New York is where young chefs go to prove themselves. Philly? This is where many come to find a home. It’s a familiar story line now, and it’s unfolding once again, deliciously, in the airy space of Fiore in Queen Village, where live fires perfume the room and the dreams of another talented chef couple are playing out in the flaky spirals of morning pastries layered with pistachio cream, delicate hand-folded pastas, and rustic platters of wood-roasted meats.

The nearly two-pound short rib is so massive its dangling crowbar of a bone practically drags across the table as the joint settles between us, radiating the aroma of its cinnamon and star anise cure. There’s a campfire crust from its finishing turn in the wood-fired oven. But the grass-fed local beef from Primal Supply is so sublimely tender, the base of cipollini onions so deeply caramelized in juices tinged with a Roman wink of colaturra fish sauce, that everyone at my table took a forkful and simultaneously moaned a visceral, “Oh...”