Very fancy restaurants tend to make me feel uncomfortable and provoke bad behavior in me, like imitating that scene from the Blues Brothers. Dish did not bring this out of me. When I showed up wearing jeans and a decidedly not fancy shirt, the restaurant staff were just as welcoming as if I arrived in an evening gown.
Months ago I read some review that said the decor was reminiscent of bondage.That was not really my impression, though it definitely felt industrial inside. There are chains hanging from the ceiling. There’s a water feature. Near the time we were getting ready to leave it sounded like karaoke had started on the other side of the restaurant. I don’t see karaoke listed on their website, so it may have just been a cover band.
To drink, I had sangria. You can not tell from the photo, but it was essentially a keg-sized glass. The menu described it as being made of Sprite and other unorthodox ingredients, but the waiter assured me that it was going to be made traditionally because people did not like it the other way. Barca and O’Porto are still at the top of the sangria list, as far as I’m concerned, but I was not disappointed in the version made at Dish.
I sampled an Irish Coffee, which was good, and which I have nothing to compare it to. They used green food dye on the top — something I find tacky even on St. Patrick’s Day. Unless it adds flavor, save the food dyes for the children’s menu.
We heard that the appetizers were the thing to get here, and since we are both vegetarians the appetizer menu had the best options. We split The Kitchen Sink (salad with beans and tortillas, among the regular salad ingredients), the Crispy Garlic Mashed Potatoes, and Roasted Asparagus in Hollandaise sauce. No contest. It was the best asparagus I’ve had.
After eating all of that, I did not feel overstuffed; I was no longer hungry, though, and really should have stopped while I was ahead. But I heard they had amazing desserts, and well, it’s rare for me to still have the capacity for more eating after a meal. I ordered the Boston Cream Pie. Normally, when one places an order for pie or cake, the expectation is that a slice of it will arrive. At Dish, it was basically half of a pie. If I had just ordered that and a drink, I would have been more than set. Somehow, I crammed the entire wedge down my throat. The memory of walking home from there is spotty, but that might have more to do with the check than with the pie.
A week later, I’m still mildly traumatized by the cost of the meal. Would I go back? Absolutely, but it would have to be for a very special occasion rather than just “it’s Friday night and I am hungry.”