Artisan

275 Old Post RdSouthport, CT 06890 • (203) 307-4222 • artisansouthport.com
 

Artisan is probably the nicest restaurant in Fairfield County. Not necessarily the best, although very good, but certainly the nicest and dressiest. Which may or not be your thing, but if you’re looking for something that feels a little more special than The Cottage and The Whelk, Artisan is the ticket.

Located in the charming Devon Hotel, Artisan is broken into two hemispheres- three if you count the outside area, but that’s closed in the winter for obvious reasons. The outside and the front bar area are a bit more casual, whereas the back dining room is much more romantic, tastefully appointed bird’s nest light fixtures and warm wood everywhere. Kinda reminds me of a better version of Crabtree Kittlehouse over in Chappaqua.

All of this was unfortunately undercut by the crowd, although I’m guessing we might’ve hit an off night. When we first arrived we were seated next to an elderly couple who was SO old that when the man went to stand up to leave, an army of waiters swarmed around him, rearranging the furniture so that he could make the transition to his walker. And while that that alone might be disruptive enough amidst a romantic outing with wifey, the man repeatedly screamed at the top of his lungs as if a thorny catheter was being shoved up his backside. Now, on the one hand, I clearly felt bad for the poor man as his back or knees or both must surely be killing him. But then shouldn’t he be in a wheelchair? For his sake. Not to mention those around him? Ferocious minds wanna know.

Fortunately, they left inside of the first 15 minutes. Unfortunately that was only the tip of the iceberg, because, in general, the crowd was VERY boisterous for such a setting, and worse still, the couple that came to replace the elderly duo was infinitely worse, fighting the entire time we were there, dropping more F-bombs than Al Pacino in Scarface. Spoiler alert, I think they’re gonna get a divorce.

Oh,  the food? You wanna talk about that? Well, for starters, things started off slowly. The tuna crudo was light and refreshing but not amazing and the octopus was a richer yang and satisfying, but also not incredible.

The entrees saved the day, and our evening from bust, with a rock star butternut squash ravioli and a flawless steak au poivre, with perfect marbleization- perfectly cooked- And that SAUCE! Makes you wanna open a vein. Or just order more of it on the side, which we did.

For dessert though, still amidst the fire and fury from the couple next to us, the apple quince tart closed with a meh. So, clearly the bookends need work here, but the middle is quite something.

As is the wine list, offering Turley for under 100 bucks. Always a major fucking plus. Sorry, The I’m still shell-shocked from the profanity at the table next to us.

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Lemonade

Lax Airport, Terminal 5 • 500 World Way Los Angeles, CA 90045 • (424) 744-5978 • lemonadela.com
lemonade_restaurant_la

It would appear that airport food is on the rise. I think this is my third or fourth review of an airport restaurant at 3+ knives. But credit should be given where credit is due, even if you’re serving pork rinds out of a dumpster.

So credit is due once again. Lemonade is a string of cafeteria style restaurants all over Los Angeles with a contemporary, gourmet twist. Get it? Twist. As in lemons? Anyhoo. The name comes from a wide range of terrific lemonade options they offer at the end of the line, like Bluberry Basil and Blood Orange.  I chose the latter and loved it.

Earlier in the line, they offer a host of other options depending on the meal time and since this was morning I went with the Italian egg sandwich. In short, a caprese on top of an egg on top of a brioche roll.

But then I arrived upon the banana bread pudding french toast and buyer’s remorse came in heavy. So the only natural solution was to get that too. Gluttony. My favorite sin… (To be read like Pacino in The Devil’s Advocate).

Well, glad I succumbed to the buyer’s remorse because the french toast was killer. And further more, the egg sandwich was shite. So, the moral of the story, always trust your gut… Even if it’s growing exponentially by the day.

3 teeth