By Laine Doss
By Bill Wisser
By Dana De Greff
By Laine Doss
By Zachary Fagenson
By Laine Doss
By Zachary Fagenson
By Carla Torres
"Those only who have sojourned in the ardent climates of the South can appreciate the delights of an abode combining the breezy coolness of the mountain with the freshness and verdure of the valley. Everything invites to that indolent repose, the bliss of Southern climes; and while the half-shut eye looks out from the shaded balconies upon the glittering landscape, the ear is lulled by the rustling of groves and the murmur of running streams...."
from The Alhambra
Washington Irving's prose romanticizes the Moorish-built fortress and palace complex of Spain's Alhambra A once the home of generations of sultans and later inhabited by Ferdinand and Isabella A a construction he alternatively appellates "the progeny of ruin," owing to its state of disrepair at that time (1830's). Yet Irving, whose book was largely responsible for stirring American interest in this "splendid pile," could easily have been describing the Coral Gables Hyatt Regency hotel, so closely A and purposefully A have the two designs been aligned.
The Hyatt's rust-red mimicry, complete with flowering courtyards, columns, and horseshoe arches (though minus unnecessary outbuildings and military reinforcements), is not an anomaly in a city which once boasted in its promotional literature: "Coral Gables, where your castles in Spain are made true." For the past decade the trend in architecture, especially as it concerns restaurant and hotel chains, has been to reflect the nature of the place rather than the nature of the chain. Consider just two examples: the Burger King on South Beach imitates the look of its Art Deco neighbors, and the McDonald's in Rome spouts fountains and alfresco sculptures. For Coral Gables to house its own Spanish palace, considering the predominance of Spanish Mediterranean architecture throughout the Gables, seems only right.
Just as it seems right that the guest quarters and facilities within the Hyatt should be named and fashioned after the original designations in the Alhambra. For example, the courtyard where banquets or cocktail hours are often held is called the Court of Lions after the Alhambra's Patio de los Leones, famed for its fountain of twelve stone lions that also function as a sundial. And the Hyatt's Two Sisters Restaurant, its five-year-old New World wonder, takes its name from the Alhambra's Hall of Two Sisters.
Castles are built as much of legend as they are of stone. Some insist that the original Hall of Two Sisters is named for two alabaster blocks that face each other in the hall itself, forming part of the pavement. Others, like Irving, prefer a poetic approach and believe the hall was aptly titled for the rival beauties of the sultans' royal harems, who lived between its walls. After dining in the luxurious ambiance of the Hyatt's version, pampered by the staff and the delicate attentions of the chef, I tend to appreciate the latter interpretation.
Though comparisons to a harem are not exactly apropos and border on the politically incorrect, the lush cuisine and decor of Two Sisters Restaurant do indeed bring to mind a captive existence. (The overstuffed booths are so comfortable it's practically impossible to rise from them.) Deprived of freedom and self-determination, women in a harem turned their attention to creature comforts, competing with one another for silken bedding, fine jewelry, gold-trimmed clothing, and, naturally, the sultan's favor. Were I trapped in a harem, my comfort A and favor A would be obvious: I'd be slave to the chef.
But only if that chef de cuisine were the Two Sisters' David Slatkin, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America (also, coincidentally, the alma mater of restaurant supervisor Kimberly Howie). Slatkin, originally from Los Angeles, has worked at Turnberry Isle, Mark's Place, and Chef Allen's. In Miami this kind of pedigree could make him a king. And perhaps he should be. Because while the theme of the hotel may be Old World, the cuisine is without question all new.
Under the direction of executive chef Bryce Statham and along with pastry chef Steve Lidsey, Slatkin melds the elements of classic European, Asian, and American cookery into delicious innovations. Soft shell crabs are dusted with corn meal and served as a main course in a sweet plantain shell, with roast pecans and corn salsa. Roast Florida lobster and citrus combine with cream in a bisque, served with celery chips and chives. Inventive combinations such as these, often utilizing indigenous seafood, fruits, and vegetables, have come to be known as New World cuisine A a style of cooking that Miami helped put on the map and for whose crown our city's top chefs battle like feudal lords. How appropriate that a hotel patterned after a castle should host one of the premiere jousters.
Competition in the fine dining category is keen. Kimberly Howie rightly compares Two Sisters to neighbor Yuca, as well as Mark's Place and Chef Allen's. (I would add to this list Janjo's and BANG, and of course chef-without-a-restaurant Norman Van Aken, recently of a Mano.) The Two Sisters dinner menu, which changes weekly, reads like the others' in terms of ingredients A a plethora of wild mushrooms, baby field greens, sun-dried tomatoes, roasted garlic, and exotic nuts and fruits garnish the grilled meats, poultry, and fish. But also like the others, the courses arrive stamped with the chef's individual personality. The ingredients may be similar, thanks to the Florida coastline; the preparations, however, have their own distinctive brand of appeal.