[CULTURED LUMBERJACK] "Ned Ludd" sounds like the name of a plumbing-supply wholesaler, but it's actually a reference to the Luddites, those 19th-century technophobes who smashed newfangled machinery to protest the Industrial Revolution. No wonder the restaurant looks as if it were built inside a Lumineers song. The décor is "all-wood everything," from the tables to the tap handles to the actual piles of chopped timber used to feed the wood-fired brick oven, which the entire dining room was designed around. Every inch of available shelving is occupied by some trinket seemingly reclaimed from a Pioneertown antique shop. Beer is served in Mason jars, natch. In the men's restroom, there's a basket overflowing with corks, and the toilet paper hangs from a pipe. Despite the rustic ambiance, Ned Ludd's interpretation of old-fashioned American eating is less Ron Swanson, more Colin Meloy. The locally sourced menu changes weekly, but you're not likely to ever find a burger or steak and eggs among its offerings. Instead, there's roasted trout, served whole and filled with fennel and herbs and topped with greens, as well as spiced albacore, pastured hen and grilled quail. If there's a quality that unites chef James French's plates, it's a bright, zesty freshness, amplified by colorings of dill, basil and the like. So it's not exactly rugged, but the simplicity of presentation is certain to impress its namesake. MATTHEW SINGER.
In a previous life, Ned Ludd was once a pizzeria, and if you show up on a Monday, it transforms back into one, for a weekly hip-hop-themed pizza party called P.R.E.A.M.
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WWeek 2015