Vicia in the Central West End specializes in culinary innovation

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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Naked Vegetables: pesto, hummus, goat cheese, whipped lard, and vegetable pulp salt

A goose egg, its shell cracked open, rests in an excelsior nest. The contents are gently scrambled with asparagus and shiitake mushroom nibbles, smoked butter, and breadcrumbs to be spooned out like an exquisite breakfast. Squash is slivered in a salad with a creamy puddle of yogurt-textured stracciatella and sprinkled with edible daylily petals, pine nuts, and cherries.

Paper-thin circles of raw turnip are folded into “tacos” laden with sugar snap peas, a molé of charred vegetables, and strawberry soffritto.

Yes, it’s that kind of place.

Vicia is like a roller coaster, threatening to careen off into pretentiousness, kept on track by a seriously gifted kitchen—but providing a wildly exciting ride. The space is sleek, bright, with glass walls looking out onto the Cortex Innovation District. The focal point is an open, bustling kitchen that churns out exquisite dishes, presented with inventive complexity.

The menu changes more often that Frank Cusumano’s suits. The emphasis is consistently on vegetables, most locally sourced and elaborately presented. Meats are supporting actors. A precisely grilled steak is matched with vegetables, such as rough-crushed new potatoes, a charred-onion aioli, garlic scapes, and pickled ramps. But the playing card–sized steak is not, as described, a “family style main.” Neither is a meaty fist of oyster mushrooms that’s described in the same way. They are among the best fungi you’ve ever eaten—by far. A wooden platter of pork is more generous. Slices of spectacular sweet fat belly are served with medallions of tenderloin and cherries. They’re smoked 24 hours in a cast-iron skillet and reduced to their sweet, juicy essence. (The alluring patio fireplace plays a big role in Vicia’s cooking and charm.)

Embrace the quirks. After trying the beets, roasted in beef fat and plopped in a pool of garlic-infused yogurt, you’ll be ready to trust the kitchen, no matter how odd things sound. Cabbage charred over coals is topped with a filigree of spalla cruda cured pork shoulder so the fat melts just slightly into the cabbage; the result is stunning.

Cocktails are creative, intricate. The wine list is fine, thoughtful and interesting. Service is flawless. We finished dinner with a strawberry sorbet, explosively concentrated, accompanied by goat’s-milk ice cream perfumed with wood sorrel.

Because yes, it’s that kind of place.