The Cure For Everything Is Salt …

The Cure For Everything Is Salt …

… tears, sweat, and the sea. (Dinesen)

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The Cowboy Star Restaurant and Butcher Shop

9 January 2010

The Cowboy Star Restaurant and Butcher Shop
http://www.thecowboystar.com/
640 10th Avenue
San Diego, CA 92101
619.450.5880

Angie greets us with a big smile and friendly “welcome back.” Our second night at The Cowboy Star Restaurant and Butcher Shop. She may be excited to see us, but we’re even more excited just to be back.

“Same drinks as last night?” Angie asks. We nod, and the vodka martinis materialize in champagne coupes. They’re perfect—shaken just vigorously enough to produce those happy little ice crystals that float on the surface of the cold, cold drink.

We’d decided last night what we would be ordering tonight, but I’m swayed by two of the specials: the bone marrow appetizer served with toasted brioche points and the elk rack. Honey P. and I debate for a moment and decide to proceed, as planned:

For appetizers, braised lamb short ribs with potato dumpling and whisky-currant sauce, and bourbon braised berkshire pork belly with celery root puree, natural jus, frisee garnish. And for the entree, Elysian Fields farm lamb with green garlic farro, grilled artichokes, lamb jus, and rabbit duo with potato gnocchi, organic swiss chard, morel mushroom sauce. The wine, a 2006 Elizabeth Spencer merlot (thank you, Michael M., for introducing us to this label at In Fine Spirits!).

It’s hard to properly describe precisely how well prepared our meals are—they simply are wonderful. Everything from the quality of ingredients to the harmony of flavors to the size of the portions—all brilliantly balanced and presented with simple elegance.

And just as our meal is wonderful, the setting is also extraordinary. The interior design strikes me as a blend of Chanel and Tom Ford sensibilities, with a touch of The Territory Ahead and Patsy Cline. The space is beautiful, and I fight the urge to sing harmony on “Strange.” And though the restaurant is fairly full this particular Friday night, Honey P. and I can enjoy a quiet conversation. Priceless.

Even though I’m not a dessert person, I’m tempted by a number of the items they have on offer: profiteroles, a cheese plate, bread pudding, and, most honestly, the absinthe. We resist, happily pay the bill, and stroll back to the Hotel Solamar—all the while thrilled by our good fortune to be enjoying a warm breeze under a Western night sky.

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