It is difficult to describe The Fold, the modern American restaurant that has made its home in the shadow of Corvino Supper Club, a spot formerly renowned for its haute cuisine that closed at the very end of last year. And yes, I’ve wondered if that comparison took up too much space in my mind while writing this review.
Corvino was shaped by an undeniable chef’s vision, and Michael and Christina Corvino no doubt took on a lofty task when serving chicken-fried snails in crystal glassware and portions of sea urchins over buckeye beans not much bigger than the size of a silver dollar. Its tasting room was a full-throttle gastronomic experience in our city’s oft-lacking fine dining scene, and I respected the restaurant. However, during its last few years in operation, it was not among my favorites in the city. After a few particularly flat yet costly visits, I made the difficult decision to leave it out of Kansas City magazine’s 30 Best KC Restaurants feature in January of 2025. It could seem that The Fold has big shoes to fill—but in my mind, it really doesn’t.
Owned by Todd Richards, Amanda Accurso and Brandon Sharp, who also operate the more casual Roots Seasonal Cuisine in Lee’s Summit, The Fold stands out among other modern American restaurants in Kansas City for its entirely gluten-free menu, though it doesn’t advertise this loudly. The Fold doesn’t seem to lean in or hang its hat on this feat, and that’s just one awkward element. As far as “big shoes to fill,” that phrase more appropriately refers to the restaurant’s physical space, a whopping 6,072 square feet. With 112 seats to fill, The Fold seems to be trying to appeal to the varied diner, but there’s little through-line, and between the ambiance and the food, dinner feels clunky, not refined.
The dining room is washed in dark paint and decorated with chandeliers while the menu serves chef-driven modern American fare with prices to match (entrees average around $50, and the ribeye, currently the most expensive item, is $70). Two TVs hang above the large 14-seat bar, where shelves of spirits now conceal the former open kitchen from Corvino’s days. As Kansas City aims to generate more fanfare around its growing sports teams, catering to jersey-donning dudes could seem pragmatic, but the menu isn’t designed for casual bar eats. I suppose if you’ve come to The Fold to watch Patrick Mahomes, Travis Kelce or Taylor Swift on a Thursday evening, the Caesar salad with focaccia croutons could pair with this experience—maybe even the seafood chowder or $50 braised short rib served over turnip-potato puree with spiced carrots and red wine demi-glaze. On the other hand, if you’re there for a date night, those modern renditions like beef tartare and gnocchi with balsamic pearls simply fall short.
The tartare is traditional, made of chunky beef tenderloin dices, capers and horseradish and served in oyster shells, a nod to its incorporated oyster cream. It lacked that deliciously rich yet sharp harmony the raw beef dish is known for, and with plenty of great tartare in the city, it’s hard to rave about The Fold’s. Another raw starter is the tuna crudo served with a scoop of yuzu-coconut milk sorbet, and while both components are fine on their own, neither complemented the other.
Throughout the rest of the menu, the ingredients listed under each item’s name feel long-winded, especially when the dishes don’t shine. The shrimp-served-two-ways appetizer was one of the more inspiring starters, with one variation being a mousse served over squares of crispy rice and finished with cucumber-mint slaw and candied peppers. Strips of potato gnocchi were soggy and lackluster in their cacio e pepe butter and mozzarella sauce with marinated tomatoes and lemon-basil oil—a sort of caprese take on the pasta. As for the entrees, the Cornish hen was well-cooked, though I’m not sure each bit of the mango-mandarin whiskey glaze, coconut curry polenta, cashew coconut cream and cilantro oil (see what I’m getting at here?) had a chance to make its case.
To pair with your dinner are eight house cocktails that are pretty in presentation and do their job fine, or a seriously extensive wine list with bottles averaging around $50. Richards is the bar manager at Roots, and there’s no denying the intention of offering something for everyone. If you have cash burning a hole in your pockets, options on the higher end include a $233 bottle of Champagne Palmer Blanc de Blancs and a $560 bottle of “The Beast” Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley.
As for dessert, I’d skip the Thai lemon meringue in favor of the towering layered miso chocolate cake with brown butter banana ganache, tahini semifreddo and black sesame brittle. The former is a bizarre flavor combination consisting of green tea meringue the consistency of sad marshmallow fluff, lemon curd, salted honey cashews and Thai basil ice cream. The after-dinner ports are more interesting, with a sweet dessert wine from the historic Tokaj region of Hungary and a pricey 1994 D’Oliveiras Malvasia Madeira fortified wine from Portugal.
Another lesser-known part of The Fold (though Richards says he and his team are working on this) is The Den, the craft cocktail lounge on the southeast side of the building where things are more straightforward. There, you can grab classic cocktails, even a Long Island iced tea, and some playful bar snacks like cacio e pepe popcorn, house-made beef jerky and Japanese street food-inspired mashed potato fries. Everything here is gluten-free as well.
By not leaning more fully into its identity as a gluten-free upscale restaurant, The Fold is too easily compared to other modern American restaurants in the city, like The Antler Room, Room 39 and Novel. And if you want a new rendition on squash soup or rigatoni Bolognese, these places are doing it better—and in dining rooms that make more sense. Richards, however, says he’s heard the feedback, and they’re working on tweaking the menu and the overall operations in their new venture.
On each of my visits, I walked through the restaurant’s waiting area glancing at a life-size figure of a woman with her head serving as a lampshade and one of those LED cursive signs that every influencer was taking a picture in front of around 2020, reading “Step into the fold.” When seated, the menu, to be fair, sets the mood with a disclaimer: “We thank you for your support while we work out the kinks!”
