Michael McElroy
A crowd swelled in front of Al Roker's barbecue stand at BubbleQ during this year's South Beach Wine & Food Festival. People were taking his photo and asking for autographs; news cameras were filming him. Nearby, at the Blue Door Fish booth, Claude Troisgros quietly surveyed the scene. The unorthodox gastronomy of his father Pierre and uncle Jean (along with that of Paul Bocuse) inspired the nouvelle cuisine movement in France. Claude himself owns a restaurant (Olympe) and a bistro (66 Bistrô) in Rio de Janeiro and has been executive chef of Blue Door at the Delano Hotel since 1997. Granted, Roker is a beloved television personality, but the contrast in reception is a sad commentary on... attendees at the SBWFF? The food world? America?
Michael McElroy
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Blue Door Fish: Delano Hotel, 1685 Collins Ave., Miami Beach; 305-674-6400;
delano-hotel.com. Lunch Monday through Friday 11:30 a.m. to 4 p.m.; brunch Saturday and Sunday 11 a.m. to 4 p.m.; dinner daily 7 to 11:30 p.m.
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Whatever. It's just as well the spotlight left him alone: The downtime might have given Troisgros the peace he needed to create the menu for Blue Door's reincarnation as Blue Door Fish. The new, seafood-centric selections are significant in that Troisgros worked on them with his son Thomas. The family tradition steps forward another generation.
Blue Door Fish, situated at the back of the iconic Delano's lengthy lobby, has been minimally altered; it is still notable for flowing white floor-to-ceiling drapes and general loftiness. The stately yet graceful main room is set off privately from two lobby dining areas defined by a long, Venetian-mirror-covered table and divided by a walkway leading to the hotel's garden-and-pool area. Lobby seating is less formal and more fun, because the walkway serves basically the same purpose as a runway does in a fashion show: Beautiful people in sometimes outlandishly sexy outfits strut by to the delight of onlookers — in this case, diners. If this isn't your idea of an ideal setting for a meal, or if DJ-spun music seeping in from the adjacent bar/lounge on weekends seems intrusive, you can opt for seats on the lovely patio overlooking a whimsical setting.
While Blue Door Fish offers about the highest caliber of people-watching one can possibly attain in an indoor setting, the cuisine is no afterthought. A basket containing a wide Parmesan crisp, bread sticks, and pumpernickel and sesame rolls precedes dinner, along with a wine list that focuses on New World Napa Cabernets and Chardonnays as well as Old World favorites from Bourdeaux, Burgundy, Rioja, and Tuscany. Diners can grab a bottle of Hogue Chardonnay 2008 for $43 or Aquinas Napa Merlot 2007 for $45; they may also choose a Screaming Eagle 2006 from Napa for $2,500.
The menu, formerly a fusion of French/Brazilian and Mediterranean food, now swims almost exclusively in the latter region. And as the modified moniker indicates, the focus is on fish (although there is a "meat & fowl" entrée category). Chef Bruno Egeas starts diners off with a choice of the usual raw bar fruit de mer: Kumamoto and Blue Point oysters and clams ($3 apiece), shrimp ($4 each), lobster ($18), stone crabs (market price), and osetra and sevruga caviar ($180/$285 per ounce). "Le Petit" and "Le Grand" platters showcase these same shellfish (substituting mussels for the caviar) for $39 and $79 (the large includes twice as much).
Troisgros still offers two classics: the "crabavocat" and the "big ravioli." The latter is sensational — a single, sizable, sumptuous ravioli plumped with taro root mousseline, perfumed with a drizzle of truffle oil, and bathed in a foam of wild mushroom "cappuccino." The crabavocat is really just a juiced-up version of crab-stuffed avocado, elevated by a spicy tomato coulis and a few crisp shrimp. We preferred the crab cake, whose large, pearly chunks of jumbo lump crab were barely bound by anything but a light bread coating.
Caramelized octopus was a disappointment — the trio of charred and curled tentacles overcooked to a semitough consistency and blandly flavored. Not so a warm potato salad on the side, bursting with the tastes of garlic, shallots, and olives. And certainly not so a grouper ceviche that stood out for its pristine fish, cut into bite-size pieces; delicate balance of lime, cilantro, and a teeny bit of jalapeño; distinctive and delicious jolt of smoked salmon mousse; clean presentation, as in no pooling of marinade juices in the bowl; and hefty portion — as a starter, this $15 dish could easily feed a few people.
Eight types of fish or shellfish are available either a la plancha (simply grilled, with choice of sauce) or as part of composed plates with set sides. Some of the most alluring offerings are also the priciest. Dover sole, for instance, filleted tableside and served "Claude's way" (almond and caper brown butter, truffled potato foam), is $66 (it's the same price a la plancha). Roasted Maine lobster, another Claude mainstay, comes with caramelized banana, brown butter, and cilantro-lime sauce for $46. But a fat, square wedge of lightly seared local grouper packs plenty of pleasure for $35. The flakes of sweet white flesh are unencumbered by anything but a sprinkling on top of preserved lemon vinaigrette flecked with diced red pepper and parsley. "Crushed potatoes with chorizo" on the plate were warm and wonderful, but only one tiny snippet of sausage was included — a small omission, but a big letdown.
