I resisted going to Decca. Yes, I heard all the swooning, but I wasn't buying it. I blame my stubborn Kentuckian side. We have plenty of good chefs. Plenty! We don't need somebody to come in from California to show us what good food is. We know from good food here.
But I kept hearing about it, and every word I heard was a rave. Curiosity got the better of me and I caved, so my husband Brian and I went for dinner (812 E. Market St.) on a cold weeknight in February. I hoped for a pleasant meal.