It had been a long time since I'd dined on Ocean Drive.
Locals don't bother with it much any more. Sure, we'll take a stroll on our way to and from the beach, but come dinnertime we'd rather go hungry than subject ourselves to the hordes. This rule of red-lining is not without its consequences. Some Ocean Drive restaurants -- a Mano, for instance -- are among the best in South Florida. So when I could no longer stand incredulous comments like, "You mean you've never eaten at the Colony Bistro? But it's exceptional!" I made a reservation, wrestled my way through the rabble, and went. Twice.
The Colony, in its third year of operation and already something of a sure thing, attracted even more attention when Robbin Haas took over in the kitchen last July. Formerly executive chef at the posh Turnberry Isle Resort & Club, Haas hobnobs with the big boys, and he wants us to know it: The Colony Bistro menu name-drops "David Burke's basil potatoes" as a side dish. (Burke, star chef of New York City's Park Avenue Cafe, is known not only for his spuds but also for his sense of humor. His swordfish "chops" are served with numbered tags that qualify you for a raffle.) Maybe Haas is just giving credit where it's due. But this kind of thing makes an impression. Indeed, a party of six next to us declared his menu "very New York" -- the ultimate seal of approval. Not coincidentally, they had also dined at the Park Avenue Cafe.
In actuality, the menu is anything but New York. Malanga-and-horseradish-crusted salmon on a mango, roast pepper, and onion salsa served with sweet-hot baked calabaza. Pan-seared mahi-mahi with roasted red-pepper sauce and tostones, garnished with relishes of scotch bonnet peppers, tomatoes, and mangoes. If labels must be attached, these are very South Florida. They are also ambitious, their aggressive flavors matching an equally determined kitchen. Vegetables are roasted for maximum intensity, herbs are infused. Goat cheese figures prominently, as do truffles and shiitake and portobello mushrooms. Even the accent fruits Haas chooses, such as mango and the powerful passion fruit, are vigorous. But strength against strength doesn't always work, a consequence that gifted, forward-thinking chefs must risk.
Haas's success with appetizers was uniformly impressive. Duck breast cured in citrus molasses was sliced and fanned over a bed of tossed greens and firm papaya. Halved red grapes added crunch and sweetness, buttery ground hazelnuts were scattered around the circumference of the plate, and a pungent, salty, black olive vinaigrette dressed the salad. The duck melted like filet mignon on the tongue, and the play of flavors, from game to greens to fruit to nut, was marvelous.
Honey-chili barbecued quail was an exquisite rendering of a bird that's hearty in flavor but delicate in form. This tender, unusually meaty quail topped a warm slaw comprising crunchy jicama, sweet peppers, and pale, sauteed cabbage. A relish of yellow corn and red pepper was a colorful counterpoint, though it was too artificially sweet to be truly successful.
Crisp, pan-seared herbed shrimp served on a "hoppin' John" risotto provided yet another complex combination of tastes and textures. A "shrimped-up" tomato sauce added intensity, although the jumbo shrimp had plenty of zip all their own. Salt and spice were subtle but lingering, a ballast to the tomato and to the starchy creaminess of the piquant and sticky rice, which mixed well with black-eyed peas.
Incidentally, though Haas deserves to be commended for his descriptions of menu items, he tends to try a bit too hard -- a former menu featured "sexed-up" frog legs. Doubtless he will work through this overzealousness in time. But what really irks me are the typos and misspellings, which I take to be signs of laziness and inattention. I'll refrain from a lengthy tirade (I burnt out proofing Van Dome's disastrous menu locution last summer) but I will say this: If you're going to misspell a word, at least be consistent. Risotto is spelled three different ways on this menu. (On the plus side, one of those manifestations is the correct one.)
For a main course, we tried another risotto dish, though that was actually a creative misnomer -- it was made with orzo. A generous bowlful of the rice-shaped pasta was topped with grilled asparagus, pieces of succulent portobello mushrooms, braised endive, squash, and a colorful supply of peppers. Unfortunately, this vegetarian dish, enhanced by a truffle-mushroom broth, was overpowering and had a bitter, medicinal flavor. On a subsequent visit our waiter described the orzo as the kitchen's gesture toward herbivores; he characterized it and the menu's only chicken offering as "not representative" of the menu. True enough. So I ask: Why make it at all? Vegetarians wouldn't like it, either.
The grilled tuna "mignon," another disappointing entree, bore little resemblance to its namesake. Requested medium-rare, this steak arrived closer to medium-well, barely pink in the thickest part. Though the tuna retained its integrity and was juicy and firmly fleshed, it was marred by the unpleasant aftertaste of a too-smoky charcoal grill. The dish was attractive, served on a platform of arugula, and a delicious side of pan-fried potatoes layered with olives, roasted peppers, thyme, and sun-dried tomatoes provided much-needed distraction.
