtle fish, although I would have preferred a hint more of the ginger vinaigrette for additional spiciness and sweetness. Other enticing appetizers included a heaping bowl of rich, smoky, creamy sweet corn chowder with littleneck clams and Berkshire bacon ($10) and another dish I’m looking forward to trying at a later date, spiced lamb carpaccio with crispy fennel and pomegranate syrup ($11).



Entrees were equally impressive, particularly the crispy Scituate lobster cake (market price), garnished with spinach and grilled onion and topped with lobster crema. Like most of King’s creations, it’s lovely to look at and even lovelier to eat. It’s rich, but not extensively so, and the perfectly fried cake balls are generous stuffed with juicy lobster, a testament to the chef’s flair for experimentation, intricate cooking technique and execution. Also quite tasty is a dish that utilizes what is typically considered one of the least impressive parts of the pig, porky belly ($24). Here, the pork belly, in all its fatty goodness, has a crispy glazed exterior, and a succulent interior, cooked perfectly, and it’s lip-smackingly delicious. It is accompanied by unique accoutrements such as chive dumplings, spring onion, and shitake broth which only enhance the meat’s moist flavor. Other dishes, while good, do not resonate as strongly. My wife’s spicy cioppino ($24) is unapologetically non-traditional, served over a saffron risotto in lieu of broth, and contains shellfish and calamari. The fish and risotto are cooked nicely enough, but the dish possesses little of the spiciness it promises to deliver. The grass fed Bavette steak, served with confit potato, creamed spinach, and sauce au poivre, is also flavored well but is served lukewarm. The truffle fries ($6) are also flavorful but aren’t crispy enough for my liking. Chef King has always showcased his talent for pasta, particularly at Stella (his seemingly simple, yet deceptively complex spaghetti with toasted garlic, olive oil, and parmesan still resonates with me years later). His linguine aglio ($18) with wild mushroom, black truffle butter and farm egg sounded highly appealing, particularly when viewing a customer devouring it at a nearby table. This carbonara-inspired dish, however, will just have to wait until my next visit.



Desserts (all a steal at only $6) were a fine conclusion to a wonderful meal. A nicely plated caramelized pineapple right-side up cake was moist and decadent, served with mini fresh pineapple chunks, vanilla ice cream, and vivid paint strokes of pineapple sauce adorning the plate. Also delightful was the warm chocolate pudding cake with salted caramel sauce and coffee ice cream. Chef King also sent us a complimentary concoction, four Cookie Sandwiches (house-made chocolate chip), filled with vanilla ice cream and accompanied by whopper heath bar crumble.



Service was good, but not bend-over-backwards great. Our server knew every minute detail of the menu, but strangely, offered no recommendations when asked.



An extensive, well thought-out wine selection includes several bottles of reds and whites, of which a half dozen options are by the glass ($11-12). Oro’s creative libations include a unique take on the Whiskey Sour called the Scituate Sour ($10), which incorporates Malbec red wine and port-soaked cherries. It’s subtly sweet, light, and a perfect late summer drink.



Overall, Oro would earn a gold medal, had it not been for the god-awful acoustics in the restaurant. Conversation was virtually impossible. There are a limited amount of tables to the left of the entrance, but the hustle and bustle emanating from the busy bar area overwhelms all sound. It’s a shame that this detracts from an otherwise memorable fine dining experience. Otherwise, with its reasonable prices, innovative fare, seaside location, contemporary ambience, and a chef/owner with an obvious passion for food, Oro earns a well-deserved silver medal.

Ocean House is a Swimming Success

There’s prime real estate, and then there’s Ocean House. Located in scenic Dennisport, MA, this restaurant not only provides panoramic, stunning ocean views but serves up some of the most inventive, tasty cuisine in all of Cape Cod. Chef Anthony Silvestri’s New American menu features fusion fare with subtle touches of Pan Asian influence along with a heavy focus on local, seasonal ingredients.
There’s nary an unattractive seat in the house given the enormous glass window that dominates the main dining room and seemingly opens right into the Atlantic Ocean like an infinity pool. It’s a breathtaking sight to behold, particularly at sunset. It’s easy to mistake a Wednesday evening for the weekend, as evidenced by the two hour wait and throngs of people awaiting their tables. Boisterous locals shout (yes, acoustics are loud) over to friends at nearby tables, happily exchanging summertime stories. Hints of Cape Cod and aromas of seafood permeate through the air.

Undoubtedly, diners are enjoying the bartender’s creative, stiff cocktails, which feature a luminous red concoction called Cactus Flower ($12), an upscale margarita infused with elderflower and lavender liquor, including said flower atop the glass’s rim. A watermelon mojito is also light, refreshing, subtly sweet and well executed. Twenty wine selections are also available by the glass, most notably a phenomenally good Pinot Noir, Neiome by Caymus (California, 2011, $10) that would pair nicely with either fish or filet (mignon).

The lone disappointment of the evening are the fried Point Judith calamari ($14), a simple, classic seafood staple that one would think an acclaimed restaurant such as Ocean House would nail. Sadly, while the octopi are adequately cooked, what they lack is distinct flavor. The dish promises smokiness by way of chorizo and spiciness by way of cherry peppers, but barely any are detected on the plate. Fortunately, this misfire is instantly offset by yellow fin tuna tartar, which is a revelatory dish, not merely due to the freshness of the fish and intense flavoring (sesame and ginger vinaigrette), but because of its wildly unique and fun spinoff on the ice cream cone. A quartet of miniature ice cream cones contain the tartar, and are layered with a dollop of incredibly light, airy, whipped wasabi foam. Chef Silvestri’s creation possesses a wow factor usually reserved for more experimental chefs such as Ken Oringer at Clio.

Entrees are equally strong. This is not-your-average tasting halibut, whose flavor is enhanced here by encrusting it with ginger and pairing with braised Napa cabbage, red curry oil, and black rice ($28). Thai cioppino also offers a unique twist on the Italian-American seafood favorite, infused with kaffir lime broth and packed with an abundance of fresh seafood. A special of wild striped bass (in season for one month only) – whose thicker texture closely resembles a more tender cut of swordfish – is also divine, cooked in a zesty tomato broth and creatively paired with potato hash.

Service, for the most part, is respectable. However, with an 8 o’clock dinner reservation and neither water nor bread placed on our table until forty-five minutes have elapsed, our waiter apologizes for being called to other tables. Lesson #1 in Service 101: never blame delays on how busy the rest of the restaurant is. Fortunately for him, his bubbly personality and intricate knowledge of the men (along with a wonderfully crispy, triangular piece of sesame bread served vertically) made us quickly forget the early foible.

Overall, Ocean House, with its waterfront setting and inventive menu, is a solid Cape Cod fine dining option that manages to do most things well. It’s the little things, however, that make Paul's Palate not want to jump overboard for a return visit any time soon.

Persimmon is a Pleasant, Pricey Treat

Persimmon, located in the quaint seaside town of Bristol, Rhode Island, is an unabashedly upscale, nationally renowned bistro that you may never have actually heard about. I certainly hadn’t, until a recent conversation during a home-cooked dinner with another couple, who raved about this intimate (thirty-eight seats), modern establishment. Chef/owner (and James Beard nominee) Champe Speidel, alongside his wife, Lisa, opened Persimmon (named after the yellow/red-orange colored fruit originating in Japan but now grown across Italy, the Mediterranean, the Middle East, and even in parts of the US) in 2005, and it has gained a loyal following.


Persimmon’s ambience oozes romance. The sleek room is dimly lit (miniature rotund candlelit glasses rest atop each table) and includes portraits of fruit adorning the walls and cozy banquettes across the walls. When the bistro fills up (and indeed it does, as co-owner Lisa Speidel warmly shakes hands with regular customers), you may have to shout to be heard given the relatively small space and low ceilings leading to poor acoustics. And you’d never guess there’s a state financial crisis here, as Persimmon attracts a plethora of wealthy clientele. Listen closely to nearby conversations and you’ll overhear stories about customers arriving from the Newport tennis festival, the golf course, or even their boats. One downside during the evening: an out-of-order restroom forcing customers to use a neighboring restaurant’s facilities.

Speidel’s use of seasonal ingredients, technique, and creativity are readily apparent in his food. We opt for the 5-course chef’s tasting ($65, $100 with wine pairing; a 7-course tasting is also available for $80, $130 with wine pairing). A couple of amuse- bouche (complimentary bite-size hors d’oeuvres) are a welcomed pleasure, including a red pepper sorbet with spicy oregano, although the sorbet theme becomes a bit tiresome throughout the meal (for instance, a peach sorbet followed by an apricot soup adds little flavor contrast-wise). Most impressive is a beautifully seared sea scallop whose succulent fish is accentuated by a rich pork jus and accompanied by celery, radish, avocado, basil, and cilantro flowers. Like most menu items, it’s edible art on a plate and is the quintessential summer dish – light and refreshing. Also memorable is a non-traditional, non-pureed, fully constructed gazpacho in which fresh tomatoes and arugula surround a small dollop of basil sorbet placed in the bowl’s epicenter. An oyster swimming in vibrant green cucumber broth also demonstrates Speidel’s dedication to sourcing local products.

The middle of the meal falters a bit. While the 21-day aged skirt steak with sauce Bordelaise, king trumpet mushrooms, scallions, glazed cippolini onions, and fingerling potatoes packed complexity in terms of flavor, the portion itself bordered on pretentiousness. Three small strips of beef plus two small potatoes equates to one hungry stomach. This problem was further compounded by the fourth course that followed. While I received a perfectly fine duo of artisan cheeses with fresh berries, my wife’s meal was substituted with a thin slice of apple given her dairy allergy. We expected something much more substantive and imaginative from a restaurant of this pedigree.

Desserts, however, almost make up for this dining hiccup. My wife’s fresh fruit tart with a slightly buttery crust is delicious, while my chocolate ganache tart – with a chocolate halo playfully placed on top – albeit a tad dry/overpowdered in a couple of small spots, is a decadent treat, filled with caramel, a crunchy contrast of hazelnut praline, and smooth coffee-hazelnut ice cream. It’s divine.

So is Persimmon’s extensive, moderately-priced wine selection, which Speidel’s staff thoughtfully pairs with his food. Most selections, which are heavily weighted towards Italian, French, and Napa varieties, are available only by the bottle, with about a dozen by the glass (at about $10-11). You’ll even discover a local wine or two, such as Gewurztraminer, a white wine produced out of Little Compton, RI ($40 per bottle). A unique glass of Pinotage resembles a light, yet full-bodied, smoky version of Pinot Noir.

Service for this price-point should be nothing short of flawless, and I swear that our server could have recited each and every ingredient from each menu item down to the herb. His knowledge of the menu and his recommendations for wine pairings were breathtaking, and his calm, patient, oh-so polite demeanor made for a service experience on par with the most respected restaurants I’ve frequented, such as Boston’s Mistral. Our waiter’s timing between courses was impeccable. Take, for instance, his ability to ask if I’d like another beverage just as I was about to flag him down for one right between our second and third courses. Even more impressively, I glimpsed Ms. Speidel casually ironing a white tablecloth in between customers. Now that’s service.

Overall, Persimmon’s culinary reputation is well deserved. Value-wise, there are certainly better fine dining options across both Rhode Island and southeastern Massachusetts, and it’s certainly no cakewalk driving to Bristol. Given the restaurant’s innovative approach to food and exceptional service, however, there’s plenty of appeal and charm to be had. Will I be returning to Persimmon anytime soon? Most likely, no. But like most things in life, the restaurant provides a unique dining experience that is worth trying once.

Steak and Sushi Lovers Will Find Prime Dining at Ten

No pun intended, but it’s rare nowadays to find a steakhouse that lives up to its lofty prices and expectations. Ten Prime Steak and Sushi has long been considered one of Providence’s premier steakhouses. Conveniently located directly off of I-95 (and with equally convenient complimentary valet parking), Ten is a refreshing alternative for carnivores seeking something different from what has become an undistinguishable list of upscale chain steakhouses such as Ruth Chris, Smith & Wollensky, Capital Grille, and Morton’s. Was Ten’s food as prime as its location and hip setting?


Ten’s ambience is indeed trendy, yet completely unpretentious. A few tables towards the front of the restaurant reside next to a large open-glass window that enables customers to view Pine Street and McFadden’s pub across the way, all while dining under a funky chandelier. A long, stylish bar to the left is filled with young, stylish people. A sculpture of a male and female torso playfully adorns the wall, while a fish tank appears towards the back. As the evening wears on, club music blares loudly and makes for more difficult conversation. If you’re seeking a subdued atmosphere askin to Morton’s, look elsewhere. For an evening of upscale fun, however, Ten is the place to be.

Appetizers sounded highly promising, particularly an East Meets West 8-piece sushi special (a bargain at $14.99) that came highly recommended by our server and consisted of spicy tuna, salmon, filet mignon tartare, cucumber, spicy mayo and sriracha sauce. The sushi was mouthwateringly tender and packed a nice touch of heat, while the cucumber provided a cool, crunchy contrast. A heaping bowl of parmesan truffle frites ($5.99), however, were the evening’s glaring disappointment. The fries were limp, lacked crunch, and came out lukewarm. Sadly, not even a side of house-made spicy ketsup would be able to save the dish.

Entrees were relatively solid. My TEN filet ($41.99), a house specialty, was a tad overcooked for my liking (it was closer to medium well than medium rare) and the accompanying foie gras – whose buttery flavor was supposed to be the piece de resistance of the dish – was decent enough but did little to accentuate the meat’s flavor, while a handful of asparagus tips idly sat on the plate. A Wagyu Flat Iron steak ($41.99), however, is absolute heaven served on a plate. What this slightly fatty, more marbled cut of steak lacks in size, it more than accounts for in its rich, buttery flavor. Be prepared, however, to order a side dish with your steaks, which typically come without any accoutrements.

Desserts are pleasing, but not superb. A chocolate lava cake ($9.99) is decadent and rich, but lags behind the moist, magnificent version I’d recently sampled at Boston’s Grotto due to its drier texture. A bananas foster bread pudding (also $9.99) evoked raves across the table, but I found the flambed top layer more charred and hard than bruleed and slightly crisped, while the bread pudding itself was a touch drier than I would have preferred.

Service was commendable, but there were noticeable flaws. Our waiter was extremely knowledgeable of the menu and rather pleasant. While friends sitting across from us received their salads minutes before, however, we needed to remind our waiter about that terrific sushi plate that had yet to arrive. “Oh, I must have forgotten about that, with all of the other orders. Thanks very much for reminding me,” he apologized, flashing a genuine smile. Also, dipping sauces for the steaks arrive only after three-quarters of the meat is devoured.

Given Ten’s relatively pricey menu, particularly its steaks, cocktails are surprisingly well priced and expertly prepared. Each selection comes in a narrow, tall glass for show. Ten’s classic mojito has frequently been voted best in Rhode Island, and for good reason. It’s ultra-refreshing and dazzling. The drink is made with loads of crushed ice (mucho helado, as Ten advertises on its menu) that somehow manages to stay packed together for long periods of time, while there is a generous pouring of Bacardi Superior and loads of muddled mint and lime.

All cocktails are around $10, an uninspiring handful of draught and bottled beers come in around $5, a trio of sake selections between $5-10, along with various cognacs, grappa, bourbons, scotch, and tequila ($7-15). Ten’s wine list is extensive and its proprietary bottles can be extremely pricey, but a few moderately priced reds (such as the Putno Final Reserva Malbec, $40) and whites (Raymond Reserve Sauvignon Blanc, $41) can be had for under $50. My advice? Stick with those irresistibly addictive mojitos.

Ten has several positive attributes in its favor that impressed Paul’s Palate. With its at-times high prices for steaks (not much cheaper than any Boston steakhouses), along with enjoyable but not exceptional service and food, an eight out of ten rating feels like just the right flavor for Ten Prime Steak and Sushi.

Grotto an Underground Treasure

Blink and you just might miss Grotto, a subterranean Italian dining hotspot located on the back side of Beacon Hill, just a stone’s throw away from the State House. And if you miss Grotto, you’ll be missing out on some of the finest, most authentic, and reasonably priced contemporary Italian cuisine in all of Boston. Every night, customers can discover perhaps the best prix fixe offerings in the city – three courses for only $36.


Walking down Grotto’s steps transports you to a little piece of Italy. Exposed brick walls, red ceilings, and artwork from local artists (they can’t be starving, though, right?) adorning the walls make this bistro-like establishment feel like a secret dining destination you want to keep all to yourself. But the restaurant’s secret has long been revealed, as evidenced by the full, bustling dining room from the moment we are seated just after 7 to the moment we depart around 9:30 (and yes, that length of time translates to a relaxed, well-paced meal). The ambience is intimate and conversation is easy enough (that is, if you don’t mind speaking up just a tad). Despite all of the dining room’s commotion, our waitress is as calm, polished, patient, prompt and knowledgeable as I can recall in recent memory. Her casual, yet professional service elevated our experience, and made it seem like a relaxed, albeit fancier home-cooked meal.

Primi (appetizers, all $10 if ordered separate from the prix fixe menu) consist of perfectly grilled calamari (my favorite preparation) with white beans, peppers, greens, and lemon. It’s light, simple, and lovely. My friend orders a large bowl of Grotto’s garlic soup, and one sip makes me wish I had, as well. A perfect amount of garlic permeates, but does not overpower the dish, while parmesan gives the soup just enough of a thick consistency, traces of black truffle can be detected, and toasted bread crumbs provide a nice, crunchy contrast texture-wise. It’s a stunning dish. Almost equally as good is my fontina cheese fondue, a fun little presentation that includes a quartet of nicely seared beef tenderloin tips and even meatier Portobello mushrooms. The fontina cheese sure ain’t your mother’s Velveeta, but it’s velvety good for dipping purposes.

Secondi (entrees regularly priced at $21 outside of prix fixe) did not disappoint, either. One dining companion ordered pan seared roasted diver scallops ‘ravioli,’ which our server identified as her favorite menu item, and for good reason. Three nicely sized, perfectly seared scallops were engulfed by a giant, house-made ravioli, accompanied by arugula, leeks, and wild mushrooms. Butter poached lobster, linguine, and spicy tomato sauce (fra diavlo) is also memorable, packing nice heat and includes a surprisingly generous piece of the succulent crustacean. I order one of Grotto’s signature dishes, the Bolognese, which our server explains locals adore and claim to be one of the most authentic versions they’ve had that closely resembles the finest plates in Italy. It consists of house cut tagliatelle pasta, San Marzano tomatoes, lamb, pork, and beef. It’s downright hearty, a shade spicy, and lamb flavor dominates the dish. It’s divine, and would make one of my all-time favorite pasta dishes if not for the slightly undercooked al dente pasta, a tad too crunchy for my taste.

Dolce (dessert at $9 separate from prix fixe) provided a decadent conclusion to the evening. Moist, warmed banana bread pudding was delicious on its own, but smooth, creamy caramel ice cream and spice nuts put other, inferior versions to shame. I admit my hesitancy upon ordering yet another warm chocolate cake. It’s a universal dessert that’s rarely done right. Our server highly recommended Grotto’s melting chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream, and because she hasn’t steered us wrong selection-wise all evening, I succumb. I am pleased to say that Grotto’s version does melt in one’s mouth, and is without a doubt one of the finest I’ve sampled in a long while. It’s sinfully good, a moist, gooey concoction that had me licking every last drop off of my fork and resistant to share with others at the table.

That heavenly chocolate cake had me thinking more about my terrific dining experience at Grotto. The food, décor, and service are neither flashy nor pretentious. Here, they are unabashedly simple and yet perfectly executed. A grotto is defined as an indoor structure resembling a cave. Grotto the restaurant defines itself by its exceptional food, service, and value. Do some digging of your own and you’ll unearth this buried treasure of a restaurant.

Nara is ‘Blah-ssez Fare’

An upscale Middle Eastern restaurant and hookah lounge situated in the heart of Providence’s Federal Hill? Nara, you could say, is a foreigner trying to find its way in this Italian food-dominated neighborhood. The menu is littered with promising Lebanese delicacies laced with even more promising exotic spices. And yet, despite a trendy interior consisting of earthy colors and a seemingly can’t-miss menu from Executive Chef Marios Azrak, Nara – from its insipid cocktails (a much-hyped $9.75 peach mojito begs for stronger peach flavor and more mint while a Saucy Mango, consisting of mango-infused tequila, lacks balance and had me wishing I had ordered its spicier version mixed with habanero) to its average cuisine – is merely adequate. If you’re expecting Nara’s cuisine to be on par with Tangierino, a much more accomplished Middle Eastern restaurant in Charlestown, MA, then, in the words of many old school Italians, “Fuhgeddaboudit.”


Let’s start with the one menu item that Nara gets completely right. Thankfully, the restaurant does justice to traditional hummus, which they (no pun intended) beef up by mixing in ground lamb, onions, and toasted almonds. It’s delicious, and the crunchy morsels of lamb in this version, hummus blahmeh ($12), are a welcomed contrast to the smooth, velvety texture of chickpea. While others at the table rave about the baba ghanouj ($9), I found it overwrought with lemon juice, creating an off-putting tartness to the dish. Mini lamb sausages (maaneek, $12) sounded wonderful, cooked with pomegranate molasses, but the dish is an unmitigated disaster due to meat that is overcooked, dry, and a tad salty. Mediterranean sea scallops ($12) are perfectly seared, but where is the intense flavor one would anticipate from sweet pea mousse, fresh orange zest, and white truffle oil?

Sugarcane tenderloin ($13) is oversold on the menu as mouth-watering. Two generous pieces of steak are nicely prepared medium-rare, but are lukewarm and merely sit over a slightly charred fresh slice of pineapple. The meat and fruit tandem should pair nicely, but each component merely dangle on the plate – like two people on a blind date with nothing in common – offering little by way of flavor. A quartet of jumbo mango tiger shrimp ($12) is a slight improvement, drizzled in a refreshing chardonnay-mango reduction. Deep-fried garlic cilantro chicken wings ($12) are meaty and crispy – always a winning combination – but like many dishes on Nara’s menu, they’re lacking that special something in terms of spices – in this instance, not enough cilantro (but in my case, is there ever enough of it?). Bata harra ($9) is Nara’s Lebanese version of Spanish patatas bravas, only in lieu of tomato sauce, the kitchen infuses the potato cubes with cilantro, garlic, and cayenne pepper. Again, what sounds wonderful on paper is merely average in terms of spice execution.

Service is pleasant enough, but plates tend to stack up (fortunately, we place them on the bar just behind us) and a reminder needs to be placed around water refills. For a relatively slow evening, more polish is to be expected from such a seemingly posh establishment.

Like the sweet hookah smoke floating around the restaurant, Nara’s cuisine is harmless and quickly evaporates from one’s memory. Aside from its hip, fun location, there are far better dining alternatives on the Hill to explore. Nara’s all style, but little substance.

Coppa Doesn't Quite Bring Home The Bacon

Coppa feels like the perfect, casual neighborhood dining destination where customers can order relatively affordable, sophisticated fare. Opened now for over two years, and to widespread acclaim, Chefs Ken Oringer (he of Clio, Uni, and Toro fame) and Jamie Bissonette’s (voted Best New Chef by Food & Wine in 2011) Italian-inspired enoteca shows no signs of slowing down, even on what should be a relatively calm Sunday evening. Thankfully, our party has reservations (yes, Coppa now accepts them). Tucked away in the corner of a long stretch of brownstone buildings on Shawmut Ave, Coppa’s laid back setting nicely fits this quaint, cozy neighborhood in Boston’s South End.




Coppa’s interior is intimate, bordering on invasive. The list of menu items outnumbers the tables (seating capacity is for forty), which closely abut one another. The acoustics are incredibly bad, given both the restaurant’s high ceilings and even higher decibel level at which music is blared. One of my friends shouts over that he can barely hear himself speak. Lean back and you might just hit the bar area, with only a few feet separating it from the tables. Waiters nimbly weave by customers, scurrying down a long, narrow hallway leading to one (yes, one!) restroom.



Fortunately, this chaos is offset by some fun, if not consistently executed food. Some elements of dishes work wonderfully, while others do not. You’ll find a see saw of culinary quality here. The menu consists of small plates (Stuzzichini), pasta, salumi, cheeses (from beloved Formaggio Kitchen just across the street) and wood-grilled pizza, with chacuterie being Bissonette’s specialty (i.e. cured meats, pate). While I wish the Meatballs al Forno ($8) were a tad moister, the accompanying tomato gravy was enjoyably hearty and the melted lardo enhanced the meat’s flavor. The piece de resistance, however, is Pig’s Ear ($6). For the more squeamish diners, it’s not as visibly unappealing as you would be led to believe, as it is served in gelatinous, terrine style form and laid atop wonderful yuzu aioli for contrast. It’s a knockout plate. The Tonna Conserve (cured tuna belly, $6), however, is shockingly bland, with nary a hint of flavor emanting from the promising anchovy parmesan vinaigrette. Like several dishes at Coppa, it’s underseasoned. Sadly, its texture is not much of an improvement from my daily Bumblebee tuna, particularly disappointing given the accompanying egg yolk that’s blended in, somewhere. This tuna preparation, pardon my pun, went belly up.



A better, more traditional tuna crudo ($14), however, is spectacular, which boasts a boatload of flavors and textures bolstered by fennel puree, blood orange vinaigrette, miniscule pickles, and a subtly nutty walnut dukkah for crunchy contrast. Also lovely and light is a Insalata di Asparagi ($9), consisting of shaved asparagus, gigantic fava beans, a touch of lemon, and Bianco Sardo (shaved cheese).



Duck prosciutto (part of the salumi assortment, all $10), while wonderful to look at in thinly cut blood-red, mini strips, is once again underseasoned, and could use more salt. Then again, a Panino di Riccio de Mare (sea urchin and salami panino with mustard seeds, $7) is a delightful, surprising treat, comfort food’s worst nightmare come true. The sea urchin, whose slimy, briny texture I typically shy away from, meshes perfectly with the salty crispiness of the bread and the mustard’s spicy heat. Like the aforementioned pig’s ear, it’s a standout.



On the other end of the see-saw, however, lies a colossal misfire. While the ultra-hyped wood-grilled Bone Marrow white pizza ($16) has a crispy, charred texture that any North End pizzeria would envy, it’s a bland, underseasoned (once again lacking salt), slightly over-doughy disappointment. The cheese just limply sits there, and I could not locate a hint of the promised shaved horseradish, which if dutifully applied, would have added contrast in flavor and elevated the pie. The bone marrow and beef heart are innovatively applied yet wasted and tasteless here. The Sicilian Fisherman Pizza ($16) is loaded with plump fried calamari on steroids, tomato, parmesan, and cherry peppers which add intense, welcomed heat. The women at the table fawn over the dish. The calamari, while tasty, overwhelm the pizza like the Blob overtakes an unfortunate small town. The calamari are better suited on their own.



Pasta dishes are also hit-or-miss. The Spaghetti alla Carbonara ($20) is a rich, creamy blend of house made pasta with smoked pancetta (which adds a nice crisp to the dish), sea urchin, peas and farm egg. While good, it’s far from excellent. It is – wait for it – a bit underseasoned and possesses more of a chicken stock flavor than the smoky flavor I anticipated. A better bet is the Linguine Nero ($22), with house made squid ink pasta with lobster, black garlic, tomato, and wonderful Castelvetrano olives whose tartness is a perfect counter to the crustacean’s sweetness. Another winning, albeit traditional dish is the Pollo alla Milanese ($14), a small plate of incredibly sweet and crispy chicken.



Cocktails range from apertivo (sweet, tart, and slightly bitter flavors) to secondi (savory, spicy) to shandy (beer cocktails). While Italian Sangria is excessively spicy yet not remotely sweet due to a whopping inclusion of anise, a refreshing glass of Aperol (a sweet, slightly tart liquor that is 26% alcohol) over ice hits the spot. It’s even more refreshing to see an establishment stock this type of liquor, which is rarely served in restaurants nowadays. Drink slowly, however, as the glasses in which the drinks are mixed are rather small.



Overall, Coppa earns positive marks for its unique cuisine in a non-pretentious atmosphere. As hectic and cramped as the environment is, service is surprisingly polished, courteous, and efficient. Dishes are promptly replaced. Water glasses are immediately refilled. Questions are cordially answered. There are winners on this menu, but simply not enough of them. This may sound pigheaded to the masses who have showered praise upon Coppa, but my feeling is that the restaurant must improve upon the consistency, execution and seasoning of its food. Otherwise, Coppa – a restaurant aptly named in Italian after salumi made from pork- will never truly bring home the bacon.

Casa B Makes You Feel at Home

Mi casa es su casa, no? Not Necessarily, amigo mio. Casa B, a new tapas restaurant that opened in December, 2011 to instant adulation, is one of those places whose eclectic cuisine and ambience is so infectious that you selfishly won’t want to share them with others. Co-owners Alberto Cabre and Angelina Jockovich respectively hail from San Juan, Puerto Rico and Barranquilla, Colombia, and their establishment nails its intended Latin-American/Caribbean fusion concept. Somerville’s Union Square doesn’t necessarily shout dining destination, but with the arrival of Casa B, it should now be considered a must-visit spot on every foodie’s map.

Casa B’s conception is an interesting one. Cabre and Jockovich took ideas and recipes from their personal chef catering business, created a test kitchen four years ago to refine them, and ultimately created a restaurant that reflected the heart and soul of their homelands. Casa B’s name also has familial significance, as the ‘B’ honors Cabre’s maternal grandfather, whose last name was Bobonis.

The restaurant’s atmosphere is modern, hip, and romantic. It’s not the largest of spaces, set on two levels. Upstairs you’ll find a narrow, somewhat cramped hallway littered with a few tables against the wall, while a few seats only a stone’s throw away allow customers to imbibe on wine or cocktails should the downstairs bar area be full. And that’s exactly where I would recommend making a straight beeline towards. Casa B’s downstairs dining area nostalgically reminded me of a secluded bar I often frequented during my study abroad in Seville, Spain (and which was built as a secret haven for artists during the country’s deplorable Franco regime). Live plants are plastered against the room’s back wall, a wine rack is strategically placed in the room’s center (serving as a partition between the cozy bar/lounge area and the intimate dining room), and from loveseats at a counter, a handful of customers can view their meals being prepared in the open kitchen. Bright red and white colors adorn the walls (even the immaculate pair of upstairs restroom walls pack bright green and red colors). Yes, Casa B, with all due respect to crooner Justin Timberlake, is bringing sexy back to Somerville.

Casa B’s menu consists entirely of small plates known as tapas and pinchos, finger food intended for sharing (between two to three plates per person are recommended). Miniature forks and knives are playfully, almost jokingly provided to those who are less inclined to use their hands. Traditional tapas are cast aside here. Instead, tortilla Espanola (Spanish omelet made with eggs and potatoes) is served with sweet plantain (tortilla de maduros, $7). Shrimp with garlic is substituted with yucca-filled shrimp wrapped in bacon (camarones rellenos de yucca, $12) and delectable cilantro-ginger dipping sauce. Patatas bravas (fried potatoes) transform into yucca fries doused with a zesty, bright orange sauce (salsa de la abuela/Grandma’s ketchup), vertically served in a cone-shaped cup. Tradition with a twist.

Tabla de ceviches ($18) is a beautifully plated trio of lobster, salmon, and cod served on a wooden board. Each fish is laced with intense flavors of lime and peas, and their texture wonderfully contrasts with the crunch of root vegetable chips. It’s a knockout of a dish. Crispy avocado rolls (rollitos de aguacate, $8) are also fun and quite addictive, accompanied by a prune and cilantro sauce. The lone, albeit minor misstep of the evening is grilled Spanish sausage with yucca (chorizo a la plancha, $9). Unlike its crispier, comfort-food like yucca fries counterparts, these yuccas are boiled and somewhat limp, and the accompanying coconut sauce is surprisingly bland, adding minimal flavor. This disappointing dish, however, is quickly offset by hearty meatballs (albondigas, $9), served in a semi-sweet, dreamy guava sauce. They’re incredibly moist, and I left Casa B dreaming about what wonderful sauce. Guava must be the new Latin-Caribbean aphrodisiac.

A special of puertorrican pot roast (carne mechada, $18) contains pillowy gnocci made from yucca, while the meat, soaked in brown butter sauce, is mouthwateringly tender. Sesame crusted tuna (atun salteado, $12) is perfectly rare and the balance struck in this dish – the heat from spicy wasabi and the sweetness of plantain – represents all of the elements that Casa B masterfully juggles and pulls off without breaking a tropical sweat.

Desserts do not disappoint, either. Tres leches (three milk cake, $10) comes highly recommended, but sounds so, well, pase given all else that we’ve eaten. Instead, we try coconut and chocolate bread pudding ($9), once again drizzled with that oh-so-good guava sauce. It’s the perfect confectionary conclusion to a marvelous dining experience.

Casa B has several interesting varieties of Spanish, Chilean, and Argentine wines, along with cava and sherry, but honestly, why waste your time when potent house-made sangria, served from a giant terrine, and one of the finest versions I’ve sampled since my tine in Seville, is available? The menu also boasts another couple dozen cocktails, my favorite being the Bartender’s Choice ($10), whereby you provide barman Taso Papatsoris with your favorite liquour and he proceeds to incorporate it into a surprise concoction. My preference, a vanilla-like Spanish Licor 43, evolves into an inventive, sweet-tart margarita.

Service is attentive, albeit a but unpolished, particularly at the meal’s conclusion, whereby coffee arrives well after desserts are served, leftovers from two plates are mistakenly lumped together into one bag, and the check’s arrival takes longer than one would hope (although, lest we forget, we are on Caribbean time, after all).

At the beginning and end of our meal, Jockovich politely rests her hand on my shoulder, as if greeting and parting ways with an old friend. I soon realize it’s a genuine gesture she provides to everyone who enters her establishment, and it is so refreshing to see such warmth in an often cutthroat industry. For her, Casa B is most certainly su casa, and her home most definitely maintains a special place in my heart.

Bondir is Worth the Wait

Opening to universal, almost ungodly acclaim in November, 2010, Bondir undoubtedly comes with lofty dining expectations. Thankfully, chef/owner Jason Bond’s (formerly executive chef at Beacon Hill Bistro) little (and by little, I mean roughly 25 seats) gem of a French-inspired restaurant not only met, but exceeded my expectations. His cooking technique, execution, and passion for local, seasonal, and sustainable fare are awe-inspiring and evident in every dish. There’s nothing pretentious about his plating (culinary theatrics such as liquid nitrogen need not apply), but merely a mind-bending focus on unique ingredients that elevate simple dishes to grandiose heights.

The bistro is tucked away on a more remote, quieter side of Central Square in Cambridge (blink and you’ll pass by it on Broadway Street). Behind a curtained entryway, you’ll find a smug little waiting area – complete with log chairs – warmed by a brick fireplace. Antique wood benches are built into white and green colored walls. A small flower romantically resides on each table, while plates are decorated with floral and fruit patterns. A painting of a pig amusedly adorns the back wall. So this is what dining in an intimate, romantic French bistro must feel like.

Bread, baked daily in-house, nicely kick-starts our meal. From 9-grain, to Caraway Rye, to a most unique variety called The Sea (containing seaweed, dried shrimp, and black squid ink), these are some of the best loaves I’ve tasted since be treated to L’Espalier’s expansive, renowned bread service years ago in its former, more romantic location on Gloucester Street. Bondir also graciously offers all of its dishes in half plate or full portions (all $16/$30), a gesture most welcomed to those like myself who yearn to sample multiple dishes. My dining companion and I decide on five plates (between five and six come recommended for two people), which are well-placed and intelligently split into three separate courses.

We begin with Rhode Island Fluke Sashimi, perfect in its not-too-rubbery texture, along with its potent flavor, which packs subtle traces of heat attributed to dabs of chili syrup and black garlic. The next serving consists of hand-rolled cavatelli with venison ragu, cooked in rich red wine and cocoa nibs. While the dish is relatively solid (the pasta is perfectly cooked al dente), it’s slightly disappointing, particularly due to the fact that the ragu isn’t nearly as hearty as I expected, the venison has more of a dried-out, nuggety consistency, and the intense flavoring from the cocoa nibs I anticipated is barely discernible. Scituate scallops, on the other hand, are a revelation. Three plump, perfectly seared crustacean are served with cauliflower, Mutsu apple, and terrific pickled cranberries - which take on the appearance of small tomatoes – for tart contrast. The scallops are also topped with sage froth, which not only adds visual flair, but also provides a subtly sweet flavoring to the dish.

Next, a moist piece of roasted capon (a gamier, stronger flavored alternative to the poussin chicken also available on the menu) is neatly stacked atop a scrumptious, inventive trio of white flint cornmeal cake, kumi kumi squash and black lentils. Westport Dexter Beef Short Ribs are also tender, and laced with a light, sweet cider glaze. Unlike the capon, however, its sides of wild rice with currants and saffron spiced purple carrots don’t quite mesh as well while the carrots are slightly undercooked.

Desserts (all $10, while sorbets and ice creams come in at $8) provide a creative, delicious conclusion to the meal. Westport Winter Sunchokes, in name, sound dreadful, but its moist gingerbread cake with olive-oil caramel, lemon mouseline and apple leather are heavenly, if not a tad too sweet. And if strawberry fields are forever, how about tangerine dreams? The namesake dessert, which consists of sponge cake, vermouth-infused tangerine, and meringue brulee, delights my sweet tooth. My companion found the concoction excessively sweet, but I politely disagreed, although the accompanying thyme-buttermilk ice cream, while refreshing, was a bit superfluous given the richness of all the remaining ingredients.

For all of the imaginative dishes on display at Bondir, don’t expect an equally creative cocktail menu to boot. Wine and beer are all that is available here, although the selections are well-thought out and the majority are reasonably priced (such as a lovely bottle of Urbans-hof German Riesling for $39). Aside from a minor hiccup at the outset (our waitress disappeared for a few minutes shortly after checking in on us), service as knowledgeable, pleasant, and extremely well-paced. Chef Bond later visited us tableside to check in on our experience, another welcomed, sincere touch.

Throughout our meal, several diners commented on how grateful they were to have finally secured reservations at this quaint, cozy establishment after months of futile attempts. Laughter, conversations, and wine openly flowed from table to table, as if we were all communally sharing this intimate experience. Yes, Bondir is indeed a dining destination worth waiting for, and I can’t wait to frequent Chef Bond’s highly appealing bistro again, and soon.