113 Restaurant & Bar

There’s a certain charm to venturing out with a spirited group of friends and landing in a place brimming with laughter, the promise of good food hanging tantalizingly in the air. One such recent jaunt led us to our beloved culinary haunt, only to find it navigating through a curious transformation. The menu—once a cornucopia of starters whispering of journeys from hummus creamy enough to dunk your dreams into, to desserts that would’ve serenaded an angel into indulgence—had taken refuge in the realm of the succinct, stripping away the dessert and appetizer dalliance we’d come to adore like seasonal fireflies. Yet even this clipped version held an understated elegance, whispering promises of autumnal abundance soon to return.

The ambiance was spot on, a perfectly pitched ensemble of cozy intimacy and gentle clatter, echoing subtly within its aged wood frames like the warm embrace of an elderly aunt who is liberal with the sherry. The main players on this reduced stage—it must be said—still managed to put in a stellar performance. Bright sparks of flavor danced from plate to palate; each course carried whispers of adventurous cooks not held hostage by convention, though perhaps by circumstance for now. We left with stomachs just shy of full but hearts buoyant with crispy laughter and hyrdos (a particularly potent concoction that poured over us in citrus waves). We pledged a return come autumn, when presumably, the carousel of starters and sweet traceurs will waltz back, bathing evenings once more in their delicious opulence. Until then, the reigning kingfish and the sturdy beef mains shoulder the spotlight with seasoned grace that stirs hope rather than disappointment. — Milo Tastemaker