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Roomba, Foreshadowing

Descending into Roomba on a brisk winter’s night, one feels redirected to a different space in time, as senses encounter water falling over green tiles, smoothing blue stones, brick and cedar warmth inside the anteroom, and experience tropical, cosmopolitan indulgence in the subterranean dining room. The space is marvelous, intimate and alluring without leaving you feeling as if you’ve gotten to second with the person seated next to you. The mojitos, which should be enjoyed in the summertime outside in the breezy courtyard, are exquisite, potent, minty, with a stalk of sugar cane plunged in the tall collins glass. Before long the waitress brought a small wooden board of warm bread and a pottery crock filled with an aromatic green dipping sauce that turned out to be one of the very best things I’ve ever had the pleasure of ingesting. Do whatever it takes to get some of this herby oil that is proof that gods exist. Malcolm and I both delighted in ordering, he the Mahi Mahi and me the snapper. I wish I could recall the lovely names of these dishes, it would be better, next time. Each was a many layered affair served on a large white recessed plate pooled with sauce. Mine was flavored with vanilla and saffron – very, very rich and yummy. My only complaint is feeling overwhelmed with this one deep note; something refreshing on the plate to cleanse the palate would have heightened a great dish to sublime status. I should mention the pork spring roll, an overstuffed fat boy of pulled meat atop a black bean radish fresh sauce hoola dance. Roomba was a complete experience, a true delight for the senses. My Score: 8.7 out of 10.

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