The menu reads like a greatest hits of European peasant fare—the kind of salty, greasy, garlicky food you remember from your Spanish or Italian vacation. Meanwhile, the business card establishes a medieval theme, featuring an antique woodcut of a man in a doublet and knickers thrusting birds into a flaming oven. But traipsing past August late in July, I was nearly scared away by the menu, which seemed like heavy winter food. I ventured in anyway. The place was packed to the gills, and so was the backyard garden, a legacy of former tenant Picasso Café, now glassed in and planted with herbs. Wall treatments line the main dining room, resembling—if you squint a bit—souls in hell grasping their way up a... More >>>