Craft: Work.

Is this CAA's new commissary? Yeah. A year from now, will Craft seem as familiar as Kate Mantalini or (the late) Maple Drive? Yeah. 

The bill for two was $150 and, for all the people running around and the natural light from the glassed walls, the dining room felt stiff and formal. (Not unlike CAA itself.)

All the bartenders still seemed spooked by their new jobs, like if you tried to make small talk they'd shriek and throw their drink shakers into the air. So I wound up sipping a lemon verbena-raspberry mojito too fast and eating a lot of sugar-roasted hazelnuts and marinated olives (all: delicious).

From our three-sided booth (great table watching), I saw a tanned and fit man with a shaved head and briefly wondered if it was Bryan Lourd; it was a maitre'd. All the maitre'ds look like Bryan Lourd and they seemed to be everywhere, along with as many waiters as customers and the dining room was almost full.

I have no idea which one was our waiter; our table saw about six of them, including one who encouraged us to order from all over the menu because "that's the Craft way." It's also sort of the only way because everything is a la carte, which is probably a sneaky way of doing "small plates" without calling them "small plates."

The first thing we saw was a really small plate, an amuse-bouche of Serrano ham, diced Cavaillon melon and tiny mint sprouts. Was great, even if this microgreens thing may be getting out of control.

But I don't understand why the Little Gem heirloom lettuce had to taste like it was dressed with mom's heirloom vinagrette; back in 1975, she used Mazola instead of olive oil. (I did eat all of the smoked bacon, which seemed to be wrapped around little nuggets of sauteed cippolini onions.)

Nova Scotia lobster with lemon confit was lovely if too rich when you throw creme fraiche into the mix. The wild bass with roasted black grapes looked like thick towers of sushi; wrapped with proscuitto, the effect was dry and uninspiring. An order of wild mushrooms (hen of the woods, chanterelle, all the marquee names) was $21 and, worse, cooked to the point of being oily and a little dessicated.

The best bit was a side order of rattlesnake beans (yep, more heirlooms) with leeks, cooked as a gratin. I liked the desserts, too; a puff pastry tart filled with pastry cream and fresh slices of plum and a miniature angel food cake.

Give the service and kitchen a chance to collect themselves. Even so, this isn't the place I'd choose for celebration; it's the place for tables like the one next to us, where a dozen men gathered to eat a little, drink a lot and talk about work. At the valet stand they collected their Maseratis, Porsches and convertible BMWs, calling out "See you tomorrow" as they drove away.