Lark was once on the forefront of the small-plates and seasonal/local movement in Seattle. Because of this, and because it has turned out consistently high-quality food for six years, it is exempt from Small Plates Fatigue, with which we are so frequently afflicted.

Some dishes here are memorable in the truest sense—a black truffle rice pudding is stuck in one panelist’s mind, like, well, dried rice pudding on a wall. Other dishes, like a bright carpaccio of yellowtail with preserved lemons and green olives, or a salty hearts-of-palm salad with vanilla-bean vinaigrette, are merely outstanding.

The menu does occasionally get a little precious—do we need to know that the snails are basil-fed?—but then you can always turn the page to charcuterie. The wine list is short, but tight, with some interesting producers you don’t see every day.

Lark is in a old garage, but exposed beams and a pitched roof give the restaurant a rustic bistro feel. Curtains help provide privacy among the tables, which are pretty close together, as well as adding texture to a fairly standard set-up: a few booths and a tiny bar area ring a collection of café tables, some draped in white, others bare.