Proof

I have to admit I am a bit proud of myself for setting a seemingly ambitious goal and realizing it's quite easy to achieve and pleasant to work towards (provided there isn't as much butter in these meals as I think there is). Just last night, I was joined by two charming friends at the 31st best restaurant in the city, 24 short hours after dining at the 8th. We had lots of good drinks and food at Proof, where my friends even let me take flash photography. Proof's a bit pretentious, admittedly, but has an intimate interior that permits either flirtation or eavesdropping (depending on your predilection) and admiration of an impressively large wine collection, replete with a rolling ladder.

I uncharacteristically ordered a glass of red wine not from Bordeaux and after delightfully unhurried and rich conversation, we all universally admitted we were starving. Proof has an impressively varied menu, with both dignified snacks and entrees. Only by the sake of having this blog was I entrusted to order. We started out with the chef's full charcuterie board, refreshing in its perfunctorily satisfying richness, as well as its innovation, and the tempura of wild mushrooms and green beans with a lemon-truffle dipping sauce.

The cornichons, mustard and hams were exceptionally good, but the most satisfying was the terrine, with a rich, homey flavor I couldn't place. It was pho terrine. A brilliant incarnation.

Nice ambiance (and before my friends let me turn the blinding flash on).

Next we had crispy pig's head with a celery root remoulade and a Fuji apple salad and "spicy little meatballs" (their name) with goal cheese agnolotti, tomato fondue and basil. It was like being at a really nice superbowl party.

The crispy pig's head were small cubes of very flavorful pork, enrobed in a cube of crunchy bread crumbs. Second point for innovation. Our last dish was sauteed pumpkin gnocchi with roasted squash, Fuji apples, sage-brown butter and parmesan cheese.

My final trick was ordering a cheese plate for us for dessert, my francophilic activity of the night. I ordered (yes, pasting from the online menu with its clever descriptions): Brillat-Savarin from France (soft, triple-cream, rich, decadent), Bleu d'Auverge from (guess where)(semi-hard, grassy, creamy, wild flowers) and some type of chevre (from France) that's no longer listed online.

There is now ceremony in the crossing off of another restaurant for my list, a delight I'll incur again this Wednesday.