Despite new plaudits, it's still the Salts of the earth
CAMBRIDGE -- Earth to Cambridge. Or, rather, earth to the entire Boston area. Food & Wine magazine named its best new chefs of 2007 earlier this month, and one of the anointed can be found at a stove near you: Gabriel Bremer of Salts , located just outside Central Square.
In many cities, this kind of recognition would be enough to draw the flocks, making reservations impossible for months to come and vexing the regulars. But on a recent Tuesday at around 8 p.m., a reservation doesn't even seem necessary. Half the tables are empty. The other half are host to a tweedy, gray-pated crowd, many of whom seem to have British accents. Chances are, they're unaware of Bremer's latest achievement; they've simply been coming to Salts for years ( Bremer took it over in 2004 ), perhaps for university dinners, and here they are again. It's all very Cambridge.
And that's good to see. It can be disheartening when a restaurant like Salts -- one that seems down-to-earth, authentic, and caring, one with an emphasis on food that's high-minded but still real -- is suddenly vaulted to gastronomic fame: It can change the place, and take away what made it special to begin with. We wondered how Salts, whose owners describe it as "a personal expression of our life experiences, commitments, and passions," would be affected by the plaudits.
The answer seems to be not much at all. As of press time, the best new chef information is nowhere to be found on Salts' website. And a quick peek in on a Friday reveals a comfortably full house free of chaos and interlopers, the weekend diners only slightly slicker than the midweek ones: Harvard Business rather than Kennedy School.
As for the food -- French-esque American -- it's still tasteful and (mostly) unpretentious. In this, it matches the décor: chandeliers, framed prints, and a huge floral arrangement on a center table. But where the room veers on generic, the dishes are far from it. (Though what are the Gipsy Kings doing in the sound system rotation? This is a local restaurant scourge that must be stopped.)
The emphasis at Salts is on seasonal ingredients, which are valued to the nth degree: On the night we're there, about half the dishes on the menu aren't available. Ordering becomes a memory game -- OK, so you don't have the bass or the sturgeon, but you do have salmon in mustard consommé with pumpernickel gnocchi (these turn out to be as weird as they sound); the duo of beef is really only a solo of beef, minus the usual short ribs; the chestnut agnolotti will be played tonight by asparagus ravioli. If you're the kind of diner who also values seasonal ingredients to the nth degree, you'll be charmed. If you're the kind of diner with a bad short-term memory, you'll . . . wait, what was I saying?
Just don't forget to place your order for Salts' signature offering -- duck for two, served whole and carved at the table -- before it runs out for the evening (you can reserve one with your table, the hostess tells us). It's impressive, a glistening deep brown, accompanied by stuffing, pieces of apple, turnips, and boudin noir. "Come on, admit it," one of us says to the waiter. "When you're taking people's order you're thinking, 'Don't order the duck, don't order the duck.' "
But no, the waiter says: The duck is already deboned and thus a cinch to carve. He wields his knife and expertly dispatches it in even portions to our plates, along with carefully divvied apples and turnips. (Don't give the kids a reason to fight at the table!) There's something decadent about the tableside carving, not to mention the crisp-skinned bird itself.
Still, though the duck is delicious, there are more interesting things to eat at Salts -- an appetizer of kampachi, for example. The fish is cured, then spread in slices along the plate like a row of pearly, pink-and-white dominoes. Little squares of scarlet "beet paper" -- delicate, sweet beet chips -- adorn the fish. Alongside is a line of walnuts and dried black olives chopped fine and mixed together with herbs and flower petals. There's a tiny dollop of Greek yogurt for dipping. The tastes and textures are perfect together; the presentation is exquisite.
Sometimes Salts' riffing is less effective, as with confit porcelet with pickled spring vegetables and kimchee consommé. The effect is meant to be slightly Asian, with a pile of udon noodles beside the pork and a tiny fried quail egg on top. But it's slightly odd, too -- the consommé is only vaguely kimchee-flavored, and some of the pickled vegetables are too vinegary. It doesn't quite achieve what it hopes to, but I'd still choose it over yet another boring pork chop with mashed potatoes.
Dessert also balances tradition and experimentation. A lemon souffle tart is light and crisp on the outside, lighter and fluffy on the inside. It comes with frozen Meyer lemon curd, a genius idea, and "citrus salad" that stretches the definition of salad (two slivers of grapefruit?). Parsnip cake is served with coconut ice cream and tropical fruit tapioca: The parsnip is a subtle stand-in for carrot, and the chewy tapioca plays against the crunch of passion fruit seeds. It's just riff enough.
Food & Wine's chef issue hits the newsstands June 19, and maybe then people will flood the gates. They'll find Salts deserving. Still, eating there raises the question of what such awards really mean. What makes Bremer a best new chef, rather than, say, David Punch at Ten Tables ? I would argue that the food there is just as good. Who would you choose for best new chef? It's something worth chewing over with your expertly carved portion of duck.
Salts, 798 Main St., Cambridge, 617-876-8444; saltsrestaurant.com . Appetizers $9-$15; entrees $28-$65 (duck for two); wine $9-$14 by the glass, $36-$250 per bottle. 