KING

King isn't the easiest rezzie to procure, so I was so happy that I could get one, on relatively short notice.  I was so excited to visit- I had heard and read only great things- so even the early reservation time wasn't problematic.  The only problem was that I apparently didn't complete the whole reservation process (they use Resy) so the reservation I thought I had, I had not.  Which was unfortunate-ish, except for that the hostess was so sweet and accommodating, and found us two prime seats at the bar, so in my world, all was well.  As long as the full menu is offered, I normally have no preference between a table and the bar.  And here, especially, the bartender was so cool and convivial that I feel like it might've even been a better choice.  At any rate, we were in, and I was glad.

King is tiny, although the dining room behind the front room that includes the bar uses the space to the utmost advantage.  Despite the close quarters,
it has a light and airy feel, cleanly white-washed with a lofty rustic bouquet of flowering branches that are more emblematic of the female ownership than is the very bold and meat-focused menu.  I suppose that's ascribing to antiquated gender bias, but I'm not judging.  And not only meat-focused, it is just focused, period.
  As in, brief.  There are but four starters and three entrees, and these are almost indistinguishable aside from a doubling of price.  I don't think poached ox tongue would ever be my first choice as
 an appetizer?.. but there it is.   Otherwise, tagliarini in a creamy pesto with haricots vests can be
considered a primo, Italian-style, but is a little bland.   I was thrilled with the one veggie offering, however, a roasted vegetable salad with a plump fluff of whipped ricotta to mellow the richly roasted peppers, sweet onions and eggplant aside an oil-slicked ruffle of assertive arugula.  Before that, we were greeted with a hunky bruschetta dripping with oily tomato juices rife with garlic.  Dribble-down
 your chin good, and sort of renders the $10 pannisse or the $16 grilled bread (two other appetizer choices) with crushed favas and olives redundant.





Perhaps the most telling incident, however, aside from my reservation error, was our wine order. We went for a bottle, but when it arrived, the nose was exquisite, but the wine inside just a little flat.  My tablemate, aiming for diplomacy after they were so hospitable about seating us, decided it was drinkable, just a bit of breathing required.  But as it is with dining at the bar, we struck up conversation with the gentleman adjacent, he remarked what a lovely wine we had chosen, and that opened up the can of worms.  And it turned out he was the owner's friend, so obviously told the management, and after much more drama than it was all probably worth, they comped us the bottle. Which was more than magnanimous since we drank the whole bottle anyways.  But that's who is taking care of you at King, and that mentality pervades.


Just as stellar were our entrees.  There are but three, but had there been nineteen I probably still would've chosen the grilled halibut with asparagus, lentils and sorrel.  Despite the mound of lentils obscuring the fish, it was a sizable filet, crowned with an exquisitely crisped skin, and the savory, earthy legumes were an excellent counter to mildly lemony sorrel and woodsy grilled asparagus.  I could've done without the marinated anchovies, but they were easily siphoned off, and then added just a hint of oceanic salinity.   Rabbit with sage was our other option, but instead we went for chargrilled
 lombatello perfumed with rosemary and served with an artichoke puree and slung with slippery leaves of hearty Swiss chard.  The steak was strikingly vibrant inside, juices bright and meaty,  in contrast with the robust char from the grill.

Desserts are simple: there are a few selections, seasonal as well is calendar-defying stalwarts like tiramisu.  The colonel, a snappy lemon granita served with a shot of vodka to pour over, would be an ideal summer closer had the late summer weather upon our visit not felt like late October.  But ice cream is seasonless, and capitalizing on excellent strawberries this summer produced made a simple fruity sundae a lovely closer.   King offers the perfect balance of cozy neighborhood farm-to-table with a destination worthy culinary occasion.  It's not cheap, but few of things of this caliber are.  Especially these days where one might question how well a democracy works, King certainly feels like the  kind of monarchy that would.

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