I love meals that start with little snacks—amuse bouche, canapés, hors d’ouerves—whatever you call them—you get the idea. I call them little snacks, and to me, they are just pure silliness and joy—lots of lively contrasting flavors, tucked into a one-bite blast to wake up your mouth and your appetite. At Cru, executive chef Shea Gallante’s modern European restaurant and wine-lovers paradise, every tables gets four rounds of little snacks to start the evening off on the right foot.

On the night we were there, we were served petite ice cream cones fashioned from the sheer ruby red beet chips, and were piped with an earthy red beet puree, that was topped off with tart goat cheese crème fraiche. Then came the golden, grape-sized bacalau croquettes, and then two mini-grilled cheese sandwiches, skewered so they resembled grilled cheese lollipops. Each hot and crispy fontina sandwich was wrapped in prosciutto—a proper salty foil for the nutty cheese. The final snack was a tiny tart the size of a quarter. The pastry crust was made with Montassio cheese and was filled with a creamy whipped robiola mousse. Pop it in your mouth—the whole thing, yes—and you get this great wave of flavors and textures.

And all of this—plus classic cocktails, a glass of sparkling wine, or whatever you choose to drink while devouring these little snacks—occurs within the first ten minutes of your arrival at Cru. What could be better? Well, what could be better is what follows.

Shea Gallente, 31, Cru’s young and devastatingly handsome executive chef, is not kidding around at Cru. This is serious, hi-brow, cerebral cuisine prepared from stunning ingredients, with flawless technique. Meals are careful, plot-driven dramas. This is not Reality TV, and Shea is not another Average Joe.

The talent in this kitchen comes from Gallante’s pedigree. He spent three years learning impeccable technique and avant-garde culinary style from David Bouley, where he was eventually promoted to sous chef under Galen Zamarra (the chef and partner at Mas) and then to Chef De Cuisine in 2001. Prior to joining Bouley, he worked with Dodo Nicotra, the executive chef at Lidia Bastianich’s Italian temple, Felidia, making pastas and learning the art of Italian cooking.

Both sides come through on his menu at Cru, a softly lit, sedate restaurant owned by Roy Welland (Washington Park, Barbuto). The menu features four sections, begging with Crudo (all, $6), the Italian take on raw fish. These are magical. A fine, silky slice of kanpachi gets a dusting of lime salt and sprinkle of micro celery; rich, plump langoustines are married with a green-papaya and truffle salad, then cloaked in a gin sauce; glossy rectangles of sheer white tuna are dusted in this wild, earthy powder made of olives, capers and espresso; a stunning sliver of arctic char is lifted up with smoked pepper, apple, endive and a touch of vanilla oil.

The list of first courses begins with organic white polenta and olive oil soup with burrata, lovage and hazelnut ($12). It is miraculous. But it’s not really a soup as much as an ode to burrata. A creamy, butterball of this gorgeous cow’s milk cheese from Puglia is napped in a soft puddle of polenta infused with grassy olive oil, and set in a frothy foam made of toasted bread steeped in milk, olive oil, and a touch of hazelnut oil. Skate, often typecast with lemon and white wine, is thrown into the role of Indie movie star here. Dusted in a light powder of crushed pignoli nuts ($14), the skate is seared just enough to give its flesh a little caramelization and to allow the meat to remain moist and sweet. It is plated with one of the wildest sauces I have ever tasted. It is a Risotto Milanese—classically done with saffron, parmigiano, and bone marrow, and then pureed and passed through a sieve a number of times until it morphs into this intense and vibrant yellow gloss—a feathered boa for the new star.

Another must have is the rabbit cotechino ($14). This is Shea’s take on the classic giant pork sausages in hog casing served with mustarda, lentils, spicy mustard and salsa verde on Christmas eve in Italy. For his riff on the classic, he offers petite rabbit sausages on a bed of Casteluccio lentils dressed with spicy mustard, and tossed with bits of speck, and a small dice of poached rabbit meat—delivering lots of Alsatian-like, pungent flavors.

His pastas, all made in house, illustrate lessons learned at Felidia. The most brilliant of them all is the Vialone Nano Risotto ($14/$23)—a lush, rich risotto topped with west coast sea urchin, folded around a yellow tomato reduction. It tastes exotic, like a far off land, and seduces you—coating your mouth with the velvet brininess of the sea and the sweetness of summer’s best tomatoes.

Another standout was a special—the Fuzi. These are sort of like garganelli—flat, pointed tubes sparingly glossed in a simple but sure sauce made from roasted heirloom tomatoes, flecked with bits of ricotta salata and tossed with fresh basil. It reminded me of the spaghetti with tomato sauce at L’Impero—such a basic dish, done so well, makes the necessity of flourish obsolete.

Gallante also knows his way around a fish. His technique in every dish we tried was flawless. Nothing was overcooked, nothing dry, nothing rubbery, and nothing chewy. If you are looking for a restaurant where technique is paramount and perfect, you will find it at Cru. It was remarkable. His spiced European filet of turbot ($36), coated in a house spice mix (all spice, star anise, nutmeg, juniper and cloves), demonstrates this point nicely. A firm and delicious filet was served with a little ragout-like mixture of confited shallots, Treviso, pencil asparagus, and maitake mushrooms, rests in a pool of evaporated red wine sauce. Yes, evaporated wine sauce. Well, here’s the deal with that: he puts a big pot of red wine up on the edge of a flattop that is hot, but turned off, so the wine comes up to just to below simmering, and lets it sit there simmering and steaming for about 14 hours. The wine never breaks a boil, and so it just steams, evaporating, reducing the wine, in a way, but without the harshness of the tannins of the wine. The result—light, effortless flavors that are at the same time concentrated and rich.

Lobster ($36) was also exquisite—juicy, plump pieces of a Maine Soft shell critter served in a light stew of garlic-braised escarole with Corona beans, nuggets of fresh bacon and a bit of horseradish for a subtle mark of heat. Grain Fed Veal, ($33) cooked sous vide—the meat is dusted in porcini, quickly seared, then cryovaced with garlic, olive oil and submerged in a machine called a thermostatic circulator tempers and circulates water and keeps it at the same temp—62 C—for 26 minutes. The process breaks down the meat into the buttery state that you find it in on your plate, served with a sweet pea and barley risotto and a warm black truffle and anchovy mayonnaise. While I thought the veal was worthy of a neon sign saying “BEST VEAL EVER,” I was not all that into the mayo or the risotto. The mayo was a bit much for the veal, and the risotto was sort of dull. The accompaniments seemed ill suited to the veal. But who really cares when the veal is that good. Just serve it alone on a plate, or straight from the cryovac pack for all I care.

Okay, this is getting long, so let me get to the wine lists. There are two—one for red, and one for white. Each leather loose-leaf volume weighs in at about 3 pounds. (If you care to lift some light weights in between courses, be my guest.) To the credit of Sommelier Robert Bohr, the list is fairly simple to navigate, other than the tabs that are printed in a light brown font that is impossible to read without x-ray vision. But other than that, the 3,200 bottle list, which will grow to 3,450 bottles in the next few weeks, is quite user friendly—divided by country of origin, or region. (Prices range from $22 to $16,000 per bottle.) There are maps to help, and also a smart cheat sheet of recommended wines to help narrow your selection. If you’d rather go by the glass there are 52 selections, available by the 6-oz. and 3-oz. pours ranging from $7-$150 for the full glass and $4-$75 for half.

And now, for the bad news. While I was so impressed with the food at Cru—really, Shea is reaching high here and from where I sat the other night, easily making his mark—I must say the design of the restaurant is quite dire.

Located in the space that was the sunny, airy Washington Park, Cru is the polar opposite. It is a library as restaurant—quiet, serious, and sedate almost to the point of being dreary. This space is notorious for restaurant failures. It is one of those cursed locations. So I am worried. I know people will come for Shea’s food and for the matchless wine list. But the room doesn’t give you vibe. It doesn’t beckon. It is just sort of there. It is decorated with rich dark polished woods, wall-to-wall drab carpeting, muted tones, horrific post-modern light fixtures, and dark velvet covered banquettes (very comfortable, though, which is key because meals are leisurely here, not rushed, just right). Please, breathe some life in there. It feels like it belongs on the Upper East Side in an old crotchety hotel. And the crowd sort of matches the lifeless room—older, serious looking couples, crowds of men talking business, a few tables of women discussing their latest issues with their boyfriends and careers, and older men fondling children known as their dates. The room is stuffy and stuck in a state of ennui. The food is so full of life and passion and soul—it needs a setting that matches its shameless brilliance, not one that stifles imagination and shuns cheer.

Cru is located at 24 Fifth Avenue, corner of 9th Street, 212-529-1700.

Andrea Strong