At the Hart and the Hunter, the odd new restaurant in the Palihotel, the biscuits are close to revelatory. Baked fresh to order, they’re so buttery that the bottoms get a golden-crusted fry, similar to grilled cheese sandwiches, simply from the butter in the batter sizzling on the hot baking sheet. They’re flaky to the point of disintegration, coming apart when you pick them up, revealing a soft, yellowish middle. They come with “accompaniments”: a sweetened butter, a smear of pert pimento cheese, some pickled blackberries. They are delicious with each of these things and also on their own, a warming, buttery reminder that the universe loves us.