(STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN: Food preparation is a culinary art. Photo courtesy of Rose’s. )

By Marisa Marsey

I wasn’t sure what to expect at Rose’s, an Atlantic Park-adjacent establishment that opened in May. Its subtitle reads Hi-Fi Sound + Restaurant + Bar, referencing the big-city, trending riff on Japanese-inspired listening bars/hi-fi bars known for elaborate, state-of-the-art audio systems.

Would the thrust be music and drinks? Would food be an afterthought, relegated to wings, nachos and mozzarella sticks? Might it be primarily a sticky-floored, after-hours hangout?

To quote reggae singer Dawn Penn, “No, No, No.” Table and turntable are afforded equal weight here, both doted on with concentrated attention and know-how.

When you walk in, there’s a petite lounge on the right while the left side leads to a long bar where you’ll first encounter a Selector (the music curator). Next come the bartenders, the backbar doubling as record shelf: Joe Bataan’s “Afrofilipino” near Aperol; Donald Byrd’s “Byrd Blows on Beacon Hill” above High West Bourbon; “Just Being Myself” by Dionne Warwick by the whisky. 

Sonic and tonic. 

I suppose I expected it to be hip, but not so chic and polished (“Wrong Again,” as the late, well-heeled Kristy MacColl sang). Just beyond the vinyl, vino and vodka is a dining area seating about 50 – grace notes like fresh flowers contrasting with wood accents and a hard-ribbed industrial-sleekness – flowing into a sultry outdoor terrace and steps ascending to the festive, light-strung rooftop bar.

Perhaps most surprising is the dining room’s enviably huge open kitchen, staffed by a mighty brigade. “With call backs and communications among the chefs, you’ll see a dance tonight,” promises executive chef Daniel Freeman. 

Freeman’s oft-changing menu, informed by his tenure cooking at The Charleston Place in South Carolina, is ambitious and artful. Sidestepping convention, it’s divided into four label-flouting sections of tersely-defined dishes, some small, some larger for sharing.

The first section leans piscine (tuna tartare, hamachi); the second, earthy (heirloom carrots, white asparagus, mushroom parfait); the third, meaty (pork porterhouse, lamb ratatouille and well, look at that – wings! – accented with hot date honey, allium ash, mustard seed ranch and compressed celery). The fourth, discernibly dessert (tiramisu cream puff, vanilla crème brûlée, bay leaf ice cream) is the domain of his wife, pastry chef Alexys Freeman.

Food of this caliber, I did not expect. An alabaster scallop was seared ever-so-tenderly on one side, clinging to its crudo essence, and layered upright with slender slices of Granny Smith apple and kohlrabi for a measured mix of softness and crunch. A celery granita completed the dish, as refreshing as the sea itself.

Sweet blue crab filled a tempura squash blossom, shimmering with shaved roe and a Bloody Mary tomato coulis. Mint pesto, harissa-spiked Caesar dressing and anchovy breadcrumbs (from rare leftovers of Alexys’ winning milk bread) pump up lamb carpaccio cured for 24-hours with coriander, fennel seed and cumin.

As applaudable as the food: being able to converse with my date, soulful jazz buoying our words. Too many restaurants drown out all possibility of a tête-à-tête, blasting music in an attempt to generate energy. Rose’s supreme audio system, with handcrafted wooden four-piece speaker stacks designed by Jon Bless and a mix of modern and vintage components to amplify the pleasure of listening, amplifies the pleasure of dining.

I’m starting to get it; this multi-hyphenate pushes all the senses. Hence the name, derived from the nautical-world’s compass rose, pointing to exploration and adventure. Or, as owner Tracy Horan rhapsodizes, “Rose’s is rooted in the idea of discovery, guiding guests toward new sounds, new flavors and new experiences.”

And that newness should be shared, concurs Doddie Braza. Horan was thunderstruck by Braza’s erstwhile Thank You Thank You Bar in Norfolk and knew she wanted to partner with him. Braza, a DJ, is also a part of Only You Lounge, Thanks for Listening record shop and Frank and Patty’s.

Expectations surrounding Rose’s are still tough to articulate, though. That’s because it’s always jamming, but in myriad ways. During dinner service, you can order à la carte or from a 4-course prix fixe or – if you really want to wow and woo – reserve the chef’s table and put yourself in Freeman’s capable hands.

There are happenings aplenty. Perhaps a natural wine celebration and tasting by Natty Wine and Maximón Selections or a raw-seafood pop-up by Acid Fish 757, led by the inimitable Ross Riddle. Sometimes they’re layered on top of each other.

As the evening progresses, so does Rose’s. Come 9 p.m., a DJ takes over (often of international renown). Their groove might be funk, jazz, reggae, Afrobeat or Latin sounds. Garage-ready belters or deep cuts from around the globe or genre-defying beats. As indie pop/post-punk band Shale implores, “Get Ready to Dance.”

It gets more pulse-pounding and clubby at this point, but you won’t go hoarse chatting with your bestie, and delightful food is still on offer from a limited menu (fish Sammie, short rib melt and mango sorbet popsicle could be among a half dozen items).

And no matter the time of night or what’s going down, a sophistication that’s friendly and accessible prevails. Gracious, vivacious staff like general manager Billy Yendall, server Jacqueline Jackson and sommelier Franco Sferrella (overseeing environmentally-conscious wines) exude hospitality.

You’d expect this in NYC and LA, but it’s in our ViBe. And it might just be the most exciting, must-go-to spot we have right now.

325 Virginia Beach Blvd., Virginia Beach. Open Sun., Wed. and Thurs. from 5 p.m. to 10 p.m., Fri. and Sat. from 5 p.m. to 1 a.m. rosesva.com. For DJ schedule and late-night programming: instagram.com/rosesva