I have to admit I do have fantasies of this restaurant reopening once again. It’s been a couple of years since the doors closed and never re-opened. Up to five minutes ago, cars lined the surface lot, I got a little giddy thinking, could it be? Instead of convening and consuming, all were present for the flower farm tour just emerging from its former garden space—albeit instead of bounty off the vine and herbs, over a hundred variety of flora to envy. It’s one of the least showy joints that I have seen, yet what it had to offer still has me dreaming. It was here I fell hard for Moschomavro’s rosé on color, red on fruits and flowers and aromas, with hints of caramel and a most respectable lasting aftertaste. My mouthfeel is medium and full-bodied right about now.