Okay. I'm generally not one to complain. I say great things about restaurants, cities, people, bands (well, maybe not all bands), whatever. I probably even say great things when mediocre things might be more appropriate. But here I am, about to complain.

My girlfriends and I went to Lago last night. Lago recently opened up in the Tremont space that was Theory, and before that, Mojo. The decor is -- weird. There are some faux touches on the walls that are supposed to represent exposed brick with some water damage of sorts, but instead look more like an incomplete idea and incomplete execution of said idea.

Now, maybe we went into our reservation expecting too much. But in our defense, any restaurant with entrees in the $17 - $32 range probably considers itself a fine-dining establishment, and from those I expect, well, fine dining. My lobster ravioli was just okay. I'd had better at the now-defunct Fulton Bar and Grill, where the dish was half the price and twice as good.

The main problem of the night, however, arrived in the form of my friend Sherri's dinner. She ordered the grilled salmon. We each took a bite of it and she sent it right back. It tasted like pure alcohol, according to Sherri, or medicine, according to Jess. Turns out the chef had accidentally used the cognac instead of tomato water. Why those two were next to each other and how one could mistake one for the other I haven't a clue. The restaurant was not packed, by any stretch of the word, so it's not like the kitchen was completely slammed.

She ended up with the cavatelli, which, like my ravioli, was merely eh. On the plus side, we all ended up with comped dessert and accompanying wine. Of the three desserts we sampled, two were mediocre, and one was too rich for the other girls but completely sublime to me. And, our server was really nice.

In short, I'd only go back to Lago to sit at the bar and have a glass of the Nebbiolo d'Alba Ochetti ("heaven in a glass" is what our server called it) and a slice of the Chocolate Hazelnut Cake. And then I'd go back home, thinking great things. Dinner will be saved for Lola and Parker's, at least before it closes.

For a different take, read the Plain Dealer's review: