Vlado's

I had been meaning to get to Vlado's for years. I will not wait that long again.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: Richmond family room, white tablecloths. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with a single chuleta of cured pork to set the mood, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered Rioja gran reserva, decanted at the table, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: mixed grill, the dish that puts Vlado's on every short list. Cut through it and you found that deep, beefy, almost iron-tasting interior that only comes from time and dry air. The signature touch — the parade of cuts from a single plate — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for hash browns the size of a hubcap and potato gratin with a dark crust. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was vanilla ice cream with a shot of espresso poured over, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

A perfect Sunday lunch, which is what I came for.