The room
We opened because the block needed somewhere to sit down.
Little Fig started in 2016 as a nine-seat counter in the back of a bakery that closed at four. Nadia and Tomás took the lease on the strength of one fig tree in the courtyard behind the building — it still drops fruit onto the back steps every August, and it still ends up on the menu.
The room has grown twice since then, but not much. We kept the tin ceiling, added a zinc bar, and hung the lights low enough that nobody has to look at anybody too closely. There is a long communal table by the window that seats ten and has hosted at least four marriage proposals that we know about.
We are a bistro in the old sense: no tasting menu, no dress code, no reservations past eight-thirty. Come in, sit down, order too much bread.