On a space scale of small to large, Camaje ranks a tiny. Its smallness is also its strongest feature, as we owned the entirety of the restaurant for a private party. We all sat at a long table that was absolutely stuffed with food and wine to celebrate the engagement of a couple friends, and felt–at least for a night–like pampered fancypants. The nice, rustic interior literally has room for fifteen to twenty people all packed in cozy and friendly-like. The server and chef and some random guy who kept us well oiled swirled around the table answering questions and just being generally helpful and friendly. It was almost like eating in the private apartment of a friend of a friend who just happened to know how to cook. These eat-until-you-burst parties are always so funny, as you all tend to stretch the appetizers forever and talk and drink and talk and drink without the thought of actually eating a main course. I shoved crab dip and hummus and garlicky shrimp into my gob and chugged wine until I completely forgot that I still has a hangar steak coming. Somehow I managed to power down the meat and eat desert and drink like four more glasses of wine. After staggering out with a giant smile on my face and a stomach on the edge of joyous explosion, I hugged my friends goodbye, wished them luck and went off to a dirty alley to curl up and slip blissfully into a food coma. [MF]
85 Macdougal St.