Dining at One Ryan Alley is exactly like dining in New York City or Chicago: chic setting, spectacular food, and officious service. Aspiring to "become the standard against which all others are measured," One is a breathtaking accomplishment. Carved out of what was once a garage on Ryan Alley, the dining room is dominated by an astonishingly long bar backed by a cleverly projected slideshow of contemporary art. Velvety reds, deep burgundies, bronze accents, and mellow lighting soften the exposed steel beams, metal framed windows, and rough brickwork that are reminders of the building's industrial past. The result is both simple and lavish - just like the food coming out of Chef Jay Cohen's kitchen.

Chef Cohen, formerly of Rio Bamba, produces food that is inventive and true to the nature of the ingredients themselves. "Simple" is the word he uses to describe both his dishes and the way they are presented. The first two dishes we ordered were the phyllo-crusted shrimp ($10) and the Crab Louis ($10). The shrimp made a deceptively sparse plate: two crustaceans, sandwiched between rounds of shredded phyllo dough sitting on butter-yellow sauce with a swirl of vibrant green running through it. The contrast between the crispy shell and the meaty shrimp was pleasant, and the Thai curry sauce revealed subtly layered flavors (and a tiny bit of heat) with each delectable bite. Coconut milk, red curry paste (ginger, red chiles, kaffir lime leaf, shrimp paste, and garlic) and curry powder combined with spicy basil oil to light up the shrimp and bring out a slight smokiness in the dish. The Crab Louis, Chef Cohen's reinterpretation of a country club standard, was easily the most colorful plate we saw all evening. Shaped into a miniature tower, and surrounded by contrasting rings of green goddess dressing and remoulade, a single forkful delivered the perfect balance of salty crab, sweet tomato, crunchy cucumber, and the earthy richness of avocado in each wonderful bite.

Deciding to go to extremes, we paired the sliders ($10) and the seared foie gras ($13). The sliders, miniature hamburgers that are very loosely based on White Castle burgers, were solid and straightforward - cooked medium rare and sent out with smoked bacon, Swiss cheese, and fried onions. The frites that they are served with, though, caught our attention. Shoestring thin and piled high between the three little burgers, the fries had been tossed in herbs and fresh garlic and then drizzled with some very good balsamic vinegar. Crisp, perfectly seasoned, and piping hot, these were some of the best fries I've tasted in quite a while. At the other extreme, the foie gras was a revelation. A generous slab of pan-seared goose liver was served with pear puree, a caramelized pear sauce, and a single crisp-fried slice of seckel pear - each offering different ways to experience the buttery, meaty richness of liver so perfect that it nearly evaporated on my tongue. Paired with a small glass of sauternes, this was a nearly religious experience.

On a subsequent late-night visit (note that One turns into a dark, tooth-rattlingly loud, and crowded nightclub on the weekends), we ordered pizza (with linguica and caramelized onions, $9), hand-rolled sushi ($12), and the wagon wheel pasta ($10). The first two dishes were solid but not all that exciting (although the handrolls were notably fresh-tasting at nearly 1 a.m.). The wagon wheel pasta - cooked perfectly, tossed with cream, black truffle butter, English peas, crispy proscuitto, and topped with a generous layer of very good shaved parmesan cheese - was astounding. A childhood throwback evoking memories of convenience food casseroles with the word "helper" in their names, the pasta was full of pungent bits of truffle, salty assertive cheese, and the bacony richness of Italian ham. Between us, we polished off the dish in a matter of minutes and then indulged in the sinful practice of scooping up the leftover sauce on furtive fingertips (darkness and noise can cover all sorts of misdeeds).

The food at One Ryan Alley is consistently wonderful. I wish I could say the same for the service. On our first visit, One's hostess apparently found my companion and I deficient in some way. Pursing her lips with undisguised distaste, she led us to the worst table in the house - a sort of restaurant gulag sandwiched between the end of the bar and the emergency exit. We protested, and she, grudgingly, moved us to another table in the middle of the dining room. Water and bread arrived immediately, but our waiter took nearly 10 minutes to appear. He did not know the specials, could not tell us what beers were on offer, was unable to make any suggestions about drinks for my companion (she eventually selected a pomegranate martini based on the color of the drinks around us), and felt compelled to tell us that foie gras was liver and that oysters on the half shell were served raw. Our drinks took another 10 minutes to arrive. Fortunately, very efficient runners from the kitchen delivered our food.

In all fairness, the service on a Thursday night rather than a Friday was friendly, efficient, knowledgeable, and helpful without ever giving us the feeling of being hovered over or rushed through our meal. Nevertheless, with such perfect food and an elegant setting in which to eat it, the lack of a consistently welcoming and knowledgeable front of the house staff is like a large, round black eye on the face of the Mona Lisa. 

One Ryan Alley

1 Ryan Alley, 546-1010

Monday-Saturday, 5 p.m.-1 a.m.