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NINE ON NINE All dressed up in the Cultural District, Nine on Nine deftly serves up a tasty reason to play downtown. Dinner: Tues.-Sat., 5-10 p.m.
TO THE NINES Co-owner and executive chef Richard DeShantz isn't fond of labels, but his demis and truffles - and even the way he trusses the meat - harken to legendary French chef Auguste Escoffier. DeShantz agrees to call his robust, creative format "French-inspired modern American cooking." We watch the nimble hustle and bustle of the kitchen crew through a glass window framed in dark drapes - as though we're watching a silent movie. The flavors rolling out make us swoon. Long, flowing drapes around a romantic little bar at the room's elbow create the illusion of Oz's hot-air balloon, ready to take the wizard on his next adventure. I confess I felt a twinge of panic the second time I called for reservations and someone said, "I think we may be fully booked." There was a table after all, and it was then that I realized that fork after fork, dish after dish, this lusty little spot had captured our attention like a new love, and we were giddy with anticipation. The whole experience is a tactile adventure. Venetian-looking sky-blue glass votive vases and a driftwood wine rack make us feel as if we've slid into a fairy tale. It all becomes background once you make your first gustatory leap. Sometimes what seems simple is actually quite complex, and such is the magic behind chef DeShantz's passionate mindset and his simple but elegant interpretations. "I don't put sauce on something just because it's colorful. I really think about all the dishes," says DeShantz. "It's all about passion, a way of life. Food is just another way to express myself. I try to work with the best ingredients and try to work with them properly. When you bite into something of mine, you know exactly what it is." His food is careful but unfussy, and it carries flavors startling in their clarity. "I just want my food to be beautiful," says this young chef, a fan of Japanese culture and one who has traveled the world and worked locally at the renowned Hyeholde. He trades his traditional vacations for "stodging" (working for free at a restaurant while on vacation) at the world's best restaurants, including The Inn at Little Washington and Norman's in Miami.
"There is a fine line between good food and great food," DeShantz says, "and what makes the difference is attention to detail." Once you are seated, some of that detail arrives in the form of mesmerizing little gifts from the kitchen, pressed upon you from time to time, such as a tiny dish of rich tuna topped with freshly shredded carrot and beans or roasted-tomato risotto with a wisp of seared cod resting on top. Attention to detail is not an exclusive province of the kitchen. "And what a meal it was!" croaked one of a group that could have been stunt doubles on "The Sopranos." Nearly finished, they began breaking out their post-repast Havanas, half-seriously prodding the hostess for permission to light up. Their gentle blackmail sucked the air out of our conversation. Visions of clouds of thick, leathery cigar smoke might sound like petulant fun, but it would have smothered DeShantz's artful cuisine - "like going to the Carnegie and coloring a painting with a Sharpie," quipped my husband, Brad. Without dropping a beat, the Soprano group gathered a few Lucite chairs and improvised an outdoor lounge. As they happily puffed away, a waiter in a floor-length apron and arm towel appeared before them bearing a tray of assorted dainties. We craned our necks to ensure Woody Allen was not filming on Penn Avenue. Settling back in, Brad rhetorically bellowed musician Ted Lewis' timeless query, "Is everybody happy?" Looking around, everybody was. No one hurried us as the food appeared. Portions are reasonable, not inflated, meaning you can have a wonderful meal and still call for the dessert menu. First courses are ambitious, beautifully thought out and executed: lush, grilled baby quail in a virtuous blackberry sauce deglazed with cassis surrounded by cheese grits, fried sage and country ham; a thin slice of organic Kurabuta pork, bred naturally (a little more fat equals a lot more flavor) alongside a dwarf sweet-potato pie; fennel-encrusted blackened tuna, soft and rich and anchored on a Vidalia onion with a light dusting of porcini powder and a drizzle of porcini oil, in a puddle of buerre rouge and deep, rich, 25-year-aged balsamic. Tuna and salmon sashimi look more like jewelry than food, laid out in a checkerboard pattern, served with citrus yuzu (Japanese fruit) dressing, avocado salad and micro-greens. On our waiter Raj's advice, we chose delicate, hand-picked baby spring greens with Point Reyes blue cheese, caramelized walnuts and poached pear dressed with blackberry vinaigrette; a pear as thin as tracing paper adds an interesting textural note. "I always want to figure out how to make something already good even better," says the modest DeShantz. Thyme-roasted, free-range Amish chicken falls from its skin atop a circular carpet of herby pommes Anna (buttery thin-sliced potatoes baked with clarified butter and thyme) layered with truffle salad and wild-mushroom ragoût, with white-asparagus sprigs sticking out like antennae. Pea-green asparagus flan is a separate, delicious vegetable pudding. Pittsburgh surf-and-turf features a strapping, peppery grilled filet with a silky interior and a unique lobster pierogie crowned with a black-truffle béarnaise that takes your breath away. Pristine Australian barramundi, provencal-style, is the sum of its parts with fennel, dried tomatoes, nicoise olives, saffron and a rustic, herbaceous pappardelle ingeniously sneaking up on the spare, austere nature of the fish, making it seem richer, more fully flavored; miso-grilled black cod is tender and light with a spicy, sweet soy glaze on a bed of soba noodles, piled with sugar snap peas alongside Japanese eggplant. Desserts are little essays on taste. From the stolen pleasures of a sublime kiwi soup bobbing with pineapple, coconut and mango sorbet to an impressive Nine on Nine split: I saw the lights go out in the violin-repair shop across the street, and by the time we left that first night, the moon was so brilliant that its ambient light accented the beauty of the old building, while the cigar-smoking bunch on the sidewalk continued to cavort, like porch sitters on a steamy night, watching the world go by.
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Each month, Deborah McDonald jump-starts appetites with lively restaurant reviews that scrutinize who's cooking what and where. She works anonymously, visiting each restaurant at least twice before writing her column. Do you know of a restaurant you'd like to have reviewed? | ||
For a complete interactive Dining Guide CLICK HERE. | ||
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a take on the traditional banana split with dense chocolate bread pudding glistening with caramelized bananas and scoops of strawberry, chocolate and vanilla ice cream. The restaurant has only 47 seats, so reservations are prudent, though the bar in the rear is a possibility for those surprise surplus moments.|
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