Alta

Tapas.  I saw no name on the building, no number on the wall.  Just an open door with the inviting sounds of a happy crowd beckoning entry. They’ve taken a townhouse and created a restaurant, a tribute to the gods of tapas.

The tastes are multicultural, yet united in their wowness.  I began with the Philadelphia surprise.  Spoiler alert: porcini mushroom purée and cream cheese.  Had I known up front, I can’t swear I would’ve made the leap.  But ignorance is bliss and so is this dish.

Next I signed up for the grilled wild shrimp.  And party they do, with the likes of chorizo, avocado and garlic sherry vinaigrette.

You can’t go wrong by beating a path to the paella (saffron rice, mussels, clams, shrimp, squid, chorizo).  And if you’re feeling carnivorish, the lamb meatballs (charred red pepper, brown butter labneh, pine nuts) are a satisfyingly excellent choice.

By the way, the entire dessert menu is a thing of beauty.  I can speak for the sundae (maple brown butter ice cream, smoked almond praline, asian pear) every spoonful a gift from the gods.

Alta doesn’t need to post their name to create an impression.  The first bite will do that.  And by the end of the night, there’s zero chance you’ll ever forget.