Wood-fired · Est. MMXXI · One seating
Fire is the first language we ever spoke.
Seven courses cooked over white oak and almond wood. No gas line in the building. One seating a night, twenty-two chairs, and a kitchen you can feel on your face.
Seven courses cooked over white oak and almond wood. No gas line in the building. One seating a night, twenty-two chairs, and a kitchen you can feel on your face.
The room · twenty-two chairs
The building was a blacksmith’s shop for eighty years. We kept the brick, the beams, and the idea: everything here is made in front of you, with heat and patience.
No music over the fire. It has its own opinion of the evening.
Chef-patron Marta Ilić spent nine years at fire-led kitchens on three continents before finding the old blacksmith's shop on Coal Lane. She cooks with two woods, one hearth, and no thermometers — the fire tells her when it's done, and it has not been wrong yet.
The brigade is six. Everyone butchers, everyone bakes, everyone splits wood. The menu changes when the market or the weather insists, which is often.
Below the dining room, walls of resting wine and a single oak table milled from one tree. Your own server, your own fire in the small hearth, and a menu written for the night.
Every chair, every coal, the kitchen cooking for your people only. We have hosted weddings, wakes, one merger, and a divorce that everyone agreed went beautifully.
We release tables on the first of the month for the month following. Cancellations go to the list — join it, it moves faster than you’d think.