This is not a review of VOICE. Not yet, at least.
Aside from the little issue of trying to forcibly extract the evening’s photos from my camera as it groans and bleats and emits tiny, rasping death rattles, I simply can’t be unbiased about the restaurant. Which is unusual.
I’m a pretty unbiased person by nature. Even when I start feeling twinges of favoritism towards a person or object or food or beverage, I always remind myself that I will lose out, ultimately, in a game of favorites, since it tends to close one off to the rest of life’s possibilities. I enjoy playing Devil’s advocate. Some call it arguing; I call it “seeing all sides.” I think you get it.
But we were so terribly spoiled and pampered at VOICE last night — in the absolute best, most non-pandering, non-grating, non-superficial way — that I have no idea how to write a “review” that isn’t tinted with an overly rosy glow. I feel like it would read as if I were a 13-year-old, gushing about her first crush. I’m going to take all of this into consideration for a while, and will hopefully emerge with a post that isn’t obscured by my feelings towards the place.
That said, however, our experience last night was unparalleled. The warm service, the endlessly beautiful interiors, the voluptuous wines and expert pairings, the visits from Chef Kramer and his keen crew, the heavenly amuse bouche, the dusky mushroom soup, the tender and submissive short ribs, the exotic five-spice ice cream, the creative cocktails and clever platings — everything was wonderful.
You see how this could quickly devolve into a love letter to VOICE, right? Let me put some restraints on, and I’ll hopefully be back tomorrow with an even-handed (albeit highly positive) review. See you then…
Image courtesy of http://www.hotelicon.com.