Trü by Artur Martinez

Let me own up to something: I chose the plainest-sounding dish on the menu almost out of spite. Two had stopped me, one all flourish, one rooted in that day's market, and I went with the market on principle, then spent the evening wondering whether the flourish might have won me over. I doubt it. Artur Martínez runs this snug Eixample taverna, dinners only, with obvious technical gifts, and when a plate connects you see just what he could do. Too often, though, the cleverness fed my eyes and left the rest of me politely hungry. Trust the produce, I kept thinking; it has carried Catalan cooking a long way. The talent is not in doubt, and kitchens this young rarely stand still. A year from now I will try again, hopeful, still unconvinced.