I’d made reservations under one of my ever-evolving pseudonyms and arranged to meet friends. But when we walked up to the hostess station at Burwell’s, the downstairs neighbor and gatekeeper of the rooftop location, we were met with a confused look. “It’s closed,” she stated, gesturing vaguely at the outside world behind us. “It rained earlier.”

The same thing happened a few days later, only this time it was clearly stormy, so I didn’t even try.

For all of its charms, Balao is a fair weather friend, a tough sell in a climate where rain is a near-daily occurrence. Nonetheless, when the sun is shining and the rooftop is as accessible as it will ever be (take your pick of notably steep staircases to get you there), Balao more than makes up for any flakiness.

I started with the ceviche — ($12 at happy hour/$15 otherwise), a cool, welcome treat on a hot, sunny rooftop. Made with the ‘seafood of the day,’ mine featured whole bay scallops in plentiful supply. Mixed with chopped green onion, jalapeño, and tiny cubes of peach, it’s garnished with paper-thin slices of cucumber and radish, and then sprinkled with cilantro. Served with tortilla chips, the dish is fresh and bright, with the predominant flavor being that of citrus.

The tacos ($8 HH/$10) are served on a typically diminutive flour tortilla, but with enough fillings for a burrito. Moreover, what’s loaded on is muy delicioso. Nicely charred fish o’ the day — bay scallops again — are piled on to the point of overflowing. They’re then topped with avocado, cubed peaches and pickled cabbage, plus a drizzle of rich crema. It’s hard to say what’s more lovable: The flavors or the bang for one’s buck.

Also far better than anticipated, the heirloom panzanella salad ($12) is like a big bowl of summertime. Here, fresh herbs mingle with purple, yellow, and greenish-red tomato slices and large, crouton-esque hunks of sourdough bread. The addition of bacon lardons and charred corn, as well as raw red onion and a tomato vinaigrette, lead to a dish in which every mouthful is a little bit different, but all are equally fresh and well-balanced.

The outdoor space at Balao is tiny and, as previously mentioned, exposed to the elements. There’s also a long, wood, full-service bar, which opens (via a series of sash windows) to an eating bar inside. The enclosed area feels like overspill dining space — drab and slightly shut off from everything else — and begs the question, “Why abandon ship at the hint of rain?” (My best guess would be the outdoor bar.)

But no matter. When they’re up and running, life is good and service is attentive and friendly. All the dishes suggested by the sweet bartender/waitress turned out to be winners, but perhaps it’s just that it’s hard to go wrong.

Certainly seemed that way with the ‘Hell Yeah’ sandwich ($14), a messy celebration of Italian/Southern decadence. Imagine that, against all odds, a meatball sub and a po’ boy meet and fall in love. Disagreements over where to spend Christmas aside, their love child might be a slightly sweet, seeded hoagie filled with breaded, fried calamari and bay scallops. Add some sliced soppressata and scamorza cheese, plus piquant banana peppers and a marinara sauce, and you’ve got one hell of a little, messy bundle of joy. Yes, the bun is too soft and the innards spill all over kingdom come, but it’s an undertaking worth the possible dry cleaning bill.

Along with the innovative food offerings, Balao has a hyper-creative cocktail list with house inventions like the Summer Rosé ($11), made with rosé-soaked watermelon, St. Germain, and aperol. In contrast, the Global Warming ($10) contains mezcal, green tea, and smoked peaches, whereas the Death in the Morning ($10) features chilled espresso, Godiva dark chocolate liquor, and mint. R.I.P.

Although 75 percent of the dishes already sampled contained scallops, I couldn’t resist the server’s glowing endorsement of the seared diver scallops ($18). Lawd have mercy: Balao may want to change its name to Pectinidae, for the taxonomic family that contains scallops. Plated on creamy, rich middlins (the Southern equivalent of risotto, made with broken pieces of white rice), the two large scallops are inarguably fresh and perfectly seared. Surrounded by a well-seasoned mix of chard, mushrooms, and zucchini; cloaked with a black garlic puree; and topped with a scattering of pungent kimchi; the outstanding dish is also a bargain, which makes it twice as fine.

Despite its slightly inaccessible location and mercurial opening times, there’s no good reason Balao was relatively empty on a sunny Wednesday night. The service is welcoming, the food superlative, and the price quite right. Go before everyone else catches on.

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The extensive menu is displayed behind the counter and starts with breakfast on the left. The Betty’s chicken and French toast ($12) came highly recommended by the friendly girl taking our orders. The fried, boneless chicken breast arrives in a thin breading flavored with thyme. Slightly overcooked, it’s accompanied by two huge, eggy slices of brioche-based French toast. Lightly spiced with nutmeg and cinnamon, they’re accompanied by sweet butter and real maple syrup. Although it turns out I prefer the more traditional variation with a waffle, this is an adequate substitution.

Two words that I am willing to bet never once came out of my grandma’s mouth are Croque Madame ($10). At Betty’s, the French classic gets a Southern makeover — with acceptable results. Two slices of brioche are filled with Swiss cheese and a massive portion of thin-sliced ham. This grandma replaces the nutmeg-dusted bechamel with a deluge of salty Mornay, then tops it with a sunny side up egg with an intense cranking of black pepper on top. The love child of biscuits and gravy and a Croque Madame, it’s pretty clear Betty is one of those grandmas that just wants to feed you. And then feed you some more.

The space itself is bright and cheery, with yellow banquettes and 1960s hits playing overhead. The young women working the counter were equally sunny, and almost make up for the DIY approach. Not for everyone, Betty’s has opted for a fast casual vibe, with a list of chores like counter ordering, self-service coffee, and cleaning up your own dishes when you’re done. Presumably this saves on costs or maybe Grandma just wants everyone to pull their own weight, but careful plodders first encountering the expansive list of choices can really slow a line down during busy periods.

In addition to house-made biscuits with gravy ($7) or shrimp and grits ($14), Betty’s offers an array of omelets ($8-$9) and burgers ($6-$9 for a single patty, $10-$12 for doubles). On the sandwich side of things, there’s a cheese steak ($12) served on a grilled, buttered hoagie. Here, shaved beef and bell peppers are accompanied by onions so caramelized they’re as dark as the meat. That’s saying something, seeing as one side of the steak had been left on the flat top so long, it had developed a dark, hard sear. In a move I don’t quite get, American cheese is replaced with Mornay sauce and black pepper mayonnaise, non-traditional flourishes I could do without. Dry, yet overly lubricated with mayo, it’s forgettable at best.

In contrast, the shrimp po’ boy ($11) was a highlight. Served on the same nine-inch hoagie roll, six fried, breaded shrimp are accompanied by sweet pickles, Romaine lettuce, and some exceptionally under-ripe tomatoes. Dressed with a spicy remoulade possessed with a real kick, it’s a slight twist on the traditional that works.

The sandwiches are not large and most dishes are served a la carte, an approach that could leave bigger appetites wanting. Sides are $3 and range from French fries and coleslaw, to potato salad or mac and cheese. Of all the recent food trends, I’m happiest about the current, near-omnipresence of Brussels sprouts ($3), and this grandma is all over it. The side features five, halved sprouts that are well-seared outside, yet still borderline raw inside. Think fresh crunch mixed with crisp, fried leaves and you’re there.

A solid option for vegetarians and cheese lovers alike, the Caprese sandwich ($9) was one of the better sampled. Four thick slices of firm mozzarella — the kind that squeaks on your teeth — are served with a chiffonade of basil and some ripe tomato. Made with the ubiquitous hoagie roll, it’s a perfectly respectable sandwich, but some balsamic reduction or fresh, garlicky pesto wouldn’t hurt.

I ordered this with a side of ambrosia salad ($3), because, well, who can resist the food of the gods? Brace yourself, as Betty’s deities apparently like keeping it weird. Tangy AF and unnervingly fizzy, the strangest part was the large quantity of tiny acini de pepe pasta. Tossed with bits of pineapple and canned mandarin oranges, this quirky threesome is then — I’m guessing — folded with Cool Whip and perhaps sour cream, the results of which are sweet. And odd. And unexpectedly effervescent. Caveat emptor.

Neither strange nor carbonated, the roast beef sandwich ($11) is made with “Betty’s oven-roasted beef.” Hot damn, Grandma, this is perhaps where you should focus more energy. Better than most delis, the thin-sliced, rare meat is well-seasoned and served on sourdough bread spread with tangy horseradish and creamy dijon. Assembled along with lettuce, pickles and mayo, let’s get real, it’s a roast beef sandwich. However, if Betty were plying me with a thick slice of that roast beast and some mashed potatoes, I wouldn’t say no.

A cute, DIY dining option hidden in a busy strip mall, Betty’s Eatery is aiming to do a lot with a little. Although some of it works, I worry the large crowd of patrons eating outside at the adjacent Whole Foods may just prove that serving yourself is better left to lower price points. Nonetheless, with a charming ambiance, approachable menu, and an attempt to conjure the best of your grandma, things may work out just fine.

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The menu is unapologetically French. Although there is thoughtfully sourced fromage and charcuterie, why not start in the deep end with the escargots ($15)? Here, six vol-au-vent puff pastries are filled with garlicky snails and topped with a nondescript parsley butter. Escargot with training wheels, if you wanted to trick someone into unwittingly consuming snails in the guise of a garlicky pastry, this would be the way to do it. The accompanying salad is small in scale, but memorable. Spring greens are topped with three cherry tomatoes and a sweet balsamic reduction, the net result of which is lovely on a hot summer night.

Next from the hors d’oeuvres section was the brioche surprise ($16). Surprise! You just wasted $16. The overly mayonnaise-y mix of tiny shrimp, celery, and seeded tomato, plus pungent chunks of onion is like something you might find at a church potluck. The brioche is of the hamburger bun variety, toasted to a dark, firm crust on both sides. Laisse tomber … Take a hard pass.

Bistro A Vin offers a daily happy hour from 4-7 p.m., with beer for $5 and French house wines for $6. The placard notes that options are at the owner’s discretion, yet he thoughtfully inquired whether we prefer a dry or sweet selection. All the staff I encountered were French, and all had great personalities. At the same time, service is decidedly European, which is to say friendly when you beckon, but otherwise hands-off.

The croque madame ($12) is by the book, the consummation of ooey, gooey comfort food. Sliced paysan bread is filled with melted gruyere cheese, thin-sliced ham, and a creamy bechamel lightly spiced with nutmeg. Served with an over easy egg on the side, the roots of the ‘put an egg on it’ movement started here.

Although I was once admittedly critical of a different French establishment for including the same butter lettuce with absolutely everything, here the ubiquitous spring green, cherry tomato, and balsamic vinegar reduction salad continues to please. Perhaps due to its diminutive size and careful balance of flavors, it’s a welcome palate cleanser with each plate.

It appears again with the boudin noir aux pommes ($16), a soft, light blood sausage made with pork, egg whites, and nutmeg. It’s accompanied by raw, cinnamon-dusted apples paired with mild, almost buttery onions, plus gratin dauphinois. The pie-like slice of gratin — consisting of sliced potatoes baked in milk ­— is expertly made and lightly seasoned with rosemary.

As it occupies what was previously a retail storefront, Bistro A Vin relies on the kitchen at the adjacent cafe. Staff travel back and forth through the outdoor terrace on Market Street, a journey that must be a real pain in the ass during routine downpours.

Hopefully they have a system in place to protect the galettes ($21), a traditional buckwheat crepe available with two fillings. Despite its obvious appeal, I did not pick the variation made with scallops, mushrooms, and creme fraiche. Rather, I opted for the foie gras, fig chutney, and balsamic vinegar galette, and just typing those words is making me nostalgic.

The crisp crepe is filled with slices of fresh apple, sweet fig chutney, and tart balsamic, all of which combine to beautifully complement the generous slices of tender foie gras. Absolutely sublime, with an impeccable balance of sweet and savory, I will return just for one of these.

It’s been the year of French-focused eateries. Perhaps it’s time to start a new trend? Mais non. A cozy wine bar with thoughtfully prepared, well-priced food, Bistro A Vin is the French newcomer we didn’t even know we needed.

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The food is decidedly bar fare, plus pizza. The waiter strongly recommended the wings (six for $7, 12 for $14 or 24 for $28). Available in an amazing technicolor dreamcoat of flavor varieties — General Tso, buttermilk ranch, and Old Bay, as well as ‘social suicide,’ which apparently involves face-burning heat rather than vampire-proof levels of garlic I’d presumed, I went with ‘hot.’ The wings arrive smoked and then flash-fried, the new normal, at least in Charleston. The wings were tasty, but possessed such a light coating of Buffalo sauce, I couldn’t really pick any distinct flavor. Even so, the smoke notes came through and the lingering burn was notable.

I thought maybe they were just kidding, but the JK Hummus ($7) seems to be hummus. More likely named for Chef Jonathan Kaldas, it tastes like it’s been made with some added vinegar. Normally more of an “obscene amounts of creamy tahini” Palestinian-style fan, the JK variation is greatly helped out by its topping of chopped tomatoes, onions, and cucumbers, plus dots of feta cheese and cracked black pepper. A lighter option for soaking up suds and shots, it’s accompanied by a loaf of exceptional fresh bread — warm and light inside, with a dense, crispy crust.

If I were going to make a lethal weapon out of bread and cheese, the pizza dough bites ($6) would serve as a solid starting place. Although the name makes it sound like something you’d find in the freezer aisle, when the hunk arrives, you realize ‘bite’ doesn’t begin to do it justice. The same, superlative round loaf is filled with a heap of mozzarella, topped with grated Parmesan, and baked to a melty, manna-from-heaven state. The accompanying tomato sauce is powerfully over-seasoned with oregano, but no worries. You don’t need it. You’re just here to eat drippy, gooey cheese and fresh bread with your hands, like the good Lord intended.

Your mitts will also be necessary when tackling the General Tso’s chicken sandwich ($14). Here, a seeded hamburger bun and romaine lettuce leaf are topped with a huge, encrusted breast. Hand-breaded and fried to a dark crunch, it’s coated in a tangy, spicy sauce and finished with tart red bell pepper, onion, and cucumber pickles. I’m not sure I’ve ever had such a concoction, and I’m glad I know where to find it.

As we’ve discussed, Uptown Social is a bar — technically, four bars — a responsibility they take seriously. Whatever your pleasure, they have some. There are adult slushies with names like High Noon grapefruit frose ($7) and day rager ($7), plus signature cocktails like the Grape-full dead ($9) and Burning Sensation ($9). For those less inclined toward mixed drinks with adorable monikers, there’s also a variety of beer and wine on tap.

The sloppy joe sliders ($9) are billed as “cafeteria style, but better.” Although not a very high bar, they’ve succeeded. The chunky ground beef mixture contains flecks of red bell pepper and the sauce has notes of brown sugar and Worcestershire. Although there’s nothing wrong with them, per se, I’m inclined to think there are stronger menu options out there if they were so inclined.

On that note, the classic cheeseburger sliders ($12) require no adjustment. Three sliders arrive with sweet sauteed onions blanketed by a melted layer of cheddar cheese. Well-seasoned and topped with two pickles apiece, the homey simplicity works well here.

The Caesar salad ($8) with Tarvin family shrimp ($4) was unfortunate. While they lured me in with the promise of “house baked croutons,” this is also where they lost the thread. Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I’m pretty sure cutting up stale hamburger buns and baking them to a rock hard state does not a crouton make. More like something you’d toss at some waterfowl or leave to mark the forest path home, they single-handedly ruined what could’ve been a mediocre salad.

Happily, the armitage pizza ($14) is a return to what Uptown Social seemingly does best — bake fresh dough. The cracker thin crust is topped with green creme, fresh mozzarella, and big chunks of Grana Padano, but where it really takes flight is with the peppery arugula and bright lemon zest. Light and fresh, the super thin crust allows the unique toppings to take center stage.

A big, beautiful space with four bars and a coveted rooftop deck, Uptown Social is bound to be slammed in the evening hours. But even if you don’t fancy yourself a social butterfly, it’s worth a stop for anything involving some fresh dough and melty cheese.

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Case in point, the boquerones ($8). These Spanish-style vinegar-cured anchovies are often served tapas-style, on toasted bread with grated tomato and extra virgin olive oil. Here, the olive oil remains, but the small, piquant fish are wrapped around juicy pink grapefruit slices and topped with a heaping helping of ground black pepper. Make sure to include enough olive oil in each bite, as it’s a strong and acidic combination that kind of has to grow on you. My dining companion went from hating it to loving it in just two bites. Proof of the importance of getting all the ingredients in one mouthful, as the sour, acidic start soon transforms in a way that’s at once unexpected and sublime.

The roasted radishes ($5) are a known associate. Mellowed from the heat, but still possessed of a bitter finish, the seven small pieces of root vegetable harmonize with the mellow kefir-based ranch dressing. Further garnished with preserved lemon, it’s a comforting, yet elegant dish.

Similarly, Renzo itself is small, but stylish. Quietly standing out amongst its residential Huger Street neighbors, inside the renovated Charleston single there’s a sizable gold-plated bar, plus a few booths and limited table seating. Groups of three and even four can be seen crowded around tiny marble tables, like underage guests at a hip house party; just happy to be there.

The staff also seems happy to be there. And paired with their flawless menu knowledge, the positive attitudes, and unobtrusive attention make the experience that much better.

The Renzo menu is about half pizza, but — perhaps not surprisingly — originality squared is also in full force here. There’s a margherita ($10) option to satisfy the pursists, but that’s where the familiarity ends. Not quite as pop culture wink-winky as the offerings at Moe’s franchise, it comes close with names like the Hawaiian-ish Johnny Tsunami ($14) and medjool date-bearing Wrath of Kahan ($14).

By that token, the Mayor Quimby ($16) immediately brings to mind the Boston pronunciation of ‘chowder,’ and even chowder itself. Potentially the inspiration, it features a creamy bechamel sauce topped with mild cheese, bitter chard, and browned garlic. Although it would be understandable, don’t forget the four tiny clams, a portion so tiny it registers more like a garnish. Vegetarians could easily leave them off and miss out on nothing. Served with a lemon wedge, the Quimby is a pleasing, dairy-rich option.

The Shabazi ($14), however, is where the rubber meets the road. The same heavily charred, chewy crust is topped with a vinegary tomato sauce and dotted with ground lamb balls. From there it’s finished with a generous portion of fresh parsley, mint, and purple basil. “That doesn’t sound like much of a pizza,” you might muse. And I’d be inclined to agree, but for the accompanying small dish of yogurt and zhug, a green Yemenite hot sauce. Made with garlic, parsley, and cilantro, along with olive oil and Thai bird chiles, it’s the Girls Gone Wild version of chimichurri, and it’s explosive. If you can take the heat — and it’s formidable — you’ll likely wonder where zhug has been all your life. The base of the crust is covered with the burned cornmeal remains of pizzas prior and it’d be nice if they could address that, but it’s still a stellar pie.

Along with wood-fired pizza, Renzo hangs its hat on natural wine. There’s a thoughtful selection of bottles, plus a smattering of European-focused options by the glass. Along with unusual beer choices and a handful of amaro herbal liqueurs, you’re likely to discover something new and hopefully to your liking.

Realistically, caesar salad ($12) is never really anything more than caesar salad, but Renzo pushes the envelope. Made with long, thin slices of kohlrabi and celery, as well as little gem lettuce leaves, it’s coated in a pungent anchovy dressing. Served topped with pumpkin and sesame seeds, plus grated cured egg yolks, it’s one of the better caesars I’ve tried and perhaps the best item on the menu. And that’s saying something.

The agnolotti ($16) is also quite special, albeit fun-sized. Really, really ridiculously good-looking, the five small pillowy pasta squares are filled with creamy, robust castelrosso cheese. Funky, yet sweet, it pairs beautifully with the syrupy honey sauce. Although I could personally do without the salty oil-cured black olives and beautiful, bitter edible flowers, the photo op is undeniable.

Likewise, the sunburst trout conserva ($15) is as carefully executed as it looks. Described by the server as being like a deconstructed bagel and lox, the oil-cured fish is clean and simple. It’s plated with cool, creamy creme fraiche and topped with a flower-heavy parsley salad, which is acerbic, but pretty. Accompanied by six house-made crackers covered in poppy seeds and coarse-grain salt, this DIY dish is a winner.

Undeniably deliberate, yet prone to (successful) flights of fancy, Renzo has hit the ground running. With a spot-on mix of style and flavor, I just want to kiss it, and I don’t even care who sees me.

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“Four-legged friends!?” my dining companion read aloud, visibly aghast. “Why would they write it like that? That’s horrible! And chickens don’t have four… Oh.”

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Factoring in the piano, eyeglasses, and The Sistine Chapel, uova de raviolo may be Italy’s greatest contribution to mankind. This is not lost on Cannon Green, where former chef Amalia Scatena offered a duck egg-filled version. Clearly aware of a good thing when he sees it, successor Michael Perez continues to feature a raviolo ($15) on his mostly-revamped menu. The dish is still made with spinach, ricotta, and brown butter, and topped with microgreens and garlic chips. Now filled with a perfectly cooked Storey farm chicken egg yolk, it continues to offer elegant precision. If only a full plate of them wouldn’t cost as much as my monthly electric bill.

On a similar note, the octopus ($14) is beautifully prepared. Served with four small heirloom potatoes, roasted asparagus, and some charred spring onions, the octopus itself is tender and well-seasoned. Paired with three black dots of creamy aioli nero, it turns out squid ink has a flavor vaguely reminiscent of blueberries.

The red snapper ceviche ($14) is awkwardly plated, stuffed into a semi-inaccessible Weck glass jar and accompanied by an inadequate portion of salt-festooned crackers. Relocated onto the plate, the ceviche looks like an afterthought, the ragged cuts of fish resembling leftover scraps. Sloppy appearance aside, the traditionally prepared ceviche is decidedly fresh and tart, with the unexpected addition of fresh mint amplifying the clean brightness.

Perhaps in homage to the restaurant’s name, there are verdant green notes throughout the offerings, including those on the cocktail menu. For instance, the Smoke Show ($14) — a spicy, sultry drink made with Dewars and Domaine de Canton ginger liqueur — arrives with two thin slices of jalapeño resting atop the single giant ice cube. Likewise, the spicy marg! ($11) looks to the power of the exclamation point to tell it like it is. Decidedly fiery, with a chipotle pepper powder rim and more jalapeño floaters, it’s a perfectly fine cocktail, but alas, it’s no Smoke Show.

The Thai-style pork ribs ($12) will not be filling anyone up anytime soon. More like bone-in pork chops in execution, the two, small, peanut-dusted ribs are extremely difficult to eat with any semblance of grace. Give in and pick yours up. It’s all about your incisors now. Accompanied by a mound of mache lettuce and three thin slices of radish, the overall flavors of the dish are on-point, there just isn’t much of it to go around.

Cannon Green’s service is friendly and knowledgeable, with plenty of staff on hand to keep things moving. Despite the high ceilings and open space, you can still hear the Lumineers playing quietly overhead and the overall din remained low even as the restaurant filled.

The cabbage “steak” ($19) is a head-scratcher. Has the vegan populace demanded equal rights to meat-based terminology? Or is anything now considered a “steak” if you roast it? Perhaps it’s an effort to make 17 cents worth of cabbage feel worthy of an Andrew Jackson?

Regardless of the reasons, the quartered cabbage head sits proudly brown and roasted amongst the voluptuous morel and Blue Foot mushrooms. Surrounded by a smooth and powerfully smoky onion puree, the cabbage itself is still quite undercooked at the core, yet the umami flavors of the superlative mushrooms elevate what might otherwise have been an unremarkable dish.

On the other hand, when prepared correctly, there may be nothing more sublime than scallops ($29). The three bivalves arrive beautifully seared, yet tender like buttah atop a light, creamy celery root puree. Although quite pretty, the accompanying peeled orange segments don’t add much beyond color, and the centerpiece — a thick slice of roasted fennel root — was disagreeably raw.

With small portions and a high cost of admission, some of Cannon Green’s dishes are arguably undeserving of their price tag. Still, there are some superlative offerings on the menu that are more than worthy of the splurge. Go for the tranquil, garden-like setting and stay for the egg yolk-filled pasta. As Oscar Wilde once noted, moderation is a fatal thing, and nothing succeeds like excess.

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In 2003, Chef Mike Lata and co-owner Adam Nemirow opened the now-iconic FIG. “What we stand for goes back to the beginning when we first started FIG,” Lata recalled. “We were in a city where the fine dining restaurants were very elite and exclusive, and their check average – as well as the food and wine – was very intimidating to a lot of people. I had been a chef for eight or nine years at that point, and my business partner had been managing restaurants for a while. We were the same age and relatively of the same means and we kept saying, ‘We’d love to do a place, a restaurant, that showcases the seasonality of Charleston.’ So it was farm-to-table way back in the day.

“We wanted to create a setting that was unpretentious and for everybody. And what we’d do is set a price point (at the time) that was very inexpensive. We wanted an intensely educated staff with a very casual approach to fine dining, meaning a “come as you are” dress code. If you wanted to have an elevated experience, we could provide that food and service-wise. But if you just wanted to come in and have dinner and more or less be left alone, that was the neighborhood side of what we were doing. We wanted it to be very well-informed, yet very laid back.”

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