Here's a confession: The last three times I've been to Providence, my credit card has been declined. Once, the card had expired three days earlier; on another occasion, the waiter swept up my husband's card before he had time to furiously transfer funds on his phone's banking app. A third time I just didn't have enough money in the bank. Providence is expensive. I paid in cash. But the point is, despite my faux pas — which have become comical in frequency at this particular establishment — the staff never once made me feel a fool. In fact, they've been just as gracious in dealing with my banking mishaps as they've been when recommending a wine, or preparing Santa Barbara spot prawns tableside, or wheeling out that glorious German-engineered cheese cart and deftly creating the perfect cheese plate. For a restaurant so formal, the service staff at Providence manage the exact right amount of warmth, a welcome that feels so genuine you might return even after embarrassing yourself twice. And then do it again.

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