Jersey’s coastal cuisine.
A new restaurant’s ambitious menu spans both East and West coasts
Opening Jersey put two years and 10 pounds on Steven Rosenthal. That’s how long it took him to perfect the pizza that honors his home state; the extra pounds can be attributed to all the tasting it took to get there.
Rosenthal’s sacrifice is our gain. His excellent Trenton ($17), a Jersey-style pie, sports a golden crust of proper crispness topped with a thick layer of raw crushed tomatoes cooked directly on top, along with fresh oregano and mozzarella. Parmesan cheese brings out an undercurrent of nuttiness that balances the bright red sauce.
Rosenthal probably gained a few more pounds perfecting the crust for the California-style pizzas, too. They generally have a crisper exterior and sparser toppings, things like asparagus with green garlic, beech mushrooms ($17), and a neutral cheese such as mozzarella that doesn’t diminish the quality of the produce. However, my favorite is the Margherita ($15), which is somewhere between the softer Neapolitan and the firmer Roman style.
Many people think pizza is a simple food, which it may be in spirit, but it’s deceptively complex to execute. Weather can affect the dough, the oven temperatures can vary from night to night, and just a few seconds’ miscalculation can greatly diminish the quality of the end product. It’s as easy to deal with as an infant who has missed a bottle.
The brothers Rosenthal — Steven and Mitchell — are partners in Town Hall, Salt House, Anchor & Hope and two cafes, but Jersey hits close to home. It’s located in a narrow storefront on Second Street between Mission and Howard, with a high ceiling and acoustic panels to help dampen the noise, a brick wall on one side, dark wood wainscoting on the other and black concrete floors. It looks like a place that could have been on the block for decades rather than months.
The open kitchen in back is built around the pizza ovens, and you can see the staff puree the tomatoes and pluck the leaves off the oregano to put on the various pies. It’s a freshness that you can taste. Pizza is also available at breakfast — with toppings such as prosciutto, onion cream and scrambled eggs ($9) —as well as at lunch and dinner.
Yet, pizza is only part of the arsenal. The menu is surprisingly extensive, given the growing trend of fewer choices.
At dinner, offerings include two dozen appetizers, four pastas, four main courses and the two styles of pizza.
Three salads are featured among the starters — one with wild arugula and strawberries ($11), another with kale, romaine and Caesar dressing ($9/$14) — but it’s hard to pass up the Jersey chopped salad with the assertive mix of radicchio, salami, provolone cheese and tangy pepperoncini ($9/$14).
There’s also grilled aspara- gus ($9) with a classic gribiche and the extra boost of bottarga; and squash blossoms ($14) stuffed with ricotta and served on a mat of bright red piquillo peppers.
It’s an interesting dichotomy the way the food seesaws between the diverse styles of the coasts: Crostini is topped with meatballs ($10) or piled with fava bean hummus and a mountain of pea tendrils ($9). Then there’s kampachi crudo with finger limes and radish sprouts ($15) or mascarpone polenta with rosemary honey ($7).
Out of left field comes a crab salad with a Thai chile sauce ($16). It might seem like a UFO among the more Italianesque offerings, but I guess it can be chalked up to California eclecticism.
Standards include golden fried calamari and shrimp ($14) to dip in spring garlic
aioli; or beef carpaccio ($15) with a drizzle of garlic anchovy dressing and crisp artichoke chips.
Pastas range from a rich pappardelle with guanciale Bolognese ($15/$22) to what turned out to be my favorite: spaghetti coated with goat cheese, kale and flavored with thyme and black pepper ($ 12/$ 17).
The Rosenthals must have been channeling Chris Christie in the presentation and saucing of the massive roasted pork chop ($23), which was so generously slathered with sweet cipollini agrodolce sauce that it turned me off to the message of the meat. If you’re using Niman Ranch pork, you don’t need to drown it.
On the other hand, the branzino ($21) had a more polished Gavin Newsom approach, with peas, fingerling potatoes, salsa verde and pea tendrils that reached across the aisle to support the seafood. However, the best dish was cod collar ($22) laid out on a bed of Umbrian lentils moistened with seafood broth and surrounded by clams in their purple-interior shells.
The menu is pared down somewhat at lunch, with 15 appetizers, two pastas, the entire array of pizzas and a few sandwiches. It’s hard to pass up the Jersey Boys meatball sandwich ($15), with huge orbs of fennel-infused ground meat straining the torpedo roll, heaped with fresh tomato sauce and lacquered in jalapeno fontina cheese.
And whether at lunch or dinner, the service has a polished intuitive edge, even when the place is busy. The staff knows the menu and what’s on the beverage list.
The strength of the list is the selection of 34 beers. Nine of the 12 brews on draft are from California, ranging from Almanac Saison Do- lores ($7) to Headland Hill BB Double IPA ($8). Aside from the 14 bottles and cans, which includes two ciders, there are a half dozen large-format beers available by the glass or bottle, including Jolly Pumpkin Calabaza Blanca, a Belgian beer brewed with orange peel and coriander and aged in oak casks ($9/$36).
The wine list tends to be expensive. Ten of the 48 wines are priced in the $40s, and the rest are $50 or more. The by-the-glass offerings feature an eclectic blend from Italy, California and New York’s Finger Lakes.
When it comes time for dessert, Jersey features cannoli ($6), a crisp blistered shell that’s filled with whipped ricotta and a little too much cinnamon. There’s also marinated strawberries sealed in a Riesling zabaione ($8) and a chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream ($7).
The reach of Jersey’s menu is either schizophrenic or enlightening, depending on your perspective. After all, you can argue that it embraces the polarizing feeling about the state. It’s known as the Garden State in some circles and the armpit of America in others.
Jersey offers a cuisine that bridges the cultures and the diverse backgrounds of the Rosenthals, and for the most part it works. New Jersey with a California twist? Why not.