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Dali is an insanely popular tapas bar in Cambridge, a short walk from Harvard. We went on a weekend night in the dead of winter, and spent the first ten minutes crammed into a tiny entry way with about 16 other people. Every few minutes the door would open and another potential patron would be disappointed to learn that there was absolutely no place to put herself. In the meantime, those already inside would find themselves momentarily freezing to death.

Eventually, we squeezed our way into the bar area. This was only a marginal improvement, as there was no place to sit and barely any room to stand. We were delighted by the atmosphere. Dali's is dimly lit and wonderfully decorated. But we were also terrified of being trampled by people who were all far more hip than us, as evidenced by their mingling, their laughter, and their sangria.

There was only one thing to do: get our own sangria. So, we did, and Dali immediately became our favorite restaurant ever. We fought for a section of bench just large enough to fit one of us, cozied up next to a couple of strangers, and partook of the wine-y, fruit-y goodness until our table was ready.

I can't remember everything that we ate that night, only that it was all amazing. I have vague recollections of lamb chops, blueberries, and toasted cheeses. I remember a delicious red wine, and I know for a fact that the scallops were outstanding. But the thing I recall the best was the waiter. Ours was a little old Spanish man who read the entire menu to us, with the greatest accent. He recommended his favorite dishes, and picked out the wine.

We left Dali stuffed, and thoroughly enchanted. We would have gone back, but we felt obliged to try new things.

Our next nice date was (If I recall correctly) a celebration of Ruth's being invited for interviews at most of the graduate schools to which she applied. (We make up excuses when we don't have them.) Anyway, Ruth had been trying to get me to go out for fondue since Charleston, so we did that for her.

The Wine Cellar is very hard to find, if you drive. This is because it really is a cellar, and the sign is well below eye level. But they make the most of the space, and the dining room is very cozy. It is also very much a traditional "fancy restaurant." If you don't go in for thick white tablecloths and obsequious waitstaff, The Wine Cellar probably isn't for you.

Ruth and I shared a very reasonably priced half-bottle of delicious Chianti, and a fondue dinner. Meat fondue, it turns out, is kind of weird. I was always afraid I was going to undercook the chicken, or that the raw lamb had wandered too close to my favorite dipping sauce. But there was a nice variety both of meats and of sauces, and we were on the whole pleased. Dessert was a plate of fresh fruit and a very rich chocolate fondue.

We thought this place was very cute, but fondue for dinner may not be for you. Also, as is the reputation with fondue places, it's a little expensive.

Evoo is right across the street from Dali. We heard about it first in a Language Log post, which means that I was drawn to it in part by my pathetic desire to immitate famous professors that I admire.

Evoo stands for "extra virgin olive oil," and they serve the best that I have ever had -- out-pacing even Gigi. The bread course consists of a basket with several interesting varieties and a plate in which this amazing olive oil floats on top of a layer of balsamic vinaigrette. The combination is something special. Also, our dessert of fresh strawberries with fresh whipped cream and a crust of flambeed sugar was terrific.

But in between these two courses, we were disappointed with Evoo. Our entrees were uninspiring, at best. Mine was good, but not good enough to justify the price. I am only an OK fish-chef, but I could have done as well. Ruth liked hers so little that she gave up halfway through.

nebo stands for "North End Boston," and that's exactly where it is. We first heard about it when the owners (two Italian sisters) were on the Phantom Gourmet tv show. We were happy to find them both in the restaurant when we visited this past Saturday.

On the Phantom Gourmet, they explained that nebo was "the kind of Italian restaurant you find in Italy." The decor is simple and trendy, and possibly a bit more modern than you imagine when you think of an "Italian restaurant." It is certainly very little like the majority of the restaurants in the North End.

The menu is described as "Italian tapas," and also includes a selection of interesting pizzas. We had appetizers of spicy sausages with hot peppers and lamb kebobs. The sausages were outstanding, and the lamb was pretty good. Our pizza was topped with prosciutto, artichokes, mushrooms, and olives, oddly segregated so that each piece had only one topping. I was very much pleased with the pizza, though Ruth (a bit of an olive snob) thought the olives were pedestrian.

After we finished our dinner, we bent over the dessert menu and began to debate the merits of tiramisu versus gelato, cake, and so forth. Then, a waitress who was not our own came over and asked, in a very thick Italian accent, if we'd like for her to pick something delicious for us. We figured she would point something out on the menu, so we said "Sure." Then she asked if we like chocolate ("Of course"), smiled, and -- to our surprise -- scurried off. A bit later, we were presented with two layers of warm chocolate cake around a gooey filling of Nutella and Ghirardelli chocolate, and accompanied by a scoop of espresso gelato.

"Way to go, crazy waitress lady."