By David Minsky
By Jen Mangham
By Bill Wisser
By Laine Doss
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Things haven't progressed much, in a culinary sense, during Mr. V's leave. For all the talk of Miami's restaurant renaissance, there still aren't many run by experienced, professional chefs and/or restaurateurs. The Astor Place décor has changed even less, the once chic and cutting-edge design surpassed by an influx of more stylized dining spaces. But there's comfort in a familiar setting and an underlying confidence in knowing the place has been around a while. The airy atrium with tall glass ceilings is still a beautiful room in which to dine day or night. The brown-tone, lower-ceiling room by the bar, while intimate, seems drab and uninteresting in comparison.
We didn't notice any celebrities milling about, but the clientele is ostentatious enough that they consistently pop up in those scene photos in our local mags and rags. Their very showiness is what makes the cruddy baseball cap (or sometimes bandanna) upon Vinczencz's pony-tailed head visible during his rare forays into the dining room so deliciously incongruous. He looks the same as before, but his food has undergone a subtle transformation: more streamlined, more Mediterranean, less Caribbean Cowboy, and, according to my tastes, better than ever.
Hotel Astor, 956 Washington Ave.
Miami Beach, FL 33139
Category: Hotels and Resorts
Region: South Beach
Smoked tomato soup $8
Mushroom pancake short stack $9
Yellowtail snapper $27
Veal tenderloin $29
Dessert plate $10
Astor's bread baskets have always contained compelling choices -- currently the softest of focaccia, thin Parmesan crisps, and slices of baguette. On one occasion a marvelous miso spread came alongside, another time garlic-herb butter, once just regular butter. What happened to the miso spread? Sometimes we have it, sometimes we don't, the waiter replied matter-of-factly.
We began with two starters that are old favorites of the chef. One, his wild-mushroom pancake short stack (not to be confused with Norman's foie gras French toast -- can truffled waffles be far behind?) features thin slices of grilled portobello mushrooms layered between buttermilk pancakes, with a mildly sweet balsamic syrup and dab of sun-dried tomato butter melting and melding well into the savory stack. Barbecue shrimp martini is another Johnny V signature -- literally, as a V-shape glass holds a dollop of creamy smoked shrimp-potato salad, grilled corn salsa, and three meaty barbecue-marinated shrimp. A dish of spicy cocktail sauce spiked with chipotle comes on the side, though the tastes are large enough without it. Two cornmeal-crusted duck cakes, sauced with a dark brown berry demi-glace, look just like big crabcakes. The filling is made from only moderately adulterated confit of duck leg, meaning it's robustly flavorful, though so finely shredded as to become texturally repetitive. An accompanying cabbage slaw flecked with fine bits of mango does help a little in that regard.
Restaurant rule of thumb: If you're going to offer only one soup, better make it a darn good one. Smoked tomato soup is just that -- full bodied and deeply seasoned, with an A immaculately inscribed in cilantro sour cream and a couple of buttery croutons filled with melted Brie sitting on the edge of the bowl. By adding French and Southwestern flavors to the beloved duo of grilled cheese sandwich and cream of tomato soup, yet retaining the integral aspects that made the combo popular to begin with, Vinczencz has created a classic example of smart New American cooking. This ability is, in effect, what makes him so good.
Salads are Johnny on the spot: baby greens adorned with goat cheese, citrus sections, toasted almonds, and fig-balsamic vinaigrette; cobb salad with the addition of roasted corn, blistered pineapple, honey-roasted hazelnuts and a vinaigrette made from lobster stock; and sushi salad, four rounds of tuna tataki with raw center and red curry-seared exterior, four too-loosely wrapped disks of king-crab rolls, two skewers of rare salmon, and a mound of sesame-dressed wakame salad with bean sprouts, shredded carrots, and red onion -- all sublimely fresh, though the dish seemed big and expensive ($24) for a starter. On a subsequent visit, the same salad was offered as a $17 appetizer or $26 main course. That makes more sense.
Only one entrée traipses into similar pan-Asian territory: the wasabi-seared tuna with rock shrimp and jasmine rice. And just two contain tropical touches: Miami cioppino, with a tomato-mango-scotch-bonnet broth; and Jamaican jerk veal tenderloin, thick round wheels of rich, very tender veal in a pool of sultry veal demi-glace with a spicy fruit and scotch-bonnet salsa seeping into a mound of spinach callaloo, along with multiple wedges of sweet, crunchy-on-the-outside and creamy-on-the-inside coconut-yuca cakes. Really a perfect plate, each component carefully prepared and, together, offering innumerable blasts of contrasting but complementary natural flavors (no chef relies less on salt than Mr. V). A pair of succulent domestic lamb chops also were prepared with aplomb, served with creamy Yukon mashed potatoes, a mélange of baby vegetables, and natural lamb essence.