One of my friends spent his twenties moving up the ladder of kitchens here in Minneapolis, and now he's thirty and has his own restaurant. The last chef he worked for before his promotion to head chef was Philip Dorwart, who's pretty much a local celebrity, meaning famous for being a great chef. Dorwart left Trigg's, then Justin got promoted to chef there, then Justin left too, and now he has his own restaurant in south Minneapolis called bakery on grand. Maybe "the bakery on grand". I don't know. What I DO know, what I will say with absolute certainty and without fear of contradiction, is that if you don't take advantage of my friend's restaurant, you're letting the best dinner in the city pass you by.

It was Thursday night the lovely redhead and I slipped down for a nibble, and as usual he made us a free appetizer. (The whole dinner was gratis, actually, but it was because I overhauled a watch for him, a Christian Bernard with a rather nice 955 with a sub-second, little fifteen jewel job, but I digress.) The last time he gave us our first course we had cheese fondue, and that was truffle-y and winsome, but the one he gave us this time, combined with the rest of dinner, halted the earth's rotation entirely.

Whatever you do, get the scallop ceviche. If it doesn't make you wobble, I'll let you kick me in the nuts. Served with a peppered corn coulis (I think is the word) and sriracha, the ceviche itself is a window into another, better world.

Then I had the duck confit, which was perfect and served with the most perfect preparation of root vegetables I ever expect to encounter. There was a soft, creamy oniony component to this dish as well that successfully affected a major third theme which managed to complement the other two perfectly.

I have never had so complex and and perfectly balanced a single dish. Which is to say for me, the pan seared sea scallops with sweet potato puree and truffle oil at Campiello have been unseated after years as the center of what is right and good. The gastronomical efficacy of this dish was total.

My lovely date (wife) had the Kobe pot roast in a gentle and interesting homemade barbecue sauce with a side of something she loved, a mixture of vegetables served on the side. It was reminiscent of succotash, or maybe I just wanted to say succotash. You never know. Either way, she's still a little upset she didn't hold Justin down and make him confess the recipe like the Minneapolis inquisition.

After eating here, the thought of never having had this dinner would rob even the fullest heart of all joy. It is places like this that affirm what is right in the international character of the cuisine this city has to offer, and I suggest everyone who can should avail him and herself of this rare opportunity for a dinner made by my someone who knows how to cook like Ozzy knows how to rock.


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