Wolfsbane

Wolfsbane is built for the occasion meal, and it commits to that fully. The room announces itself before the food does — a tree rises through the ceiling, a sword fern grows by the restroom, and the twelve-course tasting menu keeps finding small ways to make the night feel staged just for you, down to choosing your own chopstick rest before the uni bottarga course. That could read as gimmick. Here it reads as hospitality with a sense of humor.

The cooking holds up its end. An artichoke heart arrives out of a sunflower bouquet; a tomato and burrata course, laced with pickled rose petal, reframes what caprese is supposed to be. Servers presenting their own favorite dishes gives the tasting menu a point of view instead of a script. A duck course and an overcooked lobster tail land as the meal's only flat notes, minor enough to forgive in a progression this considered.

This is a big-deal-night restaurant that actually delivers on the premise, not just the theater of one. The Michelin star confirms what the room already argues: ambition here is backed by execution, course after course.