Once the amuses are done some slightly larger plates appear: not quite appetizers, but too large to swallow in a single bite. These cold dishes can be nursed until your first course arrives, and provide ample entertainment in the interim. The cold tripe salad, dressed in olive oil and lemon juice with pepper flakes and herbs, was a fortuitous way to introduce Lisa to the world of offal. The tripe has been cooked long enough to remove any offensive organ flavor, and served cold it lacks the squishy texture that reminds you you're eating guts.

The other starter was a cold tomato aspic. Lisa was confused, but couldn't stop eating it: "It's like eating spaghetti sauce!" she said, with not inconsiderable amazement. Actually, it's more like spaghetti sauce jello. But the texture works; it becomes a gentle way of holding the flavor of slow-cooked tomatoes in place long enough for you to fully appreciate it.

Soon after we finished our starters, the first course arrived. Lisa ordered a ricotta flan, which came with a meat ragout similar to a bolognese sauce. The flan was remarkable; I think if it had been cooked even one second less it would collapse. Fortunately the cooking was stopped at precisely the right time, and the custard melted like butter on the tongue. A sprinkling of parmesan and a drizzle of melted butter rounded out the dish, but were used with such moderation that it came across as anything but greasy. It was a simple juxtaposition of intense, rich flavors.

I went with an old standby, white polenta with butter and parmesan. The polenta was creamy, faintly grainy, and punctuated here and there with tiny capers and flecks of herbs. But against the bold flavors elsewhere on the menu, this dish didn't really stand up. It's gentle, and comforting in an innocuous kind of way. But I came to Cibrèo to be shaken up, and the mildness of white corn, even augmented with splashes of dairy fireworks, just didn't do the job. It was time to bring on the big guns.