The Meadowood team branches out to casual.
Christopher Kostow and Nathaniel Dorn created the three-Michelin starred Restaurant at Meadowood, placing them in the world’s elite class of chefs.
It was with excited anticipation that I looked forward to their more casual venture in St. Helena, the Charter Oak, which opened in the landmark Tra Vigne space. One of the most visible and impressive structures in Napa Valley with its century-old stone facade, this venue seemed like a perfect fit for the fine dining duo.
Yet after my first visit, where I ordered the $85 family-style menu, it made me ponder whether these two types of restaurants are mutually exclusive. Could Vincent van Gogh, for example, create a worldclass realist painting?
Creating a dinner that costs $225 to $500 for a fixed-price menu requires a different mind-set than orchestrating a more relaxed experience where an open hearth is at the center of the vision. Not every artist — or chef — is mutually adept at both. Rather than 14 to 20 intricately crafted small tweezerarranged courses, the menu at the Charter Oak consists of the family-style offering and an a la carte menu with 15 savory items divided into three categories. Some dishes are as straightforward as soft-boiled eggs ($6) topped with flakes of salt and drizzles of Hudson olive oil.
All dishes are meant to be shared. I chose the nine-item family dinner because the waiter said it was where the kitchen focused on the latest ingredients and best showcased the chef ’s intent.
On later visits, I learned this menu isn’t the best way to appreciate what the kitchen has to offer.
What became apparent is that it’s an ongoing challenge for a chef like Kostow and front of the house men like Dorn to consistently relax fine dining parameters.
The concept, and at times the execution, seemed forced. It’s as if they tried too hard to be different and incorporated every trendy element under one roof.
The hearth is centered behind three rows of tables and a 16-seat bar overlooking the patio, shaded by eight mulberry trees. The redo of the building is impressive with its wood floors, Oriental runners, exposed brick walls and thick wooden tables, each with a drawer that holds napkins and flatware so diners can help themselves.
When we walked into the expansive, 72-seat space it felt as if most seats were communal because the tables in the center were pushed together to form two long expanses. On other visits they were pulled apart; the feeling was less mess hall and more inviting.
Apparently, to further reinforce this communal, casual approach, waiters bring glasses and a pitcher of water without bothering to pour the first glass. It’s a small gesture, but not performing that small gestures feels less welcoming.
Plates were not changed out for the family dinner, and it felt misguided to use the same plate for multiple courses. By contrast, I saw a waiter replace a napkin that had fallen on the floor with a new one using tongs. And while soiled plates remained on the table the waiter was fastidious about picking up the strings that tied together shortbread cookies at dessert. It felt almost schizophrenic. I left scratching my head, because there is a big difference between good service and that which, I’m sure inadvertently, feels lacking in hospitality. It’s a fine balance, but casual shouldn’t give the waiters license to relax their attention to the table.
Dorn created an extensive wine list at Meadowood, and he’s done the same at the Charter Oak, but the list feels too formal for the casual nature of the place. Instead of being categorized by varietal, the list is divided by Napa appellations. If a diner wants a Chardonnay, she will have to flip through dozens of pages because most areas produce this varietal. We asked the sommelier for a rosé because we couldn’t find one among the 535 wines on the list. He said there were three and recommended one that cost $100.
The food menu is tucked into a hard-backed book preset on each table, along with an order sheet like you find at the Progress. But there’s no writing utensil, so diners can’t check their own selections. Instead the waiter picks up the sheet to take the order, which again left me wondering: Why?
It feels as if, in trying to be so cutting-edge, the restaurant loses sight of its purpose: creating a comfortable, welcoming environment for both locals and visitors. To be honest, after my first visit, I had no desire to return because the experience felt bogus.
On that visit I had the fixedpriced menu. The first item to arrive was slices of dark-crusted bread swaddled in nubby fringed fabric, quickly followed by mortadella, chorizo, charred snap peas and a thick finger of toast slathered with liver mousse and capped with gelee and two kinds of thyme.
The main course was chicken confit — a leg and thigh for each diner — accompanied with puree potatoes and ears of fire-roasted Brentwood corn, buttered and dusted with yeast salt.
For the finale, the waiter wheeled over a dessert cart, used for both the fixed-price and a la carte menu. With its oversize wheels and rusty mesh sides, it’s a beige, dull compilation of what should’ve been a colorful display.
On top of the cart is a round wood box that holds buffalo milk ice cream (excellent), and a dome that covers bunshaped, crisp meringues,
which are filled table side with olive oil custard and placed on pureed fruit. Another dome covers a date tart that was gooey and practically inedible. Fortunately, on other visits, this was replaced with a chocolate tart, which again tasted good but added no visual relief.
The bright side of this depressing display: The dessert cart’s optics make it easy to resist those extra calories. Yet again I couldn’t quite comprehend the thinking behind such a paltry, monochromatic selection. Why not just plate them in the kitchen and skip this needless flourish?
I left with a bad taste in my mouth and offended by the pricing. If offered a la carte I figured the charcuterie presentation would be $30 each; the chicken leg $40, and the dessert of raspberries and crème fraiche $15. It felt like a rip-off.
Fortunately my subsequent three visits helped broaden my outlook. Contrary to what waiters may say, the a la carte menu better channels the talents of Kostow and his chef, Katianna Hong, formerly chef de cuisine at Meadowood.
The five starters ($6) include a small bowl of raw vegetables and yellow and orange nasturtium blossoms from their garden, which might include obvious choices like radishes and cucumbers and more unusual selections like purple string beans, served with a salty fermented soy dip. My favorite was a unique combination of grilled cucumbers with fresh dill and tiny sea beans. Summer tomatoes highlighted the tartine, but the bread was thick and dry, and there wasn’t enough liquid to soften it.
Charred avocado, one of the five vegetable dishes ($16), is another unexpected but polished combination. The creamy chunks of fruit were accented with parchment-thin ribbons of rhubarb and beads of ember oil. The rhubarb, sour and bitter on its own, added a mediating force to the richness of the avocado and the smokiness imparted by the oil.
The chefs also feature a cold salad of grilled broccoli with puffed grains, ricotta and a yellow dusting of dehydrated mustard. It was bold and rustic, yet refreshing.
All main courses ($26) are licked by flames. The preparation of the beef rib resulted in a complex, explosive flavor. A thick chunk of meat clings to the top of the rib, smoky from being grilled over Cabernet barrels. It’s awkwardly plated in a bowl next to beets seasoned with the rendered fat. This presentation made it very difficult to cut the meat and share.
The pork shoulder, served on a too-small plate, was so pink it looked like beef, but the texture was pleasantly firm, its meatiness accented with acorn miso. Trout was enhanced with fermented onions, and a duck leg benefited from spiced honey with sweet potato.
The final main course option was “cauliflower treated like a piece of meat” ($18). The whole head was blackened by the flames and was served with a wedge of lemon and a mushroom broth that added a complex earthy note to the vegetable.
When the check arrived at the end of dinner, the waiter explained that a 20 percent service charge had been added, yet another trend catching hold in restaurants as they try to figure out an equitable way to pay employees.
By the fourth visit, I had come to appreciate the food and the fully renovated interior. Yet it still felt as if the restaurant was trying too hard to be different, which undercuts the owners’ finely honed talents.