The rub, then, is that the menu appears to have been cut off mid-sentence. I’m all for a concise offering, but three mains is pushing it — Twiggy and I run through twice that just working out what’s for Sunday lunch. And, as evidently talented as Hayes is, these dishes are the kind to idly chat over, to facilitate the night. They are not travel-across-town plates, hero dishes or anything of the sort: they’re dishes to ignore. Food you want to eat, but you wouldn’t Uber for. I wanted fireworks from a chef I suspect has a kitchen full, but hasn’t been allowed to light. On the other hand, Spencer’s low intervention-but-not-idiosyncratic list offers plenty — it’s Don Quixote to Hayes’ haiku (though if it is a wine bar proper, not a restaurant, then the choice by-the-glass is meek).