As an early birthday celebration, the hubby wanted to take me out for dinner. We defaulted to the Yorkville area because of traffic and were stuck with the conundrum of which ritzy patio to rest our middle class bottoms in. Sassafraz seemed the obvious choice, with it's lively patio, and solid, if snooty, reputation. But something else beckoned. Dilapitated iron arches and a yellowed menu board somehow promised more. The only sign of life was a simple table lain with white cloth and a few empty display bottles of wine. Peeking down this corridor between buildings, I could glimpse a lone table by a picture window lit by a single candle.
"I want to go there." I said decidedly. "Are you sure?" the hubby asks. He is very wary of places that are old, and quiet which spells stale food and possible salmonella to him. Simply put, it was OLD. The rave reviews framed on the walls were from the 70's and 80's. That smell of old cooking oil permeated the place and the decor spoke of a glorious past that has faded like the yellowed wallpaper. Nonetheless, we took the table with the single candle and hoped for the best. It did not disappoint. French classics like frog legs were spicy and delicious. Escargots were decent and our meaty mains of duck and red deer were perfect. The creme brulee was the best I've ever had and I had a chance to finally try a glass of armangnac (buuuurns!). All in all, a great experience despite it's crumbling facade. If you want to be utterly alone in a fine French restaurant, it's a great bet. Go before they go bankrupt. (Written in April 2010)
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