Gunshow

You're barely seated before a chef materializes at your elbow with something on a plate, and the wine list arrives with the same confident brevity — 13 bottles, no fluff. It's lean, but someone clearly thought about it. This isn't a restaurant that treats wine as an afterthought just because the food gets all the theater.

Thirteen labels sounds thin, but the curation punches above its weight. There's a Spatzi Furmint from Tokaji sitting next to a Clos Cibonne Tibouren from Provence, and an Anne Amie Müller-Thurgau from Yamhill-Carlton — these aren't wines you stumble onto at your average Atlanta restaurant. France leans Loire-heavy with a Vignobles Denis Chenin Blanc and a Paul Buisse Cabernet Franc from Chinon, which makes sense given the food-forward, acid-driven format here. The red side is lighter — Nero d'Avola, Cab Franc, Zinfandel, and a Paso Robles Cab Sauv round it out, with the Almacita Bubbles from Argentina's Uco Valley adding a left-field sparkler. The gaps are real (no Pinot Noir, no Chardonnay), but the wines that are here were chosen with intention.

By-the-glass options aren't clearly broken out on the menu, which is a frustration in a format where you're constantly pivoting to match whatever chef just appeared at your table. The roving service model practically demands a strong glass pour program, and the absence of a clear BTG breakdown is a missed opportunity. If staff can guide you verbally through options, great — but don't count on it.