(Originally appeared in Heavy Table’s The Tap Newsletter, subscribe here.)

Black Manhattan from Paul Bar/Food $16

You find yourself huddled with 30 or so strangers under the awning of an aging strip mall between a massage parlor and a vape shop staring at a locked door beneath a generic sign that reads “Bar/Food.” At this point, you’re questioning your life choices. But your life choices are sound. Because in a few moments, that door will open, and you’ll understand why you’re here.

It’s not just to ensure you get seated (there are no reservations and only the first 30 or so people in line are guaranteed a spot), it’s to ensure you don’t miss the early show. The show begins when the owner of Paul Bar/Food (yes, Paul) emerges and greets the crowd with a delightfully raucous diatribe that drifts between a drool-inducing recital of the night’s menu, a comedic account of personal anecdotes and escapades, and a smirking rant/orientation on how shit will go down when he decides to let you in. “I will seat you where I want you. Don’t try to move or I swear to God I will burn the place to the ground. I have good insurance and I don’t need the aggravation.” You’re already having a blast, and you haven’t even stepped through the front door.

Upon entering and appreciating the warm, intimate ease of the place, your first order of business is The Black Manhattan. This Black Manhattan is not a cocktail, it’s a revelation—a truly magical thing made from simplicity itself. The rye whiskey, amaro and orange bitters blend into a sultry mélange. Spiced bite meets sweet kiss. Not cloying. Not caustic. Just flawless. And when you tip the glass to savor that last sip and the Amarena cherry rolls from its orange peel perch on the rim to nestle in the deep v of the martini glass, it feels like a message sent from the heavens: “The ride is over, but take this parting gift as a memento.” Ok, I may have been just a little buzzed.

Mussels Special from Paul Bar/Food $26

The mussels (a regular Saturday night special) were a similar revelation. My fears that the fennel, chorizo, tomato and garlic broth would prove too rich and overpowering were assuaged the moment I plucked a plump tender morsel from its shell and slurped it down. The broth remained bright and flavorful—the chorizo adding depth without taking over or weighing it down. Thankfully, these were served with toasted slices of baguette which I unabashedly used to soak up every drop of that broth.

Beaton Burger from Bar Cecil $26

I don’t make a habit of standing outside closed restaurants in the afternoon sun pressing my face against the glass, pawing at the handle and rattling the door like some crazed Black Friday shopper or rabid scavenger animal. But when you’re told by multiple people, multiple times that the place is unmissable and that, barring a reservation made well in advance, there’s no other way to get in, well, tack a bushy tail on my hide and call me a jackal. Such was the case with Bar Cecil. There are only about ten spots at the bar available for walk-ins when the place opens. Cut to pawing and rattling.

It was worth the wait. Between the friendly, attentive service, the casual yet refined French bistro atmosphere, and the lovingly crafted menu and cocktails, our entire meal was a success. The Malabar rum cocktail topped with a coconut whip hit the spot and the mussels here are also excellent served in a Thai curry broth. But the standout was the Beaton Burger.

All too often, restaurants of a certain caliber forget that a dining experience can be both refined and fun. Why so serious? When my burger hit the table in a fast-food style clamshell container, I couldn’t help but smile. Sure, it was impeccably designed, but it’s also a fast-food style clamshell container. Good one, Bar Cecil. The bun is even branded with the restaurant’s trademark “XOXO” signature like a knowing wink. But aside from the presentation, this thing is no joke. Comté cheese melting atop a beautifully prepared and seasoned pink patty served with onion, tomato and lettuce. I’m not usually a fan of aioli but Bar Cecil’s house-made version worked here as a savory counterbalance to the mild, subtly sweet Comté cheese. Every bite proved sumptuous and juicy.

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