By Robin Garr
More than a year later, when the local food critic finally heads out to a fine local restaurant for a relaxing sit-down dinner, where does he go? For me, the answer is simple: It has to be Seviche.
I’m always reluctant to name any restaurant my Number One, as any of five or ten favorites could wear the crown on any given day. But Seviche always makes me happy. Continue reading Seviche always satisfies →
As smoothly as a runner receiving the baton in a fast relay, new hands have taken charge of the kitchen at Mesh restaurant without missing a step. If you’re looking for casual modern elegance for holiday-season dining, Mesh should definitely be on your list. Continue reading Chef changes keep Mesh on tasty track →
I think Grassa Gramma is more than ready for prime time. Every single thing I’ve had to eat there in two visits (so far) has been really good, and the service was fine in that not-quite obsequious hovering style that’s been a hallmark of fine Italian dining in Louisville since Casa Grisanti went upscale in the 1970s.
But, even two months after Grassa Gramma opened its oversize front doors in Holiday Manor and with crowds trooping in, owner Kevin Grangier and General Manager Tarek Hamada are still striving for perfection. Continue reading Grassa Gramma is the next best thing to dinner in Italy →
You’d think I’ve been doing this culinary critiquing long enough that I’ve been just about everywhere and tried just about everything. But the other night Anoosh Bistro delivered a first: An appetizer so fine that I couldn’t eat just one. Continue reading Anoosh Bistro’s memorable fare delights →
We had such a good time checking out Main Street last week that we decided to hit the other end of downtown for dinner at Marketplace. Hmm. This block is different.
Walk down Fourth Street toward Broadway on a quiet evening when there’s nothing playing at the Palace, Mercury Ballroom or the Brown Theatre, and you may not meet another human being. Until you get to Marketplace Restaurant, anyway. Continue reading Even on a quiet night, Marketplace rocks →
Sure, Louisville is named after a French king – Louis XVI, who later lost his head in the French Revolution – but let’s face it: This decision didn’t make us French. Continue reading We hunt for culinary trophies at La Chasse →
Sooner or later, every restaurant critic – or every restaurant critic who’s paying attention, anyway – confronts a dilemma: With so many restaurants and so little time, it’s hard to get back to those reliable old favorites. Continue reading Time flies, things change and 211 Clover Lane stays flawless →
First, let’s get one thing perfectly clear: No matter how much I think I might dislike a place, I bring an open mind to the dinner table.
Sometimes this isn’t easy. Even if a restaurateur has responded to a review with veiled death threats or even mere front-yard TPing, it’s the critic’s job to swallow that bile and return someday, prepared to deal out judgment that’s honest and fair.
It’s a good thing, too, because I had a load of baggage in tow — much of it not particularly fair, but hey — when our friends Kathy and Rick joined Mary and me for a recent dinner at Mesh.
Continue reading Our critic can’t hate on Mesh in spite of himself →
Even after many years of wisecracking about food, I have to doff my toque to Calvin Trillin, whose culinary scribblings in The New Yorker and elsewhere surely qualify him as the funniest food writer ever.
So, upon my recent visit to 8UP, the self-described “Elevated Drinkery and Kitchen” atop the new downtown Hilton Garden Inn, it was with great glee that I went a’Googling in search of my favorite Trillin quote about rooftop eateries.
Continue reading 8UP is stunning, but how about the food? →
“Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.” Or maybe “beast.” Everybody thinks the Bard wrote this, but it was actually William Congreve, a decidedly lesser poet who lived a century or so after Bill Shakspear trod the boards.
My breast was savage, and so was my beast, the other day. I was crabby. I’ll admit it. And I showed few signs of getting better. What was gnawing at my liver? Let me count the ways. (The Bard really did say that.)
Continue reading Brasserie Provence soothes the savage critic →