A wood-fired oven, a wine bar and a dining room by the water. Whatever the fire gives us goes on the table.

Cooked over fire.

An empty dining room, tables laid before service

FireWater

One wood oven, one dining room on the water.

We cook Charred roast vegetables on a ceramic plate over wood and fire, with whatever the market brings that week, Sprigs of thyme and rosemary beside a chef's knife on a board a handful of fresh herbs, and we pour Dark wine bottles in a tall wooden rack the wine that suits it best.

WoodFire

The soft golden glow of a wood oven, out of focus

The oven is lit at four and burns until the last table has gone.

Market

Whatever comes in that morning writes the menu.

Table

Whatever is left over never comes back the next day.

A row of copper and steel pans on a rail

The kitchenCopper, steel and wood

A dining room at night in soft candlelight, out of focus

The roomCandlelight after sundown

A long pass lined with prepped ingredients in small tubs

The passWhere every plate goes out

What to expect.

The menuWhatever the fire gives, kept short and different every week.
The wineA small cellar, chosen to go with the menu.
The roomA dining room on the water, with space for a group.
ReservationsA table for tonight, or for another night.