Saporissimo has been around for several years now, but somehow, even with an ever-lengthening list of passionate devotees, it hasn't lost its sense of being secret. No matter how many times you dine with the Monegattis, a husband and wife from Tuscany (she cooks, he charms your pants off), you always feel like you've discovered something. Maybe it's the well-worn look of the place, with its single, small room hung with an assortment of homey art, press clippings, and lace curtains, so unlike the chrome, glass, and relentlessly spotlit aesthetic of the chic eateries surrounding it. Maybe it's the stubbornly individual menu with wild boar, truffles, rabbit, and elk chops, or the preparations incorporating bitter chocolate or mascarpone, squid ink, or foie gras. Or the way Signore Monegatti presents glistening trays of fish and shellfish, and stuffed ravioli so fresh it still bears the imprint of his wife's fingers. It could be the heavenly burrata, still wrapped in damp leaves, or the cart of complimentary after-dinner drinks the staff wheels out with a flourish. The fact is, you can't dine here without feeling you've experienced something rare and magical, and you're the only two people in the world who know it.