No sign. No menu. No pretense. Formica tables. Walls decorated with school geography maps. $25 each for the meal (cash or check only) featured two kinds of soup, with polenta, spinach and chicken on the side. Followed in short order by, really, French pizza, quiche, scallops, tuna, pork loin, savory crepes, gnocchi, lentils, rice and the best French bread I've had in ages. Dessert was blueberry crumble with shaved chocolate with tea and coffee.
This took quite a while to prep and cook. We were the only party there. The chef suggested we go to a liquor store for a bottle of wine, while he turned the heat on and got started.
Much conversation followed, on music and art. He played a Bernstein CD for us, recently bought at a thrift store.
We barely made a dent in all the food, but leftovers were packed up for us. We won't need to cook for days, and it tasted great cold out of the fridge. And when we got home, we discovered the Berbstein CD among the clamshells.
Anywhere on either coast, this would be an "underground" resturaunt, invitation only. Instead, the only obstacle here is the trek up to Terre Haute.
Make it. If you are open to taking Harry and Buds on its own terms, it will be memorable and delicious. Call ahead. Tip well.