Whatever comes
to mind when you think of Providence, Rhode Island, it probably isn’t the
cuisine or the tourist attractions. Lovecraft’s, a new eatery themed around the
famous Weird Tales author, is hoping to change that.
Combining
Lovecraft’s trademark cosmic horror and pessimism about the human race with a
family-orientated dining experience might not seem like a natural fit, but
natural fits have never been owner and head chef Jorge Stephenson’s forte. Best
known for the wild and unprecedented success of The Bloodwolf Diner, a Viking
themed steak house in lower Manhattan, Stephenson is confident that Lovecraft’s
will become much more than a local oddity. “I believe the people will be drawn
to this place of power,” Stephenson says, and that “they will have no choice,
they must.”
The flamboyant restaurateur came up with the
idea for his new venture while on a fishing expedition near Southern China,
explaining that, “I saw something, there beneath the waves. Something older
than man, something that’s age taught me the limits of mankind. I thought
perhaps I could possess it, but I was wrong. Oh, how wrong I was! No man can
possess…well, there’s no name for it. No name you’d know. But I knew, when I
saw it, that if I couldn’t posses it I could pay tribute to it, as Lovecraft
did. And that perhaps by paying tribute I could bring about its awakening.”
Stephenson
certainly has a way with words, but that’s nothing compared to his skills in
the kitchen. Recently a companion and I were invited to a preview meal at Lovecraft’s,
which kicked off with ‘The Mussels of Erich Zann,’ a twist on Mussels Italiano
incorporating hints of calamari. My companion reported that there was something
eerie about it, something that made her feel weirdly doubtful, but she’s never
been one for seafood and I found it delicious, flavorful without being
overwhelming. For entrees, I dug into ‘The Calzone Out of Space’ and my
companion went with ‘The Outsider,’ a large half-pound burger topped with
bacon, chicken fingers, a fried egg, and once again a signature calamari curl.
My calzone was exquisite,
the dough crisp and lightly seasoned, the fillings (pepperoni, sausage, and an
unidentifiable fish-like substance) fresh and flavorful. As an extra fun little
bonus, the sauce and cheese were dyed a strange color that I can’t quite
describe…at first I wanted to call it purple, but the second I became
comfortable calling it purple it really started to seem more orange. I asked my
server about it and he began to tremble, reporting that he wasn’t allowed to
answer any questions, and that I should run while there was still time. Delighted
by this clever touch (while some are turned off by the novelty of the
waiter-in-character, I love the atmosphere it creates) I asked the waiter
another question, this one about the composition of the sausage, but he was
quickly called away by the floor manager before he could respond. And just to show you how thorough the staff
at Lovecraft’s is, we never saw our original waiter again, the floor manager
himself served us for the rest of the evening.
It should be
said that Stephenson and his investors (a shadowy group who refuse to divulge
their names, or how many they count amongst their number) have really gone to
great lengths making sure that the décor in Lovecraft’s is worthy of its
namesake. The dining room resembles a stuffy old research library, the walls
lined with (reproductions of) dusty books with titles both Arabic and
otherworldly. The menus are printed on yellowing paper and made to look like
old ledgers, and the wine menu comes bound in a strange leather-like substance,
which neither my companion or I could identify, but seemed to writhe at our
touch. Creepy and effective! I should point out that the house wine,
N’ars’etep, was not available during our visit. Stephenson assured me that the
process by which they produce N’ars’etep is ‘Eldritch, and painstaking, but we
should have more than enough to inoculate everyone come our grand opening.’
My companion
began crying halfway through her burger, saying that each bite was like
allowing an alien consciousness into her body, but I tasted it and thought it
was wonderful, juicy and thick. She excused herself to the restroom and I
ordered us ‘The Mountains of Madness,’ five scoops of ice cream topped with gummy
worms, nuts, gummy spiders and gummy squid, to share as a desert.
The ice cream
came before my companion returned, and I couldn’t help trying it. It was that
same strange color as the calzone filling—imagine if static was a color, but
exotic static, static from the islands—and had a taste I couldn’t quite place. Like
the ocean at night, kind of, but the way the ocean at night would taste in a
dream. But not a dream you’re having yourself. Anyway, I really had to tear
myself away before I finished the entire thing, deciding to go search for her
instead, as at this point she’s been gone a while.
You don’t often
find yourself saying this as a restaurant critic, but the restrooms at
Lovecraft’s might be its crowning achievement. I’m not sure words exist that
would really do them justice. After calling into the ladies room and receiving
no reply, I walked in and found a chamber resembling some strange alien vista,
seemingly carved all from marble. Strange sculpture in the shapes of monstrous
faces hung like stalactites from the ceiling, and the stalls resembled animal
pens filled with discarded bones. It took me a minute to even recognize all
this, however, as the restroom was also weirdly asymmetrical, seeming to lurch
at odd angles. And big! I must have searched for ten or fifteen minutes before
giving up and returning to my table, and I’m sure I didn’t check everywhere.
My companion
never returned, must have slunk out the back or something, but quite frankly
I’m not sure I want to spend that much time in the company of someone who
doesn’t love Lovecraft’s anyway. Make sure you check it out soon, and I do mean
soon, as suddenly I’m overcome with a kind of…immediacy? A sense that whatever
must be accomplished must be accomplished soon, before time runs out. Must be
I’m just hungry. Luckily, I know just where to go.
Atmosphere: Family friendly, Cyclopean
Service: Attentive, slightly nervous
Prices: The sleeper awakens and all the world shall tremble,
entrees range $10-25.
Children Welcome: You shall sense the sleeper’s approach
in the shivering, in the blood, in the cracked eye of the mad and infirm, full
children’s menu available
Open: Daily, 12-12
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