Rehoboth Foodie

Noted restaurant critic Ruth Reichl said it best in her book, Garlic and Sapphires:

"Every restaurant is a theater, and the truly great ones allow us to indulge in the fantasy that we are rich and powerful. When restaurants hold up their end of the bargain, they give us the illusion of being surrounded by servants intent on ensuring our happiness and offering extraordinary food.
But even modest restaurants offer the opportunity to become somebody else, at least for a little while. Restaurants free us from the mundane reality; that is part of their charm. When you walk through the door, you are entering neutral territory where you are free to be whoever you choose for the duration of the meal."

Though Ms. Reichl was making reference to such pantheons of gastronomy as Le Cirque and Delmonico's, this unwritten pact between customer and restaurateur is no less true at any place that touts itself as "fine dining." In Rehoboth Beach, the Blue Moon is one of those restaurants.

It's been a wild ride at the Blue Moon over the last 28+ years. Changes of ownership mixed with a little juicy scandal have brought scattered reports of inconsistencies in quality, presentation and service. But just about every person who criticized this place in the past has made a point of telling me how much they've enjoyed their recent experiences there. Perhaps, in Ruth Reichl's words, the Blue Moon is again "holding up their end of the bargain."

Blue Moon is housed in a restored Victorian beach house where traffic jams between customers and waitstaff add to the noisy, party atmosphere and the sense of hob-nobbing with the "in crowd" (whoever that is). On two of our recent visits, the kitchen started things off with complimentary plates of bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with gorgonzola. The sizzling crisp of the apple-smoked bacon swaddling the earthy dates brought to mind the elusive "umami," or what the Japanese call the "Fifth Taste." In short, I could have made a meal out of them. Go. Try 'em and tell me what you think.

The appetizers set the bar for things to come. The Seared Diver Scallops are cuddled up on a bed of creamy risotto that hints at a salty prosciutto edge. The lucky little mollusks are then showered with a bit of black truffle and parmesan. The Roasted Chincoteague Oysters greet you with the snap of crisp bacon. But wait...after a couple of bites, you detect a hint of licorice: The aroma of anise released from warm fennel! Of course, I had the Fried Green Tomatoes (twice). These crunchy little discs (green Roma tomatoes, I suspect) are presented timbale-style, stacked with a pesto/onion compote. This is not your country diner presentation, dear reader! And, at the risk of annoying the Chronic Complainers, it was delightful.

The star of the soup/salad show is the Wild Mushroom Soup. Notes of sherry give way to the buttery texture of pignoli (pine) nuts, and the restrained spicing allows the woody mushrooms to shine through. Co-starring on that bill is the Organic Mixed Greens. The surprise here is the burrito-like presentation: The salad is wrapped in creamy, thin-as-air strips of Serrano. The chewiness of this dry-cured Spanish ham, sharing your fork with the olives, red onion and Valdeon (a creamy cow and goat's milk blue cheese) sets off a textural party-in-your-mouth. On an earlier visit I also had the Reb Bibb Lettuce Salad with radish, cucumbers and parsnips topped with a pleasantly acidic banyuls vinaigrette (banyuls is a wine vinegar from grapes grown in the Banyuls-sur-Mer region of France). The violin-like tops of curly fiddlehead ferns provided the perfect denouement.

On my most recent visit I went (what I thought was) downscale and ordered the Fettuccini Bolognese. I love Bolognese sauce and have ordered it all over the country. What arrived as a topping for the al dente spinach fettuccine was a deliciously spiced cross between the richest "sloppy joe" filling and the lightest marinara you've ever had. Redolent with red and green peppers, tomato, and what I suspect was a softly spiced combination of lean beef, pork and veal (or at least two--I also tasted fried pancetta, or at least I think I did...), it satisfied both my inner fine diner and carnivore. On another visit I had the Slow Braised Veal Cheek, surrounded by mushrooms and au jus. Ladled over the tender meat was a puree of celeriac (a low-starch, celery-like root vegetable). Oh, and the veal was crowned with a surprise not on the menu: a tiny, sunny-side-up quail egg!

Dining companions ordered the Roasted Half Spring Chicken (simple wild rice and roasted veggies encouraged the crispy-skinned bird to dominate), the Duck Leg Confit (plopped squarely in the middle of the best tasting risotto I've ever had--raisins and goat cheese! Who wooda thought?), and Duck Three Ways with a perigourdine sauce (reduced stock (often veal) with truffles). The breast was seared and crispy, while the leg and thigh were served en confit.

Another member of our party had the Seared Scottish Salmon, ordered (and served) medium with lentils, leeks and a vinaigrette laced with coriander. At the risk of even more hyperbole, she went ballistic. Others had the Slow Roasted Pork Roulade (pork loin wrapped around a textural roller-coaster of shiitake mushrooms and chestnuts), the Braised Beef Short Ribs (meltin' off-the-bone into a bed of chipotle/cheddar polenta), and the seared Rack of Lamb surrounded with a simple array of roasted vegetables.

I do have one complaint; well, really just an observation. As a part of their popular "Tasting Tuesday" prix fixe, the Blue Moon serves a nice little glass of Tawny Port with each dessert that is purchased. That policy is clearly stated on the menu: Order dessert, get the port. Fair enough. On our last visit with a party of 6, five of the diners ordered dessert (alone probably totaling $50+). I chose to "taste around" rather than get a dessert, so everybody received their glass of port, except me. I'll say it again: I do not want anything "for free." Their policy is justified and necessary. But, given that the table probably racked up a $400 check, and everybody had dessert except for one person, that last little glass of port would have been a classy touch.

The Blue Moon is back--with a vengeance. Do you agree? Give them a try, and then post your comments below. They are located at 35 Baltimore Avenue. Always call for reservations (302) 227-6515. After dinner, you can stroll into the famous Blue Moon bar. Depending on your personal proclivities, you could make lots of new friends. (D, Bar). Price range: Expensive +.