Not Lobster

Sundays and Thursdays are oyster nights at Primo in Rockland. You should go; they're a buck each. I had a dozen. Karen got these insanely good warm dates stuffed with gorgonzola and anointed with honey and brandy. There was a pizza involved, and the best steak tartare I've ever had (the secret is in the thoughtful application of anchovies and veal heart).

It's the old farmhouse setting, however, and its weird cast that make it unique. The staff is wonderfully attentive, serving up drinks while you wait on a table (25 minutes at 7pm on a Sunday in Rockland), and one dude checks every five minutes to make sure your name is still Moon (really, he kept asking "Are you Moon?"). Once seated, it only takes a minute to realize that the table to one side is occupied by obnoxiously drunk sorority girls who haven't seen each other in 25 years ("Grand Marnier! Woot Woot") and the table to the other hosts a family who just wanted a quiet evening and keeps trying to stare them down over your tartare and holy crap did you just see that guy eat three dozen oysters?

Reservations recommended.