We decided to humor the cocktail menu at Ladder 15.
Rules are that the textbook gay has to order the Cherry Water Ice with Pop Rocks.
He doesn't like it. But it's compelling to listen to.
Those of us that drink beer are less disappointed, but still unmoved. We couldn't bring ourselves to load up on liquid candy.
Why do restaurants insist on serving fries in spiral cones? Is it a way to skimp on frites? Explain yourselves. We're not in Belgium. This ain't no vegan focaccia. (See previous post, in which vegan focaccia can do no wrong).
The fried shallots need to come with instructions. They're not bad, but how do you eat these without losing shallot bits in the dipping sauce? There is no way to gracefully scoop these up without a fork, except they're hiding in one of those spiral cyclones, which is akin to eating an ice cream cone with a fork. If it were fried. You know how I feel.
Truffled flatbread was genuinely tasty. I believe that's because there was no dipping sauce or candy garnish involved. One sliver of the rich, cheesy adult-pizza and you're sated.
Roasted beets were ordered out of necessity to balance out the fried buffet. That, and we are flirting heavily with beets lately.
Finally, the VLT in all its glory. A layered structure of smoked mushroom was curiously partnered with potato sticks, lettuce, and tomato on some seriously decent bread. I zombied in on the bread. I was not too cute on the mushrooms, as the "smokiness" really just sang of too much balsamic marinade to me. The brown sugar barely came through.
We have a case of a kitchen that's trying too hard, combined with a bar that's not trying enough. This is Sansom St., home to the best bikini wax in the world. You need to hang with those guys. There's no room for high-ceiling bars that bury shallots in trends.
I should have tried the grilled romaine.
Ladder 15, 1528 Sansom St.