The New Grazing

This seemed more like discomfort food than comfort food, especially when the housemade marshmallow pie we ordered for dessert, which we had envisioned as a big, sloppy moon pie, turned out to be two chilly underflavored little cookies side by side. "This isn't really scrumptious," my pal observed. We were much more taken with our drinks, a cachaça-based Ipanema and a wintry maple-syrup-and-bourbon concoction.

When I've struck out at a place, sometimes I first blame myself, forgetting that we'd tried a good third of the menu, and that when so few dishes are on offer, they all ought to be good. The guy and gal sitting next to us seemed to be enjoying their flatiron steak and caesar salad; she even put down her cellphone when the food arrived. Plump cheeseburgers wrapped in greasy paper looked delicious as they passed by, destined for other diners. I ordered one to go, taking a bite of the thick, hand-shaped patty encased in a good brioche bun as we walked down Polk in the rain. It was indeed a good burger, better than most of what we'd grazed upon. It came with the same great fries that were the other really good thing we'd eaten that night. I bet Bar Johnny makes a really good Bloody Mary, too.