And thank goodness for my logic and laziness, or else we never would have experienced Colicchio & Sons, the namesake restaurant of chef Tom Colicchio. Situated west of the chaos, the restaurant balances the industrial enormity of its space with the coziness of its decor, rewarding us with the breathing room we so often desire, but not putting us on display.
We both chose our own pasta course and main course, not considering that this wasn’t the tasting menu, and we wouldn’t be receiving just “tastes” of everything. In fact, the portions were overgenerous. Doug opted for risotto with coddled egg, a heaping mouthful of creaminess made richer by the black truffle shaved on top, tableside. The fusilli with wild boar balanced delicate pasta with a hearty, savory Bolognese sauce. After diving headfirst into both of these dishes, rotating our scoops from one to the other, we could have easily called it quits on the satisfaction scale. But our main courses hadn’t arrived yet.
I learned from a fellow foodie that Colicchio & Sons prides itself on protein preparation, and based on our selections, it should. The black truffle roasted chicken arrived crusted and sliced like pork loin, tasting as juicy and flavorful as such and paired with tangy wheat berries and soft oyster mushrooms. Salty, crispy pancetta encapsulated buttery monkfish, although its accompaniment of red cabbage and rye crouton was not the best pairing. At that point, though, it didn’t matter. Minutes later, we chowed on Boston crème donuts with espresso custard and Sicilian pistachio. Oh. My. Glob.
Aside from any hints given by the menu’s seasonal offerings, the experience left us blissfully oblivious to the outside. They sent us on our way with fresh red currant scones, which the next morning, served as a reminder that good food is worth trekking for, in all kinds of weather.