I had no idea that the word Calliope referred to so many different things. It's a breed of sweet little Humming Bird indigenous to Fort Tryon Park, a World War II tank equipped with missile launcher, a song by Tom Waits, and now a terrific new restaurant from a talented husband and wife chef team: former Waverly Inn chef Eric Korsh and Prune veteran Ginny Iverson.

The couple, you may remember, ran the acclaimed Restaurant Eloise in Sebastopol, California where they were widely praised by Josh Sens (three stars), Jeff Cox (three stars) and Patricia Unterman and Bauer who gave it 2.5 stars and agreed that it was a "must-visit place.” Eric and Ginny, who have worked at some of the city’s most innovative restaurants (Prune, Picholine, Café des Artists, Patio Dining), moved back to New York from California chasing a dream of a NYC restaurant of their own. After a couple of years of searching, they’ve found it. 

Calliope is located in the former Belcourt space on the corner of Second Avenue and Fourth Street, just blocks from their former cooking home at Prune. In turning Belcourt into Calliope, they’ve smartly retained the restaurant’s naturally beautiful bones: the tall wrought iron doors, the tin ceilings, the ceramic tiled floors, the beautiful banquettes made from polished wood, and the glossy Parisian bar fashioned into a semi-circle to encourage conversation from every stool. This is the kind of bar you’ll want to meet a special friend for a tray of icy oysters and a bottle of pink wine. To the space, they’ve added little more than a communal table covered in brown butcher paper adorned with fresh wildflowers in tulip vases. Taken together, the restaurant is an effortless charmer, a kind of Marilyn Monroe, with its tall windows and breezy summer-in-Provence vibe. On a steamy night, where my short walk from the 2nd Avenue F train made me feel like a stick of butter tossed into a hot oven, Calliope was instant refreshment.

The menu at Calliope is a culmination of these chefs collective experiences, and their passion for the sunny flavors of Southern France and Northern Italy. Anchovy, olives, lemon, olive oil, and butter star in many dishes. This is my kind of food: rustic, full-flavored, and gutsy. I’ve never really cared for shy food. I want to know what it’s about from the first bite, not wait around to see if it will open up or wilt. So for me, Calliope is a wonderland.

The fun begins with the bread service. Sure they could’ve just served a nice loaf with good creamery butter and coarse sea salt. That would’ve been fine. But they don’t. Instead, here’s what you get: great country bread cut into bite size hunks, slathered with anchovy butter, and run under the broiler, served alongside assorted sliced radishes. Now that’s a prelude.

The good times continue with appetizers. A special the night we were in, which is a popular staple at brunch (not surprisingly), is the house-smoked sable fish. It’s a lightly smoked filet, pale pearl in color, something the folks at Russ & Daughters would swoon over, served in generous slices over pickled beets, and a schmear of sour cream and chives, all piled on a thick cut slice of toast. This is an appetizer that should have every New York Jew in the nation lining up for seconds. There should be an express bus from Miami up to 4th Street for the stuff. I was texting my dad, who lives on the Upper East Side, after the first bite. “DAD! Come to down to Calliope for smoked sable. Gr8.”

Smoked fish and pickled beets is pretty much a sure thing, but the kitchen also takes risks that offer high reward. Black sesame oil meets up with creamy cubes of avocado and nuggets of spicy marinated mackerel ($9) in a thrilling little plate that had Susie, Jamie, and I wondering whether it would be too piggish if we ordered seconds. The volume on a salad ($14) of charred octopus, potatoes, and shaved celery is turned up by a brilliant vinaigrette made from anchovies and lemon that’s beautifully balanced to somehow be both gentle and forceful at the same time. The tete du porc ($12), a pig’s head braised for hours then served cold, in paper thin slices decorated with parsley leaves and diced cornichons, is perfect for a summer supper. It’s a cool carpaccio for the swine set, and it seems as though this is the dish of the moment; all around the restaurant, tables of girls in flirty rompers and gladiator sandals and boys in tees and Toms were ordering platters of pig head with happy abandon.

Indeed, the food is one reason the crowd here is a happy one. The other is the super welcoming staff, a group of kids who seems to not only be passionate about all those locally sourced ingredients coming out of the kitchen, but who are also committed to insuring that guests are well cared for.  I like that combination.

But yes, the food does inspire the warm and fuzzies. A lovely filet of black sea bass ($27) is wrapped in grape leaves and tastes as though it’s been infused with sunshine and lemons. It’s served quite simply with a ratatouille of summer tomatoes and squash. It’s just what you’ll want to eat this time of year. Given the temps in the high 90s, I wasn’t sure I could handle the hot and sour lamb ($23), but how could I not try it? I loved the sound of a dish of braised lamb in a sauce that was racy with both spice and cheek-puckering tang. Let me say clearly that it was worth the sweat on my brow. The lamb is braised unapologetically, and sauced up so it's almost Chinese take out it's so hot and sour. Firm green olives and little mascarpone agnolotti root it to the Mediterranean. Brilliant dish. I would not order the chard and ricotta dumplings ($17), however. They were served in a brown butter that had separated and in truth were rather bland. Instead, get the crispy roast chicken, with stuffed cabbage and carrots ($25), or the rabbit pappardelle with English peas ($29).

The chefs are also serving a selection of gratins (all $8), and we had the fingerlings with raclette. An embarrassing amount of butter and cheese is incorporated into this cast iron skillet, and it’s one I should have turned my fork away from in hopes of preserving what I have left of a waistline. But instead, I tried it. Oh, friends. How I wanted to stop after one bite, but those potatoes—happily wrecked with salty butter and blanketed in a bubbly duvet of raclette—did not allow it. If Bloomberg is trying to ban extra-large sodas, no doubt he’ll get to this dish too, given it probably has a year’s supply of calories from fat in its top layer, but hey, I belong to Equinox. If I go every day for the rest of my life, I should be okay.

Speaking of a lifetime of incarceration in the gym, for dessert, you must have the baba au rhum. Jamie was so pleased to see it there. It’s one of her all time favorite desserts. And when was the last time you saw a Baba on a menu? I can’t recall. Why? When done well, it’s everything you want from a dessert: a boozy cake with cream. Gas, food, and lodging all in one spot. Don’t drive past! Stop. And the one at Calliope is just a darling. The cake, shaped like a big popover, is served warm and it’s so fluffy the yeast is almost audible. Tableside, your server will pour a shot of warm rum from a crystal cut glass and then spoon out clouds of freshly whipped cream from a vintage cup. Ahhhh! Savor the baba slowly. This is real rum and you will get a buzz from the first bite. (Serve it to your kids if you want them to sleep well.)

As you pass the plate around, you may talk amongst yourselves about meaningful issues of the day, or silly memories. After a discussion of significant news seemed too much of a downer, we went to a happy place for all of us: we relived our first concerts: Jamie’s was Air Supply with a camp friend, Susie’s was Berlin with a school friend, and mine was Bryan Adams with my high school BFF Melissa Epstein. Soon, we were belting out the lyrics to Lost in Love, Take my Breath Away, and Heaven. (Well, that might have just been me.) It was a baba-fueled round of Karaoke. Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.

Calliope is located at 84 East 4th Street, corner of Second Avenue, 212-260-8484.

Andrea Strong