Italy. Japan. France. America.
These are countries.
Moreover, these are countries whose culinary identities have about as much in common as Elton John and subtlety.
Then again, if someone were to throw a menu at you that happened to represent all of the above, we trust your interest would be piqued.
As in Japanese-ceviche-with-a-side-of-grilled-cheese piqued...
Introducing Baci, a microscopic melting pot of a restaurant with no regard for international borders and a soft spot for... whatever the hell you’re in the mood for at the time, slated to soft-open Monday in Brookhaven.
This is one of those come-as-you-are spots that’s basically whatever you want it to be. It’s run by the Cafe at Pharr people, so rest assured that your afternoon takeout chicken salad and duck-fat fries scenario remains firmly intact here.
Although this time around, you’re probably better off taking a more nocturnal approach to things. Show up with a few colleagues (interns count) for a few happy hour pints of Highland Gaelic and some lobster mac and cheese. Or better yet, ride the black marble bar and pick through 32 wines while you wait for your bacon-wrapped shrimp with Japanese aioli to show up.
Oh, and if you figure out why this place has an Italian name, let us know.
These are countries.
Moreover, these are countries whose culinary identities have about as much in common as Elton John and subtlety.
Then again, if someone were to throw a menu at you that happened to represent all of the above, we trust your interest would be piqued.
As in Japanese-ceviche-with-a-side-of-grilled-cheese piqued...
Introducing Baci, a microscopic melting pot of a restaurant with no regard for international borders and a soft spot for... whatever the hell you’re in the mood for at the time, slated to soft-open Monday in Brookhaven.
This is one of those come-as-you-are spots that’s basically whatever you want it to be. It’s run by the Cafe at Pharr people, so rest assured that your afternoon takeout chicken salad and duck-fat fries scenario remains firmly intact here.
Although this time around, you’re probably better off taking a more nocturnal approach to things. Show up with a few colleagues (interns count) for a few happy hour pints of Highland Gaelic and some lobster mac and cheese. Or better yet, ride the black marble bar and pick through 32 wines while you wait for your bacon-wrapped shrimp with Japanese aioli to show up.
Oh, and if you figure out why this place has an Italian name, let us know.
