Suddenly, one of the waitresses chucked her notepad and jumped into the frantic techno-frug. A song later, after much gleeful throwing of hips and whipping of hair, she returned to work. You just don't get this sort of thing at Morton's. At its best, Russian cooking reflects the same spirited determination to harvest pleasure wherever possible. Appetizers, like a tray of sausages and cured cold cuts, carry a sharp, salty sting.
Meat tastes deeply and unapologetically meaty.
Desserts punch through the thick flavors of the main course with the raw sweetness of honey and soothing heavy cream. Stoli comes in elegant, tall shot glasses bathing in bowls of ice. The very dry is actually quite sweet. This is cooking as a direct expression of the People's Will, diametrically opposed to the egoistic fusion gimcrackery that too often holds sway in fancy-britches upscale joints. Anyone who digs Italian antipasto plates will feel at home with these Russian equivalents, known as zakuski .