Inside was a minimalist's paradise: cool grey and blacks against a dramatic high ceiling and a few startled looking staff members clad all in white. I could almost imagine them shouting "Lock up your women and children!" as they stared at us as if we were bank robbers or desperados instead of tourists with an early deadline the next morning. They did get over their shock however, and seated us (their first customers of the night) in the center of the room. It was a full fifteen minutes before another person walked in.

As our dinner progressed, the spacious room gradually filled and we felt less ridiculous. In fact, our dinner was quite good. I started with a precariously stacked tower of lightly grilled vegetables, one more delicious than the next. My entrée was a creamy, cheesy risotto formed into a square on my plate. It was so rich and the olive oil so fruity that I quite forgot what my dinner companion ordered. I do remember, however, that when she returned from a trip to the ladies room she had an odd question: "If you went to the restrooms and you saw only a 'C' and a 'D' on the doors, which one would you pick?" I pondered for a moment and then said 'D', because 'C' is for 'caballeros' and 'D' must be for 'damas'. It turns out Wendy, whose French is much better than her Spanish, had assumed that 'C' stood for 'chicas' and had not noticed her mistake until she saw the urinals.

Dessert, by the way, was a bitter chocolate ice cream topped with an indescribably decadent sort of a candy brittle made from sugar and pignolia (pine) nuts, both homemade. Getting home was a challenge, as taxis are few and far between on Avenida Diagonal at night, but it was well worth the few blocks that we spent wandering around looking for a free cab.