Not quite the voltage we expected

A late start to the day: Last night at Volt I began to feel ill shortly after dessert. Rich food—I’d had lobster—and abundant drink had something to do with it, but I think that the overnight aching-all-over and the chills point to some ague.

I expect to be on my feet again by tomorrow morning to torment my undergraduate charges over English grammar. And today’s Web offerings, previously prepared, have been served up: The joke of the week, “The bad cold,” is on, as is the word of the week, exiguous.

As to Volt itself, it is a handsome restaurant with a cheerful and assiduous wait staff. The various breads were all quite good. The lobster that Alice and I had was excellent, and J.P. enjoyed the sturgeon. But Kathleen thought that the lamb was a little tough, and I found the New England chowder unremarkable.

Here’s the thing: Volt is the kind of fashionable restaurant that likes to cram as many elements as possible into a dish. (Example: sturgeon beluga lentils, cauliflower, cilantro pudding, medjool dates, ver jus 31.) They look impressive on the menu but sometimes appear as mere dots on the plate, and my palate is insufficiently sophisticated to fully appreciate that much subtlety.

The consensus that emerged afterward is that we were treated very well and that it was a very good dinner but not a great one.

Volt partisans may take advantage of the comments function to berate me for my philistinism. 


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