You’re going to hear a lot about food in the next few days.
The death of Hostess.
The defrosting of turkeys.
And starting right now...
The greatest thing to happen to salumi since the invention of the deli slicer.
Behold Bestia, an Arts District trattoria that’s doing all sorts of important things with house-cured charcuterie and handmade pasta, opening Friday.
On paper, this thing looks like a beast. Ori Menashe in the kitchen (the Angelini Osteria guy), Julian Cox on the drinks (the Rivera guy) and Bill Chait running the show (the Picca/Sotto/everything guy). In reality, this thing looks like... well, a really attractive abandoned warehouse. Ivy climbs the outside. Exposed brick covers the inside. And strategically rusted metal colors everything else. (If it all looks familiar, that’s because you were just here. They hosted the latest Test Kitchen pop-up before opening.)
If we could make a suggestion, don’t come here for a first date. Instead, maybe a fourth. Or a fifth. Or at whatever the point is in a relationship when you usually feel comfortable splitting dishes like calf-nerve carpaccio and vacuum-packed pig’s face over arugula. (Oh, so it’s that kind of rustic Italian.)
And between you and us, when you do go, try to get one of those last three seats at the hammered-copper bar. You’ll get a direct line of sight through a butcher’s window to where they hang/prep the salumi (think salt-packed lardo and Colombian chili-rubbed ’Nduja).
Salumi Illustrated calls them the best seats in the country.
The death of Hostess.
The defrosting of turkeys.
And starting right now...
The greatest thing to happen to salumi since the invention of the deli slicer.
Behold Bestia, an Arts District trattoria that’s doing all sorts of important things with house-cured charcuterie and handmade pasta, opening Friday.
On paper, this thing looks like a beast. Ori Menashe in the kitchen (the Angelini Osteria guy), Julian Cox on the drinks (the Rivera guy) and Bill Chait running the show (the Picca/Sotto/everything guy). In reality, this thing looks like... well, a really attractive abandoned warehouse. Ivy climbs the outside. Exposed brick covers the inside. And strategically rusted metal colors everything else. (If it all looks familiar, that’s because you were just here. They hosted the latest Test Kitchen pop-up before opening.)
If we could make a suggestion, don’t come here for a first date. Instead, maybe a fourth. Or a fifth. Or at whatever the point is in a relationship when you usually feel comfortable splitting dishes like calf-nerve carpaccio and vacuum-packed pig’s face over arugula. (Oh, so it’s that kind of rustic Italian.)
And between you and us, when you do go, try to get one of those last three seats at the hammered-copper bar. You’ll get a direct line of sight through a butcher’s window to where they hang/prep the salumi (think salt-packed lardo and Colombian chili-rubbed ’Nduja).
Salumi Illustrated calls them the best seats in the country.
