From strange bedfellows come masterful things -- without his big-and-tall girlfriend, Verne Troyer's sex tape would be just another grainy homage to a really hung dude. Get the fruits of another odd couple at The Mott, soft open now.
An elegantly wee space with exposed white brick walls whose cubbyholes brim with wine bottles, and a white marble bar inlaid with coffee-colored leather panels, Mott's the product of an unlikely coupling: star-food resto vets in the kitchen (Picholine, Bouley, Town), and a former club GM out front who brings years of experience from RDV, Flow, Eugene and, strangest of strange, hockey -- first the Canadian Junior League, then a team in Manchester (of course). Befitting the tiny surrounds is a six-plates-small menu, including seared John Dory w/ asparagus & sunchoke, Berkshire pork chop w/ broccoli rabe & quince, organic beef shell steak, and three other meat dishes (but no veggie or pasta options, leaving the anti-animal crowd no recourse but to wallow in their iron deficiency). Booze options are more expansive, with 75 pan-global wines helpfully listed by taste ("big and beefy", "light and fruity", etc), a full bar leaning towards premium browns (Johnnie Walker Gold, Macallan 18...), and two brews: Coopers Original Pale Ale from Australia, and Australian-owned but China-brewed Lucky, which comes in a green bottle shaped like a laughing Buddha holding his belly (not a dark beer, and thus the true path to EnLitenment).
Mott's friends and family this week, but next week opens to all comers, and plans to start lunch and weekend brunch service within a few months -- perfect for when you find you're really hung. Over.