Like many of the guests at Rosy that evening, we started our meal with the solata platter ($25), a Sedar-plate style dish containing a personal buffet of savory bites. Arranged around a stack of fire-grilled focaccia were seven ramekins of dips, spreads and nibbles that include fermented beans, creamy bagna cauda, rustic baba ghanoush, luscious ricotta, smoky ajvar, pickles and more.
When we returned a few weeks later, that solata platter had been trimmed down to five elements. What’s more, a small paper menu that featured a pair of nightly specials was gone, leaving only the colorful wall-mounted roster of dishes.
It’s customary for a new restaurant to launch with a scaled-down menu until things settle down, at which time the kitchen can confidently ramp up the offerings. But Rosy has moved in the opposite direction, pruning options as necessary to maintain a level of quality and service commensurate with the chef’s lofty expectations.
“What you see is what you get,” explains chef-owner Vinnie Cimino. “There’s just not enough space to keep up with what we’re doing. I didn’t think we would be this busy.”
If Cimino and partner Andrew Watts had any honest concerns regarding the response to Rosy, those doubts were quickly extinguished. Since opening in late February, the new Ohio City restaurant has been mobbed by eager guests, many of whom line up out front before the doors even open. Diners who have come to know and love Cordelia will find, at Rosy, a hyper-focused, quicker-paced, aggressively seasonal spin-off that operates with the confidence that comes from being a multi-James Beard nominee.
The big takeaway at Rosy is not to get too attached to any particular dish because odds are good it won’t be there when you return. During peak Maine sea urchin season, the kitchen topped soft, squishy Polish thumbprint dumplings ($25) with dollops of buttery uni. Those kluski were some of the best things I’ve ever eaten, and I might never get the chance to enjoy them again. Same goes for the pickled walleye ($17), a bright, brilliant use of an oft-ignored part of the fish. Here, the cheeks are lightly cured and tossed with crisp-tender vegetables and fresh dill.
“Nothing is so precious that it can’t be taken off,” Cimino says.
Despite the chef’s tough-love stance, it would be hard to imagine the cotechino ($18) going anywhere soon. Diners seated at the kitchen counter might catch a glance of those bespoke links dangling high above the open fire, picking up a whisper of smoke. When ordered, the flavorful sausage is tossed on the grill to crisp up, sliced and served with pickled vedge and citrusy aioli.
Even within the span of a single evening, dishes will get 86d from the big board, replaced by a second-stringer. For that reason alone, it would be impossible to print out menus, says Cimino, despite the annoyance that comes from having to crane one’s neck to view the board, or, for some seats, stand up and walk somewhere where it’s visible at all.
“Feel free to get up and take a picture,” the chef says with a wry smile.
Since opening, Rosy has been the belle of the restaurant ball. Chiefly, that buzz comes from the cred that Cimino and Watts have earned during nearly four years downtown. Secondly, everybody loves a roaring fire. At Rosy, the wood-fired hearth shapes the vibe, flavors the food and dominates the conversation.
Perhaps surprisingly given that alluring hearth, meat items are outnumbered by vegetable-based dishes at a ratio of four-to-one. Sugar-sweet snap peas ($16) are served warm with feta, pistachio, pea shoots and mint. “Crunchy salad” ($13) is a many-layered symphony of shaved veggies, sultanas and nuts in a vivid vinaigrette. The ramp toasty ($18) is a knock-your-socks-off ode to spring starring grilled bread, whipped ricotta and a forager’s favorite wild prize.
Who needs a dozen steak choices when you can savor meaty pork neck ($23), which outshines a boring chop by a country mile. The steak is grilled, sliced, plated and gilded with leaves of lardo that are melted into the meat with a brûlée torch. Slow-braised lamb ($23), large enough for two, is presented on a pool of polenta with olives, veggies and herbs.
There’s only one dessert option, a rotating selection of soft-serve ice cream ($8), pulled from a sleek wall-mounted dispenser. Ours was sweet tea and mint with black peppercorn, white chocolate ganache and foraged redbuds. Complimentary nips of rhubarb-cello, served in a crystal cordial glass, are handed out like breath mints.
Not since Lolita has there been a Cleveland restaurant with such a compelling presence. Diners are immediately thrust into a trim, tailored and richly appointed space that cackles with energy. Servers navigate the close-quartered room with patience and precision, guiding guests through the menu as they would with friends or family. Rosy blurs the line between casual and special in a way that makes every visit a culinary thrill ride.
Rosy
2912 Church Ave., Cleveland; 216-785-9345; rosy.restaurant
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