When überchef Andrew Weissman closed his vaunted Le Rêve downtown, Sandbar, tethered to it by an underground umbilical, was forced to leave as well. There was wailing. But while both ended up at The Pearl, Le Rêve having become its Italian almost-equivalent, Il Sogno, Sandbar, by dint of an expanded kitchen, could actually spread its sails. They’re now full-bellied in the wanton wind. (Thanks, Will.)

To illustrate the point: one evening’s special was live sea urchin, extracted, combined with tuna, avocado,… [More]

Jones’ address is east of St. Philip’s College in a kind of no-man’s land. The building is a somewhat disquieting shade of dried-blood red, and, in a departure from the norm, there’s no outside dining. No order window, either; you must penetrate the interior, and at first it’s almost akin to stepping across the threshold of a dive geared more to beer and broads than barbecue and sweet tea. The inside, too, is dark red.

But shades of CSI quickly fade… [More]