The first time I noticed Tablespoon was when my brother and I were walking back to his car after a nice dinner at Pesce, right down the street. "This place used to be called Spoon," Jeff said, as we peered through the window, "and I think it was kinda comfort food." Now it looked clean and elegant, like a chic wine bar -- I could see slabs of polished wood affixed to one wall, with a row of linened tables below, opposite a long bar with cushy-looking caramel-colored leather bar stools (more chairs than stools, actually). "There's a place called Fork," he continued, "down the Peninsula" -- implying, perhaps, that I could combine the two in a piece. Too cute, too conceptual, I thought, as we agreed that it would be hard to conceive of a... More >>>