Twenty-three seats, built for two.
A date night room is not a style of decor, it is a set of decisions. Keep the room small enough that nobody performs. Light it with candles. Cook plates that have to be passed across the table. Pour drinks that leave the rest of the night standing. We made all four, then stopped at twenty-three seats.
Plates that make you share.
Dinner here is three or four share plates between two, about ninety minutes if you let it breathe. Start with La Cabra sourdough and cultured Arethusa butter, add a crudo or the ceviche, a pasta, and whatever the season put on the menu that week. Nothing arrives in a portion built for one, which is the point.
The cocktails are low-ABV by design and the wine list runs from pet-nat and orange wine to Barolo and Champagne, so the two of you can drink well for the whole dinner and still want to walk afterward. We want to be part of your night, not the thing that ends it.
Two things most rooms cannot do.
Ask at the table and we will print your guest a copy of the menu with no prices on it, so they order what they want rather than what is polite. The idea began with a menu we printed for a mother ahead of her first visit; it works just as well for a second date. The story lives at the no-price menu.
And because of the Coravin, you can drink wines this neighborhood rarely pours by the glass: Château d’Yquem, a 2000 Pauillac, Premier Cru Chablis, red Burgundy. One glass of something unrepeatable says more than a second bottle of something fine. The current pours are at Coravin pours.
The night keeps going.
Some of the best cocktail bars in North America are a short walk from the door: Employees Only and Katana Kitten two minutes away, Dante three, Angel’s Share six. When you ask where to go next, we answer like neighbors, with walking times and what to order when you get there. The full list is at after dinner.
If the night starts with a show instead, we are three minutes from the Lucille Lortel; pre-theatre has the timing worked out.