Belly Romance

From the sidewalk on SE Hawthorne, Belly Timber is a vision of
Victorian romance. Framed by clapboard siding in the street-facing
window, one might see a smiling candle-lit couple chatting over dinner,
gazing intimately into each other’s eyes, forks poised in front of
their lips.

The problem is, with the exception of the one table visible from the
street, Belly Timber isn’t romantic. Though pretty, the interior of the
somber Victorian home can be loud and cramped even with minimal
occupancy. Neighbors are so close it’s impossible to avoid their dinner
conversation. On a recent evening I learned of one diner’s amusement at
buying a table saw, and of another’s struggle with cancer, all while
trying to focus on my wife’s workday recap.

Still, romance is what you make it. I’m inclined to argue that, even
though the ambiance at Belly Timber is more clubby than cloistered,
quality food makes all the difference. The truth is, once the meat from
the beef short ribs ($10/$18) is plucked from the bone and begins
melting in your mouth—with impeccable tenderness, roast beef
savor, and hints of cinnamon—the discomforting room falls away
and the loudest sound becomes the crispy crunch of leeks and your own
yummy noises.

It’s also easy to forget the room’s din with rustic starters like
Brussels sprouts, white beans, and guanciale (house-cured pig jowl
bacon), with its fine mix of salty bacon crunch and sprout bitterness
($8). Or there’s the duck and quince rillette ($8; think smooth fatty
pâté), and its accompaniment of spicy arugula, sweet
cranberry sourness, and hazelnuts.

This is simple food served simply. The entrées are available
in two hunger-proportionate sizes with ingredients that can be counted
on one hand. A single cannelloni ($9) is filling with rich truffled
ricotta and the sparkle of celery root; while the substantial BT burger
($10) is easily shareable, cooked to temperature, given zing by pickled
onions, and paired with crunch-crisp hand-cut fries and addictive bone
marrow aioli.

Or shore up your belly walls by pairing the house-cured charcuterie
plate ($8)—with favorites like mild sopresseta rounds and
newfangled morsels like pig-strami—with a full order of
feta-topped, filo-wrapped spinach and mushrooms ($14) on a bed of
sweet, pear-like parsnip puree.

As for social lubrication, the bar needs some fine-tuning. Many
options are fine, but steer clear of the strange-tasting bacon bourbon
Manhattan and the pleasant (but-not-really-a) Sazerac.

When it comes down to it, romantic atmosphere helps, but it can’t
top great food. And what’s more romantic than sharing great food with
someone you love?