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Type: Seafood
Prices: Raw bar $9-$13, $40 platter for two; appetizers $7-$15; entrees $20-$33; desserts $8.
Good choices: Trio of tartares; lobster and monkfish sausage; grilled trout with wild mushrooms Bolognese; bass or halibut with potato risotto and puree of red kuri squash; bouillabaisse of monkfish, bass, mussels; monkfish on brandade de morue, lemon confit and mustard sauce; devil's food cake with banana puree; apple tart.
Hours: Mon. 5:30-10 p.m., Tues.-Sat. 5:30-11:30 p.m. Reservations accepted. Smoking at bar area.
Credit cards: Mastercard, Visa, American Express
Access: Fully accessible.
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RESSTAURANT ZINC
35 Stanhope Street, South End
(617) 262-2323
Restaurant reviewed 01/21/99 by Alison Arnett
How does a popular restaurant fare when a giant moves into the neighborhood? Restaurant Zinc opened at the end of '96 on a quiet side street at the edge of the South End. The sign announcing its presence was just a name on a fluttering awning; the heavy carved wooden door bore no sign.
But when one pushed through to the narrow room flanked by a long zinc bar and mirrors, there was invariably a crowd. The neighborhood had discovered its city-chic feel, crowding it all week long, and savoring the very sophisticated food of the very young chef, Nicholas Tischler.
Then Mistral opened its doors in '97, sucking in droves of diners and creating a commotion and a reservations backup that has yet to die down.
And Zinc? Owner Chris Spann, who bought out two partners more than a year ago, last summer changed chefs, replacing Tischler with E. Michael Reidt. In a phone interview, he said he had decided to return to his original idea for a casual bistro; several high-end openings in the city had convinced him, Spann said, that the field was growing crowded. Correspondingly, he has lowered the entree prices about 15 percent over the past six months.
Reidt, who had worked at Olives and the Ritz-Carlton, among other places, says he tries for a broad range of dishes to appeal to someone like his mother, as well as to foodies. His plates are reminiscent of an Olives style, and his sense of flavor is strong. When a dish works, it's delicious. But sometimes the many elements don't fit together cohesively.
Tartares of raw fish and shellfish are fixtures on menus these days. Reidt does a lovely turn with a trio of them, each in a beautiful, separate stack on the plate, each with a distinctive taste. Pearls of yellowfin tuna are curled over a crisp fennel salad, the cleanness of the tuna matching the slightly astringent fennel. Sea scallops are stacked with a celery root salad, mild against tangy. And curls of salmon taste almost sweet against the richness of avocado.
A substantial fillet of grilled brook trout lies over a melange of wild mushrooms and tomatoes he calls "a la Bolognese," after the pasta sauce. It's an unusual combination but that works, not because of pyrotechnics but because the earthiness of the vegetables bolster bolsters the fish's gentle flavor.
Yet some of the appetizers lacked that balance. A confit of duck salad tasted and looked muddy; at a visit in November, the accompaniment of corn-blueberry pancakes didn't add anything but stodginess. The current menu matches the duck with baby turnips, onions, vegetables, and parsley sauce, and perhaps that works better. Golden potato soup was nourishing, and I really liked the sharp bites of braised kale twisted into little mounds in the center. But the texture was too gelatinous and needed a kick of spices or maybe just salt to brighten it.
Reidt is especially strong on vegetables, and when recalling my visits, I realized that's what I remembered most. Halibut, gently sauteed so that it was still moist, rested on three delicious mounds of potato risotto, little zucchini, and a puree of red kuri squash. The fish was good, but the potatoes and squash were great, set off by rivulets of celery root juice.
A mound of sauteed baby fennel, chestnuts, and rosemary, plus a pouf of white sweet potato, made a roasted squab sing, set off by the bracing sweet-sourness of a pomegranate sauce.
The best touch about monkfish on a cod brandade with braised mizuna and a mustard sauce was the lemon confit, and I found myself searching around for more while ignoring the fish and little pink shrimp.
The most focused dish, though, was definitely Reidt's best. Bouillabaisse, the traditional Provencal seafaring soup, was overflowing with monkfish, bass, mussels, and two bright red crayfish perched in a circle of toasted rye bread. The seafood was certainly abundant and very good but the star was the broth, deep and savory enough to sustain a couple of sailors. With a pot of rouille, a red pepper mayonnaise, it made a wonderful meal. Only one minor complaint: the crayfish, which Reidt said were used as an accent since they're a little difficult to tackle in the shell, tasted salty and bitter, as though boiled in too much commercial Old Bay seasoning mix.
In some dishes, the number of elements ran over any sense of unity. Skate wing, tasted in November, was served with calamari, a saffron consomme, purple fingerling potatoes, some tiny green beans, a few pieces of Delicata squash, some olive tapenade, and flecks of orange peel. Despite its original appearance, skate on the plate can be almost a blank canvas because of its rather neutral flavor, taking on all sorts of nuances. This treatment was too much, though, and the poor skate just retreated into being boring. After all, what could compete with the oddity of combining saffron consomme and tapenade? I noticed on the current menu, skate has a much more pared-down list of accompaniments, winter legumes and celery juice. Good move.
A take on a classic, salmon with Savoy cabbage and bacon, tasted fine but was twisted and curled into such a fussy presentation that one lost the gutsiness of its peasant origins.
Reidt lived in Hawaii for several years and uses tropical flavorings in creative ways. A devil's food cake was served with banana puree, ginger ice cream, and a little coconut tuile, an appealing dessert to see and eat. Sorbets, which change frequently, were good and an apple tart was lovely.
One of the best things about the evolution of Zinc proved to the be the service. The wait staff, which Spann said has remained constant since soon after the restaurant opened, was gracious. They took coats and returned them in an unobtrusive manner (no coat-check necessary), attentively checked on our table, answered questions, and brought the bill without delays. Unfortunately the restaurant, especially around the bar area, was get very noisy on a busy weekend night, and the pleasure of sitting in one of the deep booths was marred by drifting smoke.
In a season of escalating restaurant profiles and prices, it's nice to see one pull back a little, gauging the wish of diners to be taken care of by staff and cushioned on prices. Although Reidt's impulses to embellish might be held in check a bit more, Zinc seems poised to be a competitor in Boston's high-stakes eating game.
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