Chambers
Dining at Chambers may be the closest I've come to feeling like I'm dining inside the hit foodie TV drama "The Bear". No, it's not because pipes are exploding, or fights are breaking out in the kitchen, or, heaven forbid, the restaurant is on the brink of bankruptcy. Chambers instead channels the episodes where you can feel, quite viscerally, how life affirming it is to be engaging in the art of cooking at the very highest levels. That's evident in food here, which dances across the taste buds, surprising and delighting in equal measure, but also in the feeling of camaraderie that you'll get from watching the staff, especially if you choose one of the four seats that overlook the open kitchen.
Which is a surprise because there's nothing about the location, on a blah street in what's otherwise a historic area, or the decor, which is subdued and somewhat forgettable(dim lighting, lots of brown), that suggests how special the meal will be. Chef John Karis' menu changes weekly, based on what's coming in from the farmers the restaurant works with, but it always starts with a wedge of warm and fragrant sesame bread, included with dinner, and a lovely touch. If it's on the menu, go for the rigatoni, which tastes more delightfully vegetal than any other pasta in town, thanks to the use of habanada peppers (the sweet but not fiery cousin of habanero), slow simmered bone broth, and nutty kabocha squash. Also astonishing: a not-too-sweet chocolate trifle dessert that uses yogurt and tahini in wondrous ways. Final reason to come here: the acclaimed wine program, which will introduce you to unusual vintages from around the globe, all of which pair expertly with the fare here.
Dining at Chambers may be the closest I've come to feeling like I'm dining inside the hit foodie TV drama "The Bear". No, it's not because pipes are exploding, or fights are breaking out in the kitchen, or, heaven forbid, the restaurant is on the brink of bankruptcy. Chambers instead channels the episodes where you can feel, quite viscerally, how life affirming it is to be engaging in the art of cooking at the very highest levels. That's evident in food here, which dances across the taste buds, surprising and delighting in equal measure, but also in the feeling of camaraderie that you'll get from watching the staff, especially if you choose one of the four seats that overlook the open kitchen.
Which is a surprise because there's nothing about the location, on a blah street in what's otherwise a historic area, or the decor, which is subdued and somewhat forgettable(dim lighting, lots of brown), that suggests how special the meal will be. Chef John Karis' menu changes weekly, based on what's coming in from the farmers the restaurant works with, but it always starts with a wedge of warm and fragrant sesame bread, included with dinner, and a lovely touch. If it's on the menu, go for the rigatoni, which tastes more delightfully vegetal than any other pasta in town, thanks to the use of habanada peppers (the sweet but not fiery cousin of habanero), slow simmered bone broth, and nutty kabocha squash. Also astonishing: a not-too-sweet chocolate trifle dessert that uses yogurt and tahini in wondrous ways. Final reason to come here: the acclaimed wine program, which will introduce you to unusual vintages from around the globe, all of which pair expertly with the fare here.
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