Original work of art

I always go to the nicest restaurants at the least appropriate times. I went to PR Picasso’s the morning after a late, late night. I was scruffy, deliriously hungover, the stench of various barroom floors still reeking from my clothes. My friends Nick and Sara weren’t much better off, and as the three of us stumbled toward the restaurant, I was afraid the experience would be an ordeal of horror—struggling to remember table manners in front of a snooty waiter.

However, the place turned out to be a perfect fit. Our waitress was accommodating, vivacious and sympathetic. As I struggled to find my way onto the chair, she nodded with genuine compassion: “I know, sitting can be difficult in the morning ….” When I finally managed to stick my tookus to the cushion, she asked, “Can I get you something to drink? A Bloody Mary perhaps?”

Now that’s good service: perfectly anticipating my needs.

While we were there, they played nothing but The Beatles. This was also perfect. I actually was wearing a Beatles T-shirt (which they didn’t know because I was wearing a jacket, so they weren’t pandering to me—just a happy coincidence). If you don’t think it’s a good thing for a restaurant to play The Beatles for two hours, then obviously we have nothing in common, and I don’t know why you’d want to hear my opinion, anyway.

The food’s great. We started out with an appetizer dish of, get this, fried alligator ($12).

“He’d eat you if he had the chance,” said Nick. “An animal like that you have to eat, just to show him who’s boss.”

For the record, it tasted somewhere between chicken and fish.

For the mains, I had the wild boar barbecue burger with sauteed onions ($8.95). It was certainly more “wild” than “boring.” (That’s my requisite atrocious pun.) It was terrific, stimulating parts of my mouth I forgot I had.

Nick had the mozzarella and tomato panini sandwich ($8.95), also tasty, and Sara had the ravioli of the day ($9.95), mushroom ravioli, which she described as “yumminess.”

And then there are the Picassos. Real ones, they say. Everyone I’ve told about this remains incredulous, so, believe it or not, I don’t care, but there are autographed lithographs and two actual sketches up on the wall. It’s pretty amazing, and the pieces are probably already being targeted by art thieves. Chef and owner Daniel Quint is enthusiastic about his collection, so talk to him if you don’t believe me.

The presence of Picasso and The Beatles is indicative of PR Picasso’s overall: nothing but the highest quality without any esoteric pretense. It’s elegant but accessible, relaxed but exciting. Fine dining is rarely this much fun.