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"Has anyone tried to steal one of these?" I asked my server one afternoon. "No," he said. His voice turned a little solemn. "But some of our drunker patrons do shake them. Or throw them." The concept here may be green ("We recycle our glass and our cardboard," Patel told me), but this is still Waldo, a peculiar ecosystem all its own.
Remedy fits the liquor-swilling landscape pretty well, though. The joint has some truly accomplished bartenders, and there's a base of patrons who appreciate a little cleverness on a menu — people who may even be able to explain gastropubs to the rest of us.
Of course, a little clever goes a long way, and there's a touch too much on the dessert menu. I'm thinking of the thick slab of angel-food cake I tried one night. It came with a glossy jumble of dehydrated strawberries, which were living out a strange half-life in a sticky jam. I didn't recognize the taste of strawberries, fresh or dried.
Far better is Remedy's signature pastry, a waffle made with chewy brownie batter and served luxuriously hot and topped with a scoop of potent, house-made apple-bourbon ice cream. And I do mean high-octane — you can taste the Jim Beam. For nondrinkers, there's a less sassy but still rich mascarpone ice cream. A couple of these sweets, and you'll be ready for a remedy, all right: a diet.
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