Sweetzer meets Melrose at its most bloated and sterile, a broad strip of asphalt kept afloat by steel-and-glass agency fronts and interior design boutiques doing their best to strip the coziness out of hygge. Stepping into the warmth of Crossroads Kitchen gives the emotional equivalent of returning circulation to one’s extremities. The playlist meets you first, a well-curated selection of classic rock that spans Motown to Glam piped over a buttery sound system at a tasteful volume. Naked low-wattage bulbs dangle from a canopy of chandeliers between cream-colored acoustic panels, presenting a lighter counterpoint to the rolling sea of dark stained wood booths and countertops. Privacy screens at each booth draw upward from the bottom of arched Spanish modern windows. Young couples hold hands across their tables, each insisting that they’ll order whatever the other wants. Millennial budget stretchers, yours truly included, get their talking and hand-holding in before the food arrives in anticipation of a contemplative meal punctuated by satisfied grunts.
Crossroads does cheeses particularly well. Some of their best starters include rich almond ricotta-stuffed zucchini blossoms lightly battered and served with marinara, a pate and aged cheese variety plate with a dollop of quince paste, and the figs and feta plate served with a wedge of grilled sourdough. The effortless play between the bitter char on the bread, the syrupy sweet figs and the rich feta makes this last dish a classic introductory remark for first-timers and returning clientele alike.
The truffle mushroom bianca pizza is a light and salty affair with a crackly California-style crust, a smooth and funky base and sharp finish of shaved parmesan. The center is firm enough to be maneuvered with one hand, with a chew closer to a light flatbread than a Sicilian pie. The caesar salad keeps it classic with romaine hearts, croutons, and a dressing after my own heart that errs on the side of pungent and herbaceous. A moderate mound of curled parmesan shavings dusts this holy trifecta while caper berries perch on top at jaunty angles.
The menu and environment here are unabashedly old-world in their stylings, yet modern in their techniques and divine in their balance. Art deco booths with scalloped backrests and brownie sundaes in stemmed glasses evoke an historical gravity without leaning too far into any particular era; looking backward is not really the point, but neither is strictly looking forward.
Life has delightfully diverse ways of juxtaposing the past and present to remind us of our place – – ranging from the crude prehistoric dread of watching traffic grind to a halt for an alligator crossing the road, to the subtle brilliance of restaurants that apply forward thinking to the most anachronistic comfort dishes. Crossroads projects the cool confidence of continuity to a community eager to be a part of something lasting, a salve for diners who have seen so many beloved vegan eateries go to the great kitchen in the sky. Good restaurants can transport one out of time, but it takes a special restaurant to make one feel a part of its fabric.
