Gareth Davis visits Key West and finds an old favourite that still delivers with style…

For such a tiny speck of a place Key West Florida, the pendant at the end of a long island chain, is packed with culinary goodies. The moneyed who make their way here for the winter months insist on quality and verve in their cooking. It’s sink or swim when a new restaurant opens its doors, and locals are very upfront in expressing their opinions. So the fact that Martin’s at 917 Duval Street has been around for 20 years is testament to great achievement. This is a fairly new location for the long-standing eatery. A year ago the Busam brothers, front-of-house Fritz, and eponymous chef Martin, relocated from a trad little spot on Appelrouth Lane to what is undoubtedly the most stylish site on the Key West Strip.

Duval Street is the island’s main drag; a tumble of art galleries, souvenir shops, high street brands, bars, and restaurants. And at night, the searing cobalt blue light against black of Martin’s sets this place apart from the rest of the twinkle. A shaft of the urbane, the likes of South Beach, New York or London, seems to have landed, stark alongside the Victoriana. The dining room to the left is replete with crisp linens and crystals, walls in silverine paper and B&W photos uplit in soft pinks and aquamarine. To the right an open air lounge bar stretches back to a garden dining area. There’s something of the Japanese in the design of the lounge – white walls, black wooden block tables, floating chiffon drapes, raffia armchairs and sofas with pale upholstering, and a long banquette. The latter supports a 15ft signature photographic canvas consisting of panels of dark green climbing ivy. It’s the work of Fritz who for many years was a photographer in Germany, as is the design of the whole site. The intimate garden space is spotted with more intimate linen-covered tables and lit by flaming torches. The result is hugely chic and a refreshing urban breeze in Key West’s hot gastromanic climate.

Of course, all would be in vain if the cooking weren’t up to scratch. And it is. 20 years is a long time to sustain excellence but back in the kitchen that’s exactly what Martin has done. “Modern European with an island influence” is how he describes his approach. The latter is seen in the strong representation of locally sourced fish and crustacea. For European visitors there’s the gorgeously comforting presence of escargot, filet mignon, beef wellington, and splashes of Germanica like wiener schnitzel reflecting the brothers Black Forest origins. Starters are from $14.50 and mains from $20.50.

In my opinion, the wine list is the best on the island – and I’ve waded through many a tawdry volume of confusion and blandness. Old World balances New with a strong varietal presence from Albarino through Riesling and even a good old Alsace Gewurztraminer. Reds start at $36 for a Californian Pinot Noir and whites from $30 for an Italian Pinot Grigio.

I kicked off with seared foie gras on rocket with balsamic vinegar and a poached pear topped by lingonberry marmalade; the f.g. was gorgeously soft and more than able to hold its own against the sharp balsamic and sweet fruit. My dinner companion had a tropical Waldorf Salad which reinvigorated my interest in what’s unfortunately become a bit of a sandwich filler; this salad was all crunch and creaminess.

We both had duck breast “schwazwald”, another nod to the Old Country, which consisted of soft pink slivers of quack with the sting of raspberry vinaigrette and more poached pear and lingonberry. Ending with Banana Fosters, a torrent of caramelised banana and cinnamon syrup over vanilla ice cream, we got our first whiff of the New Country; the portion was typically American in size.

Out in the lounge, diners were nibbling on tasty little tapas; old favourites like Serrano ham and jalapeno remoulade and touches of cheekiness like curry wurst. Post 11pm on Friday and Saturdays the lounge transforms into a chill out area where 30 somethings unwind to the sounds of light house. I can think of no better way of meditating on what could possibly be the best cooking I’ve ever enjoyed in Key West.     

Gareth Davis discovers a culinary jewel in the heart of South East England

During a recent weekend in Brighton (more on that next month) I was lucky enough to visit West Sussex’s only Michelin-starred restaurant. Ockenden Manor is just as it sounds; a Tudor pile in the an Emnglish village that would make an American weep, just 25 minutes from the south coast and an hour from London. The night was dank and chilly, just the sort you want to close a pair of heavy plush curtains on, and at Ockenden, you can. I sat in front of a murmuring log fire on a deep chintzy sofa perusing the menu whilst sipping on Kir Royal. The sun could have been shining in the night sky and I wouldn’t have known.

I opted for the seven course tasting menu (£67.50) as is ever the case when confronted by Michelin-quality cooking. The idea is to maximise the range of flavours. So sat in a wood panelled dining room where the tread of staff was stifled by the deep shag, in my minds eye I anticipated the waves of culinary delight about to break over me.

A pumpkin soup with parmesan agnolotti got things off to a good start; beautifully smooth punctuated by the bite of the pasta. Accompanying it I enjoyed a glass of Dopff & Irion Pinto Blanc 2004 packed with steely fruit, crisp apples and elderflowers. My next dish would have wilted in the face of this so I shifted to a South African Nederburg Noble Late Harvest 2007 , a huge apple tart of a swig, bursting with sweetness and undertones of golden syrup. The perfect accompaniment to my pressed terrine of foie gras which struck perfection, Scallop and cuttlefish tumbled on exhibiting fantastic flavour and texture, the cuttlefish especially.

Then a pause; a lime and champagne sorbet the likes of which I’ve never had, a blitzkrieg of glorious citrus, huge tartness and fruit. The kind of lime-iness that makes real limes seem somehow awfully fake.

Seared, stripped and ready to meet my maker, like some Old Testament prophet I stepped up to greet the venison. Succulent, soft, intense but the true revelation came in the form of a Spargolo 2001. I was my first time for this Tuscan classic. 100% Sangiovese, its low tannins and massive fruit hit the spot; and became the evening’s highlight.

Slowly the visions faded and I drifted back to earth, beautifully reduced like Alice, to find myself settled into a lemon tart. Shame on those weighty stodgy things that line the supermarket shelves; here was lemon tart as it was eaten in Eden, as light and as creamy as the afterlife.

By now you will have gathered that I’d left the oak panelled environs of Ockenden fair behind. And excuse my muddled metaphors but that’s what comes of launching oneself into the land of myriad flavours. When perfectly evoked and stunningly drawn, each one impels such different landscapes, times, and experiences.

Dining at Ockenden was no great theatrical event. The Englishness of the surroundings perfectly matched the tidy, modest way in which my meal presented itself. But burrow into its flavours at your peril. This is alchemy and I say to Head Chef Steven Crane, I’m on to you. Stunning.

 

Japanese food in a magical disco setting is what Gareth Davis discovers this month on a trip to Manchester…

ITHACA, MANCHESTER

Ithaca brings out the child in you. The corridor twinkles with silver disco glitter and polished black granite floors. It’s like the Castle of the Snow Queen - if she’d ever been played by Olivia Newton John. The restaurant spread over two floors consists of a series of ghettoes with black walls, more of the same twinkling granite, and long chandeliers consisting of rectangular shards of mirror that hang like icicles. The dark seats are so velvety and cuddly; they almost look like fur in this Arctic light. Matching drapes and gossamer silver shears complete the magic. Time to turn on the glitter ball. But just as you’ve persuaded yourself that this must be a Scandinavian restaurant, along comes the menu and bites you in the reindeer. It’s Japanese; sushi though sashimi through wagyu beef and miso lamb.

The sushi menu is extensive featuring 3 types of tuna including 0-Toro and Chu Toro which are cuts uncommon cuts from the tuna’s belly. There’s nothing shoddy about this sushi; beautifully made featuring taught fresh fish and firm rice. It’s not difficult to accept the restaurant’s boast that this is the best Japanese in the North. It could also give many a London venue a run for its mahi.

I moved onto wagyu beef carpaccio; thin slices of cured beef, each small square topped by a garlic crisp, sitting in ginger dressing with a mizuna salad. The beef was fantastically textured exhibiting the signature marbling but flavour was disappointing.

Next Chilean sea bass steeped in chilli saikyo miso (a fermented soybean and rice paste) and then roasted. This was wonderfully delicate fish with great flavour. The accompanying pak choi and ginger was somehow inconsequential. But the fish itself was a triumph.
Dessert was a chocolate and peanut spring roll which I found gimmicky and underwhelming. The accompanying poached pear and creamy caramel ice cream were more satisfying.

The wine list is a bit of a puzzle. I have no idea why there are photos of the actual bottles in the margins. It all seems very juvenile as if the customer is not being taken seriously. Other than that, it’s a great selection and the warm words of Jancis Robinson explaining each varietal are very soothing. I opted for a gewurtzraminer from Ribeauville which consisted of stunning shots of passion fruit through toffee.
The week before I visited Ithaca, Victoria Beckham had popped in for a bite (a single sushi sufficing no doubt) and this touches on my only concern for the future of this restaurant. There’s more than a whiff of the modish about it. The food is absolutely solid but I have a feeling the décor may pall. It doesn’t have it sights set beyond the next season. At the moment, it’s attracting the “crowd” but as we know, the “crowd” likes to move on.

GOSPEL BRUNCH AT CHICAGO’S HOUSE OF BLUES

Petra Shepherd samples a Chicago institution that’s as much about the experience as the food…

Chicago is a city of chains; it’s where the first McDonald’s franchise opened and there’s no shortage of Pizzeria Unos and Giordanos, birthplace of the famous Deep Pan.  And there’s one chain with branches from Anaheim to Myrtle Beach that’s truly at home in the Windy City. That’s the House of Blues, founded in 1992 by legendary Blues Brother Dan Aykroyd.

As well as a venue for live music and Southern-inspired cuisine, the House of Blues is also famous for its Gospel Brunch.  So, on a visit to Chicago in September I decided to treat my nieces to a totally different experience from an English fry-up and Saturday morning tele which is their usual weekend fare. 
The award-winning Gospel Brunch is a one-of-a-kind live music show and dining experience.  Guests enjoy an all-you-can-eat buffet while a local gospel group performs live onstage. Each week there’s a different line-up. There are two sittings, one at 10 am, the other at 12:30 pm, with a 3:00 pm seating (so more like high tea than brunch) often added on holidays.  Up early with jet lag, we opted for the 10 am sitting by which time the girls were pretty hungry.  And there was more than enough food to go round. In fact, there was so much food that it made some of the all inclusive hotel and Las Vegas style buffets I’ve come across pale by comparison.   One tip - arrive a good 15 minutes early to be first in the queue for the buffet. Seating however is allocated. While you’re waiting, you can admire the American folk art on the walls, affectionately known as the Visual Blues. 

We sat in the pit, great for atmosphere and you really feel part of the show, though there’s always that worry that the closer you are to the stage, the more likely you’re going to be picked on for some audience participation.  The brunch is hugely popular and they do tend to try and cram in as many people as possible, leaving very little room on the table for all those plates of food. Again, there’s so much choice that it’s a bit of a race to fill up your plate, sample all the choices on offer, AND get pudding in the 45 minutes max before the show begins. By the way, pudding for brunch was a first for me.  

Now, the food; take a deep breath – the menu featured cornbread muffins with maple butter, pecan caramel sticky buns, cheese filled tortellini salad with smoked salmon, capers, red onion and pear tomatoes, traditional Caesar salad, southern fried chicken, homemade macaroni and cheese, Creole chicken and shrimp jambalaya, carved smoked turkey breast and prime rib of beef.  Yes, sounds more like a Sunday lunch than brunch, but then there are all the breakfast bits; hickory smoked bacon and breakfast sausage links, homemade biscuits and country gravy, breakfast potatoes with sautéed onions and peppers, and once you’ve queued up for all that, you can join other queues for waffles and an omelette station.  Finally, it’s a mad dash to fill up your plate with white chocolate walnut brownies, homemade fruit cobbler and white chocolate banana bread pudding before the show begins. 

The girls and I were in heaven.  My favourite was the jambalaya, a New World take on the Old World dish paella, and very tasty it was too, although it could have done without a caramel sticky bun (my fault).  The glass of mimosa was a nice touch.  That’s a Buck Fizz to those of us on this side of the pond. My plans for giving the girls a new taste experience were scuttled however as they were first in line for the waffles and were back there pretty shortly afterwards for seconds. The waffles got a big thumbs up.

But let’s face it, you can get a brunch almost anywhere in the States and at the House of Blues, no matter how phenomenal the buffet,  the Gospel Brunch is all about the music. The audience is encouraged to join in, so set your European inhibitions aside, clap your hands, and hallelujah like a sister.  No visit to Chicago is complete without taking in some live music and for a family, the gospel brunch is highly recommended.  It was a great way of introducing a new kind of music to my Amy Winehouse High School Musical loving nieces.  None of us were too embarrassed to swing a napkin around and we all felt it was good value at US$45 for adults and US$22 for children. And with all that food, you only really need a light snack for the rest of the day.

OK so the House of Blues may seem like a strange choice for Restaurant of the Month, but it really is an uplifting musical experience with a top notch buffet thrown in – praise the lord and pass the biscuits !

AUBERGINE, KALKAN TURKEY

On a return visit to Kalkan in southern Turkey Gareth Davis samples an old favourite

Nearly 10 years on and 3 times lucky, I returned to my favourite Turkish resort. Back in ‘99 when I first visited, Kalkan was a tiny smudge on the map, squeezing itself out of a sleepy cocoon to emerge as a fully fledged resort. It’s good to be able to report that though the small fishing village has sprawled to encompass much of the surrounding bay, at its heart Kalkan has maintained a sense of proportion. The tiny warren of small cobbled streets that slope fairly steeply down to the marina is still the heart of the place, and continues to deliver on its promises. And that is to be a resort a cut above the rest offering a relaxed ambience and excellent eating. There are no garish signs here trumpeting bargain English breakfasts and all things involving chips. Kalkan has a significant amount of stylish, quality restaurants that are admittedly more pricey than what you’ll find elsewhere along this coast. Many of them are down by the marina or fantastically situated on rooftops with 360° vistas of the bay.

Aubergine is harbourside, one of a swill of restaurants that overlook the fishing boat bobbing waters. But more importantly, it is one of the longest established (founded in ’96) and pretty well rammed come 9 ‘o clock in season when trendier neighbours are still hawking for punters. It’s a pleasant spot; a paved garden of lit palms, with colonial style dark wooden chairs and tables, touches of rattan and soft cream upholstery. And there’s magic to be found sitting under the stars, the sound of waves in the distance.

The name is inspired by one of my favourite Turkish gastronomic anecdotes. An imam was once presented by his wife with a dish of baked aubergine, onions, garlic, tomatoes and sweet peppers. The shock of the cost of such a dish was too much for the poor imam who promptly collapsed; ever since the dish has been known as Imam Bayıldı or The Imam Fainted.

Of course, the menu features the eponymous aubergine and a staggering amount of choice; 46 main courses alone which of course immediately set my early warning system off. Who could possibly hope to pull off such a volume of options successfully? So I’ll say straight away this is not haute cuisine, nothing flashy, just popular standards. And yes, chef and owner Mehmet Bilgiç does a good job.
The menu is split 15% Turkish and 85% Mediterranean. The starters are a splish splash of Mediterranean fare in the main; prawn cocktail up against houmus, Greek salad vying with moussaka. Prices are from 8,90TL. Mains are all from around 20TL and are a huge grab bag of pasta, stroganoff, racks of lamb, chops, duck, and fish from grouper to sea bass.

My cold meze starter would have been fine for 3 people; a huge plate of tzatziki, houmus, aubergine salad, tomato salsa, prawn cocktail, horseradish leaves, pesto and chilli sauce. It would make a great lunch dish for sharing, and was in keeping with the huge servings one finds in Kalkan. My parents were with me and opted for light dishes but ended up with a mound of pasta with chicken and six sizeable Turkish meatballs with all the grilled accoutrements that left my father red faced and struggling to finish. He failed.

My main was a duck fillet in mulberry, balsamic, and red wine jus with garden vegetables, and dangerous though I know it was to plump for my favourite meat which I’m very particular about, the duck arrived as pink as perfection.

Dessert wasn’t an option but there are 27 to choose from; Black Forest gateaux, crème caramel, profiteroles, tiramisu, ice creams, and of course baklava – all from 8,90TL.

I must stress that unlike most of the eateries I review on this page there was little innovative or surprising about the menu at Aubergine, though the surprise was that they managed to pull it off with such solid results. Well, popularity says it all and I recommend a visit.

LAURIE RAPHAËL QUEBEC CITY

Gareth Davis sets out with few expectations and exzperiences a rare moment of epiphany in Quebec City.

On a recent trip to Quebec I was initially nonplussed by an invitation to Laurie Raphaël, a restaurant situated in what to all appearances is the extension of an office building. It sits on a street corner and looks utterly unprepossessing. Nothing compared to the city’s current hot ticket. Le Panache at the Auberge St Antoine occupies a gorgeous historic warehouse and is chefed by whizzkid Francois Blais, 2007's Chef of the Year as voted by his peers, Quebec's Society of Chefs and Patissiers. But as it turned out, I found Le Panache to be good but unsurprising whilst Laurie Raphael provided a fantastic dip into the world of cooking at its most creative.

It’s been around for 17 years which of course says something, and chef Daniel Vezina recently opened another “branch” in Montreal. The brick terrace under awnings belies the stylish curved dining room inside, a comfy modern space in chocolate, pewter browns and egg blues swathed in a semi-circle of grey sheers. All very sedate and in total contrast to the shocking scarlet velvet-patch screen that lines the booth which is reception.

There’s a wonderful wine list with France of course well-represented. It’s a bit light in the Antipodes when it comes to whites but there’s a better showing in the reds. Whites start from $28 and reds from $40, both of which are Quebecois.

On the menu, the heading for the starters “Adventure in Taste”, sums up what’s to come. There’s a riot of local produce, foie gras from Bellechasse, pigeon from Sainte-Sophie, and lobster from Iles de la Madeleine to name a few. Vezina describes himself as an out-and-out Quebecois chef and were he to live in Ottawa, this menu would firmly pin him in place. The prices are equally impressive. A grandiose tasting menu of 7 courses comes in at a hugely reasonable $94. Wine parings are an additional $55, and the tour takes you through foie gras via scallops and pigeon to a magical Black Forest.

On the a la carte, starters kick off at $16 with an interesting pork and blood roll, the traditional “boudin”. Mains are from $38, and desserts from $14. I rarely peek at the latter but trust me as I steer you towards the sugar pie, a traditional Quebecois dessert made using maple syrup and normally a straightforward open tart with the consistency of treacle. Here, the pie comes as a football of light candy floss. Yummy!
I opted for the Chef’s Menu where I put myself in the hands of the kitchen and was treated at their discretion to some off-menu servings. How right I was. Thing got going with the amuse bouche, an exquisite little shot of gazpacho with pistachio oil, stunningly smooth and creamy.

To start, the steak tartare with Japanese spices, foie gras ice cream and smear of date preserve could have been a ghastly gimmicky pile-up. But there was no confusion with this fusion. Vezina knows his way around a map and each taste is perfectly captured. Even the foie gras ice cream, which I was secretly dreading, turned out to be a gorgeously creamy expression of the oeuvre. Loving foie gras helps. The tartare itself of densely cut angus steak, subtly spiced, was a revelation. I almost wept to think of some of the hideously eggy mounds of mush and detritus that I’ve forked my way through recently.

Opah fish was the main, a first for me. This was primarily a Polynesian dish; the fish is Hawaiian with accompanying spices, and coconut married to shredded courgette and chanterelles and a strawberry puree. The delicacy of the fish was amazing and the palette of flavours? The first time rainbow has struck me as apt, brightness, and verve with a magical use of texture.
I ended with local cheeses, two highlights being the Riopel, a brie-style cheese, huge in flavour; and the Jaq le Chevrier, a goat’s cheese that smacked so much of the farmyard with almost a hint of TCP.

The whole experience came as a surprise, utterly unexpected, and of such vivacity and wonder that I ended the evening almost teary and winded. The reasons for Laurie Raphaël’s longevity were immediately explained; flavour, colour, creativity. This may well end up being my Restaurant of the Year. Now if Le Panache manages to hang on in there for 17 years I may well be tempted to pay a second visit there…

 

L’EGLISE, HOVE & HOTEL DU VIN, BRIGHTON

Gareth Davis experiences a double dose of Francophilia in southern

If you’re coming from Brighton town centre, L’Eglise can feel a little out on a limb. What feels like a serious trawl down Church Street in Hove however brings you to the kind of French eatery we all dream of calling our “local.” There’s nothing flashy about it. It’s a subdued little bistro, an airy pale walled space with big shop windows where you can watch the world go by. And there are all those nods to France; floorboards that with time will tell a tale or two, knockabout chairs, a cute little bar squished in the back, and walls lined with black & white Besson prints that bring Parisienne street life into the room.

It’s all very new – and feels it. My main criticism at present is that the space feels a little too Spartan, lacking the personal touch, which almost makes it feel like part of some upmarket chain.

Personal however is what the wine list is all about. Chosen by owner Jean Christophe Martin, it’s a tight group. There are 11 whites and 12 reds. In fact, there’s even a family touch; a red, a white, and a rose, all from Bergerac, produced by Monsieur Martin’s own sister. I appreciate the simplicity but for me, there were a few favourites missing.

The food however didn’t disappoint. A salade de poulet fume to start set the taste band high; firm smoky chicken and gorgeously intense sunblushed tomatoes bursting with sweetness. My companion ordered the steak tartare which I wasn’t so impressed with – a little too heavy on the mustard and capers. But what do you do? Steak tartare is such a personal thing and I always prefer to mix my own.
The duck confit however was spot on; crisp oily fish with plenty of quack and my mate’s moules marinieres were meaty and flavoursome.
It was a Friday night so no surprise the locals were out in force. L’Eglise was positively buzzing and I’ve no doubt that as time takes its toll, it will be ringing its bells for years to come.

Saturday night found me once more gazing across the Channel but this time from the very different setting of the Hotel du Vin in Brighton proper. Believe it or not, this was my first time sampling of the hugely popular chain and I’ll be honest. I set out with enough cynicism in my bag to ruin the most perfectly planned evening.

There’s no denying however the quality that seeps from every pore of the property. Ok so there’s reproduction that, mock this, a pretty half-timbered pagoda-affair straddling the two wings of the hotel. Pass through it into a pretty little courtyard surrounded by clapperboard in a nod to the seaside locale, and there’s a cute staircase up to a deck of what looks like driftwood. All too too perfect it seemed – and I was right.
The dining room is off the main bar area. BIG MISTAKE! Bear in mind this is Saturday night, so we’re not talking a couple of weekenders sitting around reading the papers. The place was rammed, a tribute to HDV’s popularity. But whose bright idea was it to keep the dining room doors open all evening? I assume it was an attempt to entice punters from their drinks to sample something a little more solid? Well, all it did for me was cheapen the whole experience and leave me with a nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach; the noisiest dining room I have ever been in.
Having said that, dinner at HDV Brighton is not beyond redemption. The room itself evokes a grand old dame of a dinner venue. There’s that smattering of the French again in the air of deshabillé. It’s all turn of the 20th century faded glory with muddy cream wood panelling. At either end of this rectangular room there are two aging fireplaces whilst in the middle a long banquette island in high backed leather is the kind of thing Ben Hur would drive his chariot around. The walls are bric-a-bracked with old and new masters and along one side, a row of French windows allows diners to look out onto the street. In good weather I can imagine a delightful ambience when they’re opened. All in all, a lovely homage to the great French dining room.

Now, to the sustenance. The wine list is fantastically imaginative embracing India and Lebanon; definitely nails the “du Vin” bit of the franchise. And nice to see an English sparkling, though a Sussex white would have been a good touch.

And if I ever thought the cooking here would be a case of all fur and no knickers then forgive me. Smoked duck breast with celeriac, hazelnut, and apple salad produced huge aromas and was bang on the taste. An amuse bouche of scallop, black pudding, and cauliflower puree was sweet, salty and outstanding whilst  mains of free range guinea fowl with minted fricassee of beans was soft and slipped along merrily to the accompaniment of a half bottle of Barolo 2003 Fontanafredda. I topped it all off with a selection of cheeses from the 20 that are always to be found. The selection changes seasonally and in a great wave of diplomacy is 50-50 French/English. Indeed, if it wasn’t for the ghastly accompaniment of roars, shouts and general Saturday night revelry from the bar, then I would have no doubt in saying that Hotel du Vin Brighton ticks all the boxes for me.

 

 

THE SCENT OF FLEURS

 

Gareth Davis senses subtlety in Las Vegas

A revolution has taken place in Las Vegas in the past 10 years. The de facto home of the eat-as-much-as-you-want buffet has grown up and the titillating gastronomy of chicer urban centres has found a home on The Strip. Chef Hubert Keller, a celebrity name State-side, has repeated his San Franciscan hit FLEUR DE LYS at Mandalay Bay.

The Vegan property is a cavernous space with 30ft walls in cultured stone evoking post-modernist ranch interiors. The wall on the left as you enter is studded at the centre with a swathe of fresh pink roses, 3,500 of them, in the shape of a crooked smile, whilst to the right is a bank of sheer curtains in various shades of grey, shrouding a series of private dining areas. They reminded me of the skirt of some stylish 30s evening dress. The carpet is deep chocolate and the overall mood is low key lowly lit with a touch of the hypnotic. I did an awful lot of blinking to adjust my vision.

I also did an awful lot of eating. Chef Keller’s Tasting Menu is a veritable trawl through his signature dishes, a journey of many hits and some misses. Ahi Tuna Tartare to start was a joy; exquisite fleshy gobs of tuna though I felt that the dressing was little heavy-handed. Organic Baby Beet with goat cheese and beet vinaigrette was spot on and the Truffled Onion Veloute was fantastically intense; in fact, I’d argue that the taster portion was a perfect sufficiency. The highlight of the trip for me was the Gently Heated Alaskan King Salmon, a thing of such subtlety that I almost forgot the continuous kerr-ching of the slot machines out in the casino. (Not to suggest that you could hear anything of the sort within Herr Keller’s establishment). The biggest disappointment was the Port Glazed cervena Venison which was a little overdone for my liking, a bit too much of the chew about it. And the Exotic Fuit Minestrone, a Keller favourite, was all rather gimmicky, particularly the basil sorbet.

Having said that, there’s no denying a maestro at work. This was top drawer cooking and enough to encourage me to recommend FLEUR DE LYS as our Restaurant of the Month.

 

 

EATING 915

 

Gareth Davis visits Key West and samples a stylish bistro with an Old Town feel…

I’ll be honest. The Key West restaurant that goes by the understated name of 915 (its address on Duval Street) is no revelation to me. As an unofficial citizen of the Conch Republic – I visit at least twice a year – I’ve been enjoying its wonders for the past 5 years, and bearing in mind it only sizzled its first steak 5 ½ years ago, you could say I was in at the kill. So now I’m taking this opportunity to share its joys with you – and they are many. 915 was invited to cook at last year’s James Beard and lo and behold, they’ve received an encore in 2008. This is a rare tribute and it looks as if the restaurant could become one of a handful of James Beard regulars.

Duval Street is the Key West main strip stretching from the Atlantic to the Gulf; at the sunset side there’s a squalor of T-shirt shops, duty frees and daytime bars where daytrippers from the umpteen cruise liners that pull in here spend their shore leave face down in a margarita, at the sunrise side, well, it’s all a bit more low key and tasteful. No prizes for guessing where you’ll find 915.

The building is a classic conch house in white and pale blue, sat behind a yard with picket fence, double verandahed top and bottom like some homestead out of a Tennessee Williams. There’s an air of deshabille about it with flashes of South Beach in the dusty blue modernist plastic chairs. This is a place for weekending, sitting back and watching Duval Street pass by; like much of Key West, 915 is distinctly casual. The restaurant is an upstairs downstairs affair though the upper storey also houses a wine bar named Point 5 where the South Beach vibe really comes to the fore in modish furniture and a late night urban ambience. This maybe a touch of nostalgia on the part of owner Stuart Kemp, originally from Hinckley in the heart of England, who kicked off his KW career running nightclubs.

When eating, my preference is the yard where sat behind the picket fence one can ogle the colourful passing KW nightlife. Soft Caribbean breezes serenade a slow sinking sun, a chicness beyond the usual KW come-as-you-please lifestyle pervades the venue, and blah blah blah... Hey, by now you’re making your reservation, right?

We kicked off with Bellinis – not Bellinis proper but a 915 take on the classic. These were made with passion fruit not peach. And not being a fan of Bellinis I liked ‘em; tart as opposed to tired.

The menu is constructed around a tapas mentality. No starters and main courses here but “smaller” and “larger plates” so one can mix and match. The small plates kick off at $8 and the large ones at $20. We sampled 3 starters. The Caesar Salad comes as a whole Romaine heart webbed with parmesan and dressing like something off of an old Universal horror set and it’s worth sinking your teeth into. The Devils on Horseback, dates wrapped in bacon with sweet garlic and soy citrus dipping sauce missed the mark for me. There was a bit too much of the saddle in the bacon. But the 915 signature dish, the Tuna Dome of fresh Dungeness crab with lemon miso dressing wrapped in a dome of Ahi Tuna sashimi was a revelation; fantastic taste and subtlety.

By the way, there’s a great wine list which embraces Old and New World with equal gusto and displays enough interest in the likes of Gruner Veltliner and Albarino without turning into a heavy tome.

We all went for Steak Frites Au Poivre as our main – it’s a 915 favourite, and rightly so. The 8oz Black Angus Filet Mignon is stunningly delivered, perfectly prepared though in my opinion the poivre could be a little less heavy handed. And desserts? Well we opted out but the oohs and aahs from a neighbouring table seemed to say it all.

915 is a KW favourite of mine, a magic combination of atmosphere and good cooking which is just chic enough and causal enough to please both locals and weekending fashionistas from Miami. It should definitely be on your list of eateries if you’re visiting the Keys.