The restaurant's name is its address. You enter the restaurant through a small reception area with a partition, behind which are waiters and waitresses bustling about, and behind them, cooks at their work. The room is all wood, with knotty-pine wainscoting, a high ceiling, and lots of glass on the south side. Classical music filters down softly to the tables, set with two colors of linen. The wait staff, dressed in black and white, served us with efficiency.
Vases hold nosegays of daisies, baby's breath and pinks.
A basket of good, soft breadsticks and a little cup with butter keeps you occupied while you peruse the menu and wine list. Roasted garlic and warm chevre livened things up, but the taste of rancidity in the toasted nuts brought things down again. Mushroom and red beet soup. I think the soup needed herbs to brighten it. The base, which tasted like a vegetable stock, needed some salt, too.