In the same vein

I had the opportunity to be taken out for the loveliest lunch this week. It was not visionary. It was not innovative. What it was was impeccable.

Normally that's not so much my thing, but when a light salad topped with mixed berries and goat cheese is followed by a succulent honey-dijon salmon steak, I'm not one to complain.

And the gravelox? Divine? And le tout served by an adorable, charming and knowledgeable server? Sigh. Bring it on. The only other patrons were a table of elegant seniors who have been coming there since they were knee-high to grasshoppers, I'll bet.

This hushed and intimate little restaurant couldn't possibly seat forty. Thirty? Maybe. Did I mention it's another secret location? That I never would have noticed, nestled as it is on the ground floor of a condo tower? Maybe. Actually, I'm not even sure that I know where it is. I probably couldn't find it again (except for the fact that the name of the restaurant cleverly doubles as its address).

Did I mention the velvet flocked wallpaper? Classy, elegant, yet somehow bordello chic at the same time? What's not to love?