Enzo

Back in Newburyport, I headed over to Enzo, recently opened in the Tannery and boasting a farmer's market menu. Phew, finally. Cocktails ranged from run-of-the-mill (classic Negroni) to inspired (market Bloody Mary with pickled garlic scapes). House foccacia, which I can only assume was made there, was soft and buttery.

Fried olives came in a crispy, cornmeal crust and stuffed with oozing cheese, a nice take. An appetizer of a soft goat and cow's milk cheese arrived with Tokyo turnips and baby arugula and honeyed Marcona almonds, simple, but smart. Bruschetta tasted of the garden: fresh dill, tomatoes, soft cheese, black olives.

Entrees, though well-conceived, were less successful. A dish of fresh linguine with maitake mushrooms was woefully under seasoned. Sea scallops over corn risotto were the requisite sweetness and crispiness, but the risotto was a portion in and of itself, overwhelming the dish.

A brown butter cake for dessert, served with an almond creme anglaise and fresh cherries hit all its marks, even if a chocolate pudding lacked enough starch to form an actual pudding, as opposed to a thick sauce.

Because the product is good, Enzo might overcome its issues and grow into itself. I certainly hope so.

*

Enzo

50 Water Street

Newburyport, MA 01950

978.462.1801

Omakase

It would seem unbelievable, to most, that I, devotee to all things culinary, had never before sat down to an omakase sushi dinner. Well, for one, omakase can be insanely expensive and not everyone is comfortable with the wide open unknowingness that comes with sitting down for a multi-course raw fish meal. T. and I were planning to go well before now, but she suffered an allergic reaction to fish over the summer and was told by the doctor to wait it out. And so it was not until cool November that we made it our mission to eat through an omakase menu at 1 or 8, a stylish-but-homey (surprising, since the restaurant is all white) sushi joint in Williamsburg that has gotten anemic press since it opened last year.

First of all, the Sushi Sekis and Sushi Yasudas of the world will happily charge you $200-$300 for an omakase tasting, but at 1 or 8 you can sit at the bar and do the flight for $50, $70, or $90. We chose the middle route, sushi rather than sashimi, though I would have been happier with either. I've decided to list what we ate below, since it was mostly an undulating flow of raw fish affixed to rice with a dollop of wasabi and a faint glisten of soy sauce.

Blood red raw tuna

Yellowtail

King salmon

Red snapper

Raw squid with uni

Chopped mackerel with scallions and yuzu

Poached eel

Sea scallop

Amberjack

Fluke with monkfish liver

Big-eye tuna

Mackerel, unchopped

Sardines

Finally, the piece d' resistance: a thick, toro-like slice of tuna, seared on each side and dusted with salt, pepper, and lemon. It tasted like steak and that heartiness was not lost on us.

I could have lived without the sardines, which were almost unbearably fishy. Eel isn't really my cup of tea, either, but the large mouthful was cut by the sticky rice. I was glad, on both courses, that we had opted for sushi and not sashimi. I missed ama ebi; T. had informed out sushi chef that she had a shellfish allergy, but despite my enthusiastic endorsement, the chef kicked me out of the shellfish dealings, too. T. offered to buy me a hand roll, but I declined. It seemed rude, after all.

I was surprised by the mildness of the raw squid. Squid isn't my favorite fish and I tend to avoid it in restaurants, but this version was chewy and complimented by the soft, briny sea urchin. The yellowtail, or hamachi, was one of the cleanest fish I have ever eaten. 1 or 8 turned out consistently fresh and clean product. At meal's end, they offered us steaming bowls of miso soup where, at bowl's bottom, we found a surprise lurking: house-made soft tofu.

Modern eaters, in the face of heritage pork or American wagyu beef, eat far too little good fish. Forget about the tuna or the swordfish or the prawns; we have forsaken fine raw fish in favor of a little more meat in our diets. I realize that it requires skill and attention and good fishing to produce such a noteworthy meal, but it's worth recognizing that the beauty of fish can sometimes surpass even the fine marble of an aged rib-eye.

Spring Springing

Here is what any knowledgeable foodie can look forward to during the burgeoning weeks of spring, which are almost upon us: ramps, asparagus, morels, fava beans, spring garlic, sweet peas. Spring harvest is almost here, which means a welcome wish goodbye to all those root vegetables we've spent the winter eating.

As an early celebratory move towards a spring feast, I cooked myself a spring meal last night. I grabbed asparagus from the market. It was from California, and I don't usually like to buy produce that's spent so much time traveling, but I was really craving asparagus, and besides, I had 15 quail eggs in the refrigerator, and what vegetable goes better with eggs than asparagus?

I blanched the asparagus for five minutes in boiling water and then transferred them to an ice bath to retain their color. Then I made a simple vinaigrette of chopped chive, shallot, lemon juice, olive oil, salt, pepper, and a little bit of truffle oil.

The quail eggs were a little more complicated. I decided to make a good old project out of dinner and found a recipe for deviled quail eggs. Boil the eggs for three to four minutes and remove. Cool the eggs under cold water and peel. Slice in half. Removing the yolks is tough; I used my fingers, which seemed to work better than any kitchen tool. I mixed the yolks (from seven eggs) with one tablespoon mayonnaise--I use olive oil based mayonnaise only--the juice from half a lemon, a teaspoon of dijon mustard, salt, cracked black and cayenne peppers.

The final part of dinner involved sea scallops from the fish market. A note to anyone buying scallops for searing: if the market sells "dry scallops," buy them. Sea scallops are brined in order to make them appear more white and larger. As a result, when you put them over a high flame, they release their internal moisture, making it impossible to achieve a proper sear. My market didn't have dry scallops, so my scallops were lightly brown instead of brown-to-black. But they still tasted good. I kept it simple, with salt and pepper the only adornment.

But added to my asparagus with vinaigrette and deviled quail eggs, that was more than enough. I'm eagerly awaiting the arrival of spring produce.

Apres Ski

Really, the only thing I wanted to eat after yesterday's ski trip to Attitash Mountain was (you guessed it!) pizza. But due to a number of circumstances, including, but not limited to, my best friend's craving for a 'decent' glass of pinot noir, we ended up at the Barking Dog Bar and Grill, a medium-sized pub in downtown Amesbury, Massachusetts.

Places like this are best suited for no-fuss-no-muss classics, like hamburgers and macaroni and cheese and decadently unhealthy sub sandwiches. I wasn't really looking to eat any of those things, so I sifted through the seafood options. Blackened seafood with pasta. Mediterranean seafood with pasta. Seafood Provencal with pasta. Grilled salmon (I hate salmon; I don't care how good it is for you). Blah, blah, blah.

What I did end up ordering was a grilled seafood plate, replete with grilled (and gummy) sea scallops, grilled shrimp, and grilled tuna. The tuna was overcooked at medium and the salad of 'wilted greens,' really no more than mesclun and roasted red peppers, overwhelmed an already overburdened serving. I ate the tuna and the shrimp and left the rest for the garbage-eaters.

My best friend fared better with her appetizer of kielbasa, which arrived atop flatbread triangles with spicy mustard on the side. The plate, however, was too big for one person. Outside of metropolitan New York, American portion sizes seem designed to feed a family of four rather than one normal human being. The kielbasa was juicy and flavorful, as expected. I was glad to snack on her leftovers.

She ordered salmon for her entree, which I wouldn't have eaten on a dare. She seemed pleased enough, though I noted, once more, that the fillet exceeded ten ounces and sat atop a sprawling spread of potatoes and roasted vegetables that could have sated even the hungriest skier.

I guess even in damaged economic times excess is still the American way.

*

Barking Dog Bar and Grill
21 Friend Street
Amesbury, MA 01913
978.388.9537

Beauty Queen

I found out about The Flying Fishbone through Chowhound, an often reliable source of information for foodie travelers.  The reviews were mixed.  Almost everyone raved about how breathtaking the restaurant was, but only a few people raved about the food.  

It doesn't really matter.  My family isn't intrepid enough to make the trek into the small Aruban towns that house actual Arubans so we're never going to have the 'authentic' experience.  So we'll take the best tourist trap we can get. 

The thing about The Flying Fishbone is that it really is breathtaking.  Located in Savaneta, a town 30 minutes from the high rises of Palm Beach, the restaurant does require the get-up-and-go mentality that some people lack on vacation.  That's a plus.  

Also a plus: the restaurant is housed in what looks like an old hacienda, an open wooden building with indoor gardens that stretches onto a private beach.  There are a few tables inside for those worried about the weather (it was raining when we arrived but stopped shortly thereafter) and the remainder of the tables are on sand, sloping down to the water.  When the tide is high eaters at the deuces on the shoreline can dangle their toes in the water. 

Short, stocky palm trees are lit with Christmas lights and each table has its own iron lantern.   I have never eaten in the sand before and loved being able to dig my toes in while eating. 

Now for the bad news.  The Flying Fishbone's menu reaches too far.  Why feature a full page of cold appetizers (salmon and scallop tartare, smoked duck breast salad, etc.) alongside a full page of hot appetizers?  I will admit that my veal sweetbread salad was delicious--fried sweetbreads over romaine with a perfect eggplant caponata on the side.  But sweetbreads, and foie gras, another offered hot appetizer, don't have much of a place in the Caribbean.  And that foie appetizer, by the way, packed a hefty punch to the wallet at $29.50 a plate.  

My entree, which should have been more successful, fared poorly.  Sea scallops were rubbery and overdone and swimming in a squid ink sauce that literally turned my teeth black.  My brother's $40 veal chop was also overcooked and he had such a depressing experience that when dessert was offered he begged my mother to ask for the check. 

The menu focused more on land than sea.  The only catch of the day was grouper, pan-seared and served over mashed potatoes, of all things.  The serving was enormous and virtually unidentifiable as grouper.  I was not impressed. 

The wine list, however, unlike most threadbare Caribbean versions, had many, many drinkable options for even the most frugal oenophiles.  For us, it was a 2006 La Crema pinot noir from the Sonoma Coast.  For those unaware, I have a secret crush on California pinot noir, with its lush, supple fruit and woody finish.  If you're going to drink New World wine, it might as well be California pinot.  

I wouldn't send anyone to the Fishbone, which is regrettable, because it really is so beautiful.  But their prices aren't worth the hike or the hype, and even though the majestic seascape is captivating, it doesn't make up for a less-than-captivating meal. 

*

The Flying Fishbone

Savaneta 344

Savaneta, Aruba

297.584.2506