A Hat Trick Of Stylish Dining

It's been a while since I've offered thoughts on a dining-out experience. Hopefully you will find it was worth the wait, as I have scored a hat trick, in that the last three restaurants I've dined at have been extraordinary experiences.

Restaurant 1833

Ever since I read a review in the Chronicle of Monterey's Restaurant 1833, I felt compelled to go there. The description of American comfort food, diverse cocktails, large oak trees and fire pits, all called to me like a siren.

For my birthday weekend, we headed to Monterey on Saturday the 11th, to see the Aquarium and scout out details for possible wedding venues. We stayed at the Casa Munras Hotel, which I remembered from childhood stays. The most convenient aspect of the hotel was the location: a scant two or three blocks from Restaurant 1833.

We had a reservation at 9 p.m. When we arrived, they were running a little late, and the place was overflowing with young folks. Apparently it is quite the hip scene. The hostess suggested we get a drink at the bar. We found two stools in an alcove at the end of the bar and perused an extensive cocktail list. The bar itself was luminescent, white marble, maybe? The room felt almost like a library, with a shelf at the opposite end of the room, up above the heads of all the happy drinkers, featuring an old-fashioned clock and lines of books.

There were three young men behind the bars, two of whom seemed to be busy with wiping glasses and looking detached or bored, not offering a greeting. But finally, the lead bartender came over, cheer and light, and we ordered. I selected a Kentucky Waffle, featuring bourbon and lemon-maple syrup, cider, and cinnamon. Before the drinks were delivered, though, our table was ready.

This table was a standout. Marina sat on a comfortable bench against the wall and I took the heavy-duty beige easy chair, with tufted buttons. Our cocktails arrived soon thereafter, and were as good as advertised.

For an appetizer, we tried the biscuits, which the Yelp reviews had touted, and they are truly essential if you go, light and fluffy and flavorful.

For the entree, after ascertaining that the fish was line-caught and therefore sustainable, I ordered the Potato Crusted Snapper. Per the recommendation of the waitress, I paired it with a chardonnay. The snapper was amazing, light and flavorful, and from my own attempts, I know that making fish flavorful is not an easy thing. The chardonnay was not particularly memorable, but overall, it was an outstanding meal.

It was a little crowded, overall, and leaving through the front courtyard, we came face to face with hordes of young people, which made me glad I'm no longer on the dating scene. Let's face it: young people can be kind of annoying when they are trying to impress members of the opposite sex.

Still, I loved going there, and the dessert, apple mille feulle or something like that, was delightful.

Aquarius

Considering how often Marina and I stayed at the Dream Inn on our weekends in Santa Cruz before we moved here, it's hard to believe that we never ate at Aquarius, the restaurant attached to the beachfront luxury hotel. Well, actually, Marina could easily believe it, because I was always so fascinated--enthralled even--by the concept of room service.

On Saturday the 18th, we strolled along West Cliff Drive at sunset for a 6 p.m. reservation in the oceanfront dining room. I loved it from the moment we walked in. The table was wooden, golden brown in the light, and spaced comfortably away from the other tables. The walls featured small, asymmetrically-arranged lamps that looked like swarms of jellyfish in red, blue, yellow and green, and the walls were floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the beach, the wharf and the pier.

I ordered the mint julip that I had enjoyed before via room service, and for dinner, I ordered fish and chips and an Anchor Steam. Before the entrees, we tried an appetizer of warm Brillat-Savarin cheese with bread and quince paste. I had never heard of such cheese before, and now I am angry with the world for not introducing me to this cheese earlier. Or I would be angry, if this meal, cheese and all, hadn't put me at peace with the world for at least six more months.

And then came the fish and chips.



I had been craving fish and chips, and I had been thinking about going to the Parish Pub during the week to come after our meal at Aquarius, when Marina would be out of town. After Aquarius, that was no longer necessary, because these were some of the best fish and chips I have had in some time, and Marina agreed. They were light and tasty, the batter crispy but not too oily. Just right. Nothing more needs to be said.


Hoffman's Bistro

The trend of restaurants--and in one case, a bar--projecting black and white movies silently on one wall has puzzled me. I saw it at Specchio and Foreign Cinema in San Francisco--and at Dalva's Bar. I didn't get the point. You don't know what is happening in the movie, unless you happen to have seen it before. If you haven't, all you know is that these vaguely European people are walking around, looking angsty and significant. It's like the restaurant was saying, "We're hip enough to show these classic movies, but way too sophisticated to have you actually watch them."

But now I get it.

Hoffman's Bistro in Santa Cruz features live jazz nightly, and this went surprisingly well with the showing of Casablanca on a front wall, even with no sound for the film. It added a certain je ne sais quoi to the atmosphere, and I liked it.

The food and drink was even better. For an appetizer, we chose the Trio--garlic hummus, tabouli style quinoa, and tomato couscous, served with flatbread. Best hummus I can remember, creamy and flavorful, and not overly salty as you can find with grocery store hummus. Marina agreed, saying it reminded her of the homemade hummus she had in Vienna, that was made by a Syrian doctor for all the roommates of the flat where he and Marina were staying.

The wine was outstanding; our server recommended a local Pinot Noir by Alfaro. We immediately decided to visit the winery in the near future. One odd detail was that the glasses were placed on the table empty, and we each got a small carafe with the actual wine. I saw this once before at 1833 with the chardonnay, and I was puzzled. I asked the server, who said it was a new concept to him as well, but that it was basically intended to ensure an equal pour for every glass, and also to allow people to sniff and sample the wine in small doses first.

For dinner, I was torn between the catch of the day and the Chicken & Waffles. I eventually went with the latter, which was southern fried chicken, golden waffles, spinach and a jus sauce. Outstanding. The chicken was delicious, melting in the mouth, and surprisingly good when paired with the waffle. I never would have pictured combining a waffle with spinach, fried chicken, and sauce, but it was delightful. Marina tells me this is a staple of southern cooking. Huzzah for southern cooking, is all I can say.

Breaking Oysters; or, Screwdrivers In The Kitchen

Last week, our Local Catch Monterey Bay share consisted of a big bag of oysters from Tomales Bay. I've had oysters before, with saltines and beer primarily, but I've never had to deal with the shell. Oyster-shucking sounds dramatic, and apparently you can get a specialized tool, but a screwdriver was also recommended.

I know, that surprised me too, but I do have a screwdriver, and I don't have an oyster-shucker. Before now, the only association I made in my mind between the kitchen and screwdrivers involved vodka and orange juice--those were some dangerous DIY projects, let me tell you, but also quite entertaining.

Marina was out of town, so I invited her sister and brother-in-law over. Marina's sister doesn't like oysters, but he was enthusiastic. We discussed the options for preparing the oysters. The first consensus we reached was that beer was a vital staple. Actually, that was probably always implied.

It was too dark to fire up the grill, so that left the options of baking them or eating them raw; neither of us felt brave enough to try them raw, although that would have given us an option for introducing vodka into the equation after all.

So baking it was. I washed off the oysters, checking to make sure none of the oysters were already open, which would be a sign of poor health and a reason to discard it. The oysters had rough, asymmetrical shells with two distinct halves, a cup and a flatter lid. They looked rather daunting to my inexperienced eye.



Once the oven reached the required temperature, I slid the baking sheets in. Before long, I was puzzled by a loud pop. Did the baking sheet explode? Was the house under assault? Fortunately, no. When I looked in the oven, I discovered the source of the sound was the oysters actually popping open, like magic!

It was quite impressive.



Not all of the oysters popped fully, and I wasn't quite sure how to wield the screwdriver. However, I soon found the knack; I would slip the tip of the flathead screwdriver in the seam that appeared between the shells, and they would actually part quite easily. The shells, after baking, felt a little more delicate, a little flakier.

I will say there was a bit of mental disconnect when comparing the pile of discarded shells with the much smaller pile of oyster meat, but no matter.



As the meat was small, we supplemented the meal with pasta. For the oysters, I made a sauce of garlic, melted butter, and lemon juice. I was worried I heated the sauce for too long, as it almost seared the garlic pieces, but it turned out deliciously. I also had bought a bottle of cocktail sauce, but I think the butter sauce was my favorite.

The oysters themselves were delicious, and the kitchen retained the seafood smell for hours, which made me happy. Marina's brother-in-law wants to try mussels next, so we may actually branch out into seafood experimentation beyond the Local Catch adventures. That would be wild, just like the ocean from which we get the seafood, so very appropriate.

Fish On The Run

We had great plans for our Local Catch Monterey Bay share this week, which consisted of rockfish, either vermilion or yellowtail, I'm not sure which--the fillets came in a plastic bag in an ice chest, and maybe I missed it, but I didn't really see a specific label. The fillets looked vaguely reddish as opposed to yellow, so we'll just say it was vermilion rockfish. Oh well.

In any case, we were going to cook it in a complicated fashion and serve with rice and a nice chardonnay that we got for free when Marina and her sister toured a winery recently as a potential wedding venue--who said that getting married didn't come with perks?

As it turned out, we served it as part of a scramble, by which I don't mean we mixed it in with eggs. Marina had been out of town on Tuesday, and I was working late Wednesday through Friday, so Saturday was our last option to eat the fish before Marina left town again, and we were having her family over for Thai food. We decided to saute the fish to share with Marina's sister and brother-in-law; Marina's mother had recently had an unfortunate fish encounter, so did not wish to partake.

Local Catch Monterey Bay provides great recipes; I had no time for recipes, as things happened rapidly, as they often do in our fast-paced, high-pressure, glamorous kitchen on Woodrow Avenue. As everyone savored spring rolls and beer, I squeezed two lemons freshly plucked from the backyard lemon tree, whacked at a clove of garlic until it was a collection of smaller bits of garlic, and tossed the garlic into a heated pan with olive oil, and then I tossed in the fillets. Well, I didn't so much toss as carefully place.



I poured half the lemon juice over the fish, added some salt, and let it fry for a few minutes. I wasn't sure how long to cook the fish, as I wanted to make sure that no one died on my (Seafood) Watch.

After a few minutes, I judged things were ready to flip, so I did.



I added the rest of the lemon juice, some more salt, and let it fry for a few more minutes. I was worried about overcooking, and I was worried about undercooking. In the end, I might have overcooked it a bit, as when I tested the fish to see if it was starting to flake, it kind of all dissolved into chunks.



Fortunately, even if it wasn't attractive, it still tasted okay, although not as flavorful as I would have liked. In retrospect, I should have sauteed the garlic a little longer, or added some more fennel or butter. Still, it wasn't bad for a last minute fish fry.

What secrets do you have for cooking fish and making it flavorful while retaining cohesion?