Eatery has interesting concept, but needs better execution
State Capital Kitchen opened just a few short months ago, but it’s apparently created quite a buzz among Santa Fe’s restaurant aficionados. The place was packed the recent Thursday night we tried it.
The food is eclectic, and showcases very unusual flavor and ingredient pairings on small plates; the owners themselves call it “artisanal American dim sum.” A dim sum cart does indeed ply the aisles, somewhat incongruously laden with things like a single braised rib or a dish of exotic olives. But you can also order à la carte.
Popularity, and perhaps the exquisite nature of both the food and its presentation, have created something of a logjam here, however. Dinner took the best part of three hours and just about exhausted the conversational possibilities among the four of us. Some fine-tuning of the kitchen turnaround and the service surely is in order.
Things started promisingly enough with “shareables,” including bread and various savory oils ($6). I delighted in a darkly mysterious offering that was identified as toasted pumpkin seed oil. And who knew that Palestinian olive oil could prove so starkly different from one of the Italian counterparts? I liked Palestinian best, it being somewhat blander than the quite sharp notes of its European counterpart.
Asparagus frites with hollandaise ($10) were on the menu the evening we dined. Served upright in a coffee mug, they were lightly battered and crisply fried. The hollandaise, housemade and excellent, was just lemony and just thick enough to coat. There were enough of these spring-green delicacies to afford each of us a flavor teaser.
Also on the menu were a pair of salads and a pair of soups. One of our company, smitten with spring, stuck with the asparagus theme and got that soup, served with a little dab of crabmeat and a lacing of lemon. She drained the bowl.
We also ordered from the “plates” section of the menu, designed to appeal to those who eschew grazing in favor of a proper entree. Fish, shellfish, chicken, beef and lamb were the offerings, surely enough variety to please anybody. We sampled the gamut.
Fluke, for informal purposes a variety of flounder, was paired with “soba noodle kugel,” plus a garnish of shrimp and snap peas ($32). Underlying the fish and the kugel was something billed as pho, which proved to be a very light and very good seafood broth.
The fish was properly and barely cooked, very fresh and, as one might expect, bland. The soba kugel provided intrigue, although we were unable to decide if that was a positive quality or not. I will confess that regular kugel — that Central European noodle casserole — is not my favorite in any case. The elusively nutty taste of the buckwheat soba in this version was an improvement on the concept, but still less than a conversion experience. I noticed my guest left most of her serving on the plate.
The seared scallops with foie gras ravioli ($33) proved to be another pairing that sounded wonderfully exotic, but proved slightly less successful in practice. The huge sea scallops were indeed perfect: seared with just a hint of crust on the outside and absolutely tender inside. The ravioli could have been plumper, but were house-made and savory. A scat- tering of fresh peas rounded out the presentation.
Envious of our meat and sides, the asparagus fan in our group snagged a rib ($6) from the passing dim sum cart. It was large and fall-from-thebone tender, and she declined to share.
I opted for the loin of wagyu beef ($36), served with a house-made cannelloni tube stuffed with braised and herbed short ribs. Braised endive with a pot-roasted carrot and parsnip rounded out the dish. I had heard of wagyu beef, which I had also thought was exclusive to Japan and made tender by the massaging of the cows. But the internet tells me that wagyu is actually a cattle breed known for the extensive fat marbling in its flesh. Such cows are raised not only in Japan, but also in Australia; mas- sage, even in Japan, apparently plays no role.
I was surprised, then, that the medallions of beef, though very beautifully seared and presented a perfect medium rare, were not especially tender. They were tasty, though, and I enjoyed the bitter edge to the accompanying braised endive, which had a slight char also, perhaps from grilling before the braise.
But I detected no trace of the blue cheese fonduta mentioned in the menu description, a disappointment since I am especially fond of all varieties of blue. The omission was all the more mysterious because the State Capital Kitchen seems to take cheese as seriously as wine, offering a blackboard full of daily offerings to comprise a cheese plate listed with the dessert course.
Determined to soldier on through a dessert course, we waited nearly 45 minutes between finishing our main courses and the arrival of a waiter with the dessert menu. We agreed to share a serving of lemon curd ($10) and an order of pistachio cake (also $10). More intriguing was the “explosion” — a white-chocolate and passion fruit ball guaranteed, the waiter explained, to explode with flavor in the mouth ($3).
Obligingly and without prompting, he brought each of us one and they were indeed a sudden surprise of tart fruit flavor once the white chocolate shell collapsed. The pistachios provided an offbeat flavor to white cake with cream filling. And, in April, who could quibble with lemon curd? It was cold and tart, and paired with more of that luscious whipped cream.
After another long wait, we managed to flag down the bill and even pay it. At nearly 9 p.m., the State Capital Kitchen was still packed, with the conversational din to match.