It was half past 7 p.m., I was comfortably ensconced at my table at Beretta, eyes parallel to a well-rounded tush with a studded wave across the back pocket. Must be Seven jeans, I thought, as the woman and her partner took turns leaning against the post next to the bar, waiting for a table and occasionally glancing at the progress of mine.

I had a lot of time to study them, because the place had filled up, and as the sun went down, the wait time for a table increased. I arrived early to beat the crowds, and as I chatted with other diners, it became apparent that everyone around me had already discovered the exceptional cocktails, pizza, risotto and small plates that make up the menu.

"This is my fourth visit," said one person squeezed in at the table next to me as we discussed the highlights of our meals. In fact, when acquaintances ask me what's new, I (more...)