Casey Thompson doesn't have roasted Brussels sprouts on the menu at her new Union Square restaurant, Aveline. You won't find blistered shishito peppers, deviled eggs, chicken wings, soft serve ice cream, or any of the other Bay Area menu trends that have recently crystallized into cliché. The Top Chef finalist and former executive chef of Shinsei sushi bar in Dallas plays with big concepts and unusual flavor pairings at Aveline the way few chefs are willing or able to do — and manages to do it without taking herself, or her food, too seriously. Thompson's risks don't always pay off, and with many dishes in the mid-$20 range, they can be costly mistakes for the diner. But even in the dishes that didn't come together, I always found one or two elements that surprised or challenged me.
Consider one of the best things on the menu, the succulent crab macarons, stuffed with crab and shrimp sandwiched between two coins of extra-buttery brioche. They arrive three to an order, tied up in a box like they came from a Parisian patisserie, a move that would be unbearably cutesy if the box's contents were not terrific and totally unique, equally reminiscent of a summertime crab roll and an item off a dim sum cart. And though the portion looks small at first glance for $17, the three pieces are meaty as crab cakes.
Thompson has a gift for taking familiar American flavors and concepts and playing them off each other, looking for sparks. Another favorite was an amuse bouche with a small scoop of shredded sea bass in a creamy sauce next to a pile of tiny "fries," none bigger than a matchstick. It was a riff on fish and chips, tasted like a tuna melt, and set the stage for the rest of the meal: We're going to have fun tonight.
That attitude is seen in items like the rich, weird egg yolk beignet, which arrives looking like something out of Alien. An oblong pod sits in the middle of a shallow bowl. It's about the size of an ostrich egg, topped with a magenta sheath of raw waygu beef and a translucent layer of melted lardo, and sitting in a pool of shimmery trotter sauce garnished with bitter greens. Cut into it to find doughnut-like bread encasing a still-runny duck egg yolk, which cascades onto the plate and mingles with the juices and greens. It took me a few bites to nail down the sweet-tangy flavor of the trotter broth: Texas barbecue. Thompson says that the dish, from the beef to the white bread to the sauce, was designed to be a subtle homage to her home state. It's not a very practical entree, but who needs practicality with food this Instagrammable?
Aveline's Seussical food may be ideal for social media, but the neutral, unobtrusive dining room doesn't draw the eye in the same way. It's not a bad space: two rooms in the lobby of the Warwick Hotel painted a warm, elegant grey and decorated with distressed mirrors and art pieces with subtle glimmers of color. Ratatat, the Shins, and Andrew Bird played in the background, tunes as familiar to me as the hoodie I still have from college. The neutrality of the space was intentional, says Thompson — she wanted to draw customer attention to the food. The problems came when the food did not demand as much attention.
Many dishes had intriguing parts but didn't quite come together as a whole. "Avocado" was one, Thompson's take on a simple avocado appetizer that she once had on a farm in the Andes. Creamy, rich avocado ice cream is interwoven with ribbons of perfectly ripe avocado, studded with slices of beer-battered crumpet, and served with a leek and pandan-leaf pesto. The flavors and textures were too similar to play off each other, though I could have eaten a bowl of that avocado ice cream. I had similar feelings about the red abalone. It was homey and comforting, but had too many disparate ingredients: braised mushrooms, purslane, a salty "sea froth," a blanket of pepperoni sauce. Still, who knew that fishy, exotic abalone would pair so perfectly with earthy, prosaic pepperoni spices?
The menu is divided into courses broken up with "palate resets" in between that didn't seem necessary for the experience, especially at $6 each. A refreshing lemon verbena sorbet with stone fruit and figs came between the first and second courses, but the later cucumber granita with lemon meringue was bitter and unappealing. It was one of two total stumbles I encountered on the menu — the other, disappointingly, was the fried chicken. I'd heard raves about the bird and its light, tempura-like breading. But the version I encountered was oily and under-seasoned to the point of being flavorless, and kimchi dust and bright pepper daubs around the plate didn't add much dimension except heat. I wanted the chicken to taste of something; if not itself, then a bold marinade.
Then there's Batter, the controversial dessert from Thompson's pastry chef Kaley Laird. A large, red Le Crueset bowl is delivered to the table, a wooden spoon sticking out of the center, its walls coated in what looks like chocolate cake batter. You dip your spoon, or finger, into the bowl and have a taste, summoning all sorts of childhood memories if you're the type whose mom was a baker. The dish is messy and too casual for the environment, and I got tired of the bittersweet, grainy "batter" (actually a vegan mix of sweet potato, white beans, prunes, cocoa powder, and a bunch of other ingredients) after a few bites, though I did continue to pick out the fudge chunks.
But it was a conversation piece, and a welcome antidote to the serious, reverential attitude we in the Bay Area often take toward something as simple and pleasurable as dessert. That's the reward for the risks Thompson is taking with her food: Even when I didn't love something, I admired its daring. I hope she continues to hone her vision so that every dish sticks the landing.
Comments are closed.
