Sagardi

I had been meaning to get to Sagardi for years. I will not wait that long again.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: cider-house energy, long shared tables. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with French onion soup with the cap of cheese intact, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a glass of port to finish, and then another, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: txuleta, the dish that puts Sagardi on every short list. It was, frankly, the best version of this cut I have had this year. The signature touch — pintxos at the bar, then the chuleta in back — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for wild mushrooms in butter 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 panna cotta with stewed cherries, 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.