In an age that’s all about the celebrity chef, Charles Walpole is a chef all about the food. And the food served at his Blind Pig Bistro is all about satisfying your hunger. I hunger for inspiration and for security. Walpole’s menu serves both. Take for instance the steak and charred-eggplant puree; the urfa biber-dusted chocolate cremaux (the most luscious hybrid you’ve ever tasted, of mousse and pudding); and an order of warm beer bread with freshly churned butter. These items, and a few others, are dependable, always on the menu. You can let the waitstaff take care of the rest. On a typical visit we pick a wine and ask Ben or Renee, who head the front of the house, to take over and surprise us with something new. They produce the perfect pairing: a sunchoke and fava-bean salad, say, or a plate of charred peaches, dishes that are always seasonal, local, inventive, and—the thing that’s hardest but most respectful of truly good food—examples of restraint. All the while Walpole is in the kitchen, quietly at work. In more than 20 visits, I have met him only once, and never had a dish I didn’t like or a meal I didn’t love.