There's Something Special About Tallulah

When selecting where to take the beau for his birthday dinner, I had a difficult choice to make, but I knew what my restaurant requirements were. First, the quality of the food was top priority. Night after night, he creates incredible dishes and watches others indulge in them. I wanted that special experience for him. The restaurant I chose had to be one we had not dined at before. Outings are rare these days, so I wanted the night to be exciting for both of us, especially since it would be a surprise for him. Finally, they had to be opened on a Tuesday night.

Tallulah on Thames, in Newport, is a fairly new restaurant I had heard of from a Chef who I deemed of excellent taste as I previously had an outstanding meal at his restaurant. Going in totally oblivious to the menu, reviews, or what the actual restaurant looked like due to the lack of a working website, I was pleasantly surprised when I first walked in. The space is modest, short of forty seats, which made me at ease and lured me in;. I get a sense of comfort from more intimate settings. White tiles reminiscent of a period I quite can't point out, cover the walls and ceilings while the floor has large white and black tiles; bringing in together the white linen and black chairs. There is no bar in the main dining room, but there is a narrow window opening into the kitchen, which gives the illusion the restaurant is busier than it really is. Above the aperture, a book shelf runs across with a collection of the Chef's culinary books including “Under Pressure”, “Robuchon” and Harold McGee's “On Food and Cooking”, all must- have books for any great Chef today.

I had prearranged for two glasses of the house sparkling wine to be served upon our arrival as a celebratory token for the occasion. The manager at Tallulah was very accommodating with my request. At the restaurant, menus are clipped to giant clipboards which guests must awkwardly place on their laps wedged between them and the table. The wine list was limited; we had a delicious Pinot Noir, which was a special of the evening, and a decent Meritage.

The table bread is a house made brioche roll, served warm with whipped butter shaped into a perfect rectangle and finished with fleur de sel and micro cilantro. We first received Atlantic salmon cornets, as a gift from the Chef, which were small savory cones, stuffed with cured and shredded salmon dressed with lemon juice, salt, and crème fraiche. The flavor was very similar to gravlax, which I am not the biggest fan of, but the acidity from the lemon juice and texture from the cone imparted another dimension to the cured fish.

For appetizer, the mussels with chorizo in a tomato based broth with garlic, shallots, and peppers, served with house made brioche, was incomparable. The mussels were large, and tenderly cooked. The broth had a subtle spiciness to it, perhaps from the chorizo, and was finished with butter creating a rich, creamy, sauce, which my companion slurped up as if it were a soup. Their version of “toad in a hole”, was a 145 degree egg, served with brioche, baby spring vegetables, pea greens and truffle vinaigrette. The dish was well balanced, with acidity and earthiness from the truffle vinaigrette, brightness and slight sweetness from the pea greens, and heaviness brought on by the runny yolk. Both appetizers proved to be delicious and proof that the Chef Jake Rojas understands the dynamics of ingredients.

For entrees, the scallop dish had caught my eye as it was served to another table. The scallops looked mouth watering. They were hefty in size and had a warm, golden brown color indicating proper caramelization. Not only that, but the plate was abundant, not only with the portion of the scallops, but also the vegetables. The scallops sat on puree of carrots, and was served with a medley of vegetables, including haricot verts, baby carrots, and English peas. The scallops were cooked well done, not to the point of medium like I have had before, but were still succulent. The dish had opposing textures; the vegetables were cooked al dente, the puree was smooth and the scallops buttery. The roasted beef tenderloin, with horseradish-whipped potatoes, baby carrots, onions, and asparagus was palate pleasing but did not deliver as well as the scallops. The beef was over cooked; it was close to well, not medium rare as requested. The potatoes were delectable but heavy on butter which overpowered the seasoning of the beef. The vegetables were also finished with butter, further overshadowing the flavor of the meat.

For dessert, a selection of five local cheeses offered a well rounded selection, showcasing different types including a blue, soft and hard cheese. To accompany them on the gray slate, there were Marcona almonds, diced quince paste and honey. The cheeses were safe, including the sides as they are commonly used as pairings. But, the decision to have something I have had before was a conscious one. The “new” dessert we also ordered was a blueberry and lavender tart served with crème fraiche ice cream. Our attempt to divert from the sweet norm did not go as plan. Overall the dessert was mediocre. The blueberry/ lavender filling, which was the main component of the dessert, was unexciting; dull in taste.

The dishes delivered; the food far exceeded my expectations to the point I consider it worthy of three stars. The allure here lies in the juxtaposition of this realization against the humble and personal space. Furthermore, it is the marriage of the diverse elements of food, décor, and staff which creates a romantic environment that becomes lucid as you dine. And it is this that makes Tallulah on Thames special.

Im On Board...on Skipper's Dock

Although I had visited the coastal village so cleverly known as Stonington Borough before (it's a mile-long peninsula in said name city), I had not dined there, let alone really noticed anywhere to eat, except the small cafe where I once grabbed a lukewarm latte. Once again, from co-workers, I had heard of a place called Skipper's Dock, and when the beau, to my surprise, got off work relatively early, we decided to see what this outdoor spot was all about.

Skipper's Dock occupies a pier overlooking Stonington Harbor. That evening, the harbor was serene; small sail boats lined the dock, the Atlantic Ocean was undisturbed, and if I were to look for it, I bet I could have seen Long Island Sound. And to add to the cliche, the sun was setting turning the sky all shades of orange, and two young girls we running giddily around the pier holding hands.

Like most sea-bound dinning spots, Skipper's Dock is all about the seafood. The restaurant neighbors several fishermen docks, which makes for fresh seafood all around. We ordered several appetizers: clam chowder, calamari, and crab cakes. The latter only after we discovered that Skipper ran out of oysters; but after a spectacular, sunny day, we were not surprised, just slightly disappointed. The food was what I expected: fried, hence greasy, slightly under season, of irrational portions (e.g. tiny crab cakes, lots of calamari), and unrestrained (deep dish peach cobbler a la mode); just what one craves and needs at times. That said, the food fit with the scene: wood-planked restaurant, cocktail drinking people, and laid back crew. Skipper's makes you feel comfortable, and in these seaside towns, a cold drink and some fresh seafood is all you need to pass time.

Anthony J's: Yes, it is Italian

Anthony J's Bistro in Mystic, Connecticut is another of those spots the locals seem to know and love, referring to it as a place with 'really good food and drinks'. On that note, I decided to investigate.

Inside, the place is covered in dark wood from floor to ceiling, only broken by wall sections made of massive gray bricks. An extremely colorful mural depicting what I assume is a night at Anthony J's distracts you through the entire meal (at least it did for my sister and me). Not only is it very outdated, but it is comical as the “people” on it are of different races, shades, and personalities. I give props to the idea of being all inclusive, but it came as across as trying too hard. But then yet again, it might just be the owner's joke on us. Portrayed, there is a diner-like waitress with big hair carrying a tray high up above her head, an Asian woman sitting at the bar next to a man with a red beard, an African American male wearing bright yellow in the fore front, and a promiscuous looking blonde at the bar chatting up an overweight, bald man. Also, a man with a stiff posture, red bow tie and suspenders, who I think of as “the connoisseur” of the wall, further proves that the bistro attracts all types of people.

Anthony J's is an Italian bistro serving the classics, among them bolognese, fettuccine carbonara, osso bucco, antipasta, and small selection of stone pizza pies. For starters, I ordered the veal meatballs with homemade marinara sauce, and calamari fritti, as per recommendation. The meatballs had a light flavor, probably from the choice of meat, and were less crumbly than the meatballs I am used to. The marinara was straightforward, and overall the dish had less spices and herbs than could have been used, but good nonetheless.

The calamari fritti was squid tossed with red cherry peppers and bread crumbs. Their calamari is pan fried, not deep fried, which does not give it that greasy, oil taste. The squid was cooked perfectly, not chewy at all, but tender and soft. It was very spicy, which I liked, but it lacked salt. In my opinion, a wedge of lemon would have added a splash of acidity to brighten up the dish.

Unique to the menu of any Italian restaurant, but perhaps common to Korean cuisine, is their Hot Rocks. Stones imported from Italy are heated to a scorching 650 degrees. Guests chose from seafood scampi, steak teriyaki, and cajun spiced chicken (the two latter being very traditional Italian, ahem!) and cook the proteins themselves. Other tables around us, from what I overheard, were hesitant to order this since it would require them having to cook, which is after all the main reason people dine out. I liked the interactiveness of the dish and decided to try the seafood scampi. I heard the sizzle before I saw the waitress approaching us carrying the smoking board. On it was a square stone with seafood in a straight line- four scallops, two shrimp, lobster knuckles, small pieces of salmon, and some calamari. I enjoy my scallops and salmon cooked more medium that my sister does, and the stone allowed us to have seafood our way. The seafood, however, lacked seasoning again, and none of the Hot Rocks items include a side. We ordered a simple garden salad with tomato basil vinaigrette since the meal would have then felt incomplete.

For dessert, we got the tiramisu made in house. It was sweet, light, and airy. It was rich, but not overwhelming. It did not get the Kahlua and coffee flavors listed on the description, and I felt it had less lady finger than other tiramisu I have had or made.

Like with many of the restaurants in small towns, with Anthony J's “it is what it is”.

A Sneak Peak Into the Ocean House

Seasons restaurant at the lucrative Ocean House resort in Watch Hill assumes a novel perspective of what defines Rhode Island, and the Atlantic Coast Region. This contemporary approach is not only seen in its modern take on the classic cuisine, but also on the remarkable environment of its elegant, abyssal dining room.

This past week I had the privilege of dining at Seasons before the scheduled opening May 17^th. The restaurant space is beautiful. The bar and lounge are of rich, dark wood, whereas the dining room, which stretches out into an enclosed, ocean-viewing terrace, is softer, full of white, beige and blue tones. Bullet-shaped, blue chandeliers hang throughout the whole restaurant. A chef's counter lines the new, open kitchen, which is framed in by a biveted, copper hood, allowing guests to view the live action.

The menu is designed to highlight certain products, all sourced by the resort's food forager from local growers, farmers, and fishmongers- true farm-to-table. Each primary ingredient is followed by one or two methods of preparations. Portion sizes are purposely lager than a starter and smaller than an entree to encourage guest to taste and experience different dishes thus exposing them to the scope of the Chef's skill and ingenuity and also to the vastness of fresh, seasonal ingredients that showcase the New England bounty.

Knowing that dinners at Seasons would be few and far between, I decided to order three courses, a cheese course, and dessert. First, I chose the Hudson Valley Foie Gras, pickled ginger, rhubarb, pistachio nougatine, watercress, served with house made brioche. Although I am not an offal connoisseur, I am open to trying foods that do not necessarily fall under my comfort zone. Nonetheless, the foie gras, which was prepared as a terrine, was delicious. It did not have that strong liver taste, it was subtle in flavor, which is evidence that it was properly cured, and of superior quality. The rhubarb was made into a puree and brought acidity and sweetness which counterbalanced the fattiness of the foie. The crunchy pistachio nougatine (a confection made of caramel mixed with nuts) gave the one dimensional dish proportionate texture.

The lobster, caught from the resort's backyard (or back-ocean I should say) is served as a salad or poached in butter. These lobsters, the Chef explained, are of a harder shell and more flavorful due to their diet. I tried the salad with Tokyo turnips, pickled red onions, celery branch, mustard seed vinaigrette, since this would be my mid, savory course. The lobster portion (the claw for the salad) was impressive in size. They were sweet and distinct to other lobsters I have had, which have been more “fishy” in flavor. The cooked turnips add a bitter, earthy, stringent element to the dish that is balanced by the gentle acidity of the onion, the watery, freshness of the celery, and creamy, sharp mustard seed vinaigrette.

The North Atlantic halibut poached in olive oil is served over a bed of cassoulet of Vermont heirloom beans, english peas, and is coated in lobster butter. The fish was soft and tender, it effortlessly flaked with the prick of my fork. The heirlooms beans were cooked to the point were they had a general bite to them, without the risk of being raw. This coarse starch provided a nice contrast to the lightness of the halibut, and opulence of the lobster butter.

For dessert, we had strawberry and rhubarb gratin with pistachio sable and asparagus ice cream. The star- the asparagus ice cream. I have had vegetable ice cream before and it never really liked up to the flavor profile of said vegetable. This one did. And the distinct taste unique to asparagus and sweetness complemented that of the gratin without either overpowering the other.

All in all, Seasons at the Ocean House creates a true dining experience for its guest through the Chef's exceptional use and execution of what the state of Rhode Island and neighboring New England states have to offer.

Gotta Love the Goose

The Cooked Goose on Watch Hill Road, is a warm, homey spot across the Pawcatuck River. For what the small town of Westerly has to offer, this place is on the top of my list (#2 to be exact). Serving breakfast and lunch seven days a week, they specialize on light fare- sandwiches, soups, baked goods, and gourmet foods. The Chef stresses the use of fresh, quality products in all item menus, which is common to cafes or delis in big cities- not in a place like Westerly. Breakfast can be a bagel with cream cheese and a cup of joe or truffled eggs and vanilla almond french toast. For lunch, options include The Goose (Italian tuna, Bel Paese, sweet peppers and arugula on ciabatta), Captain Kirk (basil and cashew chicken salad with avocado, tomato and sprouts in a spinach wrap), and The World's Best hot pastrami sandwich platte. On Fridays they serve fish and chips, with fresh haddock, served with fry wedges, and house made remoulade. Delicious! Of their to buy section they have, to my surprise, Epoisses, the traditional Burgundy cheese washed with Marc de Bourgogne. This is one of my favorites, which I have previously enjoyed at fine dining restaurants. Nevertheless, the Goose is a must have.

La Laiterie at Farmstead

If I were ever to open my own restaurant, I would imagine it to be like La Laiterie at Farmstead in the Wayland neighborhood of Providence. It is a small, warm space with simple, yet strongly executed menu items, most of which are on the to-be-shared scale of things, and a well rounded wine list.

The bistro-style restaurant is adjacent to Chef/owner Matt Jennings’ first gift to New England foodies, Farmstead, a specialty food store featuring domestic and international artisan cheeses and accompaniments. The restaurant is a narrow room, contemporary in design, made cozy by the prevalent use of wood and hanging paper lights, which give off a slight golden hue to the dim lit room. With regular and high, bar-style tables, and a bar at the back of the restaurant, the place has a low-key vibe.

Like the locale’s ambience, the food is straightforward, unpretentious, verging on rustic. The menu, which is printed in what I would assume to be recycled paper, is divided into clear sections showcasing the Chef’s passion for seasonal, fresh, well-sourced ingredients. The cheeses are selected daily. They are categorized by their general characteristic ranging from “bloomy, sweet and salty” to “veined, blue and robust”. A board of five includes one from each group, and is served with seasonal accompaniments. We got a sweet, cherry marmalade, herbed, candied nuts (I distinguished thyme and rosemary), and honeycomb. As a cheese lover, I was in heaven.

The charcuterie is “carefully procured” or made in house, which we solely ordered since Chef Jennings’ has an award-winning reputation of pork master. Among our board of five were pig ear terrine, pork belly roulade, and bresaola. While all were proof of the chef’s mastery of the craft of charcuterie, their flavor was slightly under whelmed by the house made breads- foccacia and pretzel bread, which were generously finished with coarse salt.

For treats and starters, which were all single portions, the smoked beef tongue bruschetta with beer-braised onions, and blue cheese is a definite must try. The onions were soft and sweet, and the blue cheese was not overpowering like it tends to be. The roasted beet salad, beautifully composed on the plate, had marinated feta which was unique- creamier than the average Greek-style feta. From the small plates, the baked cheesemonger’s mac and cheese had a nice golden, crispy crust with a rich center. The seared Vermont chicken livers with beer battered onion rings was not my favorite. The menu also has large plates, which featured on the evening of my visit mussels, all-natural burger, roasted duck breast, lamb, and a grilled cheese with Virginia smoky ham.

Matt Jennings knows what he’s doing.

Tucker’s Bistro: Classic and Modern Cuisine in a Whimsical Setting

In the heart of Newport among the many consignment stores and eateries there lays a town gem one may consider quite an oddity. With white Christmas lights hanging on the outside façade, Tucker’s Bistro outshines its neighbors on Broadway. But once inside you realize that the lavishness does not stop at the yellow door. Rich ruby walls, dim lighting, and an eclectic collection of artwork, sculptures, and mirrors evoke the surreal. The space creates a form of escapism- you get the feeling you are not quite in the now. For the last fourteen years, owner Tucker’s lack of restraint has created a luxurious space which ironically he conceived from salvaged pieces found at local garage sales and antique shops. Amidst this flurry, Chef Rick Allaire’s simple approach to food provides an unexpected sense of comfort.

Upon entering, Tucker led us to a private booth draped in Prussian blue curtains. Found in the back of one of the two dinning rooms, it is ideal for an intimate dinner for two, or six. A hands-on type of owner, Tucker repeatedly asked if we had any reservations with the given table since there was a large, noisy group seated next to us. We had none, so we stayed. He asked for our drink order but we chose to have him select for us based on the Chef’s surprise tasting menu. A friendly server returned momentarily with two glasses of white wine. She gave us a brief explanation of the Xarelo (Spanish grape) which would complement the first couple of courses. This wine is of medium body and great acidity, a suitable pairing with seafood which we assumed would be the forerunners of our meal. It is New England after all.

We were first presented with the amuse bouche of cured marinated hamachi neck. Plated on white porcelain spoons, the blush colored fish was small diced and mixed with Meyer lemon, red onion and chives. While delicate in flavor, the single morsel left my mouth watering. The acidity of the lemon cut through the fattiness bringing brightness to the bite, while the chives and red onion created a slight texture. The simple yet palate enticing preparation of the hamachi was proof that Chef Allaire has a special affinity for seafood, which he proved again and again with the dishes to come.

Our first appetizer was a gnudi with white and green pencil asparagus, sunchokes, pancetta, and parsley oil powder. The creaminess of the gnudi, a soft pillow-like gnocchi made from ricotta cheese, was a perfect starch to contrast the other elements. The asparagus were cooked al dente, that is they still had a bite to them, and were finished with a drizzle of Meyer lemon juice which balanced the earthiness of the sunchoke. The basic rule of utilizing acids to harmonize ingredients as well as to enhance a flavor is one Chef Allaire proved he has not forgotten.

Like with the gnudi, the melted Scottish salmon belly showed yet again the Chef’s knowledge of using the diverse bounty the earth has to offer. The salmon belly was served with purple potatoes, fennel chips, lettuce, mustard oil and red verjus (refers to grape or apple juice used as the acid in a vinaigrette or sauce). It also demonstrated the diverse technique the Chef employs. Cooked in a dehydrator at a temperature of 140 degrees, the salmon is rendered soft and silky. Like the description said it melts in your mouth.

With the following courses the Chef‘s cuisine took on a global perspective. A seared Georges Bank scallop was paired with Le Puy lentils (from its namesake region in France), apple curry vinaigrette, beet and basil seed caviar. A chip made of milk skin was in the form of a coral, perhaps the Chef’s quirky attempt to maintain the ocean theme. The scallop was perfect- crispy on the outside with a smooth center. If it weren’t for the unknown number of dishes to come I would have asked for seconds. I was not as impressed with the accompaniments which were, although savory, homogenous and thus difficult to distinguish on my plate.

Chef Allaire revisited an Italian classic with his safe interpretation of pasta alla carbonara. A raw, quail egg yolk sat on top of twirled, house made spaghetti finished with parmesan and chives. The flavor was on point, but the pasta was slightly undercooked and barely warm for my liking.

Traditional French inspired dishes followed living up to the bistro name. Seared Hudson Valley foie gras with vanilla pudding, ginger bread, orange, amaretto poached apricots and sherry caramel. A duo of duck was paired with cracklings, toasted faro, marcona almonds, and orange ginger sauce. The salty confit of duck terrine was topped with a sweet mango “yolk” to resemble a classic steak tartare. Rich and flavorful as anything cooked in fat would be, the confit overshadowed the rather bland tenderloin “mosaic”, or roulade. Crispy veal sweetbreads, cooked sous vide and finished in the fryer, were tender and light. Green garlic, potato gnocchi, maiitake mushrooms, and a braised mustard seed Calvados sauce brought earthiness, pungency, and fullness to the dish.

The first dessert, if you could call it one, had all the makings of a salad with caraway braised gold beets, frisée, celery seed crème fraiche, Saba and hazelnut oil. Although an unusual choice, it allowed for a gentle and gradual transition on the palette between the savory and sweet part of the meal. The final course, buttermilk custard, orange brûlée, with blood orange supremes, was an underwhelming end to the ten course long meal revealing Chef Allaire's strength lies on the culinary arts rather than on pastry confections.

At the end of the meal it was clear Chef Allaire deliberately combines quality ingredients and sundry technique to render the delectable creations he serves at Tucker’s Bistro. Not only is the food worth the trip, but the restaurant in it of itself is an exhibition of the repertoire that reflects the unique individual Tucker is.