By Carina Ost
By Laine Doss
By Zachary Fagenson
By Bill Citara
By Laine Doss
By Laine Doss
By Carina Ost
By Valeria Nekhim
In my mother's kitchen, I am pupil. I am disciple, apprentice. In my mother's kitchen, I am prep cook and sous chef. And in my mother's kitchen, now that I'm grown, I am also sometimes rival.
My mother's kitchen is not only in her house. My mother's kitchen is every restaurant and every cuisine to which she has introduced me, from the lobster shack in Maine to the Indonesian restaurant in the New Jersey bowling alley to the tiny French bistro in California, where she moaned so effusively over the rack of lamb that the waiter asked her if she was sick.
In my own kitchen, I'm in charge. Thanks to my mother, I have knowledge. I have technical experience. And if I do say so myself, I know how to criticize. Still, when my mother visits me every year around the time of my birthday, I can't seem to impress her. Maybe because she was responsible for my culinary upbringing, maybe because she continues to be my mentor (not to mention my mother). But in my kitchen -- and, by extension, in Dade County restaurant kitchens -- we've had nothing but disasters.
At the Hungarian place, the chef walked out in the middle of our meal. The Russian restaurant was so laughably awful that we were convinced it was a Mafia front. The Thai food was pre-prepared, the Cuban food too heavy, the sushi not to her taste. In short, I've taken my mother out for some of the worst meals of her life.
This year I was determined. To celebrate the day that mothers birth daughters into a world of kitchens, I would find the perfect restaurant. Not in either of our spheres of influence. Somewhere foreign to us both.
Fort Lauderdale's Darrel & Oliver's East City Grill, located at the Riviera Ocean Resort on North Atlantic Boulevard, seemed to fit the birthday bill. A few blocks north of increasingly touristy Las Olas Boulevard, East City Grill dominates the newly revamped Fort Lauderdale Strip. Only two months old, the restaurant is already packed with the well built and well dressed; valet parkers look you up and down and ask if you have a reservation before they welcome you. The message is clear: If you haven't booked a table already, you don't have a prayer. No matter what you're wearing.
The bilevel dining room, centerpieced by an onyx "Tropical Steamer Bar" where patrons can consume native and imported shellfish infused with a variety of Asian flavors, opens via French doors onto an enclosed porch. Lighting is muted, walls are accented by dark wood. White linens and a slate floor deliver cool, casual sophistication. Though the prices tend to reflect that sophistication, bargains can also be found, especially given the enormous quantities of food served. The same goes for the mostly American wine list.
Owned by restaurateur Darrel Broek and New World chef Oliver Saucy, the same men who made a nationally acclaimed success out of Darrel & Oliver's Cafe Maxx in Pompano Beach, this new venture is run by a woman. Executive chef Susan Ferry, who worked at Louie's Backyard in Key West (the breeding ground that spawned Norman Van Aken) and has been featured in Food & Wine and Southern Living, among other magazines, commands a Floridian/pan-Asian kitchen that rivals our own Pacific Time for excellence. She has helpers, of course, all of whom are named on the menu: chefs Greg Strickland, Troy Terorotua, and Brent Lahaye; pastry chef Christian Rivera; and baker Joe Russo. Add Saucy's hand in creating the offerings, and that's a lot of of egos for one kitchen. But what comes out of there is pure harmony.
The bread basket symbolizes the establishment's exquisite attention to detail, not to mention its willingness to feed customers till they burst. An arranged assortment of flatbreads, rolls, and specialty loafs such as black-olive-walnut are served with an earthy truffle butter as well as a tapenade, a spread of black olives and anchovies juiced with a splash of brandy. (Regular butter is also supplied.) Servers are happy to describe anything and everything they place on the oil-lamped table and might even quiz more knowledgeable customers to see if they've kept up with recipe trivia: Teasingly challenged, my husband identified all the ingredients in the tapenade except the brandy.
Choosing what to order can be pleasantly difficult. We eventually decided on Chinese steamed crab and goat cheese dumplings, which drifted in a rich shiitake mushroom broth like kites in a stiff beach wind. Although the texture of the melted goat cheese overwhelmed the bits of crab in the filling, the flavor of the crab came through intact. Ginger, scallions, coriander leaf, and parsley intensified the liquid that cradled the four dumplings, while the addition of chopped zucchini, cauliflower, and red pepper compelled us to keep spooning up the broth once the dumplings were gone.
We stuck with Asian flavors, ordering a Japanese-influenced grilled beef kushiyaki, four skewers of tender, pink-middle meat accented by a savory soy-and-sesame-oil flavor. The grilled beef lay on a cooling cucumber salad, tangy from a vinegar dressing and dotted with black sesame seeds. Coated with a thick peanut sauce, a tangle of curly egg noodles zinged the taste buds with a slight piquancy. The complementary components of this delicious dish won us over immediately.