We enter.

Radical experience: the entire place’s loaded with stuff from the Belgian Sempre™, a sort of “vikings strike back at the luxury”. I doubt something like that can be seen in a regular house, at least not to such an extent. Here as well it’s more like a show room; however everything’s in harmony despite its natural brutality.

Stone/stone table tops. Wood, which couldn’t get more wooden. Everything’s “craft” but in the good sense of the word: everything that really annoy you in any other place, here is perceived as a norm or even better – because of the insolence of the whole desigh.

Plus/plus they have lots of plants hanging from the ceiling arranged by Visionär™ (it’s a fashionable Moscow brand). They call it vertical jungle, no faggot dick stuff, looks really great, though brutal like their lock in the bathroom (damn it).

Very friendly staff, so you even catch yourself thinking: “Are they trying to fuck me over?”

We take a seat and order half of the menu.

This is the most illustrative photo: the crockery’s rough – and devastated.

They have some very fresh food here, maybe too fresh for Moscow standards: sort of post-gastro-revolutionary™. If “Ragout” was to open now, it would be like this.

Spicy slider (not just spicy, but rather savory) is on the highest level.

The dishes are shouting aloud about their components.

Everything’s marinated or in sauce, in hot cheese or with additives, served in small bowls. If it’s not enough for someone and “the soul craves for more” – you can put above two or three additional taste layers.

To me it’s much cooler than “the weak-ass hipster humus” ™.

You can eat almost everything with your hands. For instance, the ribs go off if you just slightly press them but still don’t lose either texture or form – the pig’s died for a reason. Raviolis are gradient, offering in one bite some absolutely Japanese broth and Italian cream cheese.

For the brave ones there’s the atomic bomb, a bowl of melted cheese with some ‘new’ potatoes inside, a sort of gratin. Causes addiction.

The premiere of an a capella quintet who were singing in different parts of the hall was an additional attraction. They performed a seamless mix of kolyadkas, “Nochnye Sanipery” and even David Bowie (for Christ’s sake!).

“Ground control to Major Tom”

Actually, in the overall hubbub at first their sound was perceived at the level of “what was it?”, then you tried to listen, then you put away your fork.

“You’ve really made the grade”.

This is a real discovery/discovery. An instant immersion. I give standing ovation.

Let’s wish this ship an excellent and long journey.

Do enjoy!

PS: Oh yeah, and the cat. Lives. There. A beautiful one.

PPS: Well and brownies right from the oven go perfectly good with their self-made ice cream (though I don’t really like sweets).