Tuesday, March 10, 2020

THE ORCHARD TOWNHOUSE

I ran into Phil Winser (the co-owner of Silkstone Hospitality) last summer, at the time with his wife, and sporting a Fat Radish hat, one of their restaurants.  Given my affinity for the aforementioned, I struck up conversation with him, having read that they were to open up another Radish in the old Trestle on Tenth space.  He corrected me, in that it would not be another Radish but instead, a new concept..... or at least a new name, bringing the vegetable-forward, farm-to-table ethos that they do so well there, along with the original's street address, but only for the
 sake of its name: The Orchard Townhouse.  From that, they built of a buzzy-but-cozy, neighborhood-friendly but destination-worthy eatery that might be the spark that this area needs since the demise of The Red Cat and Trestle.

Our server could literally not have been more charming and charismatic; any more would've lapsed in to theatrics But as it was, he was absolutely delightful, and set the mood for the entire evening.  The whole vibe of the place is lively and engaging, buzzy but cool, and lowly lit which gives the illuminated areas an enticing glow.









The menu is simply a list, although delineations of category, size and pricing show a pretty obvious progression. There is a nice trio of raw bar options, with local oysters, tuna tartar and  chili-lemon crab on toast.  Beyond that we get a lot of yummy vegetables, not sidelined as accoutrements but spotlit in their own right.  Case in point, we were welcomed with a little amuse-bouche that I initially mistook as octopus, but in fact, it was a small, steamed radish, tender and lightly pickled, and quite delightful.



A super-fave was the mushroom toast- a thick slab of sesame-crusted bread, laden with a tumble of perfectly cooked mushrooms anchored with a smooth, smoky eggplant puree. This could have been the star dish of the night, although many vied for that title.   Romanesco broccoli (or is it cauliflower?) magically held its prehistoric shape and vibrant green while it was cooked into absolute annihilation.  It was so sort it might've been considered "too", although it was a really interesting comfort pabulum, nestled into a milky ricotta enriched with brown butter, a assertively charred lemon plated aside for brightness.  A smattering of crunchy candied almonds gave the only textural contest, and they were enough, if you're okay with really soft-cooked veggies (which , in
 this case, I totally am.  My tablemate was less thrilled.).   Less enthralling was a dish titled Acorn Squash, but it turned out to be a grain salad, cold, and about as appealing as it seems in this picture.  There was nothing technically wrong with it: in a grain bowl aside it would probably be passable, but in the depths of a winter chill, a cold starchy salad is a hard sell. It would've been vastly improved even just served warm, with would've augmented the feta's creamy zip.  Additionally, there wasn't as much squash as there was other stuff, so it was a bit of
 mislead, title-wise, and at $17, not a value.

















The chef sent out a riff on the carrots dukkah, subbing in beets, perhaps because of the delay we incurred while the kitchen  was thrown into the weeds by a sizable party overwhelming their normal efficiency.  It was a great dish, as would be the carrots, I assume, with tender beets nuzzled into spiced yogurt with a kick from a vibrant shies gremolata, and a smattering of crunchy, blistered peanuts.





The largest and most expensive dish, a New York strip at $42, doesn't label itself shareable but it surely would be, especially with a side dish to accompany (it comes unadorned).  And of those, I would highly recommend the brussels sprouts (of course I would), charred savory with lardons, their fat rendered out to a meaty chew, a bit of pecorino for even more umami, a hint of crunch from toasted walnuts and some appley sweetness. I mean, who needs the steak?



Another big plate was an utterly simple 7 oz. filet of halibut, gorgeous bronzed on top and impeccably tender beneath.  Served with just lightly dressed, crunchy greens and another wedge of charred lemon, its satisfaction belies its plain-jane appearance.  Plus, it's a really nice, generous cut so you could add it to a compilation of shares, with enough for two to sample.


Unfortunately, with the aforementioned service hiccup, we were kind of on deadline, (a clock in direct eyeshot across the street reminding us of the increasingly advanced hour) as my tablemate had an untenably early morning meeting distracting her, and we thus bypassed dessert.  Which sucked, because from what I can recall it was basically a play-list of my all-time favorites.  On the other hand, the dessert menu is NOT listed on their website, so at least I can't remind myself of what I missed.  I will have to return, which I gladly will, to complete the full-on OTH experience.  As well should you.







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