The tapas restaurant metaphor as it is increasingly done in the US (mini entrees being served, not just appetizers) is subject to a double-edged sword: it attracts people who care about food, which is exciting for restaurant owners who care about cuisine. The
format of the American tapas restaurant also makes delivering good cuisine especially tricky and great cuisine very difficult.
Food volumes are low and some of the minor errors that can be easily covered up in a normal sized entrée can become glaring. Small amounts of food are difficult to serve quickly. Larger parties are attracted to tapas and the dozen or so mini-sized dishes that are ordered at one time are hard to release to a table simultaneously. It’s especially challenging to get these small dishes out hot (or chilled).
The fun and playfulness of an American format tapas restaurant requires dedication in the kitchen, careful rehearsal, and much experimentation to turn out decent dishes. Errors easily present themselves and making any of one those dishes great is stunning when it occurs. I experienced more than one triumph of the kitchen this evening at a tapas restaurant in Cedar Rapids.
Zins is a downtown establishment in a downtown just begging for more places like itself. Warm, friendly, and very fashionable; Zins is the kind of place people in Cedar Rapids would like to think of as emblematic of themselves. And it is. The service is impeccable, the hospitality honest & warm, and the atmosphere is open & gracious.
The first item to hit the table was a plate of fresh foccacia. Impregnated with garlic and generously crusted with salt, I was pleased to see someone take this bread that’s become a standby and do something robust with it. The insides were buttery, but unusually fine-grained for a foccacia; I wondered if it was a bit over mixed or hadn’t risen as long as it might have, but it was enjoyable.
I should mention at this point that there was a nice wine list, but that martinis with a twist were my drink of choice for the evening. Aside from some minor bruising of the ice, these were expertly made and I can say with pleasure, Zin’s is not in need of the
Martini Outreach Program. Shaken and delivered right at the table, they were chilled delights.
A set of appetizers arrived next. The calamari had an pleasingly unobtrusive batter and a mildly spiced tomato sauce, but were a bit over-cooked themselves.
The crab empanadas were good, but were too much of pastry (but a
very tasty pastry at that) and not enough of crab. This is a perfect example of how difficult dishes are to pull off on a small scale. It’s a special challenge to make a pastry that is small, holds together, and isn’t overwhelmed by it’s own ‘pastry-ness.’ A nice corn salsa with a mild tang helped cut some of this, but the crab was a bit of a no-show.
The chicken quesadillas with chorizo handily avoided this fate and were great with some with some sour cream sauce that came with. I wish I could describe what it was like, but I started to be so inundated by flavors at this point, I really can’t remember it specifically. And I was loving this experience of flavor innundation. This was turning into a really good time.
There was a paper cone of traditional pomme frites served that were good, but not great. In fairness, by the time I got to them, they were cool (so many delicious things to try!!). They were served with an aioli that was good and nicely garlic; most impressive was having the guts to serve Midwesterners fries with mayonnaise as they would in parts of the ‘old country.’
The star of the appetizers was a bowl of olives in their own house marinade. Happily, this kind of thing is catching on in a few restaurants here. There were green, black, and a few large red olives I’ve never experienced before. All tasted strongly of cumin (and maybe cardamom?) and were wonderfully firm, salty, and delicious. Olive lovers rejoice! More of that, I say! Bravo.
Next came the entrees. So many wonderful selections went around the table, the options and combinations were a pleasure to take in; this is where the American tapas format really starts to hit its sweet spot. There’s so much going on and for foodies it’s dizzying and crazy. You don’t know what to try first and in what order and it’s almost happening too fast to enjoy it all… but my goodness it’s fun to try.
There were lamb riblets (is it possible for lamb to have anything but riblets? i mean, it's a lamb...) with a mild winter seasoning, that represented a challenge to the chef. Keeping these hot and getting them served hot is key. They cooled quickly and were very dependent on the dressed raw veggies served with them to make them passable and to protect them from that overly fatty flavor & texture that can come on quickly as lamb cools.
There was a lobster cheese cake that was tasty, but really spoke ‘cheese cake’ and not so much lobster.
There was a much-lauded oven-baked macaroni and cheese that was very good and reminded one of special home-cooked meals of youth. This dish was especially susceptible to the quick cool-down of the tapas format and it’s quality degraded quickly if not eaten first.
Oven-baked mac and cheese has become a popular dish in many American restaurants and as this has grown, it's been my guess is it's the scarcity of the dish from the American dinner table that wins it accolades rather than the execution itself.
This dish is especially challenging to do justice to in a tapas format as the thin layer of it presented restricts the chef to a partially crispy breadcrumb top and not enough depth for gooey goodness that usually comes from a deep dish of baked macaroni and cheese. Make it deeper to give more goo, and you lose the taste of buttery topping for most people at the table; cook it longer to crisp up the top more and you've turned the pasta into rubber. Given those limitations, it's a credit to the chef they can make it work this well.
Now, the stars of the entrees:
There was a delicious serving of chicken and dates with a fruity couscous that begged to be slowly enjoyed; something you have to discipline yourself to do in this kind of situation; it was very good and I was appreciative of the simpleness of the dish. It was so ‘unmessed-with’ and such an honest, straightforward offering. My compliments to the chef for exhibiting the good sense not to tart-up a dish for which it is often tempting to do so.
Of special note was a soy-glazed sea bass. Its savory-fishy notes hit my nose as it soon as it approached the table and I graciously kept myself from inhaling the whole portion so it could be shared. It is unlikely my fellow diners fully appreciated the restraint I had to muster to do this. Tender and perfectly cooked: what a triumph by the chef.
The show-stopper and perhaps the best entrée I’ve had anywhere in years was a humble risotto. Wow. I can’t even tell you what the official name of the entrée was, I don’t remember it being ordered, but it had a pungent blue cheese of some kind, gently melted on top and held its own against everything else, including it’s own small size and ability to cool off quickly. It was the stunner of the evening and the thing I will return for. I’m not having luck finding a way to adequately express how lovely this dish was.
Desserts began soon after this and was the one course most of us didn’t share. I ordered a peach frangipane, a great little tart with delicate flavor, ripe peaches - just cooked, and chopped almonds. It was dressed underneath with a mild peach coulis. I think there was a little lemon zest in the crust. A perfect end to a very fun food night.
But it was not to end just yet. Compliments of the chef, out came some perfectly round truffles in orange or espresso flavors. Smooth, flawlessly executed, and a great match to their smooth Italian coffee.
The American tapas format ensures not every dish of the evening will be a superstar, but it does not preclude some amazing food experiences among the competitors. When the challenge of such a format is presented, chefs come up with very creative answers and Zins seems to be nailing it. Well played.
Best bites,
James
The pie is known as apple cider pie. It’s delightful anyway you slice it, but best served warm, with a scoop of premium vanilla ice cream. No words I put down here can adequately describe the sublime perfume that gently rises from this dessert, truly fit for the gods themselves. I can imagine Saturn, god of the harvest, eyes closed in rapture, hunched over a slice like the one before me – a deep slice layered with apples, baked in earthenware, and arrayed with the fragrances of fall.
