Sequels often don’t measure up to the original. You don’t hear much about Teen Wolf Too, Manhattan's Pommes Frites #2 didn’t have nearly the success of #1, and most parents will tell you that they love their first child best. (Only joking on that last one, big bro). Pó Brooklyn, on the other hand, circumvents the sequel stigma. Having dinner there was excellent, start to finish, a result of the great deal of care that has gone into this second child of the Pó family.

Tasting menus seldom catch my interest. I was never the girl who let her date order for her, and I don’t see why I should let some guy I’ve never met choose my food either—even if he is an executive chef. It’s not that I’m a picky eater, but there are things I’d just as soon leave to my foie gras-relishing, eel-inhaling husband. Though, Pó’s extensive and compelling menu made the tasting menu a must. With a request to avoid sweetbreads, we set Chef Lee McGrath free, our empty stomachs at his mercy.

Our menu began with a salad special: heirloom tomatoes with fresh mozzarella, purple basil, and olive oil. Beatrice, our gem of a waitress, told us that the purple basil had an interesting flavor, and if we would hold on a moment she would go outside and snip some of their own basil for us to taste and compare. Were we in Italy? The basil she brought proved sweet and fragrant, adding as much—if not more—to the farm-perfect flavors as the purple variety. She also brought us a dish of salt, because she likes salt on her tomatoes. Sure enough, it evoked a deeper tomato-iness, much to our palates’ delight. Could every meal I eat be this good if I let someone else do the thinking?

The first of our two pasta courses was broccoli rabe and ricotta ravioli with butter sauce and chives. The ravioli was folded like an open envelope—an unusual and distinctive touch—and the broccoli rabe, lacking most of its typical bitterness, made for easy eating. Topped with a butter sauce lighter than its name might imply, the dish was a success. Our second pasta was one of the evening’s specials: mezza rigatoni (which, indeed, appeared to be half-rigatonis) with roasted garlic, guanciale (unsmoked Italian bacon), sundried tomatoes, arugula, and shaved asiago cheese. One of the biggest treats of the night, it was a supremely satisfying combination of savory flavors. Yum.

I gently applied the brakes on our next course, concerned that if I wasn’t careful, I would be edging out storage space that rightfully belonged to dessert. Our main course was the grilled skirt steak with gorgonzola butter, string beans, and roasted pepper salad. This was the most ordinary dish we were served, but was nonetheless cooked to perfection. I enjoyed a few bites, reconfirmed for myself that I’m no great fan of gorgonzola, and patiently awaited what was to follow. Next came a selection of cheeses from nearby Stinky Bklyn—what a great name for a cheese place! The presentation was oddly stark (three bits of cheese on a plate, sans accompaniment of any kind), but the cheese was tasty: one mild and semi-soft, one harder and sharper, and one bluish.