First things first, there was a moment in my life, where I would have been what is commonly known as a foodie. But, about two years ago, I decided that being a foodie was absolutely ridiculous and I started a personal anti-foodie movement.
I was no longer going to go out to eat with my foodie friends to a foodie restaurant and then spend, collectively, the equivalent of a rent payment on dinner.
Ink. has changed all that.
Although I may from time to time do a review or two, you won’t be hearing foodie catch words or anything like that from me, because I think that is lame af.
But, you will be seeing some good food. Ink awoke a sleeping giant.
There was a friend in town from Miami, so I got the beacon to do something last weekend. That something, turned in to brunch – that brunch turned in to day drinking – that day drinking turned into dinner – dinner was at Ink.
Here is what we had:
Beets, onion custard, hibiscus-ancho, smoked olive oil
Japanese Scallop, soy cured papaya, fermented chili, basil
Lamb Belly, braised lettuce, mushroom hay, yogurt curds
Octopus, ink. shells, young fennel, pimenton
pork Shoulder, lardo, banana grits, smoked chicharrones
Corn, housemade ranch “foritos”, nori, green onion
Salt and Charcoal Potato, housemade sour cream, black vinegar – aka the best ting on the menu
Potato Polenta, bone marrow, sour cream & chive
Chilean Sea Bass, cabbage, black garlic, chicken skin, bonito-chicken broth
This was dessert, I didn’t get in on it, but its cake and ice cream. Boss.
Now, these two things here are awesome. One is a pepper mill, and one is some sort of perfume dispenser thingy filled with vinegar that was used to garnish the salt and charcoal pots up above. Brilliant.