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This venue is closed.

Quhnia has both strengths and weaknesses. The room is warm and adorable, with a pillowed banquette lining one side and quaint little still lifes on the walls. The maitre d’ is welcoming, quick to offer a glass of sherry to begin the meal will mix Russian standbys such as blinis, borscht, and smoked salmon with a range of slightly less Slavic pressed panini. The paninis’ sadistically crusty bread shows your tender gums no mercy; and while the beef Stroganoff with its side of kasha tastes rich and unctuous, you may find yourself in the throes of regret come morning. But should you find fault with your dinner, please voice your objections politely, lest you raise the ire of the temperamental chef. Still, keep an eye on Quhnia—to see which restaurateur eventually inherits this marvelously cozy space. — Matt Gross

Sun., 11 a.m.–4 p.m.