Mar. 2nd, 2011 12:33 pm
Review for Rique
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Usually when testing out a new tapas place, I begin with the tortilla española. It's simply eggs, potatoes, and onions, so it's a pure test of cooking skill; if you can't get this right, you have no business being in the kitchen of any restaurant, much less a Spanish-themed one. It also tells me right off the bat what the chef's take on the cuisine is going to be like. How generous is she with the portions? Does she understand that tapas are basically bar food or does she feel a need to overdo the presentation in order to justify inflated prices?
But Nuphy finds tortilla "boring", so we gave it a miss. (I was more than happy to, actually, since the words "Served with a chipotle aioli" told me almost everything I needed to know anyway.) I recommended he order a seafood dish, since this would answer all our questions about technique and presentation while also giving us a clue to the quality of ingredients. So we started with gambas al ajillo. It was a good-sized portion--seven large shrimp--and well cooked. The texture was excellent and the flavours a little spicier than the Spanish norm (albeit typical of what you find in the States, where it's all Latin Americans in the kitchen). But, oddly, it was served in a cazuelita that was half full of oil. This is where a good crusty bread would've been much appreciated.
We also ordered the vieiras salteadas, which everyone agreed was the most outstanding dish of the evening. In fact, Nuphy and Don Jaime both declared them the best scallops they'd ever eaten, which frankly made me a little sad; flawlessly prepared scallops--without a trace of toughness or grittiness--should not be that hard to come by. If the menu hadn't told me "Served with a creamy saffron sauce", I wouldn't have realised that was the featured ingredient, but it was a lovely accompaniment and--equally important--a moderate one, just a swirl on the plate.
Contrast that to the ceviche de gambas which came drowning in tomato sauce. Not chunks of tomato, as is typical, but a thick purée more appropriate to a shrimp cocktail. It tasted house-made and only slightly sweet, but there was simply so damn much of it that I couldn't stand to finish the dish. Around the same time, Rique gifted us a plate of pan con tomate with shaved manchego. Don Jaime declared it unlike any he'd ever had in Spain, but tasty all the same. (None of us is stickler for authenticity as long as the food is good.) I'm not a big fan of pa amb tomàquet, as I prefer to call it, so my vote was neutral.
Both were enthusiastic for patatas bravas, so it's good that we got such a generous portion. Again, well cooked (good and firm, the way I like my bums) and--in keeping with stateside standards--rather spicy. I shot down Nuphy's attempt to order queso de cabra because I'm not paying $7 for an appetiser anyone can make easily at home and instead steered him toward the empanadas de picadillo (in truth empanaditas). Unfortunately, this was not a good choice to end on. I can understand the desire to use puff pastry (most likely frozen and commercial) instead of real empanada dough, but it was a serious miscalculation. No matter how well you bake or fry them, the saucy filling instantly turns them soggy, and a dollop of mousse on top only exacerbates the problem.
So, in sum, good ingredients married to good technique but undercut by a surfeit of dressing. Plus I thought there was some conceptual confusion. As I said, we're none of us purists, but just reading the names on the menu you get the impression it's all fairly orthodox Spanish. Then the dishes arrive and each has a pronounced Latin American spin. Not surprising given where you are, but I wish the restaurant would signal that better. As I explained at table, a dish that is fantastic in its own right will be disappointing if you really had your heart set on something else. Rique's eclecticism is one of his strengths, he should be putting that front and centre like he did at his last restaurant.
Even the decor misleads you. Half the dining area is lined with absolutely hideous pictures in the style of great Spanish artists such as Picasso in Miró; I deliberately took a seat on the banquette so I wouldn't have to look at them. Other than that, it's a nice space--open and bright, but sure to be noisy as anything when even close to full. I didn't see anything Spanish at the bar (I thought I'd have a nice anís del mono but they didn't even stock bloody Pernod) so I went with the curiously-named mojito Valencia. When you think of Valencia, you think of oranges, not blueberries and ginger! But it's a superior version of the ginger-blueberry mojito
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