Or an earthquake.
But über-chef Curtis Duffy (Avenues, Alinea) did just pull the veil from Grace, his soft-lit cove of impossibly refined dining.
So we’re going with the balance-of-culinary-power thing.
A stone’s throw from powerhouses like Blackbird, Sepia and Girl & the Goat, this place occupies the middle of an inconspicuous little stretch—perhaps the only restaurant-free part of Restaurant Row. Look for the frosted-glass window, or just trust your instinct for veal cheeks.
Once inside, you’re going to be glad you don’t leave the house in less than full-on dinner-party attire. The room oozes its serious intent. The taupes. The beiges. The supple leather club chairs you’ll soon be sinking into.
After nodding to some bankers in one corner, smiling politely to some pols in the other and noting a pack of food bloggers cataloging the menu’s inventory of matsutake mushrooms and African blue basil, you’ll be ready for the show.
The kitchen is basically a glass box in the corner of the dining room. A flurry of knives and surgically precise tweezers plates your dinner. You’ll choose between two options, each between eight and 12 courses. One’s heavy on the vegetables, the other offers more meat.
You don’t mind a little Wagyu with your matsutakes.