Cibrèo

I have eaten in a lot of dining rooms that try this hard. Cibrèo is one of the few that pulls it off without looking like it is trying.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: Sant'Ambrogio neighborhood warmth. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with shrimp cocktail with proper horseradish, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered an Oregon pinot, against the steak waiter's better judgement, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: tagliata, the dish that puts Cibrèo on every short list. The seasoning was simple — salt, pepper, restraint — and it was the right call. The signature touch — Fabio Picchi's Tuscan playbook — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for hash browns the size of a hubcap and skin-on fries, twice-fried. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was tiramisu, just barely too much, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I will be back. With company, next time, and a longer reservation.