Blackened snapper found its counterpoint in a creamy vin blanc sauce; perhaps a hair sweeter than I’d prefer, but the jalapeño corn spoon bread and jalapeño corn tartar sauce provided a moderately spicy juxtaposition.
The meatballs, ridiculously tender and oozing from their center with fontina cheese, may as well be religious idols, worthy of worship.
The name is dubious, but the food is mighty good.
Rybrew seems to be just what the neighborhood needed: a reliably good sandwich and brew spot perfect for either take-out or eating in, right there in its charmingly industrial, unselfconsciously cool space.
It’s time to lessen the blow and salve our collective wounds by beginning to plan for one of the precious few nights of the year when excess and debauchery are not so much encouraged as expected.